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🕑 Added 2025-06-02 16:26:54 +0000 UTCChapter 16: Street V (Sutoriito V)
“Dude, don’t tell me you don’t have any cybernetic implants (gitaisho) on you?” Pepi asked, raising an eyebrow at Riku.
Before Riku could answer, Pepi suddenly blinked, realizing how dumb his question was. I mean, come on, even the crappiest chip module comes with a built-in time display. That’s, like, shonen anime levels of basic functionality—no need to even mention it.
“Uh, yeah, you know, like the Beast Gang (Kemono-dan) folks, I’m not big on all that electronic junk,” Riku said with a forced laugh, falling back on his go-to “Beast Gang” excuse to dodge the question.
“Man, come on! You’re out here living the street life—don’t you at least have a chip module slot and an interaction interface?” Pepi said, looking genuinely baffled.
Not having even the most basic cybernetic setup in this day and age? That’s like showing up to a mecha anime battle without a mech. It makes everything a hassle—for you and everyone else.
Riku totally got what Pepi meant. The “chip module slot” Pepi was talking about was basically a “brain-computer interface” (nouki), straight out of a cyberpunk game. In this world, everyone’s got a chip in their head, jacked into the net. You can make calls, send messages, look up info, transfer eddies—all super convenient, like having a smartphone in your skull.
As for the “interaction interface,” that’s the chip port and a portable data cable. People don’t just plug chips in to read data or learn skills—they can also jack into other devices, hack into systems, you name it. When this stuff is basically standard issue, not having it makes you a walking inconvenience. You’d need to carry a clunky phone, and don’t even get started on how much of a pain transferring money would be.
Sure, phones haven’t completely disappeared—some stubborn folks still use them—but still.
“Maybe you’ve got a point. If I had one installed, I wouldn’t be bugging you for the time,” Riku said with a grin, tilting his head and tapping the table to nudge Pepi back on track. Yo, bartender, quit sidetracking me, alright?
“Uh, my bad,” Pepi said, scratching his head, clearly embarrassed. He’d been so caught up he still hadn’t answered the damn question. “It’s 207—”
“Hey, Pepi! Pour me a drink—the spiciest one you’ve got!” a bold, confident voice cut in, interrupting Pepi mid-sentence.
A woman slid into the seat next to Riku, sprawling with the kind of swagger you’d expect from a street-raised badass. Her vibe screamed “main character energy,” like she just stepped out of a Cyberpunk 2077 cutscene.
“V?! Weren’t you headed to Atlanta?” Pepi’s attention snapped to her, his half-finished answer to Riku completely forgotten.
“…” Riku’s forehead was practically sprouting veins at this point. Are you kidding me?! Was getting the time in any world this freaking hard? Last time he tried, he got turned into a kijin from Demon Slayer. What was the cost gonna be this time?
Still, despite the annoyance, Riku held his tongue. Pepi’s words had caught his attention—V? Atlanta? Was this woman the V? The protagonist from Cyberpunk 2077?
Riku’s eyes flicked to the woman beside him, the one Pepi called “V.”
She was rocking a jacket covered in wild, colorful graffiti, looking like something straight out of a JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure wardrobe. Her short red hair was swept to one side, the other side shaved close to the scalp—a classic street-style single-side shave, the kind of look you’d see in Night City’s underbelly. Her sharp features and androgynous charm gave her a vibe that could make guys stare and girls swoon. Total street-punk heroine energy.
Street V, huh? In Cyberpunk 2077, V has three possible backgrounds: Street Kid, Corpo, or Nomad. Street V hails from Heywood, and she’s tight with folks like Pepi.
“Ha, yeah, I’m heading out in a couple days. But you think I’d leave without saying goodbye to my crew?” V said with a smirk, giving Pepi a playful punch to the chest.
“Better not die out there, V. If I get your obituary, I’m not dragging my ass to Atlanta for your farewell party,” Pepi shot back.
V was here to say her goodbyes before leaving her hometown, Night City, to make a name for herself in Atlanta. From the independent West Coast hub of Night City to the major East Coast city of New America, it was a journey with no guaranteed outcome—pure shonen stakes.
