#viktor vector

I.

Viktor was looking for a flatmate.

No, wait. What a lie, he almost laughed, realizing the situation he was put into.

He wasn’t looking for anyone – he adored his space, the silence and peace. Fair, it was lonely from time to time as with age he grew up to be a little more social. Still, he had his job and he had friends; even if it seemed like it, Night City wasn’t yet cleared of all the decent people. Most of the time, it was enough for him, and when it wasn’t, the thing that consoled him the most was the silence. A bit ironic, but it was alright. He could sip his whiskey at evenings every few days, thinking maybe his life was not as successful as he claimed because of this annoying emptiness in his heart.

That being said, he still didn't want to share his living space with a random person. That's not something you do in that city if you wish to stay alive. He really didn’t dream about being stabbed to death in his sleep.

So, to put it more clearly: Misty found someone in desperate need of help, and now she was trying very hard to convince her ripper doc friend that all of this would be benefitting for him as well. Like he needed another criminal under his roof. He tried to refuse and explain that yes – he tries to make this world a bit better place with his job, but he will not give away his whole life to it. Still, he lost the argument, bribed by her. The thing is, Misty knows him and he knows Misty. She’s aware what Vik is fine with, and he’s sure she will never deliberately put him in an unpleasant situation. She knows what she’s doing, she promised alongside Jackie, who nodded so enthusiastically that his head almost fell off.

Now Viktor was patiently waiting to meet the person in question, that he was supposed to help out for some time. He quickly learned to be alright with this thought, as he was almost always at work. At least the flat will no longer be half-abandoned. He was doing this for his friends, as they plead so forcefully, and he didn’t plan to by sulky about it. At the end of the day, it was on him – he agreed, even if it was just a half-murmured ‘mhm’, as Misty asked again: So this is alright, yes? You are not mad?

He wasn’t mad, just slightly hesitant. In the next minutes, the feeling was only about to turn to worse, to something he could even call unsettling. All of that because of his friend's call.

Misty made sure he was at home, waiting, as they didn’t want to risk her safety for too long. It was better to move her straight to his place without any unnecessary pragmatic problems such as standing in front of his flat, because the surgery got longer than planned or something. No, he was ready. Well, now, actually, a bit less.

“She? Misty, if that's your weird way to set me up on a date again, it's…”

It was rude, probably, but for a second he really lost faith in his young friend. The thing wouldn’t cross his mind if he didn’t remember her previous incidents in this matter. She pried a bit too much, but he also never had the heart to tell her off. Let’s say the blond owner of his lovely basement always got some special treatment from him. 

Anyway, maybe it would be his call to finally cope with a certain face from the past, which caused him troubles sleeping every few nights. Not that he suddenly jumped to conclusions, but with someone around he would be forced to focus on their wellbeing, rather than his own problems old as the world.

“No.” She didn't turn on her camera, but he still could say she was serious about it. Strong voice, focused. “Just be there, please.”

He assured her again.

He was glad Misty didn’t see his flat with all the photos, as with time he got a bit nostalgic. If she spotted some girls, well, the girl, she would never give him peace again. He could imagine the talk: “Look, that woman over there looks exactly like your past girlfri… Yeah, I know she wasn’t, whatever.”

Now, Misty’s careful eye wasn’t his only problem. He was suddenly weary. Even insecure, perhaps… He wondered if he should hide all the photographs. Whoever the stranger  woman was, he didn't want to scare her. He isn’t some creep, that for sure, but on the first sight it made him look like he had some serious problems concerning an obsession on a teenager. He could explain it to her, obviously, but evidence spoke against him. It was pretty easy to notice his ‘three-headed collection’. On the left, small picture of V, crouching on the metro floor, with metal trophy in one hand, cheap beer in the other. She was grinning at him as he gave up to her begging to take a photo. She was complaining all evening how her cheeks hurt after all that smiling.

She was less happy in the second photo, more focused and fierce. Golden medal on her chest, some blood smeared on her cheek from a crocked nose. He could remember how other young participants looked at her with a shed of… if not fear, it was at least respect. He was so terribly happy about it – he couldn’t pray for more for her, than the respect. It was everything; in fighting, in Night City.

The last pic was just the both of them. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was pretty sure it was him who got the idea. It was hard not to somehow honor the deal of a new, powerful alliance they just made with a federation. The bargain went well, and he was in a good mood.

So the photos… He couldn't explain the bond he had with that kid to a random person just like that. Eventually he decided it's fine. His place, his rules. He can just say that's a niece. Or a girlfriend. Whatever.

Standing next to the door, so he really could react fast (Misty asked, so he valued the stranger’s safety), he noticed the way he was living. Too many empty spaces, perhaps too clean for a normal person. Nothing to be too insecure about, really, it was just a bit sad. Normally he didn’t care. What changed now, you old fool?

It was hard not to hear Jackie’s voice, deep as ever, rumbling on the staircase.

“Hey, I wouldn’t give you away to just anyone. He’s a good guy, one of the best, and he will like you.”

The silence was long, accompanied only by loud steps.

“And if I don’t like him?”

“You can watch fights together, you’ll surely bond over that,” Misty added, a bit annoyed, like she had to answer a dozen of questions of that kind before. Apparently that was enough to silence the woman.

“I just… feel guilty,” she muttered. “Are you certain that’s a good idea?”

Vik heard the whole exchange from the other side of the door, but there was no point in feeling bad about eavesdropping. Lucky for him, Misty texted him that they are already here, so he could open without acting strange.

Actually, he did act strange. His face dropped, organic hand froze on the doorknob as his shades slipped just a bit.

She didn’t look much better. For a second she appeared like she was ready to run to hell and back, scared like never before, and then… Then she smiled.

“Shit. I’m reckless and dumb, but the luck I have…”

After a moment of silence, she almost stepped back, like Viktor’s lack of an answer reminded her of everything she ever did. The thing is, he didn’t blame her. Never, and certainly not now, when she was standing in front of him, looking beaten and rugged. He almost wanted to say that she needed someone to take care of her, but it’s V he stood in front of – it would be an insult to suggest such a thing.

Whatever chrome he had installed, it almost sizzled from all the tension, but he smiled as well to put an end to her distress. Good face for a bad game. No, but seriously, he was so fucking relived.

“V. Got me surprised here. In a good way. Excellent, even. You…” He wanted to say that she’s alive, but didn’t want to push her back into overthinking her past actions. “I’m glad to see you. You look great.”

A silent “oh” came out of Misty’s mouth as she looked at her boyfriend, wondering if he understood the situation any better.

A sudden laugh from V seemed to end all the worry.

“Bullshit” she replied to his statement. “I look like I’m half-dead. God, Viktor, it’s been…”

“Five years, yeah. C’mon… Come in, all of you.”

She followed after Misty and Jackie, but stopped in front of him, still much in awe. Glaring at her disappearing friends, like all she needed to act the way his past V acted, was some privacy. Yet, she didn’t move, only staring at him with some spark in her eyes, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He clasped her hand in his bigger one in a careful, slow manner.

“I swear I didn’t know,” she said, like she just committed a great crime.

“I can tell. You were never good at pretending, you wouldn’t put an act like that.”

“Touché, but true. I want you to know that I would never come if I knew.”

That stringed as hell. What does she mean? And why would she still have this beaten, guilty face?

“You… you wouldn’t?”

“No, I… I’ve put you through enough back in the day.”

She put him through a lot by disappearing and cutting all contact, and he had to bite hard to not say it annoyed.

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But I do.”

“V,” he said strongly. “This is the happiest moment in a long, long while because I know you are alive. Don’t say crap like your presence bother me.”

She breathed carefully.

“Alright, but I gotta apologize.”

“Don’t need you to. Did what you had to. I would appreciate a message back then, yes, but I don’t need you apologizing.”

“Not for that. I apologize for sending that merc to end your search. That was the shittiest thing I ever did.”

He remembered that well. The feeling of cold barrel next to his temple, almost comforting in comparison to the words he heard. An indirect message to stop looking. He did, because she made sure he knew it was really from her. He did stop, but he never got as drunk as that night, not even in his times as a champion.

“I accept the apology. Shall we go inside?”

She smiled like she used to back then. She wasn’t sure she’s able to do that after all she’s been through, but she managed, looking at Viktor, who warmed up.

Misty looked at them from under her brow, taping a nail on her chin in a nervous manner. Unlike Jackie, she was anxious she messed up, that something will go wrong now. The sight of the pair, who failed miserably at pretending casualness, calmed her a bit.

“So you know one another, ay?” Jackie cared much less. Meaning, he knew V well, Viktor even better… it just happened that his friends used to be friends as well, no problem about it.

“Quite well, I’d say” V muttered, seeking approval from Vik.

“Yeah, real well.”

There was some sudden tension. They all stayed quiet – V ready to crack her fingers from embarrassment, the ripper barely able to glare from the floor to Misty, who only now noticed the photos around the place. Viktor knew she would notice sooner or later, not like Jack, not even V, who was much too scared for that now. Something connected in her head, and she nodded, caching his eye.

