Next Morning
“Where am I?” The first thing Ken noticed was the pale green ceiling.
His body felt strangely light. No, not light, numb.
Like someone had beaten him unconscious, stitched him back together, then forgotten to return half the pain.
He blinked a few times before the familiar smell reached him.
Disinfectant, engine grease, medicine... and was that coffee? Only one place came to his mind. “...Viktor’s?”
“Finally up, huh.”
Ken turned his head.
Sure enough, Viktor sat in his chair with a coffee mug in one hand and a datapad in the other. His expression looked as if sleep had personally offended him.
“You collapsed right in the middle of the clinic.”
“I did?”
“You don’t remember?”
“...Right.” Firing Sandy in his condition just because he did not want to trouble Misty’s business had been a bad idea.
“I got the gist from Gin. I heard you were near a meatwagon.”
“It was only another extra kilo and I’d rather have you... cough”
“Hmph.” Viktor snorted, though the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.
“You’ve got three cracked ribs, one fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, internal bruising, two chipped vertebrae and enough muscle tears that I’d recommend not breathing.”
“...Sounds expensive.”
“It is.”
Ken immediately sat upright. “My bill—”
“Relax.” Viktor pointed toward the opposite operating chair. “Your competition already paid.”
Only then did Ken notice another body sprawled across it.
Jackie Welles.
One arm dangled toward the floor while the other still hugged his jacket like a pillow. His boots were on Viktor’s examination table. Ken noticed several bandages around the big guy’s arms and head.
And he was snoring. Rather loudly.
“...”
“...”
Viktor sighed. “This idiot.”
“He seems used to it. He does this often?”
“Every. Single. Time.” Viktor counted each word with the patience of a saint reaching his limit. “Gets shot, crashes here. Finishes a job, crashes here. Eats my food, falls asleep, and absolutely refuses to leave until he can move.”
Almost on cue—
“Five more minutes, mamá...” Jackie rolled over. A half-eaten burrito dropped from somewhere inside his jacket and landed on the floor with a soft splat.
“I don't even want to know.” Viktor slowly closed his eyes.
Ken looked between Jackie, the burrito and Viktor. “...Should I wake him?”
“Leave him be...” Viktor sighed, as if to admit his defeat. “If I wake him now, he’ll ask for breakfast.”
“...”
“...Don’t take on his habit.”
“Can I say I’ll try my best?” It seemed too convenient to say no.
Just then Jackie’s holo buzzed. Without opening his eyes, Jackie answered automatically.
“...Yeah, yeah... tell Padre... five minutes...” The call disconnected. He immediately started snoring again.
“He’s amazing.” Ken couldn’t help letting out a laugh, but he didn’t expect the guy to know Padre, then again, it wasn’t too unexpected.
“No.” Viktor deadpanned. “He’s a parasite.”
“I heard that, Vik...”
“You were asleep.”
“Heard of multitasking...”
Silence returned.
Ken carefully swung his legs off the chair. Immediately every muscle protested. “...Ow.”
“I told you not to move.”
“Even the turrets of NC can’t stop me now. I’ve got class.”
“You’ve got injuries.”
“I’ve got an attendance and scholarship to save!”
“You’ve got cracked ribs to recover.” Viktor stared at him for several long seconds and tossed something toward him.
Ken caught it, painkillers.
“One now and one after lunch.”
Ken tossed the med back to Viktor. “I’ll keep the pain, Vik. Keeps my head clear and reminds me exactly why it came to that.”
Viktor was silent for a moment before giving up. “Do as you wish,” but he added, “if I see you sprinting with those ribs again, I’ll personally break the rest so they’ll heal evenly.”
“...Thanks, Vik.” Breaking in with Sandy had been surprising much, eh? Anyway, Vik’s freaking scary!
“Hmph.” Viktor turned back toward his tools. “Get out. Before he wakes up.”
Ken looked at Jackie. “...Why?”
“Because he’ll insist on buying you breakfast.”
“That sounds nice.”
“With your money.”
“...” Ken was speechless for a moment. That must be a joke from Viktor, definitely. He couldn’t understand the guy sometimes. “W-well, he did pay for my treatment, b-but, I think I might be running late, haha, tell him I’ll treat him next time.”
“Don’t forget your scheduled checkup this evening.”