“That’s my line, Pepi. Don’t you dare croak while I’m gone, ‘cause I sure as hell ain’t coming back to collect your corpse,” V replied, her tone as blunt and real as it gets. Classic street-style banter, no sugarcoating.
The two clinked fists, then downed their drinks in sync, like comrades in a gritty anime.
“Who’s this guy? Introduce us,” V said, turning to Riku. She’d noticed him staring but didn’t seem fazed—probably used to it. “Those horns are badass, man.”
Before Riku could speak, Pepi jumped in. “This is Riku, from the Beast Gang. Total hardcore dude.”
Riku almost choked. Why’d you have to hype me up like that, Pepi?
“Looks the part,” V said, nodding approvingly and flashing Riku a thumbs-up.
She’d clocked him the second she walked in. Hard not to—he was practically a walking spectacle, like a demon lord from Berserk.
“Bet you’ve taken some beatings with that look, huh, buddy?” V said, blunt as ever. Growing up on the streets of Heywood without much formal education, she wasn’t one for tact—just raw, honest vibes.
“Hang on, let me clear something up,” Riku said, jumping in before the misunderstanding got worse. “I know I look like I’m with the Beast Gang, but I’m not actually part of them. Just to set the record straight.”
He wasn’t about to keep waving the Kemono-dan flag. That was a one-way ticket to getting hunted down by the real Beast Gang.
“Totally get it. Not every Heywood kid joins the Valentinos either,” V said, nodding in understanding. She pointed at a Valentino gang logo on the wall—a golden V framed in a red rose—then at herself. “See? No gang ink here.”
The Wild Wolf Bar was a Valentino stronghold, protected by the gang, with their symbols plastered everywhere. But V, unlike Jack Wells or Pepi, didn’t rock the obvious Chicano cultural style that marked most Valentinos.
“I’m V. Nice to meet you, horned buddy,” she said with a grin, holding out her fist.
“Nice to meet you too, V. Just call me Riku,” he replied, bumping her fist. And just like that, he’d officially met the street-raised V from Heywood.
Chapter 17: No Surprise, You’ve Got Guts!
Once Riku confirmed the person in front of him was the Street V, he roughly pieced together the current timeline.
“By the way, it’s October 2074. This yabai year is finally almost over,” Pepe said, finally catching up and giving Riku the time.
Riku nodded, but inwardly, he was rolling his eyes so hard they nearly hit the ceiling. Talk about a late response, dude! Still, the date lined up with his guess—maybe a bit later than he’d thought. Based on his calculations, it was at least six months before 2075. Street V had spent two years in Atlanta before coming back, then teamed up with Jack Wells for about half a year before hitting the main storyline in January 2077. Working backward, V’s trip to Atlanta as a “trainee” started about two and a half years earlier. So, V’s “two years” wasn’t exact to the day—she was just about to head to Atlanta now.
“Why Atlanta?” Riku asked, curiosity piqued. He remembered V didn’t exactly shine there, slinking back to Night City with her tail between her legs.
“To chase opportunities, obviously! Gotta strike out and make it big while I’m young,” V replied with a grin, her confidence unshaken, like a shounen hero ready to take on the world. She was a classic Heywood street kid, dreaming of becoming a legend, just like every other punk in Night City. Their motto? Better to burn out in a blaze of glory than live a lame life—like Johnny Silverhand, the ultimate rockstar rebel from Cyberpunk 2077. Of course, step one was living the high life with fame and okane (money), which meant pulling off a big score.
“Atlanta… it’s tightly controlled by New America. All I know about it is that it’s got a massive landfill—forty-plus square kilometers of toxic waste and biohazard junk,” Riku said, recalling a news snippet from the game about Atlanta’s landfill catching fire and burning for two weeks straight. A city of 350 square kilometers with a ninth of it being a toxic dump? No wonder it took forever to burn out—it’d probably take two months!
“Huh? For real?” V said, scratching her nose awkwardly. She clearly hadn’t heard about that.