“Cool,” added the Valentino, embracing the role of a hero who will end the suffering. “V, tell the man the truth.”

Viktor snapped out of a trans, as well as everyone, and quickly asked if anyone wants something to drink. Not much later, they ended up on the couch and two extra chairs.

V opened her mouth a few times, like she really wanted to speak but couldn’t. Jackie was a step from poking out that she looked like a fish, but Misty slapped his arm and took the initiative to save her from this mess.

“So V had some trouble lately…”

V chuckled. It should be sad, but it was probably the choice of words that made her humorous. She looked at Vik who could understand the look perfectly – yeah, he knows that the only undeniable thing in my life is trouble.

“I did some gigs the past few years, on the outskirts of the city, close to the border, mostly. Met someone who made me greedy, showed me I can do greater things, which was the worst thought to feed me,” she spoke like it was to no one really. It made things easier to not look at anyone in particular, only get through the necessary interrogation part and move on. “So I listened, got back here, and managed to gravely fuck up in a few weeks. Actually, I was real good, and that was the main problem for some folks. I stayed hidden in Northwest recently, but that’s not a way to live… so I reached out to Jackie.”

“Who’s ‘some folks? Gangs?”

“Yeah, you name it,” she looked tense even at the thought of it, but Viktor felt like he needed to know. “Tygers. Maelstrom is probably first on the list of those who want to get to my ass…”

“Why hide in Northwest then? It’s full of ‘em.”

“Well, I had a place in Kabuki for a while, but it was… Kabuki. Considered Japantown.”

“And?”

“For that, she would have to leave her hideout first,” muttered Jackie, clearly mad about something.

“That’s the point. Too dangerous,” she agreed. “You know, it’s not rocket science, all of it. I was just done with living like a rat. I feel fucking awful with bothering you guys, but a few more days and I would be finished.”

“Don’t even say that.” Misty leaned closer and clasped a hand on hers, intervened. V, unlike herself, smiled at that with full appreciation. “No one should have to go through that for so long.”

“Well, I'm loud but good at hiding”

“Eventually, they would find you by the smell.”

“Jack!”

There was a glimpse of disgust on V’s face, and it could be about her own smell. Still, she rolled her eyes unseriously.

The blond explained how they debated about the best place, safe not only from gangs but also regulars. It was Night City they spoke about, a random stranger could stab you to death, and V deserved time to rest properly, without having to be couscous all the time. 

“I would ask my mama, but V once caused a fight at the Coyote, and she’s now worried about it…”

“No. I’m just scared of your mama.”

Misty was growing tired of their bickering, only herself and the ripper remaining serious, like the cause demanded.

“My apartment is not big enough to life comfortably alone, not even speaking about someone else,” she explained.

That’s where the idea of calling Viktor came.

“So, what have you done, V?”

It was not that he was scared, no. More like he wanted to know how much protection will be needed. His mind spinned for a second. Should he hire bodyguards? Screw the money that he was carefully saving from his days as a champion, he was ready to spend it all on her well-being. He was practically living at the clinic these days, but he can reschedule to stay at home a bit more. Or she can go to work with him if she likes, help him or hang out with Misty… Maybe she’d prefer to stay alone more?

“She didn't want to say, maybe don't push her, Vik,” Misty whispered like there was no one else in the room, but there was really no better way to help V out. They all knew Viktor wouldn’t push more.

“I killed Royce.”

Everything stopped for a moment. Even a fly that was getting more and more comfortable in his kitchen landed somewhere, and for, what felt like a first time since two days, it was truly quiet.

“Royce?”

“Simon Randall.”

“Like the Maelstrom Simon Randall?” Jackie looked at everyone like he was bitten and sought the guilty one. “Hell, I regret he asked. Didn’t want to know that.”

Viktor smiled softly like he understood much more. It couldn’t be just a cold-blooded murder… he just hoped that bastard died before he was able to get to V.

Only Misty stayed without and answer for a while. When she has finally spoken, she shocked everyone with simple words:

“I’m sure he deserved it.” She noticed their stares. “What? He was a psycho!”

“Nothing, chica, you just seem the smartest out of us, like always.”

“Vik? I just want to know… Are you certain that you don’t mind me staying?”

She knew the answer, at least he hoped she did.

“There’s no way I’m letting you walk out of this flat today, V.”

“Scary. That’s the nicest thing you could say.” She stared at her untouched cup, like she was finally allowed to befriend it. “In vino veritas, my friends… Hell, I'm so tired.”

“There’s a room ready for you.”

“Thank you, Vik.”

She smiled in a way that truly screamed of tiredness. Not just how weary her body was, or how desperately she needed a shower and a few hours of sleep, but that grand tiredness that collects in a person forced to move on alone, always ready to run – until it’s too much, and then you snap. Lucky, if the choices made under such pressure of your own mind are reversible. Viktor knew such people. They were often good fighters, ready to put everything on the line; either win gracefully, or loose miserably, nothing in between. That’s why it was so shattering to see this look on V.

But she was always like that, wasn’t she? Broken less, back then, or with the awful experience now, it was no difference, as V never knew much of real comfort.

Viktor was getting slightly overwhelmed with all the memories that appeared in his head. For a while he naively believed that he could provide her as much comfort as over five years ago, but he quickly realized comparing is pointless. He just had to try his best.

“Thank you all, really,” V managed to whisper, while the stout walls she built over the decade of being a fighter physically and mentally started to shatter just a bit. “I really thought I’d stay in that damn den, forced to die like a rat.”

She sniffed, desperately trying to postpone the breakdown that was now inevitable. All the emotions quickly got replaced by fury, that she, the so-called tough mercenary, turned out to be so weak, but tears still dwelled. All because of how exhausted she was.

Jackie was so stunned about her in this stated, that he subconsciously refused to notice, like he looked but didn’t see. V thought it was better this way. She had no idea how she was supposed to look him in the eye, if he asked. It was different with Misty and Vik – their lives never depended on her, she never watched their back on gigs. Jackie on the other hand… She simply worried he would see her as less after all of this.

The ripper quit his overthinking, seeing V’s discompose and raising from the chair to clasp his hands in a slightly awkward manner. It wasn’t like him to be so unrealistic, to dwell on the past and reconsider all of those things. He even cursed himself, but blamed in on age. People get sentimental with age, dammit.

“We should be on our way,” Misty got the message, and shot V a final look of worry mixed with something content. At least, she was assured she’s certainly in good hands. Literally and metaphorically.

“I didn’t finish my beer…”

“Jackie, we’re leaving.”

They all stiffened a bit, hearing V chuckle under her breath. She looked at her friends, waving delicately, while Jackie smiled like someone who was rushed out totally against his wishes.

“Tell your mama I say hi.”

“She’ll hate it. Rest V!”

Viktor closed the door after them, and V could hear him grumble, back from the corridor, “He can be quite something from time to time, no?”

“I’m not allowed to complain. He saved my life one too many times.”

Too occupied with zeroing her drink, V didn’t notice when Vik disappeared for a second.

“I left a fresh towel for you in the bathroom, if you want to… you know.”

“I’d love to,” she seemed to overcome her sudden burst of emotions, but she knew some crying drowned out by the noise of the running water was still very much needed. “Would I seem too bratty to ask if you could lend me some clothes? I’m sorry about all of that…”

“Left that for you as well. Still had some of your old stuff… Don’t really know why, but I kept that when I moved and…”

He had no idea why he jumped to explanation immediately, like he was guilty. Was he? He never considered if he felt bad about that.

“I’ll make use of them again, that’s what matters.”

The shower was probably as close to a spiritual purification as it could get. V allowed her body to be cleaned from all the filth, sweat, and long forgotten dried blood, just to stain it with tears later. That’s how she felt – like she was stained, and needed to wash off the signs of fragility as well.

Still, she realized what will welcome her when she’ll leave the steamy bathroom. Not the loneliness that she learned to befriend lately, not that tailless cat that stuck around, and she would honestly take a bullet for (but it was more likely the other way). Not even Jackie with another one of his terrible jokes and fear of seriousness or Misty’s mindfulness.

That’s why she left without putting on her strong face, feeling naked with the feelings on display. Before she stood in front of Vik, she realized she didn’t even consider that he could change, could not be the same person she used to know. The thought was so ridiculous, she decided to abandon it, and he proved her right.

She could watch him for a moment before he spotted that she was already back.

Smoke from the cigar held in his organic hand surrounded him, probably easing how tense he was. That’s at least what V hoped for, because he looked terribly tense.

“Didn’t know you could still get good stuff in town,” she said, nodding to the cigar.

“It’s not good stuff, but as close to it as it could be.” V kind of expected him to jump, be surprised, but she quickly reminded herself Vik never was. It was challenging to surprise someone like him, with his past included. “I guess I have access to some… sources most people don’t.”

“You know the right guys, and the right guys know you, to put it less fairytale-ish.”

“Exactly. Are you feeling any better?”