“Got it, Vik.” As Ken slipped out of the clinic, the morning sun had only just begun creeping over Watson. Misty’s shop was still closed.
He checked the time.
0721.
“...Shit.” He was really running late. If he caught the next NCART, he could still make it to Meditation.
Barely.
He broke into a run. Halfway down the street, every rib in his body reminded him exactly why Viktor had told him not to.
“...Let’s hope he didn’t see that.”
Ken had barely made it for the Meditation Class.
With the natural virtual setting and background frequency optimal for relaxing, it was easy to calm down. As the morning classes phased through his mind, Ken forced himself to sell the remaining BDs and a brunch at the cafeteria.
After his victory against Elena Gomez, Ken was left with 47% of his HP. Forcing himself to walk in that condition lowered it by another 3% by the time he completed the gig and firing Sandy before Misty’s shop pushed it as low as 37%.
However, after Viktor’s treatment and a night of rest Ken was already back to 58% of his full health. Whether it was fast or not, it was worth keeping track of.
And how did he feel at 58%? Shitty.
He was half dead and the food he ate left a metallic aftertaste on his tastebuds.
Ken didn’t linger inside the academy after his usual classes. He had many matters to attend and plans to update.
As he passed through the Corpo Plaza, the familiar feeling took over him. His eyes swept left and right and landed on the presence right away.
She looked around his age, leaning against the railing with the poise Ken had always seen her. Her pale skin almost blended with the glow of the city. Shoulder-length hair carried a faint lilac hue beneath the neon lights. One long strand on the left side faded into soft pastel colours, shifting between pink, mint, and sky blue whenever the holograms around her flickered.
A loose white jacket hung over a cropped black top, exposing a toned midriff above short black shorts. Dark thigh-high stockings disappeared into practical boots, giving her the look of someone who valued mobility over fashion—even if she somehow managed to have both.
‘Fuck it.’ Ken felt his schedules getting pushed further. Whether it was the boosted testosterone from his recent dangerous job, or simply his new found courage as Ken Martinez, he decided to strike up a conversation with her, even if it caused him to self-destruct at Vik’s again!
With great dedication, Ken stepped forward.
Buzzt-Chik
Just then, the electric banner beside him short-circuited and a group of doves preparing to settle in their nest flew off.
“What–” the sudden development caused Ken to falter, but that three seconds later she was nowhere to be found. “Again?”
Ken complained. Similar things had happened before too. Whenever his simping went on a bit too long, either his optics malfunctioned or his brain failed him. By the time he came to his senses, the girl would be nowhere to be found.
Today he man’d up, it still happened. “I guess not my luck today.”
Ken gave up and decided to follow his original plan.
Ken hesitantly left the NCART.
Living in Santo Domingo for years didn’t assure him of safety now that he knew a crew of possibly experienced mercs were after him. He remained cautious and used the main roads as much as possible. Not that, it was safer if the gangs decided it was good weather to show Night City of their dominance.
Despite his misgivings, he arrived at Arroyo Doc’s Clinic without any trouble.
The first thing he did? Violently slammed open the clinic’s door and approached the startled ripper with every intention to kick his crotch.
“Ah, Ken? You’re late, choom. I’ve been getting bored of waiting... W-wait, what’s with that look?!” Doc had to save his precious junk with his mechanical arms from getting kicked away along with the Mr. Hand–a popular cybernetic masturbation attachment marketed as ‘the helping hand you deserve.’
“Do you know what I had to go through due to your shoddy bootleg? 24K eddies fine, and mom! Mom, she...” Ken knew he wouldn’t get a dime from this ripper. He had mentally played the situation here many times to not make a scene but he still couldn’t stop himself.
But all that mental training paid off as he calmed himself down quickly.
“Even if you say that choom, if it didn’t work, it didn’t. Haha, that’s how they work.” Doc scratched his head and broke out into a laugh without any guilt.
“They don’t fucking go around destroying a server worth thousands.”
“Well, you still going there?” he looked at Ken’s uniform, “Heard about your mama, think you can manage?”
“Why? Are you going to pay my tuition now?”
“Hahaha, that’s a good one. If you don’t go to ‘sakas how am I getting you to sell my BDs.”
Ken fell silent. He had practiced this. After looking at the ground for a few moments, he said, “I’m not selling your underground BD anymore.”
He wasn’t here to break this contact, especially now that he learned how precious connections were. If he were still with his old pals, he would have active contact with Padre–a retired father and respected fixer.
