Riverport City Suburbs
Jake Sullivan's prosthetic hand trembled as he stirred beef stew. Through the kitchen window, his seven-year-old son Tommy giggled at VR cartoons projected on the wall. The mortgage alerts blinking on Jake's smartwatch matched the rhythm of his pounding headache.
"Dad! The robot's glitching again!" Tommy yelled as their budget-tier AI servant spilled orange juice across augmented reality flashcards.
Jake switched off the malfunctioning unit. His World Combat Championship ring – pawned last month – left a pale band on his finger. The prosthetic's neural sensors flared phantom pain from that fateful construction site accident: steel I-beam, screaming child, his Olympic reflexes costing an arm to save a life.
Phoenix Fitness Staff Lounge
"Jake?" Ethan Gray leaned against protein powder shelves. "Springvale's got space. Tommy could train with–"
"Charity case, huh?" Jake's laugh turned bitter. He gestured at divorce papers glowing on his tablet. "Lydia took the Tesla. Left the debts."
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Ethan's gaze fell on security feeds showing Lucas Cheng's drones circling the parking lot. "Corporate vultures smell blood. Come home, brother."
9:47 PM - Sullivan Residence
Tommy's breathing steadied in sleep. Jake reviewed medical bills – his mother's gene therapy glowing crimson in holographic red. The experimental treatment's price tag eclipsed three years' salary.
His combat instructor certification glitched when scanned. The state licensing board's rejection email repeated like gunfire: Prosthetic limb disqualifies close combat qualifications.
Neon Alley - Underground Fight Club
Jake's prosthetic sparked against concrete as bookmakers cheered. "The One-Armed Wonder!" they chanted. His opponent – a juiced-up brute with cybernetic kneecaps – charged.
Memories flooded: Olympic crowds roaring, medal ceremonies, Mia Li's voice singing Fractured Light through locker room speakers. Jake's surviving fist connected with surgical precision.
2:13 AM - Emergency Clinic
The street doc welded Jake's exposed wiring. "Third time this month, Sullivan. That arm's scrap metal."
Jake stared at payment confirmation for Mom's next treatment cycle. Tommy's school hologram project flickered in his battered smartwatch – My Hero Dad slideshow showing Jake's championship highlights.
"Weld it tighter," Jake growled. "Got a preschool graduation tomorrow."