“Oh, a lot. Still, I might sleep for the next decade if undisturbed.”

“I’ll make sure you are. Sleep for how long you want, and feel at home. I mean it… Whatever comes next, it can wait, and we will figure it out when it’s time.”

She felt a bit pathetic, when he openly addressed in how much mess she got into. It was probably a silly thing to do, but she waved her hand dismissively, like she wanted to tell him to not overdo it. Only reaction to embarrassment she could think of right now. But it wasn’t that easy to fool Viktor Vektor. Sadly.

“V,” he said warningly, “You’ve been through a lot.”

“Well.” Gathering her mind, she hid her hands in the pockets of a fuzzy blue sweater. She remembered quite well that it was him who got it for her after one of her victories. It was probably one of the first ones, but long enough in their acquaintance that she allowed herself to talk his ears off in how much she liked the piece of cloth. It made thing worse now, too domestic. “It’s still me, somehow. I had some memories to stick to, to remain myself.”

“Sure.”

She didn’t blame him for an answer like that. She’d probably have no idea what to say herself.

“Go to bed, V. I’ll be here when you’re up and rested. We can talk then, about whatever you’d like.”

She nodded, but something stopped her physically, when she got the doorknob in her hand.

“Vik?”

“Hm?” There was some regret on her face immediately, and Viktor wanted nothing more than helping her get rid of that. “V, for fuck’s sake, you can ask anything of me. What do you need?”

“Gosh, chill, alright?” Her arms shot up in humorous frustration, and she tramped close to him, her bare feet clapping on the floor. “I just wanted to know if I could hug you, but now you made it sound weird.”

Vik laughed. In his mind at least, as his face remind serious.

“That’s rubbish. Come ‘ere.”

He barely managed to open his arms, before V was already shoving the side of her head in his chest. A hug like that could easily make a grown man’s head spin.

Even if he stayed a bit too still and fought himself against lowering his head to smell her hair, it gave his life – his life that he was surprisingly content with, that already had a reason – yet another one sense.

“I’ve missed you so fucking badly, V.”

She was silent for long enough to make him wonder if he even said that out loud. Perhaps it was better.

Finally, she looked up, now unexpectedly with some critical calmness.

“I probably don’t have the privilege of saying that back, after all I did that lead to this. I had to leave then, you know? It doesn’t mean I don’t regret it, but I had to do it.”

“Give yourself a break, V.”

“Yeah, I just… I wonder how it would be, if I’d stay. What that would make us.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. In contras to how much he liked those words that seemed like something he’d never hope for, he hated that demeanor.

“Dunno. I’m rambling nonsense. Really should hit the bed before I pass out on you.”

“Sure, love. Goodnight.”

II.

Viktor’s friends would say that the man was unable to change, his rules and habits unbreakable. It was a grand challenge to find another person of such strong morality, even if it was a bit curved, just as much as necessary so he could survive.

Yet, he saw himself differently. Not really able to say what was the difference, but he certainly did change. It was probably how grim he was back then. Not uncaring, definitely not rotten, but perhaps too flaunting with his nonchalance.

He was partially tired of his life. After he quit the big scene of fighting to live more in the shadows, he felt like it lacked something. It was not the lights – he enjoyed the quietness (or at least the smaller noise), but he still couldn’t get over the feeling like there was no purpose for him anymore. Pathetic, like breaking noses could be more meaningful than actually saving lives, which he did right now. Because of how absurd it was, he never wondered for longer. Just waited for an opportunity.

And it came, in a person of this girl, too cautious to be called self-confident, but with strong punches and fast reactions. She could have some talent, sure, but in the first place Vik wouldn’t give a single eddie for any of her victories.

The first time he saw her, was at this random gym in Watson. It was a small place, probably too dirty to touch anything without worry, and too simple to interest a guy like himself, but he felt some connection to this place. It was nice to have a moment of peace, the workout finished, no plans for the rest of the day. No plans for the rest of the week, truth be told.

Then, his interest was tempted when he spotted these two young people leaving the locker room. Viktor knew the guy. Didn’t exactly know how, but he did. Maybe he punched him once or twice while demonstrating something, maybe he just remembered a face from the crowd wishing him good luck. Didn’t matter. One way or another, they spoke – well, argued – loud enough for him to hear even if he didn’t want to.

“You will always work alone if you keep this attitude.”

Oh, the girl looked pissed. There was no other type of people who could perform that level of anger, other than teenage girls.

“What attitude?” she lowered her voice, even if she wanted to scream. “I simply said what I think, I didn’t even question your methods, I just…”

“Yeah, you’ll be perfectly fine on your own then. But honestly, girl? I doubt you will ever make it past ‘hobby stage’ with how lazy you are. In this world, people would kill for the talent you have, while you’re simply throwing it away ‘cause you’re not used to real work.”

She stopped in her track, like she just got slapped. It definitely felt like that.

“That’s not true…” she whined, simply too stunned to speak up loudly. She looked around, like she was still weary about other people’s opinion. ‘Typical’, crossed Viktor’s mind. Still, she gritted her teeth and looked at the man in front of her with void. “What are you on? There’s a difference between hard work and suicide!”

“You’re being dramatic now, V…”

“It would be simpler if you could just admit that you don’t care. You want me to win for your benefit, and it doesn’t matter if I work myself to death or bleed out straight after the fight. That would be a bitch move, but at least be honest.”

Fair. Viktor was on her side here. He also always preferred the worst truth rather than the pretty lie. Especially, since the lie usually wasn’t even pretty.

“You are making excuses. It’s not a great solution to blame me and make up crazy stuff in your own head just because you’re not happy about your results. And yes, I’m losing the money I really needed because of you, but that’s not…”

“I care about the money too, alright?!” she finally snapped, screaming at the top of her lungs.

It was certainly not a yell of a spoilt teen, a brat raised on victory. She didn’t tremble, there was no tear in sight, but at the same time she was broken. As much, as someone in terrible need of eddies might be.

“Not enough, apparently,” the guy needed a good while before he answered. “You should think about what I said. Rethink what you said. Then maybe I will take you in again.”

He was already halfway through the exit, when she came up with something that was never supposed to leave her mouth. At least that’s what she thought this morning. She considered herself decent, fair. Always avoided pushing people too much.

“You have no one else. If you win, it’s either with me or not at all.”

True. He really wanted to argue, but he cared about the money too much. He just muttered something about seeing her tomorrow, then and escaped, literally running out of the gym, embarrassed.

She, on the other hand, oh she was proud of herself. All the pain and shame again hidden under a smart smirk on her face, as she approached a snack machine, just to stare at it for a moment.

To say that Vik cared would be… a bit of an overstatement. He was simply amused, interested. It was in times when he still didn’t really figure out what he wanted to do, everything was temporary so far – somewhere between boxing and chrome – and for the first time in his life he had a lot of free time to spare. He could live comfortably with the money he earned fighting and was privileged to now pick his new interest. He did in fact already work with cyberwear, but it was still more like messing around, finding out what he has to before he will take it seriously.

So he had money, some good friends, some options – and it’s quite common, when you’re in circumstances like that, to pick up some new activities, ones that you would never think about before. So what he planned to do, was ask around about this complete moron who just throw a great performance, just to know who he is.

He really didn’t think about approaching the girl – what for? When he earned his first big money, he was in this trance, where he wanted to help everyone around him, and sadly lost a lot of people who really cared about him, not his money. He gifted it like crazy, offending a bunch of friends with his good will. Well, he was still (arguably) young at the time, and that certainly came in pare with stupidity in his case. Now, even if he wanted to somehow help that girl, he couldn’t just transfer some eddies to her and leave. No, fighters don’t accept charity. They despite it.

Anyway, the next thing he remembered was the anxious humming he heard, standing in front of a slot machine after his workout. He looked over his shoulder and there she was.

Suddenly nervous and deep in thoughts, but waiting patiently, not even looking at him when he stared for a moment.

“What are you having, kid?”

Oh, now she noticed. Shocked face, pretty challenging, but that was the way to go around Night City – when someone opens their mouth, you immediately assume they aim to do bad.

“‘s on me. That alright?”

She nodded as he stepped away to let her pick her drink.

“I saw you at the gym. Heard the conversation I was having, didn’t you?” she said like she wasn’t really worried, or at least that’s what she wanted to believe.

“It was hard not to.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, clasping her hand on her neck in nervous manner. “Sorry about that. It’s probably my fault but that guy… A pack of smokes would be a more emotionally intelligent partner in conversation.”

Vik smiled, almost.

“Don’t worry. Happens to all of us. Honestly, you don’t come across another thing as insufferable as gonk coaches, so consider yourself prepared for… well, anything that comes after.”

“You speak from experience,” she noticed, rather than asked. “I dare jump to the conclusion that you were in my place, and not the gonk coach’s?”

“No, not yet, I wasn’t.”

Not yet. It slipped.

“So you know a thing or two about fighting?”

“You could say that,” he answered humbly.

She glared him up and down with unreadable face. Nicely. She wasn’t judging, just analyzing.