“You don’t know anything about Atlanta?” Riku asked, stunned. Was she seriously about to head there without a clue? Talk about V no baka (V’s recklessness)! No wonder she was the legendary V—her heart was as big as a mecha cockpit!
“You really don’t know anything?” Pepe chimed in, just as confused. He’d assumed V had some hot lead for making bank in Atlanta. Why else go that far? There were plenty of closer cities to try her luck—San Francisco, Los Angeles, or even Sacramento, the capital of Northern California. Any of those would be better than Atlanta, and they weren’t halfway across the country.
“Don’t look at me like that!” V snapped, annoyed by their weird stares. “You know we’re in the Pacifica Zone, and Atlanta’s in the Rust Belt. Info about that place is hard to come by!”
She had a point. The Pacifica Zone covered the West Coast and most of the Pacific Basin, while the Rust Belt spanned the central and eastern U.S. Each network zone was ruled and monitored by corporations and governments, with smaller sub-zones under their own local bosses. Information between zones was locked down tight, like a digital dystopia straight out of Ghost in the Shell. People’s knowledge of the outside world came solely from whatever news the powers-that-be allowed.
This whole fractured network mess? Blame Rache Bartmoss, the netrunner who thought he’d free humanity by smashing the internet with his “RABIDS” virus. Sure, his heart was in the right place, like a rebellious hacker hero fighting the system. But his execution? Totally irresponsible. The net was like a mirror reflecting humanity’s thoughts and dreams. Corporations used it to control everything. Bartmoss thought shattering the mirror would stop them, but all it did was create thousands of smaller mirrors, each controlled by a company, government, or gang, ruling their own little digital fiefdoms with iron fists.
“That makes sense, but now that you know a bit, you still wanna go?” Riku asked. No wonder V flopped in Atlanta. Showing up blind as an outsider? If she made it back to Night City alive without getting chewed up, that was already sugoi (impressive).
“I’ll think about it. Someone told me Atlanta’s full of opportunities, but now I’m gonna have to grill them,” V said, scratching her head with a scowl, letting out a frustrated “Kuso!” (Damn it!) Riku’s info wasn’t much, but a city with a ninth of its land as a toxic waste dump didn’t exactly scream “promised land.”
“Maybe reconsider. You might find that no matter how rough Night City is, it’s where you belong. It’s got your memories, your life,” Riku said, his words carrying the weight of a heartfelt shounen speech.
V looked at him, surprised. “Damn, you’re good with words,” she said, genuinely impressed. She’d pegged these muscleheads with their crazy body mods as brain-dead bakayaro (idiots), but Riku was proving her wrong.
“Then why didn’t you stay in your city?” Pepe asked out of nowhere, hitting Riku right in the feels. V’s curiosity perked up too. After that deep speech, Riku must have a story—what made him leave his hometown?
“My city… I can’t go back,” Riku said, feeling a pang but brushing it off quickly. Honestly, he didn’t have much tying him to his old life. He was a lone wolf—a classic tensai kokosei (genius loner) archetype.
Chapter 18: Joining the Crew (Nakama ni Naru)
The air got a little quiet. Neither V nor Pepi pressed Riku for more details. They could tell his story was a wild one, full of twists and turns, like something straight out of a Hunter x Hunter arc.
Night City was overflowing with people who had tales to tell, but since Riku wasn’t spilling the beans, they weren’t about to pry. That’s just how it worked on the streets—don’t dig into someone’s past. Prove you’ve got the skills and the guts, and you’ll earn respect, no questions asked.
“Ugh, screw this! I’m done talking—I’m gonna go track down that jerk and get some answers!” V slammed her glass down, fuming. The more she thought about it, the more pissed she got. She was ready to hunt down the guy who’d sold her on the “big opportunities” in Atlanta and invited her along.
“Go for it. Drinks are on me today,” Pepi said with a grin, giving her a nudge. Truth be told, he wasn’t thrilled about V leaving Night City. For one, she’d be in unfamiliar territory, and who knows if she’d do better there than here? For another, losing her meant one less friend he could shoot the breeze with in this town.
