Viktor was undoubtedly a top-tier ripperdoc.
His clinic wasn't corporate-lavish — no chrome walls, no polished reception drones, no sweet-smelling ads whispering in your ear — but it was real. Down-to-earth. A place built for people who actually bled.
Unlike the corp clinics that hit you with aggressive pitches and trap you in installment plans for every little part, Viktor didn't tack on nonsense fees. If you were on good terms with him, he'd even offer you a drink… or some anesthesia before he started cutting.
"No cyberware?" Viktor asked, surprised.
He leaned in, eyes scanning Vash with a professional kind of focus. No surgical scarring in the usual places. No micro-seams. No faint metallic distortions in the skin. Viktor could spot fourth-gen work from a meter away — and this guy looked natural.
"Problem?" Vash asked, calm.
He'd started out as a nomad. Aside from the neural port at the base of his skull — standard issue in 2077 — he really hadn't done anything.
"No. Just curious." Viktor said, adjusting something on his bench, "Jackie used to be a legend in Heywood. Big deal with the Valentinos. Even made a name for himself as a merc for a while." He glanced up, "But whether it's Heywood, the Tinos, or his merc days… he rarely brings people from those circles in here."
His gaze sharpened, like he was weighing Vash on an invisible scale.
"The fact he brought you." Viktor continued, "Means you're close. Didn't expect you to be… all organic."
In 2077, cyberware had already reached "Generation Four". From Arasaka executives down to strays on the street, everyone carried traces of chrome.
For ordinary people, cyberware and artificial limbs could make the disabled stand again.
For the violent, chrome became a weapon.
For the rich, it was practically mandatory — another rung in the ladder toward a longer life.
Cyberware was one of Night City's symbols. So yeah — someone Jackie vouched for, with no mods at all? That was strange.
Vash shrugged, "Before I came to Night City, I was a nomad. We scrape by in the ruins and garbage dumps of the Badlands. I can tell you where to find scrap, or oil in the dirt… but cyberware? Not my world."
There were three lifepaths in the game: Corpo, Streetkid, Nomad.
Nomads had the least access to cutting-edge tech and chrome. But they had something else: Freedom.
"A nomad chasing freedom…" Viktor smiled, "Not a bad way to live."
He tapped a few controls and gestured toward the chair like he was ready to start.
"Alright. Enough small talk. Since you've never had work done — what're we doing today? Optics? Arms?"
Optical implants could scan detailed data off just about anything. High-end optics could even run X-ray modules. And arms? Arms were more than muscle — better recoil control, heavier weapons, stronger grip. Add modules and you could track ammo consumption, kinetic output, all of it.
For most people, those were the first choices.
Vash thought for a moment, then asked, "Jack's got a tab with you, yeah?"
Viktor didn't look up. He kept adjusting his equipment, "That's between me and Jackie. Not your concern."
Then his voice hardened by half a degree.
"Back to the point — what do you want to change?"
Vash lifted a hand, "No need. I'm not doing anything."
Viktor stopped. For a second, the only sound was the quiet hum of machines.
He set a tool down and turned, eyes level, "V. I'm a ripperdoc."
His tone wasn't loud… and that made it worse.
"It's not wise to come in here just to waste my time."
Viktor Vektor wasn't some corporate technician who smiled through disrespect. In his younger days, he'd been one of Night City's old-school legends — street tough, boxing-ring honor, a man who kept principles even when the city tried to grind them out of him.
If Jackie hadn't brought Vash, Viktor would've shown him the door right then — and blacklisted him for good.
"Viktor, hear me out." Vash said quickly, "I'm not here to mess with you." He held Viktor's gaze, "What I mean is… I want to pay off Jackie's debt. And I want to leave the rest here."
Viktor's eyes narrowed slightly.
"In the future." Vash continued, "When Jack comes to you — quietly give him the best parts. The best installs. No corners cut. And keep it between us."
He'd thought it through.
With the system backing him, Vash could climb to the top without a single implant.
Jackie couldn't. The guy wasn't rich. Most of his chrome was third-gen — some of it entry-level, some of it already drifting toward outdated.
And in the later life-or-death missions… that gap would get him killed.
So the best protection wasn't a lecture. It was giving Jackie the kind of chrome that could keep up.
Viktor stayed quiet for a moment. Then he opened the fridge, took out a bottle of red wine, and set two glasses down like he'd already made his decision.
He poured, handed one to Vash, and smiled — small, genuine.
"Now I see why Jackie brought you." Viktor said, "Is this the romance of a nomad?"
He raised his glass.
"To hell with romance." Vash said, clinking glasses, "I just don't want that gonk to kick the bucket."
They drank. The tension bled out of the room, replaced by something steadier.
Viktor looked at Vash with new respect.
"Before we settle the bill…" Viktor said, setting his glass down, "Mind telling me why you're doing it?"
It was the first time he'd pried into a client's private life.
Vash glanced at the screen on the workbench. A boxing match replayed on loop.
Viktor was a nostalgic man. Besides chromed-up prizefights, he liked bare-knuckle classics too — outdated, behind the times, but honest.
"Viktor." Vash asked, "The boxers in the ring… you think they're enemies or friends?"
Viktor blinked, caught off guard by the sudden philosophy. He thought for a moment.
"Maybe both." He said, "Who knows."
"Then that's me and him." Vash said.
"Interesting." Viktor didn't press further.
He picked up his tablet, did a quick calculation, and sent the bill.
「Friend Request: Viktor Vektor」
Vash accepted and saw that the debt was exact: €$50,000. No more, no less.
He pulled out a money shard and placed it on the table, "There's a hundred thousand eddies on this. Keep the other fifty here."
He leaned in just enough to make it clear he meant it.
"I'll send more from time to time. You just make sure Jackie gets the best, most optimal parts every time he comes in. And keep this quiet."
With that, Vash turned and headed for the door.
"V." Viktor called.
Vash paused.
"I'll remember you." Viktor said, "If you've got time — or you're not feeling right — come by. Sit. Drink. Doesn't have to be business."
"Thanks." Vash said.
Leaving Viktor's clinic, he found Jackie still working the front desk like it was a stage.
The moment Jackie saw him, he released Misty's hand so fast it was almost comical. His face reddened.
"V!" He asked, trying to sound casual and failing, "You done?"
❖❖❖❖❖
T/N: Comment, give me Power Stones, like and favorite, it all supports me and makes me go foward with this. Appreciate my other stories as well, I guarantee the good work!
If you want 20 chapters ahead, smut chapters or spicy images of this novel for just $5, or enjoy a large catalog of good novels with excellent translations (free or starting at $1.5): MrBlackWing (you know where to search)
That's it and happy reading! (-‿◦)