“Boxing, heavy-weight?”

“Bingo. Not hard to tell, right?”

“Yeah, there’s not a big choice in this city,” she agreed with a smile. “But you’re a big fish. You have this look about you… something my friend you saw earlier would kill for. Can’t explain it. I stand in front of a champion.”

What a weird girl, oh god. It was hard not to like her.

“Well, I hope I’m standing in front of a future champion.”

She waved her hand dismissively.

“With that guy as a mentor? I don’t really stand a chance.”

“Then change him.”

“To whom? Have you seen me? I don’t really have your winner look, I’m too cranky and no one wants to work with a kid that old anyway. They start ‘shaping the character when they’re much younger’. Awful bullshit.”

“It is.”

“I’m flattered you agree, but that’s not changing my position.”

She smiled sadly, drinking her soda.

Vik had to think just for a moment, then slapped himself mentally, and he sighed.

“I’ll ask around.”

“Sorry?”

“I said I will ask if someone might be interested in mentoring you.”

“Wha…” Now she looked at him much deeper. It felt like being glared at with the highest technology from kiroshi. “You really know people, don’t you?”

“I do. Do you want the help?”

“I do. Desperately.”

He nodded.

“Tomorrow evening, here. You’ll show me what you can, so I know what I’m recommending.”

She was a step from throwing herself at him, such display not even similar to her.

“Gosh, I’m… I guess it’s the luck of a fool, huh?”

“No, it’s just that I’m jobless at the moment. Jobless and bored.”

And questioning the sense of his life, but that she didn’t need to know.

“May I ask for your name, kind sir?” she changed her voice like she just finished binge-watching a crapy costume-drama from the 2020s. “I’m V.”

He clasped her outstretched hand.

“Viktor.”

“Well, Viktor, as I’m sure you’re someone big, and I’m just uneducated, I promise to do my research. If there’s any poster with your face available, I will get it and hang it over my bed as soon as possible.”

“... You’ll be lucky if I show up tomorrow, if you do that.”

“Alright, no poster. Noted.”

He did in fact show up, as did she, happy and determined.

Viktor was sure he’ll find someone interested in taking her in, in no time, but he didn’t. He wanted to laugh at the irony of his life. Everyone suddenly bussy, too occupied to even shot a look at her. ‘No, no chance, Vik, I already have a full team.’ Rubbish. No one ever had a full team in this city, and even if, it meant one of the kids will die soon, either in a shooting or at the ring, and then another filler will be needed. Not that he wished that path for her, he just knew how all of this worked.

So, technically, he was forced to take care of her. That’s what he told himself at first. Later, he never had to question it again, as he never regretted.

◇◇◇

It was weird having V around again. She walked around the apartment like someone could shoot her from around the corner, but Vik understood it was probably not about the place, just what she’s been trough. It kind of hurt to see, because of how different it was back then.

She was so comfortable around his previous flat, it made him feel like a better man. Being aware that all she knew growing up was fear and everlasting tension, and then she just hanged out with him at his place.

Once he forgot something at home, just as they were supposed to start a workout, and she suggested she’ll go with him. Ten minutes later, after he left her to look for some stupid chip, he found her splattered on the living room floor, going through his collection of vinyls.

Viktor was a bit annoyed that they skipped that day's practice, but he was not cruel enough to stop her fun. In the next months, there were very few places in Viktor’s flat that she didn’t have memorized. Respectfully, of course – honestly, he didn’t mind. He once saw the place she was staying at and ever since he preferred to have her close. In her neighborhood? He was never sure if that’s not the last time he’s seeing her.

It was similar now. He felt good every time he saw her safe and healthy. It just bothered him that she’s practically forced to stay.

“So, you’ve been living alone all this time when you were hiding?”

“That’s pretty much the point of hiding, Vik.”

“No offense, V, but it’s you. Anything’s possible.”

“That’s supposed to be a complement?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I had a cat, but I had to scare him away to not put him in danger. Would be weird to be threatened with cat’s life.”

“Hm,” he gave it a thought, like it was truly a matter of life and death.

“What’s so weird about it? My sympathy for the creatures' life?”

“No, just that you were always more of a dog’s person.”

She glowed at the mere realization that he kept that in mind.

“Yeah. Remember when I once asked you to think about having a dog? You looked at me like I lost my mind and never picked up that topic again, but it was fun, rambling like an idiot and getting only your annoyed huffs as reactions. You said you didn’t see a dog in Night City in years.”

“Didn’ lie. Still, I almost got you one back then.”

“What? Where would you get it?”

“I found a place. I knew you wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got to doing instead. I hoped it’d be a good way of keeping you safe.”

“Damn, Vicky, you’re gonna make me tear up. You wanted to get me a dog to keep me safe? You angel of a person,” she chirped right above his ear, lingering close as he was fixing his hand.

V leaned on the base of the couch, and Vik just had to lift his head to look straight at her face. She was grinning, too happy about herself.

“I already regret saying that.”

“No, no! I love it.” She clasped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m a lonely person, Vik, I’ll take any flattery I can get, and that is a high level.”

“Oh, just give me a break. You didn’t change one bit.”

“Told ya,” she whistled, disappearing in his own room, because – as she said – she needed to make an inspection of all the things that changed.

The first few days she was getting used to the flat. Now the time came to go through his stuff. He knew he’d probably find her later on the floor around of pictures, antics and whatever he kept and didn’t remember, but he had no other occupation to offer. He had work to do, and had to leave her alone, so it would be cruel to strip her from the last interesting thing to do. Even if it was pretty much spying, or at least invading his personal space. He didn’t mind, as he usually didn’t when it came to her.

◇◇◇

V once joked it’s not that she attracts trouble – she’s just interlinked with it by faith. At this point, Viktor didn’t even consider it funny, it was simply the truth. Or maybe it was him, who brought the lack of luck? She never once came back beaten up when she left alone. Shaken, maybe out of breath, yes, but not beaten. When they went together, it always took another shape.

V said it’s because she feels more secure around him. She’s ready to throw a reward punch, with him behind her back, when alone she’d already be sprinting away from the fight. No matter if any of that was the truth – the fact was, they tended to have problems every time they left Watson hand in hand.

Viktor wasn’t stupid. He also wasn’t a newbie to all of this, so the second he saw a few Tyger Claws members gather close to the door, he was immediately at the highest level of alert.

“What?”

I was hilarious how V could sense every time he got tense, like she was somehow connected to him. In the first place, Viktor thought she’s just a brilliant observant, but it was something more. Sometimes he could read her feelings as well, but it was different – he saw, added one to one and could react the way she needed him to. Other times, even if he had a gun to his head, he wouldn’t be able to tell what she’s thinking. It happened especially at the toughest fights. But V? She just knew. Only needed to spare him a glare, to confirm her gut feeling.

“We're leaving, V.”

She could barely hear him over the cheer of the crowd. Truth be told, she was slightly overwhelmed about this event. She was in one of the last pairs, fight at the pick of night, when people were already pissed off enough, high on anger, ecstasy, substances or whatever else. It was the waiting that got to her the most. It was like suffering with an open wound, and when Viktor tried to distract her with talking, she felt like a patient who’s bleeding out, waiting for the stitches, while the doctor is talking about what color he’s planning to paint the kitchen.

Usually he allowed her to skip watching the other fights, and come straight before her own, even if he complained a lot about the respect for others and all of that. Usually is the key word. Today was different. Vik wasn’t even sure why he got so angry today. This morning, he almost snapped at her, that she should learn to handle stress better. Obviously, he felt like a prick about it, so he spent a fortune on snacks she picked as her apologetic gift.

And now? Just because he was jumpy, and went against the girl to teach her something good, it could save their lives.

“Let’s go. We ain’t staying.”

“What?!” she screamed over the crowd, pretty much mouth-reading what he said, but he knew she understood. The shock on her face was enough to explain.

Viktor lowered his head, while he grasped her wrist to tug her close. He was heedless about it, too focused on not letting his sight go away from the danger. She had to hold onto his forearm to get steady, forcing him to look at her anyway.

Mouth slightly open, bothered and angry about this whole situation, she looked like she’d demand explanations with her fist if he delayed any longer. Still, it was hard for him to find his voice for a moment.

God, even considering the aggravation, she has risen her head and looked at him like he knew everything, and she was the only one allowed close to that knowledge. Keeping his head straight was getting more and more difficult, when she glared at him that way.

The only comfort he found was in the fact that whatever he felt, it didn’t change the way he trained her. He always put her wellbeing first, so it won’t change now suddenly.

“As I said. See the entrance?” he said straight to her ear, so she’d hear him clearly.

“Yeah, there's… a bunch of Tygers,” she observed, looking back at him and stepping even closer to not get squished by the raging crowd. They no longer paid any attention to the fight going on. “Right. After you then?”

“Just stay close.”

She did, nevertheless, he caught her hand behind his back.

He was a lucky man, just had to look at some people, and they started to stutter before showing him the way. He could fully hide V with his body when they left through the backroom exit.