“Thanks, Pepi,” V said, not bothering to argue. Their friendship was way past sweating a tab.
“Catch you later, horned buddy,” V called to Riku before heading out, throwing him a nod. She appreciated his heads-up about Atlanta—guy didn’t have to say anything, but he did.
“Later,” Riku replied, not bothering to correct her nickname for him.
With her fiery red hair and all that energy, V stormed out just as fast as she’d rolled in. Girl was like a shonen protagonist with zero chill.
“You really love treating people to drinks, huh?” Riku teased Pepi once V was gone. Seriously, was this guy just handing out free drinks to everyone?
“Nah, man, I only treat people with potential. It’s an investment,” Pepi said, wagging a finger with a sly grin. If he treated every random schmuck, he’d be broke. The Wild Wolf Bar wasn’t his personal piggy bank.
“You’ve got a good eye, then,” Riku said, and he meant it. Not just because Pepi was about to cover his drink, but because the guy had a knack for spotting talent—like V, a total SSR-tier street kid in a gacha pull of Night City nobodies.
“Surviving in Heywood takes some skills. Who says being good at making friends isn’t one?” Pepi said, puffing up a bit. His secret weapon? Smooth talking and free drinks. Worked like a charm.
Riku couldn’t help but chuckle. Pepi was onto something—being a people person was absolutely a skill. More friends, more connections. Can’t solve a problem yourself? Call a nakama to back you up.
Why else had Riku piped up to warn V about Atlanta? He wanted her to stick around so they could team up. He’d already decided to carve out a life as a cyber-ronin in Night City, but as a total newbie, he needed reliable allies.
Jack Wells was one. Street V was another. Best part? Those two Heywood locals were already tight, so no worries about them clashing. With those street-raised badasses leading the way, even a greenhorn like Riku could hit the ground running.
Plus, once you were in with Jack and V, you had friends you could count on. They were the kind of loyal, ride-or-die types who’d have your back no matter what—total One Piece nakama vibes. Perfect crew material.
After shooting the breeze with Pepi a bit longer, Riku headed back to his corner seat. He took a moment to rest, letting his mind settle. Ever since he’d turned into a kijin straight out of Demon Slayer, he’d noticed he barely needed sleep. His body never got tired—as long as he “ate” on schedule, he could keep going like a machine.
Still, mental fatigue was real. Even if he could skip sleep forever, his brain needed a break now and then to just… zone out.
Once he’d recharged, Riku pitched in around the bar. The Wells family had helped him out, so it was only fair he returned the favor. Besides, he had nowhere else to go during the day, so helping out was like a workout.
He kept at it until late afternoon, around five or six, when he finally spotted the “young master of the bar,” Jack Wells, strolling back into the Wild Wolf.
Jack was clearly sober now, looking way more grounded than when he was drunk.
“Yo, Riku! What’s this? Did Mrs. Wells hire you as a waiter or something?” Jack said, spotting Riku hustling around. The bar was starting to fill up as the evening crowd rolled in.
“Nah, I’m waiting for you,” Riku said, handing a few glasses to Pepi before turning to Jack.
“Huh? Something up?” Jack asked, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Riku to be hanging around just for him.
“Over here,” Riku said, tilting his head toward a quieter corner of the bar.
Jack didn’t ask questions and followed him over, figuring Riku would explain himself.
“Heard from Pepi you’re flying solo these days?” Riku said, getting straight to the point as they settled into the corner.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Jack nodded, already picking up on where this was going.
“Bring me in. I’m new to Night City, don’t know the lay of the land, and I can’t get anything done on my own,” Riku said bluntly. With a guy like Jack, there was no need to play games. Be straight with him, and he’d be straight with you—that’s just how Jack Wells rolled.
“Going it alone is rough. No one’s got your back when things go south,” Jack said, nodding. Sure, he worked solo, but he had a ton of friends. If trouble came knocking at the Wild Wolf, half of Heywood would have his back.
“No kidding. I just got to Night City and already ran into some organ-harvesting scavs,” Riku said, piggybacking off Jack’s comment. That explained the blood-soaked mess he’d been in yesterday.