“Choom, don’t do that. You’re bringing me good profits.” Doc looked as if Ken stole his girlfriend, not that he had one.
“Yeah, profits for you. Nothing for me. I’m done. I have to earn my keep, eat, and tuition. I don’t have time to make profits for you.”
“Pft, you have a good dream of paying tuition for a corpo academy by yourself. Even your mama had to do three jobs, sell stolen chrome to pay for you, but that’s for you to decide.” As Ken thought, this guy knew. He did find Doc by following Gloria. “But you choom are wrong in one thing.”
“Wrong?”
“Yes,” Doc nodded with experience, “I did calibration for you, updated your chromes, and even gifted you the ankle reinforcement for you completely free! I’m your dedicated ripper in a way. That’s a hell of a profit for you!”
If this was an anime, Ken’s face would be already buried in a sea of tick marks.
He threw a paper bag, transferred 4,200 E$, and started walking back. “I’m done. I don’t need you to be my ripper.”
4,200 eddies caused Doc’s mind to spin at a rapid pace. He only expected 3,500 eddies from the remaining BDs. By the looks of the paper bag, there were still 4 to 5 left.
He definitely couldn’t lose this! “Wait, how about we make a partnership?”
Ken turned back. “Partnership? Mm, if I can make money, suppose it’s not impossible...” Bingo! Ken sighed in relief when Doc bit the hook. Well, knowing the miser ripper his chance of success was only 20%, but if it failed he would’ve to take the initiative.
“Ok, ok, we will divide the profit at 90-10, in my favor. I’ll be generous and will still calibrate for you but don’t expect any chrome or upgrades like before.” Doc offered.
“Huh? 10 percent only? What are you taking me for Doc? 50-50, plus free calibration and installation, else I’m wasting my time here.”
“50-50?! Chooooom!” Doc’s mechanical gloves twitched like a spider’s. “It’s my biz, my connection, you’re just distributing, 10% is already because we go a long way.”
Ken frowned, realising that getting a deal would be harder than he thought. He had been doing free service for so long after all. “40%, plus calibration.”
“15%, that’s the most I’ll go.”
“Forget it then... Ok, I’ll offer the last deal. Forget your free calibration, 35% of the profit. You’re using your connection and fund, I’m giving you a premium price. Now don’t argue with me on that, I at least know the basics of XBD price on the street.”
“Guh, 20%–”
Ken didn’t bother listening, he opened the door and took a step out.
“Alright, fuck! 35%! Don’t even expect any free treatment from me!”
‘Like I fucking want to come back!’ Ken thought grimly. In the streets, you don’t easily change your ripper. It had a connection with trust and credibility but also because someone who knew your cyberware setup from the start would know more about your condition rather than a new ripperdoc.
“Great, we have a deal!” With that, both parties shook their hands to commemorate their new business dynamic.
Ken received another package containing BDs. He also requested for five more XBD of the previous cyberpsycho incident. It was rather popular and he already received two orders for it.
“Not gonna hang around here like usual?” Doc asked as he noticed Ken about to return.
“Don’t have any free time like before. Gotta find some work.”
“About the picture you sent...”
“What about it, ah, that reminds me, you haven’t paid me for that. You’re not going to back out on that, are you?”
“Chill, choom.” Doc frowned at his overly aggressive nature and transferred the promised 500 eddies. “I believe you don’t know much after the incident, so didn’t ask you for more information. Do you have any? Like who might’ve taken it?”
“I only know there was a corpo limousine and Animals, maybe one of them took it, but that’s just a guess. I didn’t see it with my eyes. Alright, then.” Ken waved and headed back once again.
“Thought I would let you know. Some gonks seemed to be investigating the accident scene revolving around your mother’s death.”
Ken didn’t say anything and left.
‘Those mercs could be seriously bad news.’
But he didn’t have a way to deal with them. Even with the recent windfall, he was nowhere near enough to hire bodyguards that could save him from a crew of edgerunner mercs.
‘Guess that’s one of the things I can only take care of when I face them. For now, let’s buy some magazines.’
{Alternative Titles: Picking Up the Pieces; Back to Reality; Another Day in Night City; Back on My Feet; Back to the Grind; New Business; Chooms and Business; Ribs, Classes and Eddies; Welcome to Night City;}