In the policy of underground fights, running away meant loosing. The word traveled fast, and some doors were closed to V, but the less appealing ones. The real world only started to notice her, not only as a feasible future champ, but also as a smart player.

They left as losers, but it didn't matter because they were the only ones that made it out alive. Tyger Claws had some justice to make, and what issue was it to blew up a bunch of other people, right? None of them was innocent anyway.

Both V and Viktor needed a drink after they learned what happened.

“I’m never questioning any of your councils again.”

“You already rarely do.”

“Don’t regret it, Vicky. I really don’t.” She was slowly sliding off the stool, tiredness and alcohol getting to her. Victor had to hold her up every few minutes, so she doesn’t finish on the floor. “I can still see that boy’s face, you know?”

“The first one?”

“Mhm. Felt bad for him first I saw him. That was a spectacular loose. Now they’re all dead, just like that.”

It was hard to cheer her up, while he felt awful himself. The best he could do was distracting her a bit, and while it pissed her off gravely when she was sober, now it worked good enough.

“One day, when you’re finally the legend around here, you’ll be able to leave it all behind and never have to bother again. No Tyger Claws, no other gangs, no waking up and wondering if that’s your last day…”

“You ever wanted to leave, Vik?”

“I didn’t, but you can.”

She wondered for longer than he expected. He was sure she hated this city like most. She made it clear many times, also incredibly respectful about his weird liking to the neighborhood.

“There are some things that will always haunt me, when I’m not here. I’d always be forced to crawl back, and it would feel pathetic. I’m thinking… I’s probably better to stay.”

“And what are those things, huh?”

She looked at him like it was obvious, then understood she never actually told him. Viktor felt like a moron, trying to remember if she ever told him, but he was sure she didn’t. He would know, he kept in mind everything she said, muttered, whispered, or even babbled drunk.

“Well, you, of course, but I meant other things. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

Viktor never pried. Actually, never, when it wasn’t necessary to keep her safe.

“Let’s change the subject, then, shall we? That boy’s fight. What would you do better?”

She liked that. They always analyzed other people’s fights that way. Even when they were sprawled on the couch together, usually legs intertwined, making Viktor’s breathing heavier, he always bothered her with asking ‘what she would do better?’. She simply was better, and he knew it very well. In fact, he was the first to know. Still, he couldn’t allow her to waste it.

“He went by a scheme. He saw the opponent's moves and tried to fit… profile him, in a way, instead of doing whatever was good in that certain situation. I bet it made him feel a false sense of control of the situation… and then he was laying down with a broken nose, just because he focused on the guy, rather than himself.”

“Also,” Vik started, and they both clicked their glasses to the memory of the young fighter, “he was much smaller. Whoever made that match, wanted him to lose.”

“I’ve won with people much bigger than me,” she noticed.

“Well… You’re you.”

“Damn, Vik. You flatter me.”

He almost dropped his drink when he noticed V actually hid her lower face behind her glass and blushed a bit. He was sure he imagined things, but there it was, flushed cheek, as real as the bruise close to it, and an old scar.

They were both tipsy enough to start laughing like fools.

◇◇◇

After a while, meaning when V finally felt secure enough to leave the flat, she started helping Viktor at his clinic. At least that’s how he called that. She thought it would be more fair to call it just hanging around. She did pass him some things when he operated, she stayed quiet when needed, but it was mostly just keeping him company. She was fine with it. After all, she knew how to make use of chrome, not how to install it.

Spinning at his stool, stolen while he was washing his hands after a surgery, V watched the ripper carefuly. She was bashfuly at ease, which earned her some teasing from Vik, but in truth he was happy  to see her like that. She has always known excessive attentiveness, that’s what kept her alive, and some freedom was almost touching to see.

“I feel like you will burn a hole in my back, if you keep staring at me that way.”

“What way? You have eyes on the back of your head too?” she messed around, and he shot her an unimpressed glare.

“Funny. I might have.”

Drying his hands and tossing a cloth to the side, he looked at her, equally attentive.

“You alright, V?” She only nodded, letting him clarify what he means. “Are you… content enough with everything so far? With how it’s going? Obviously it’s not a long term solution but…”

“I wouldn’t mind if it were. I’m happy like that, Vik. Feeling a bit too much like a parasite to you, but I haven’t been better since a long time,” she confessed with a soft smile. “Since I left, in fact.”

“You’re not a parasite, c’mon… If you’d ever want to stay for longer, after everything's calms down, you can always throw in a few eddies if it’ll make you feel better. But now? Don’t worry about it even one bit.”

“Thanks, Vik. Don’t really have a choice now, do I?”

“No. Now tell me what were you thinking about.”

He could see she considered if it’s worth saying, but for Vik everything that came out of her month would be, so he waited.

“Well, I wondered why you never asked about me leaving. Like, really. I kinda expected you… demand a reason, and all.”

“I feel like there’s no need for that. Should I?”

She shrugged.

“Probably.”

“Would you like me to?”

“Not much, since I don’t have straightforward motivations, and truth be told, I feel like a dumbass about it.”

Viktor smiled, like the greatest problem of the world was just solved.

“That’s settled then, no?”

“I just don’t want to take away something you deserve. I… I guess I want to tell you, after all. Maybe it would make me feel better. Just don’t know how.”

“It’s fine, just do it for you, not for me. I don’t demand it, nor need it to respect you more or less. Let’s go out for dinner when I finish my job here, and we can try to talk then?”

“Sound’s great. Thank you, Vik.”

◇◇◇

Viktor always knew V was full of contrasts, but it was physically painful to watch her change that rainy night she came to him.

At noon, she was grinning like a fool, happy and confident about all her achievements. She was already making a name for herself around Night City. People started to recognize her, knew there’s no point in messing with Viktor’s protégé. She defended the championship title lately, and everything was proving she’s got another set for great fights in the next weeks.

Vik was proud, head over heels, but also extra careful. It was a neuralgic moment. Most people with bad intentions to the young champion would strike exactly now. He was now not only a coach, friend, flatmate (since he practically took her in), but also a bodyguard, physically and mentally.

“Vektor. Took your dog for a walk?”

Fred Ward wasn’t really someone Viktor liked, but V said he’s alright. The words were more playful than mean, he wanted to tease them a bit. V just bared her teeth, somehow proud of the nickname.

“Yeah, he’s making sure I won’t go cyberpsycho from staying inside all the time. And I’d say ‘dog’ is a bit of an understatement. I’m his best champ. Doctor Viktor’s Monster.”

“Jezz, kid, alright… Next time I’ll call you Miss V.”

So, to put it straight, V was in a particular good mood.

The girl was of merry nature anyway. Never stayed depressed for too long, especially when she had Vik at her side. She used to say that’s her way of dealing with… well, everything. For Viktor, it was a bit too close to denial to call it healthy, but he wouldn’t force her into melancholy.

Even when she broke up with a boyfriend – a certain boyfriend Vik couldn’t stand even if he knew him only from stories – she wasn’t sad for long. Tears after arguments with her father were quickly wiped off, with the assuring that she truly can stay at Viktor’s as long as she needs.

He saw her truly down only once, and still he was pretty sure his own old ass was dealing with it much worse. He faced the man after that. The junkie-looking, pathetic mess of a man, who opened the door with a rifle, and dared to call himself V’s only family. He spoke of her like it was a reason to be ashamed of. Even Viktor, a guy of rather calm nature, had to take all reigns of his anger to now throw a punch at him. One more word and her ‘father’ would end up without teeth. Good enough, they practically spat at one another, when Vik was taking her stuff to move it to his place. V always tried to keep her older friend away from that side of her life, but she was pretty sure that if she’d come back now, she’s not leaving alive.

Viktor couldn’t stand the realization that he allowed her to suffer for so long. He was that kind of guy to take a metro. So they always did. After practice, any match, meeting. He made sure V was safely home. Home, where the greatest danger awaited.

After she came to him that night, he assured her it was alright to stay all-time, and she did, but some fathers aren’t just mortal men. They turn into phantoms hunting memories of their children, slowly creeping into their minds, taking control of it and pushing them towards danger. V was grateful, embarrassed about all the help she allowed, but above all she was terrifyingly frightened. She felt the threat following her and didn’t want to stain Viktor’s peace with it.

Then she fled. She was carrying not only the fury of her father, but his debts, and the ones she made to keep him alive. She stood up to powerful men, allowed others to use them, just so the scoundrel would be safe. Finally, she pissed too many people, and looking straight into Viktor’s eyes made her realize she can’t risk anymore. Those eyes, always full of hope and proudness when they found her.

◇◇◇

“I’m wondering if it ain’t too fast.”

“I can call Misty and tell her we changed our mind.”

V sighed heavily, troubled like never.

She was laying on the couch, legs up the headrest, slightly waggling, and her head almost in Viktor lap. Well, it was, technically. Half of it. He wished. He couldn’t stop himself from tangling his fingers in her hair a bit. She hummed, which made him breathless for a moment.