Jack hadn’t asked, probably to avoid stirring up trouble, but Riku offering it up was the first step toward building trust.
“Ha, no kidding! A lone outsider? You’re prime prey for those scavs. Knock you out, bag you up, chop you into parts, and sell you off—no one would even know where to look. Too bad for them, they picked a fight with a tough bastard like you,” Jack said with a laugh. Riku’s bloody welcome to Night City must’ve been one hell of a party.
“So, what do you say? Wanna bring this tough bastard along to make a living?” Riku asked, feeling pretty confident. Jack didn’t seem against the idea at all.
“Buddy, you’re good people. I think we’ll get along just fine,” Jack said with a grin, not hesitating as he stuck out his hand.
“Damn right we will,” Riku replied, grinning back. He clasped Jack’s hand, and they bumped shoulders, sealing the deal.
Chapter 19: Best Partners
“Yo, let’s exchange contact info first.”
Letting go of Riku’s hand, Jack Welles tossed out a casual request to add him as a friend.
“Uh… sorry, I don’t have any.”
Riku’s face flushed with embarrassment. It was like someone asking if you’ve got a WhatApp, or email, only for you to admit you don’t have any of those. Total awkwardness.
It’s not that you can’t live without them, but having nothing makes you feel like you’re stuck in the Stone Age or something.
“Uh…”
Jack Welles blinked, caught off guard. But he quickly pieced it together—Riku was probably one of those old-school types, like a samurai who shuns modern tech for the purity of physical training. People like that were less likely to have cybernetic mods.
“How about a phone number, then?”
Jack tried a different angle. Surely, even out in the wilds of Night City, you’d at least have a phone, right?
“…”
Riku stayed silent, and the awkwardness hit a new level.
No email, no WhatApp, no twitter—and now, not even a phone? Jack was floored.
“Dude, don’t tell me you don’t even have a legit ID?!”
Jack’s jaw practically dropped, but then he thought it over. It wasn’t that surprising. Night City was a magnet for stowaways chasing the “City of Dreams” legend. Sure, the place was a crime-ridden mess, but some still believed in the hype. In Night City, if you’ve got the guts and the skills, you can live large—fast cars, beautiful people, the works.
Leaving? Nobody leaves Night City. Not unless it’s in a body bag.
“Well, looks like we’ve got some work to do tonight.”
Jack shrugged it off. Riku clearly had a story, but Jack wasn’t the type to pry. Everyone in Night City had their own baggage, their own monogatari.
“C’mon, let’s get you a phone first.”
Jack snapped into action, ready to drag Riku out the door. Contacts were key in this city—without a way to reach each other, you’re as good as ghosts.
“Hold up, Jack. Actually, I’m cool with getting a chip slot installed.”
Riku stopped him, dropping the bombshell. Why mess around with a phone when you could go full cyberpunk with a brain-machine interface?
“Huh? I thought you were…”
Jack froze, surprised. He’d pegged Riku as anti-tech because the guy didn’t have a single gizumo (cybernetic implant) on him. Was Riku actually coming around?
“Man, trust me, this thing’s way better than a phone. Once you get it, you’ll be hooked—swear it,” Jack said, grinning as he tapped the neural interface port on the side of his head, hyping it up like a shonen hero hyping their ultimate move.
Honestly, buying a phone might’ve been more hassle than getting Riku a neural chip implant.
“Thanks, Jack. But, uh, make sure we go to a trustworthy gizumo ishi (cybernetic doctor), yeah? You’ve got someone in mind, right?”
Riku thanked him, dropping a subtle hint. He was hoping Jack would take him to Old Vic.
Old Vic—full name Viktor Vektor—was a gizumo ishi both V and Jack trusted. In a city full of shady, black-hearted docs, Old Vic was a rare gem. A man of principles, a true street samurai, and one of Night City’s living legends. If you needed cyberware, he was the guy to trust.
Riku’s body was… unique. He wasn’t about to let just anyone poke around with a scalpel. Too much to explain, too much at stake.
