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"It's alright, not too much trouble. She protected herself well at the end. Once the virus is gone and she rests, she'll be fine."
Viktor pulled the cable from the back of Kiwi's neck and stepped away from the terminal. He wiped his hands on a grease-stained rag and turned his focus to the rest of the room. "Now, it's your turn. Yes, you, big guy."
Viktor beckoned to Maine.
Maine grumbled and obediently walked over to sit in the chair Viktor had arranged. His strong, broad body couldn't lie down properly; the high-tech surgical bed looked like a toy beneath him. Viktor had to drag another stool over just to support the man's massive frame.
"Your arm needs to be replaced. The internal components are shredded—can't be repaired. If I try to patch it, it'll be unstable, prone to jamming or just detonating mid-fire. My suggestion: we scrap it and go new," Viktor said after a clinical examination of Maine's ruined limb.
"Do you have any recommendations?" Maine asked.
He was flush with eddies. Between his savings, the Biotechnica payout, and the stash of 1500 Eurodollar chips Jax had scavenged from Kerfu's apartment, Maine was feeling like a high-roller.
"Hmm… I actually do have one. I picked it up on the black market a while back." Viktor swiveled his chair to a reinforced cabinet, keyed in a code, and hauled out a massive, military-grade metal arm.
Returning to Maine's side, he presented the hardware. "Take a look. Scan the specs. Personally, I think it's three generations ahead of that scrap you were sporting."
Maine's optical implant whirred as it entered scan mode. His mouth fell open. He looked like a kid seeing a prototype sports car. "How much?"
"One hundred thirty-five thousand Euros. No haggling—that's the bottom line. I'm barely making a profit at that price. And since this is high-end hardware, I can't do IOUs. Cash only," Viktor said firmly.
"You're showing this to a room full of mercs? Aren't you afraid we'll just take it?" Maine teased, though his hand was already reaching for his credit chip.
Viktor offered a thin, calm smile. "You wouldn't be the first to try. I've had Scavengers come in here trying to lean on me before. This was my answer." Viktor shook his bare, meaty fist at Maine.
Maine laughed, a deep, booming sound that rattled the equipment. "I like you, Doc! You've got stones. One hundred thirty-five thousand—transferring now!"
A blue light flickered in Maine's eyes. Viktor's terminal chimed. The doctor nodded and picked up a heavy-duty sedative. "Lie down, close your eyes. It'll be over before you know it."
Maine fell into a chemically induced sleep within seconds. Viktor immediately set to work. The "tools" he brought out—industrial saws, high-speed drills, and laser cutters—made the process look more like a construction site than a clinic. Installing heavy combat cyberware was, essentially, a brutal form of orthopedic surgery.
After a noisy, bloody hour of work, Viktor wiped his forehead and looked at Jax. "Give me a hand. Help me move him to the recovery cot, then bring in the next one."
Jax stepped forward. Viktor reached out to help, but Jax simply reached down and hoisted the 300-pound Maine into a perfect princess carry.
Seeing the bear-like merc lifted so effortlessly by the relatively "thin" Jax created a visual that made even the unflappable Viktor gape.
"Your strength… it's incredible. That's all organic?" Viktor asked, surprised. He reached out and squeezed Jax's bicep, feeling the density of the muscle fiber. "Hiss… kid, have you ever considered taking up boxing? I could use a sparring partner with that kind of power."
"Viktor!" Misty called out, exasperated.
"Right, right. Business first, boxing later." Viktor smiled and turned to Rebecca. "Your turn, little one. Let's see that eye."
"Watch who you're calling 'little,' you four-eyed fossil!" Rebecca snapped, raising a middle finger. Before she could launch into a full tirade, Dorio's hand clamped over her mouth.
Viktor didn't blink. He'd dealt with cyberpsychos and corporate assassins; a foul-mouthed brat wasn't going to rattle him. Dorio practically pinned the struggling Rebecca to the table.
"Anesthetic! Hey! Why did the big guy get the good stuff and I don't?!" Rebecca shrieked.
"It's a simple optical swap, Rebecca. You aren't a baby," Viktor said dismissively. He definitely wasn't enjoying the irony.
The basement was soon filled with Rebecca's creative swearing as Viktor worked with surgical precision. Next was Pilar, who insisted on a set of flashy, crimson-red Gorilla Arms to replace his shattered hardware.
Hours later, the workshop was a sea of recovering mercenaries. Maine, Dorio, Pilar, and Rebecca were all in various stages of post-op grogginess. Only Jax remained standing next to a visibly exhausted Viktor.
"What about you?" Viktor asked, leaning back in his chair. "You're the only one who hasn't asked for a catalog."
Viktor looked weary. Replacing combat-grade limbs for an entire squad was a monumental task for a man with a natural body. Viktor himself remained largely un-chromed—a romantic traditionalist who believed that in the ring, it should be man against man, not hardware against hardware.
Jax was about to ask for a Kiroshi optics mod—specifically the camera jammer that would mask his face into a digital mosaic—when the door to the workshop burst open.
A man tumbled in, twin pistols drawn and leveled. He roared with a thick Spanish accent: "Who's starting a fire in here?! Viktor, Misty! You okay?!"
The man wore an exaggerated black leather jacket, had a sturdy, bear-like physique, and a face marked by distinct cybernetic lines.
"Jackie! Stop! It's okay!" Misty rushed forward, waving her hands. "I'm sorry, I forgot to call you back. Everything's fine."
Earlier, when Maine had been posturing, Misty had hit the panic button. But as the crew became patients, she'd completely forgotten about the "backup" she'd summoned.
"What? I ran ten blocks for this!" Jackie Welles sighed in relief, holstering his pistols. He looked around at the bodies littering the floor. "Damn, Viktor, business is booming. You opening a hospital?"
"Sold nearly four hundred thousand in hardware today, Jackie. They're good customers," Viktor said with a tired grin.
"Holy shit! Four hundred thousand?" Jackie whistled. "I didn't think that many eddies existed in one room!"
He turned his attention to Jax, flashing a wide, boisterous grin. "Mano! You the one who brought this windfall to our favorite doctor? My name's Jackie Welles. I'm going to be a legend in this city one day. You ever need a real professional, you call me!"
Jax looked at the big man. He looked fierce, dangerous, and loud—but as Jax looked into his eyes, a profound, undeniable sense of warmth washed over him.
"Nice to meet you, Jackie," Jax said, extending his hand. "I'm Jax."
It was more than just a meeting. For Jax, it was seeing an old friend who didn't know they were friends yet.
"Nice to meet you… my best friend."
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