After a while of mindless staring at the TV, she fixed herself, pulling close to him with a mumbled ‘that alright?’

“Oh, come on, what happened? We were out already. Something’s different that you worry so much?” he dwelled carefully, so she doesn’t feel pressured to agree.

Sure, he’d love going for a drink with their friends, but he could as well stay in with V, and he’d feel exactly the same content.

“I think it’s about Jackie.”

“What about him, V?”

“A lot of people know him. He’s loud and have friends everywhere. Wherever he is, there’s a mess,” before he could answer, she yelped, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love that about him! He’s amazing, obviously, I just didn’t hang out with him since I had to hide. Guess I’m a bit anxious.”

“You won’t be alone, and I’ll let him know to behave this time, alright?”

She calculated, and threw him a smile.

“Sure. I’d feel awful to destroy the plans.”

“I’m glad you agreed. Wanna change before we leave?”

She rolled her eyes, already getting off the couch to throw on something different from Viktor’s sweatpants she’s been wearing for awfully long, because it brought her some comfort. He didn’t complain, which was a good sign.

“What, Vicky, you don’t fancy me when I’m like that?”

“Stop messing around,” he ordered, showing her the way to her bedroom, like she didn’t make this place her home too.

“Aye, sir.”

He stood up as well, before she disappeared.

“V?”

“Hm?”

“I would always fancy you, and you know that.”

“Do I?” she chocked out, figuring it's better than silence.

“Yes, you do,” he claimed, very sure of himself, suddenly nothing distressed about this man. “Anyway, Jackie. How did you meet him?

A few years back, V picked some priceless scrap from Jackie’s pocket and sprinted towards the exit, but with the size of that man she had no chances. Her six steps were his two, and that’s how she ended on the ground, spread out on shattered glass from the see-through door. It was Jackie’s fault that they were destroyed now. Actually, she would just slip unnoticed, without any sound. He hit the glass with full speed, just to catch her arm and throw her to the ground.

“Congrats, choom. Fuck…”

She could feel the glass on her almost bare back. It was also quite easy to imagine this guys’ fist going at her head with similar strength the door got hit with. It just never came.

He was still holding her arm with his own outstretched over her head, ready to fight, but he froze. It crossed V’s head that thinking must do awful things to this guy.

“Mierda.”

The second someone run out of the shop to make a fuss about all of this, he was on his feet. So was she, he made sure of that. He lifted her with ease, still holding, so she couldn’t flee with what she stole.

“That you, V?” yelled the shop owner.

Nasty guy, Jackie could tell from the disgusting way he was looking (well, trying to look) at her. The big form covered her, and she made no movement to show herself to the owner.

“I fucking know that’s you, what the hell! Told you last time that I’ll get to your ass if you come back again… and this,” he pointed to the glass. “This granted you more than a beating. Get yourself here right now, girl, if you don’t want a bigger problem.”

“The bigger problem stands in front of you, moron.”

Jackie was, in fact, bigger and more of a problem to him, than a beaten, hungry, rat-looking V right now. The owner muttered something back, but she didn’t hear him, focusing on that weird Valentino guy.

The three didn’t come to a pacific solution. In mere seconds guns were involved and when V realized, she was sprinting through an alley alongside Jackie.

Pretty much the story of how she got forced into a friendship with him and Misty – or, as they joked, she got ‘adopted’. She felt like a homeless cat, but it was nice to have someone to open her month to. Like real friends this time, not those who will stab you in the back without any reason or even profit, but just because they are damn madmen.

They realized that they have mutual friends pretty quickly. No one just thought about Viktor back then.

◇◇◇

“Drunken fools and hangover nights. I missed it.”

“You want to tell me there was none of that in your life in the past few years?” Vik laughed alongside her.

Tipsy, that how he would call his state, but V wouldn’t choose such a nice word.

“Well, let’s say the main difference now is that I feel safe.”

“I’m happy you feel that way, V. Really.”

“Yeah, you can take all credit. So, mister doctor, can I have something for my head, as I asked?”

“Right away.”

She waited, her head spinning, hurting like hell, but there was something nice about it all.

Soon a weird looking potion was put close to her face. 

“What's that?”

“It'll make you feel better,” he assured.

“No offense, Vik, but it smells worse than the food Maelstrom is feeding to their enemies.”

“How would you know… Well, doesn't matter. Do you want to suffer like that for the whole night?”

“Can't I just take some normal painkiller?”

“Won't help.”

“Viktor, I swear I'm going to vomit if I drink it just like that.”

He rolled his eyes annoyed, and it made her feel like back in the day. They would bicker about stuff constantly, both pretending to by mad, just to laugh seconds later. Outside, they both had reputations to uphold. They weren’t considered cheerful people. Decent, yes, but not cheerful. But at home and drunk? Damn comedians, bad ones at that.

He came back with a small jar of jam. The only sweet thing that was not after data.

“Fucking Spartan conditions,” V complained. “You sure you can’t just kiss it better, before we try the disgusting final measures?”

“No. Drink.” 

He hurried her with the roll of his hand.

“Already did, that’s my problem. Drink too much…”

But she did put the flask close, sniffed, held in a gag and sipped a bit, quickly forcing some jam into her mouth to cover the taste.

“I’m going abstinent from now on.”

Vik snorted, sitting next to her, to rub her back.

“Like hell.”

“I still want you to kiss it better.”

“Now? After you drank this thing? I’d have to be stupid to…”

Oh, he was stupid. Very, very stupid, especially when she gave him no choice but pulled him close by his shirt. Damn fool, but just for her. She kissed him with such force, their teeth clattered together. Before she could pull back a bit, Viktor was already on her, recovering from shock, hand on her waist to keep her close.

“You were saying?” she whispered cunningly, forcing him away by tilting her head a bit.

“Nothing, V. It’s nothing.”

For most of the night, all he could focus on was her and the warm feeling in his chest she was responsible for. Althou, there was something he couldn’t shake off. Somebody’s dubious face kept reappearing in his mind, arousing great concern.

The four of them were still sitting at their table in a bar, when someone causes a confusion in the crowd close to them. They paid them no mind. The girls decided to get more drinks, and Jackie – most drunk of them all, but still cautious enough about the reality in Night City – suggested he’ll go with them to make sure everything’s alright.

Vik didn’t even notice the corpo getting close to him. He just knew one moment he was waiting alone, and the second there was a pale man, staring him down.

“Vektor,” greeted the stranger with an eerie smile.

He didn’t say anything more. He just wanted to let Viktor know that he’s here. He’s watching.

Vik knew it was dangerous and something twirled in his guts, but he was too happy right now.

And when he realized what danger he actually faced, it was way too late.

III.

Vik didn’t even notice the corpo getting close to him. He just knew one moment he was waiting alone, and the second there was a pale man, staring him down.

“Vektor,” greeted the stranger with an eerie smile.

He didn’t say anything more. He just wanted to let Viktor know that he’s here. He’s watching.

Vik knew it was dangerous and something twirled in his guts, but he was too happy right now.

And when he realized what danger he actually faced, it was way too late.

Viktor was left dumbstruck. Out of his mind. Ready to rip out his hair, then throw out every patient who would be unlucky to enter the clinic today.

This morning, he was watching V closely as she was drying her hair off, perhaps with a bit too much of suggestion on his face. There was no time left for breakfast, but they were happy anyway.

V was growing more and more brave about staying alone. She still tried to not leave on her own, but she no longer feared staying at his flat, when he was at work. He assured her that nothing can happen to her there, while caressing her arms lovingly.

He was so damn sure of it, and now he was staring at the message, written in a fancy cursive.

Come get your little girlfriend.

Neon blue paint was flowing down, staining his whole workplace, but in a minute he made it all even more useless with his outburst of fury. It wasn’t like him, he knew that. He was that calm, cold-blooded person, who everyone turned to in crisis situations.

It all made sense now. He knew who he was facing, but he wasn’t sure that got his spirits up. Maybe it would be better to stay oblivious.

◇◇◇

In his whole career Viktor never saw such precise and well thought project of chrome build made by just one person, not a specialist, but an absolute amateur. He was sure that if V was here, she’d joke about ‘the power of love’, but he wasn’t sure if that’s it. It could also be the power of envy, or remorse.

There were two of them: a terrified husband who could barely choke out a full sentence, holding onto the plans he presented to Viktor, and the corp. As he learned, he was a brother to the poor kidnaped woman, who they wanted to get out with force. That’s when the crazy cyberwear came.

“That's a…” Viktor was too stunned to finish the sentence. He just rose his head, to look at them both from under his shades.

“Adam Smasher inspired build. Like the big guy, you know?” said the scared one.

“I’m sure he knows who Smasher is, right, doc? The question is, can he do that.”

Viktor was silent for a while. They falsely assumed he was considering. No, he was having a literal inner breakdown, at how irresponsible and stupid people still were. Even the news, the hated propaganda TV, were drumming about cyberpsychos, and he had two men asking him about Adam Smashers built. Fucking Adam Smasher.

