Melissa blinked, her brow furrowed in concern as she stared at Arthur like he'd just grown a second head.
"Arthur," she said gently, reaching for his hand. "How about we go back to the hospital? Just for a little checkup? The doctor from last time is still there. I'll even come with you."
Arthur looked baffled. He had just delivered what he believed was a genius-level plan to defuse a hostage situation, and now she was suggesting psychiatric evaluation?
"I'm not sick!" he protested, slapping his palm against his chest. "I've told you all—I'm cured! My cyberpsychosis is history! Do I look like I need a padded room?"
He turned to David, seeking backup. The boy scratched the back of his head, hesitated, then offered a meek: "Maybe a little..."
Arthur groaned.
Melissa, meanwhile, had already approached the NCPD command post and was whispering to the officer in charge. The man gave her a puzzled look, then glanced at Arthur. After a moment of internal deliberation, he suddenly clapped his hands together.
"Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Absolutely brilliant!"
He waved Melissa back to her assignment and approached Arthur.
"Sir, have you ever considered becoming a tactical consultant for the NCPD?" he asked with a forced smile.
Arthur stared, stunned. David looked like he had just been told the sun set in the east.
"I... you serious?" Arthur asked. "You guys remember I've got at least a dozen NCPD kills on record, right? Pretty sure your chief's been praying for my arrest since '66."
The officer chuckled awkwardly and backed off.
Just then, Melissa returned—this time with an older woman who looked outwardly middle-aged but had the kind of biotech glow that meant she could be a hundred and still pass for fifty. She was the suspect's mother, and Arthur's wild plan hinged entirely on her presence.
The officer nodded and approached Arthur again, this time more formally.
"Sir, about your plan—would you mind executing it yourself?"
"Gladly," Arthur said. "Just get me a megaphone and the scariest guy on your payroll."
A few minutes later, Arthur was introduced to River Ward—a towering slab of muscle with a shaved head and a permanent scowl. He looked like he bench-pressed trauma team vans for fun and had no idea what a smile was.
Arthur pointed. "You. What's your name?"
"River Ward," he replied.
The officer in charge nodded at him. "He's all yours."
Arthur leaned in. "You see that woman over there? That's the suspect's mom. Stand next to her. I want you to look like the kind of guy who sells bootleg brain dances on Twisted Street. Lecherous, unshaven, terrifying."
River blinked. "...Okay."
"Oh, and when I say 'It's coming soon,' take off your shirt."
River didn't even flinch. "Got it."
Arthur stepped forward, megaphone in hand, standing just behind the police barricade while red-and-blue lights painted the concrete. He tapped the mic. "Testing, testing. Okay."
He raised it to his mouth.
"To the brave souls inside that bank," he called. "Your mother—and your father—have just arrived!"
Inside, the lead robber froze. "What? Mom?!"
He barked orders, fired two rounds in the air, and rushed to the slit-window near the vault to peer outside. Sure enough, his mother was there, wiping at her eyes, visibly distressed.
His heart ached. All he'd wanted was enough eddies to get his family a better life.
But then—he blinked.
"Wait a second... who the hell is that guy next to my mom?!"
River was standing at attention, sneering menacingly. One eye was milky white, and his expression screamed, I sell illegal braindance tapes and sleep with other people's moms.
"That's not my dad!" the robber cried.
Back at the front line, Arthur smiled. He raised the megaphone.
"It's coming soon!"
River ripped off his shirt like a man possessed. Tattoos rippled. Muscles bulged. A grin that could traumatize an orphan stretched across his face.
The robber screamed from inside the bank.
"AHHHHHHH—!!!"
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