“No worries, choom. In Night City, you won’t find a better gizumo ishi than Old Vic.”
Jack gave a thumbs-up, already planning to take Riku to Vic. It was a no-brainer.
“Then what’re we waiting for?”
Night had fallen outside, and Riku was itching to move. He stood up, ready to roll.
“Ha! Straight to the point, huh? Let’s go!”
Jack chuckled, not wasting a second as he headed for the door.
Their trip to Old Vic’s was, well, kinda ridiculous—they took the subway. Night City’s rapid transit system, NCART, to be exact.
“What’s wrong with the subway? It’s quick, it’s convenient. If you ask me, Nightcorp should build more stations,” Jack said, lounging in his seat with a taco in hand, munching away while gesturing like he was running the city.
Riku didn’t have a taco—he couldn’t eat that stuff anyway, so he politely turned down Jack’s offer to grab him one.
“Wouldn’t hurt if they tightened up security a bit,” Riku shot back. They’d literally witnessed a robbery while boarding. It wasn’t their stuff getting jacked, but still.
“You’re asking Nightcorp to fix the NCPD? They pour eddies into those corrupt keisatsu (cops), and it doesn’t do a damn thing,” Jack said, finishing his taco and tossing the wrapper in the trash. He wiped his mouth, grumbling.
NCPD—Night City Police Department. Supposedly the city’s law enforcement, but everyone knew they were just corporate guard dogs.
“Call ‘em the city’s keisatsu if you’re being polite. Call ‘em what they are, and they’re just the company’s lapdogs,” Jack added, not holding back. But he wasn’t wrong—the system was rotten.
Riku didn’t respond. None of this mattered much to him. Right now, his focus was on stacking eddies (money).
One perk of the subway? The view.
Maybe to cut costs, or because parts of Night City were built on reclaimed land, NCART’s lines were mostly above ground. From the train, you could soak in the city’s chaotic beauty.
Even at night, Night City glowed. Neon lights bathed the streets, and massive billboards sold dreams too big for most to touch. Ads were everywhere—walking, riding, even in deserted alleys, you couldn’t escape the relentless product pitches.
Riku was already getting annoyed by the ad bombardment, and they’d barely been out for a bit.
Soon enough, they reached their stop: Watson District’s Little Chinatown.
The subway was way faster than in the games—no loading screens to slow things down. Watson was a trek from Heywood, but NCART got them there quick.
Jack led the way, weaving through the district’s maze of streets until they reached their destination.
It wasn’t a clinic, though. It was a psychic shop—Misty’s Esoterica. Small, packed with exorcism trinkets and occult vibes.
“Misty’s Esoterica? Doesn’t exactly scream ‘healing center,’” Riku joked, knowing full well Old Vic’s clinic was tucked behind it.
“Haha, you’re wrong there, choom,” Jack said with a hearty laugh, clapping Riku on the shoulder. “Old Vic fixes the body, and Misty patches up the soul. They’re the ultimate nakama (comrades).”
Chapter 20: You’re Not Even Human
Riku and Jack Welles stepped into the shop, where the owner, Misty, was chatting with a customer about some occult insights.
Misty was quite the looker, rocking a blue off-shoulder top, a short skirt, and fishnet stockings.
Like V, she hailed from Heywood but didn’t carry the obvious Chicano cultural vibe. Maybe it was the job—running a psychic shop wasn’t exactly a church gig. Or maybe she wasn’t even Latina.
“Hey, Misty, looking as enchanting as ever,” Jack Welles called out, completely ignoring the customer she was with.
“Jack? Bringing a new friend for a reading? You might have to wait a bit—I’m in the middle of decoding this lady’s fate,” Misty replied with a gentle smile, unbothered by the interruption.
“Nah, nah, this guy’s not here for you. I’m taking him to see Old Vic,” Jack said, waving her off as he led Riku toward the back of the psychic shop, leaving Misty to her work.
Riku and Misty exchanged a quick glance and a nod. Misty’s eyes showed no surprise at Riku’s appearance—she’d probably seen weirder. Helping Old Vic as a nurse must’ve exposed her to all sorts of bizarre body mods.