“Go to Saka for that.”

He did notice that the corp was wearing Arasaka uniform, obviously.

“That's where we started. They are…”

“Not interested,” finished the brother, clasping a hand on his friend's shoulder. He almost shattered under the touch.

Viktor shook his head, wanting to get rid of them as fast as possible.

“Then go to hell,” he scoffed. “If you look there, you actually might succeed.”

The door cracked, and before he could snap at anyone to stay out of it, a female voice broke the sharp silence.

“Arasaka and hell are almost the same place, Viktor”.

All three turned their heads towards V. His V in presence of those madmen. That was probably the first time he felt so caring, no, so possessive, about her. Those were her first days as a fresh champion, and he only just planned how to keep her safe.

“V, go to the back”.

She didn't argue, but it was already too late to escape the corp's lingering eye. He remembered her, oh he did.

◇◇◇

“I know who you are…”

V’s head hurt like hell, but she still looked up. Awful red eyes stared at her with some twisted satisfaction behind them.

“Good. I don’t know who you are.”

The comment didn’t make the opponent react. He was an unhealthy pale man, dressed in smart but rugged clothes like he abandoned the care about looks a long time ago. Even at the first glare she could spot numerous chrome, much better than the ones she and people like Vik had acces to. That guy knew better, he could use the corporations insides, clearly.

No way she could take him down like that, even if she didn’t just regained her consciousness after a while of blackout. 

“Maelstrom, Tigers, they all want you alive. You know what that means, ay?”

“That they miss me or my amazing council?”

“That they’ll do terrible things to you. That’s the reason for the ‘alive’ part.”

“Oh, I thought you know me as the ex junior champion of Night City…”

He flounced, like she said something really pathetic. V couldn’t care less. Her head was spinning, and it wasn’t just from the hit. She could feel the nosebleed coming.

“Yeah, I really was. Impressive, huh?” she flexed, like the strange’s amusement was actually admiration.

“Fuck, I thought you’ll make me feel at least a bit bad about all of this… but you’re so much more annoying than Vektor.”

“I’m special,” she said ironically, but now with a strong, pissed off voice. She didn’t like the mention of Viktor. “What you’re going to do to me?”

He got up from the stove he was curled on to look her straight in the face. He was really unnaturally huge, it made her shiver a bit. She wanted to move, but couldn’t. The cold feeling of cuffs only made her panic more.

“Not for you to worry about.”

“Oh, fuck you…”

It was like method acting, and she could feel insanity creeping on her spine. She couldn't keep the act for long. She wanted to burry her face in Viktor's chest and let go of all the tears she stopped for years. But now? She wasn't even sure she’d see him again. Well, at least the awful feeling would be gone.

It was not a time for a breakdown. It was a time to snap, gather all the anger she had in  and use it, even if for the last time.herself, but her body refused to cooperate. She felt like it was no longer hers.

“Hey, you at least tell me why…”

“I can do that,” he answered quickly, not so scary as before. But that was the worst thing about him: how calm he was. He decided already, she’s not talking him out of it. “First reason, is to show your friend he’s not the good guy he thinks he is. He turned away from people in desperate need of his, and only his help. Two good people died because he refused to dirty his hands.”

“That’s not Viktor. He’s not smart enough to refuse…”

A fist crashed with the wall close to her head.

“My sister was killed, her husband ended himself after the rescue didn’t work. They were innocent in anything they did, blackmailed by Arasaka and eventually forced to cooperate. Even then, they were also moral. Not enough for the big guys. They had to kidnap my sister, the brilliant scientist she was.”

“That’s Viktor’s fault, huh?”

“If he’d agree to help, years ago, both of them would be alive.”

“Lame reason for revenge, really.”

“There’s also the second one.”

Fear creeped on her spine again.

“I’m going to sell you to those who want to make an example of you. I don’t care if you’ll be crucified, starved, ripped apart, as long as they really pay how much they offered. The next thing I’m doing, after destroying Vektor, is going for Arasaka, and for that I’ll need money.”

He’s finally talking with some sense.

V jumped, looking around the room for another man, but it was empty. The pressure in her head made breathing difficult, as she stared at the corp’s face.

“Are you messing with my mind as well?”

He laughed. Sincerely.

“You’ll keep something for me. If you live long enough, I’ll come to gather what’s mine. It’s also a way to make sure Viktor will see you suffer, and be helpless, like I was about my family.”

What a sick fucker, why couldn’t I be stolen by someone more interesting?

“What the hell is this voice?!”

“Oh, you will know soon enough. Until then, V.”

It was easy to assume she won’t see him for a while, not like the Maelstrom that will come to gather her from this cold garage, full of trash. The door roared, and she barely could breathe out.

What, you’re going to sit here like that? Do something, fuck.

“What the…”

Something glitched, her sight got blurry, and she was pretty sure she passed out. Some known force snapped her head up. She opened her eyes, teary from the strong light.

I ain’t dying again. Not like that, and not in a body as shitty as this.

She could see her own reflection in the shades sitting at the top of this man's head.

She was, in fact, looking shitty.

V gasped, when Johnny Silverhand who was aggressively pointing a finger at her turned into her Viktor, who quickly got rid of the cuffs, and picked her up.

“Hey, you…”

“Shh, made it before the gangs. We gotta get out of here now.”

The cool hum of the generator was a constant, low thrum, the true heartbeat of Viktor’s clinic. For V, it was more comforting than any expensive white noise machine or sleep synth could ever be. It meant power, it meant clean needles, and it meant Vik was here. V sat heavily on the primary chair, the recycled leather already worn into the shape of their back. Their latest gig had ended with an entirely predictable amount of chrome damage and dermal trauma,, a knife wound that had gone too deep and too wide across the ribs.

They were tired down to the bone marrow, but they kept their shoulders squared and their expression rigid. No point in showing weakness. Viktor, a massive silhouette against the soft, diffused light of the monitors, didn’t look at V right away. He was prepping the scanner, his movements deliberate and quiet. He knew better than to rush V, knew they needed a moment to re-sync with the real world after the adrenaline crash. When the scanner whirred to life, Vik stepped close, his eyes focused on the ribcage area. The cold, sterile air from the scan emitter made V tense. “Lift your chin, kiddo,” Vik murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble that bypassed V’s overstimulated nervous system and went straight to the core. Vik’s touch, when it came, was professional. One massive hand rested gently on V’s shoulder to steady them as the automated arm moved over the wound. But V was already keyed up, the pain from the fresh trauma a live wire. As the cold scanner ghosted the edge of the injury, V couldn’t suppress it,, a tiny, involuntary micro flinch, a tremor that barely registered but sent a ripple through the muscle under Vik’s palm. Vik’s head didn’t move, his eyes still fixed on the screen, but his hand instantly went softer. Slower.

The pressure on V’s shoulder lessened, becoming a gentle anchor instead of a brace. He stopped the scanner’s arm for just a beat. “Easy there,” he said, the bass of his voice dropping even further, quiet enough that the clinic hum almost drowned it out. “I got you. No rush.” He didn’t ask if it hurt, he simply acknowledged the pain and promised patience. In that quiet second,, the cold metal paused above their skin, the scent of antiseptic and leather in the air,, V felt a sudden, profound lurch of feeling. It wasn't love, not in the way the poets on the vids described it. It was a raw, primal certainty, they’d die for him. Not out of duty, but because Viktor was the one person in all of Night City who saw the fragile, human meat suit beneath the chrome and didn't try to exploit it. He saw the flinch, and he went soft. The habit of the hand hold was an accident of necessity that had evolved into a ritual. It began weeks ago, following a major overhaul of V’s optical unit.

After the procedure, Vik always ran through the standard checks, pupil dilation, focus speed, retinal response. V would be sitting back, still foggy from the anesthesia and the sheer sensory overload of new chrome settling in. This time, Vik was reading the final diagnostic file on the wall monitor, his back partially to V, running through a list of aftercare codes and nutritional instructions. V, still slightly out of it and desperate for a human tether, had simply reached out their hand without thinking.

Viktor, mid sentence about bio enhancers, had stopped talking, glanced down, and his own hand had lifted, seemingly by reflex, settling V’s palm firmly in his own. He hadn't even looked away from the data stream. He just continued talking, and his thumb, large and calloused, began absentmindedly tracing little circles on their palm.

He didn’t even notice he was doing it. It was just habit now,, a subconscious reassurance, a steady beat of skin on skin contact that grounded V in the moment and allowed them to focus on his instructions, or simply exist without spinning off into the digital haze of their new implant’s calibration.

Months passed, and the gesture remained. V would sit up on the med chair, sometimes with Vik looking over scans, sometimes with him just scrolling through databanks on his own arm. When he talked in that calm, low voice, V just naturally held out their hand. And he would take it, tracing the lines of their life with his thumb, the motion as mundane and unconscious as breathing.

