As a ripperdoc, Loki didn’t actually have a license.
But nobody in Night City gave a damn about stuff like that, and with Vik around, there was zero chance of anything going wrong.
Having skillfully installed an optical implant for his client, Loki proceeded to saw off the customer’s arm and fit a shiny new cyberarm in its place.
After working away for a good while, the anesthesia wore off.
Loki administered a dose of mild stimulant, bringing the operation to a flawless conclusion.
With the work finished, Loki stretched his back and took a deep breath.
*Huh.
Why do I feel weird today?
Like something’s about to happen.
Maybe I stayed up too late watching BDs last night.* Loki had a strange premonition today, but he quickly calmed his mind, reassuring himself it was probably just a lack of rest.
“All done, Vik.
Any more clients today?”
“No appointments left, and it’s getting late.
Pack it up.” Having received the client’s transfer, Vik didn’t even turn his head—clearly having full confidence in Loki’s skill.
It didn’t take long for Loki to wipe down the shop.
Walking up to the heavy bag, Loki stripped off his shirt, revealing a torso built with dense, explosive muscle.
His left cyberarm lacked synthskin, exposing raw, cybernetic machinery to the air.
The metallic aesthetic of the Gorilla Arm merged with his flesh, projecting an unmistakable sense of intimidation.
Deftly putting on his training gear and wrapping his hands, Loki began his daily boxing routine.
Vik used to be a legendary boxer in Night City.
He had retired to Watson to become a ripperdoc after growing sick of the ring’s drama and dirty politics.
Still, he kept his old habits of watching matches and hitting the bag, reserving a corner of his clinic for his past glory and training equipment.
Whenever Loki finished his shift, he would ask Vik to coach him.
Having a legendary fighter in the shop and not taking advantage of it would be a total waste, after all.
*Thud!
Thud, thud!*
The heavy thuds of fists hitting the bag echoed through the shop.
Hearing the noise, Vik glanced over from the match he was watching, shaking his head with a faint smile.
*This kid never rests for a second.*
Ever since Loki arrived at the shop, he had been soaking up knowledge like a sponge.
During the day, he learned surgery and cyberware mechanics from Vik; after closing, he nagged Vik to teach him boxing; and as far as Vik knew, he went home at night to study netrunning.
In Vik’s eyes, a newcomer to Night City working this hard had to have a goal.
Maybe revenge, maybe making a name for himself, or maybe just trying to survive.
Regardless, Vik’s initial helplessness toward this sudden addition to his shop had turned into genuine appreciation.
He saw a shadow of his younger self in the boy.
So, even if coaching took up a lot of energy, Vik was always willing to lend a hand.
Besides, Vik loved boxing anyway.
Having someone to spar with actually made his days feel more fulfilling.
Vik stood up, walked over to Loki, and slipped on his boxing gloves.
Loki paused his routine.
Tonight was their weekly spar.
“Hope you can knock me down this time.”
“Don’t worry, I will.
And when I put you on your ass, how about you let me take half those trophies on the wall for my new clinic?” Loki joked, pointing at the wall lined with Vik’s old glory.
“Those are all in the past.
If you can actually beat me, take whatever you want.”
Vik smiled and agreed without hesitation.
After two years of training, Loki’s skills were practically equal to Vik’s.
Last time, Vik had barely squeaked out a win.
Maybe tonight Loki really would beat him.
If that happened, Vik wouldn’t miss the trophies—he’d be thrilled for Loki.
After a quick warm-up, the two cleared some space in the shop and began.
Jabs, blocks, counter-punches.
They traded blows back and forth, fists cracking through the air with explosive speed and power.
Because they knew each other’s styles inside and out, breaking through the other’s defense required split-second reflexes and perfect adaptation.
The stalemate dragged on, heavy blows landing on flesh without breaking the deadlock.
If this kept up, it would come down to pure endurance and grit.
Whether the aging legendary fighter or the relentless young contender had more left in the tank was anyone’s guess.
At the moment, Loki held a slight edge.
Then, the balance shifted.
Loki, who had been maintaining a solid defense, felt a sudden tremor in his chest.
That strange premonition resurfaced, as if his soul itself were telling him something momentous was about to occur.
Though Loki quickly snapped out of it, that split-second hesitation slowed his reaction by half a beat.
He failed to block Vik’s hook, taking the punch square on the jaw.
Vik didn’t go easy on him.
Seizing the opening, he unleashed a fierce barrage of heavy, torrential punches.
When two fighters are balanced on a razor’s edge, a single mistake is decisive.
With Vik capitalizing instantly, the outcome was inevitable.
Loki was promptly knocked flat on his back.
“What distracted you?
Thinking about that new clinic of yours?”
Vik grabbed Loki’s outstretched hand and hauled him up from the floor.
Far from criticizing him, he just offered a lighthearted tease with a hint of curiosity.
“No…
just a weird feeling.
I don’t know why.
Maybe I just didn’t sleep well,” Loki said, shaking his head.
“Let’s call it a night then.
Go home and get some rest.
Kid, you’ve learned a lot, but you need to be alive to use it.
Anyone looking at you would think you’re a corp-rat drowning in debt—never taking a single break.”
“Yeah.”
Just as Loki was packing up his stuff to head home, someone knocked on the clinic door.
A message from Misty popped up on the computer screen.
[The delivery’s here, I let them in.]
“I’ll get it.” As the clinic’s assistant, Loki granted visitor access through the terminal, and the front door slid open.
Three men in suit pants and jackets walked in, two of them hauling a fair-sized cargo container.
It was the latest batch of cyberware sent by Vik’s supplier.
Seeing two muscular, sweat-glistening men staring at him, the delivery man felt a sudden wave of relief that he wasn’t here to pick a fight.
And for good reason—the last batch of Scavengers who came looking for trouble ended up needing cybernetic dentures installed by Loki himself.
“Hello, Mr.
Viktor.
Here is the cyberware and cyberware mods you ordered.
Here is the itemized manifest for your inspection.”