“Your girl?” Riku teased Jack as they left Misty’s Esoterica.
“Nah, just childhood friends,” Jack replied, shaking his head. They’d grown up on the same block, but nothing more.
“Could be in the future?” Riku pressed, sensing the mutual spark between them. He knew Jack and Misty wouldn’t get together until ‘76—and even then, it’d only last a year before Jack’s death left Misty shattered, her sanpaku eyes missing their spark.
“Who knows?” Jack raised an eyebrow, not denying it. He was a straightforward guy.
Laughing and chatting, they descended to Old Vic’s clinic. It was just a quick turn from Misty’s Esoterica and down a flight of stairs.
“Yo, Old Vic, I brought you a job! This guy’s a virgin—no cyberware yet, so go easy on him, haha!” Jack’s booming voice filled the room, not caring if he was interrupting.
“Sit tight, I’m finishing up here. Be done soon,” came Old Vic’s calm, steady voice—reliable as always.
“No prob, we’ll wait,” Jack said to Riku, plopping down on a chair without bothering Vic further.
Riku peeked at the operating table inside, where a middle-aged man—Old Vic himself—was installing cyberware on a patient. Surprisingly, Vic didn’t look the part of a ripperdoc. No obvious cyberware on him, not even modded hands. He used tools for surgery, unlike some docs who turned their hands into surgical gear.
Vic’s clinic was like the man himself: no-frills, practical. None of that shiny, spaceship-zen nonsense you’d see in ads. But when it came to skill, Vic was top-tier, with years of clinical experience under his belt.
Soon, Vic finished the surgery. The client, clearly pleased with the cyberware, paid up and left without a fuss.
“Let’s see what rare gem you’ve dragged in this time,” Vic said, stretching his arms and walking over with a grin, his black sunglasses hiding his eyes for no clear reason.
“This guy’s a beast—used to run with the Animals. Now he’s here for some cyberware,” Jack said, standing to give Vic a quick bro-hug. They’d been friends for years.
“Yo, I’m Riku,” Riku introduced himself, already sizing up Vic as Night City’s best ripperdoc.
“Viktor Vektor, but just call me Old Vic—everyone does,” Vic replied, nodding and gesturing for Riku to follow. “Let’s do a full scan. I don’t get many clients with your kind of mods.”
Vic was upfront—he rarely dealt with someone as heavily modified as Riku, since folks like him usually skipped cyberware altogether.
Riku didn’t hesitate and hopped onto the operating table. Honestly, it felt more like a dentist’s chair than some high-tech surgical setup.
“Hm,” Vic muttered, studying the scan results on his screen without saying much.
“What’s up, Vic? Something wrong with my body?” Riku asked, playing dumb. Wrong? Oh, there’s a lot wrong.
“Sorry, kid, I can’t guarantee how cyberware’ll work on you,” Vic said, frowning. For a surgeon like him, admitting uncertainty was rare, but Riku was a special case.
“For real?! Vic, he just wants a neural interface. Even a street-side chop shop could do that!” Jack, leaning against the wall, blurted out in shock. He’d imagined all sorts of issues, but Vic saying he wasn’t confident? That wasn’t on the list.
“Riku, your body’s modded so far beyond human, it’s a whole different thing,” Vic said, his tone odd, though his sunglasses hid his expression. Those shades were doing their job.
“Sorry, I’m no genetics expert, but even I can tell your gene structure and cell makeup aren’t human anymore,” Vic explained. Whatever Riku was, it wasn’t some back-alley mod job—this was next-level.
“Dios mío! Vic, can you break it down for me?!” Jack said, totally lost. A neural interface shouldn’t be pulling up genetics talk.
“Alright, let me put it simply,” Vic said, pausing for effect. “Biologically speaking, Riku’s barely connected to the human species anymore.”
He paused again, making sure they got it. Then, bluntly: “In plain terms, Riku, you’re not even human.”
Riku: “…”
Oof, did you have to say it like that?! It almost sounded like an insult.
(End of Chapter)