V started collecting rings. They weren't expensive or flashy, just smooth silver bands, black enamel loops, and one heavy, braided bronze ring that looked like it had been salvaged from some forgotten corpo vault. V didn’t particularly care for jewelry it was just extra weight, extra risk. But they liked the ritual that came with it. Anytime V needed serious work done,, deep cleaning, implant removal, or a major system flush Viktor insisted on removing all external contaminants. That meant the bracelets, the watches, and the rings. It was the only time V felt truly precious. As V sat down, before the prep was even finished, they would extend their hands. Vik would lift the first hand and start with the pinky ring. He’d pause, his gaze intense as if studying the engineering of the cheap metal. Then, slowly, gently, like handling something ancient and fragile, he would work the ring off.

He’d slide the heavy bronze one off last. His hands,, powerful hands that could disassemble a military grade cyberdeck or re-route critical arteries,, were utterly focused on this minute task. The movement was deliberately unhurried, a stark contrast to the rush of Night City. He wasn’t just removing jewelry, he was stripping away the last layer of V's armor, preparing them for vulnerability. V would just watch his face, watching the concentration flicker in his eyes. The skin to skin friction as the metal slid over their knuckles was a small, necessary pleasure. They started wearing more rings, specifically because they liked how Vik’s hands felt when he took them off before patching them up. Slow. Gentle.

“Now listen, kid,” Viktor lectured, scrolling through the diagnostic results, “you need to keep this shunt clean. No high-impact jobs for at least a week, and I mean it. You don’t want that seal blowing out. You got four doses of the antimicrobial-"

V was slumped in the consultation chair, their body thrumming with the dull ache of post-surgery calm. The neon glow from the street outside painted the clinic in shifting, synthetic blues and oranges. V had heard the spiel a dozen times; they knew the instructions by heart, but the sound of Vik’s voice, the steady, authoritative cadence, was narcotic. V’s head was heavy, their eyelids weighted with exhaustion. They nodded once, a sharp, definite movement, only to have their chin immediately drop to their chest. The last word V heard was “antimicrobial…” then the hum of the generator took over, and they were gone. Viktor paused, hearing the change in V’s breathing. He glanced over his massive shoulder. V was completely out, curled slightly into the chair, their head resting awkwardly against the back cushion. He sighed, a low, weary sound that echoed the burden of caring for every idiot merc and reckless soul who stumbled into his clinic. He ran a hand over his head.

“Dammit, V,” he muttered, but there was zero heat in it. He pushed away from the terminal and walked over to the back room. He returned a moment later, holding his faded, heavy, personalized clinic jacket, a gift from the Animals’ mod crew years ago. It smelled faintly of synth-oil, antiseptic, and something uniquely Viktor.

He didn't wake them. He simply leaned down, careful not to jostle them, and gently draped the heavy jacket over V’s slumped form, tucking the collar up around their neck. Then, he went back to the paperwork on the terminal, the gentle thud of his mechanical finger on the keys being the only sound.

Totally normal. Happened weekly. The quiet of the clinic was broken only by the light static hiss of the main power conduits. The work was done, V’s latest augment was secured, calibrated, and the internal tremors had subsided. Now, all that was left was the fine tuning of the neural interface. Viktor was leaning over V, who was still reclined in the chair. His massive fingers, surprisingly deft, were tapping minute commands into the debug console embedded in V’s neck socket. The position was close, their faces only inches apart, Vik’s concentration focused entirely on the flickering interface.

V could feel his breath, warm, familiar,, on their forehead. The proximity always made V feel both exposed and perfectly safe, a strange duality that only existed here, in his orbit. “Right,” Vik muttered, squinting at a recalcitrant sub-routine. “I need you to run a level three diagnostic on your internal chronometer. On my count. Just breathe, kid, and focus on the time sync." V inhaled, already preparing for the mental strain. “Okay, sweetheart,” Vik commanded, the word slipping out, soft and quiet, purely by accident. He didn’t hesitate,, the word was simply there, a sound that had no business being in his professional vocabulary.

The silence that followed wasn't just the absence of sound, it was a physical thing, heavy and absolute, freezing the air between them. V froze entirely, heart slamming a hard, impossible beat against their ribs. The chronometer diagnostic, the time sync,, it all vanished. V’s mind only registered the single word. Sweetheart. It was too much, too intimate, too unguarded, coming from the most guarded man in Night City. Viktor’s fingers halted instantly on the interface. His eyes flickered up, meeting V's for the first time, and he froze too. The realization hit him like a shotgun blast. He hadn't used that word since he was a kid himself, maybe talking to a stray cat or a broken piece of tech he couldn't fix. It was a phantom limb of a forgotten past.

His face, usually impassive and set like concrete, was a sudden, confusing canvas of shock and a flicker of something close to mortification. He cleared his throat loudly, the noise a deliberate, harsh interruption to the moment. “I—uh,” he stammered, pulling back slightly, breaking the physical barrier between them. He grabbed his water bottle and took a long, exaggerated pull, putting his focus anywhere but on V. “Right. Chronometer diagnostic. Focus. Let’s… kid. Let’s get this wrapped up.”

V pretended they didn’t hear it. They took a deep, shaky breath, their focus now razor-sharp, but not on the clock. It was fixed on the man who had just slipped.

The next week was spent on the edge of the world. V was doing high-stress scouting runs for the Aldecaldos, relying on the clean work Vik had just finished. The clinic incident had faded slightly, buried under miles of desert sand and the urgent demand of the next job, but a new awkwardness lingered between them whenever V returned for a check-in. Then came the firefight in the docks, which resulted in a catastrophic cascade failure of V’s basic motor functions. V made it back to the clinic alive only because Jackie had seen the signs and carried them in, limp and useless, just after sunrise.

V woke up in the chair again, but this time, the recovery was slower, the pain sharper. The chrome was fine, but the nerve damage was real. Vik had bypassed the need for a full re-install, but the clean-up was excruciatingly delicate. Vik was bent over V’s arm, his brow furrowed in concentration, working with miniature synth-fiber threads and a laser cauterizer. He was talking V through the procedure, a necessary distraction. “You’re lucky, V. You let that trauma go another hour, and you’d be dealing with permanent motor ticks. Now, hold still. The thread is going in deep, this is going to be the worst of it. Tell me if I need to back off.”

V clenched their teeth, determined to show zero reaction. The thread, fine as spider silk but agonizingly sharp, felt like fire tracing a line down their arm. They took one massive, shuddering breath, eyes squeezing shut.

Viktor didn't need V to tell him. He saw the tension in V’s jaw, the slight spasm in their shoulder muscle. He saw every micro flinch, every desperate attempt to stay silent. He paused the cauterizer instantly. He didn’t lift his head; he just stayed bent over the arm, his large form blocking the light, giving V a moment of darkness. He reached up with his free hand, and without looking at V’s face, found their hand where it was gripped tightly to the chair arm. He held it, the pressure firm but soothing.

“Easy there,” he repeated, the mantra familiar and safe. “I got you. No rush.” He waited for V's grip on the chair to ease. When it did, he continued, the motion slower, more deliberate, the focus now split between the delicate procedure and the pressure of V’s hand in his. He kept the soft contact, tracing the line of V’s knuckles with his thumb, anchoring them to the reality of the chair, the safety of the clinic, and the quiet promise of his voice. The pain faded, replaced by the profound, exhausted calm that only came after the storm. Weeks later, V was back in the chair, not for maintenance, but for a check in. They were still sporting the braided bronze ring on their index finger, and a new, chunky chain bracelet on their right wrist. Vik was looking at the diagnostics, the hum of the generator providing the usual ambient noise.

“Okay, V, everything’s holding up. Your blood oxygen saturation is still a little low, but that’s the pollution. I’m giving you a script for the cleaner tabs, and I want you taking them. Twice a day. Got it?” V nodded, listening to the familiar instructions. The fatigue of a recent, successful job was settling in, heavy and warm. They were still wearing the jacket Vik had thrown over them during the last late night clean up , it had mysteriously found its way into V’s rotation of comfort wear. Vik turned back to the terminal, and V leaned their head back, suddenly finding the low, steady sound of Vik’s voice absolutely irresistible.

“...and make sure you’re drinking enough water. Not chugging, actual filtered water. The dehydration is- are you listening to me, V?” V didn’t answer. Their eyes had drifted shut. The combined sound of Vik’s deep, lecturing voice and the thrum of the generator was the perfect lullaby. V’s breathing evened out, slipping into a deep, drugless sleep.

Vik sighed, the familiar sound a mix of annoyance and resignation. He shook his head slowly, knowing the script was useless now. He stood up, stretched the stiffness from his cybernetic spine, and walked over. He looked down at V, their face soft in sleep, the heavy bronze ring glinting on their finger, the collar of his worn jacket pulled high around their neck.

He reached out, his hand pausing inches above their forehead. Then, instead of waking them, he simply adjusted the jacket, pulling it more snugly around their shoulders. He pulled a heavy blanket from the supply cabinet and gently draped it over their legs.

He walked back to the console, pulling up his own personal databank. He had hours of paperwork to do, receipts to file, and inventory to check. V was safe. V was here.