"What are you planning to do next? Won't this technology put you in
danger?" Concern creased Vik's face.
"Maybe. That's why I'm keeping it under wraps for now. As for the rest,
I'll take it one step at a time. Make some money from the stimulants first.
I need capital before I can take on the big corporations."
"You've really thought this through? The corps have their roots
everywhere. Building something under their noses won't be easy. There's
only so much one man can do. Could get you killed."
The corporations controlled the world, a shadow no one could escape.
Even a legend like Johnny Silverhand had only managed to blow up
Arasaka Tower. He hadn't destroyed the corporation itself. The tower
standing over Night City today was proof enough.
Rocky smiled at the concern in Vik's voice.
"Relax. I'm not going to die. And I'm not alone, either. I've got you,
haven't I? You'll help me, right?"
Vik chuckled. "You little bastard. When you need me, I'll help. Just
remember I'm getting old. Leave me out of the shooting."
He could see Rocky was already trying to recruit him, but if the kid really
needed his help, he wouldn't turn him down.
It took uncommon talent to go from legendary boxer to ripperdoc. Even
Biotechnica had approached Viktor with a generous offer. He had never
answered. He wanted a quiet life, not a job working for a corporation.
If Rocky could bring him onto his team someday, Vik would be a
tremendous asset to its research and development. Rocky had no
intention of letting that opportunity slip away.
"That's all I needed to hear. Come on. To a bright future."
They toasted with soft drinks and talked a while longer. Once Rocky had
recovered most of his strength, he said goodbye.
On the way home, he took out a Power Stimulant Type I, tossed it in his
hand twice, then extended the needle and injected himself.
Whew. That feels good.
His strength returned quickly. He picked up his pace toward the
apartment.
After a shower, Rocky sat at his terminal and checked the clinic locations
and incoming orders. Most of his customers had already placed their
second orders. Both the number of clinics buying from him and the
quantities they wanted had risen considerably.
The total had reached 200,000 eddies. This batch would be crucial.
He loaded the clinic addresses, stimulant quantities, and payment details
onto a data shard, opened his contacts, and made a call.
* * *
Northside Industrial District. Longshore North.
Rebecca had just stepped out of the shower and was toweling her hair dry.
With her hair loose instead of tied in its usual twin tails, she almost
looked gentle and sweet.
That impression was misleading.
A call alert buzzed in her ears, drawing her attention to her
communications display.
"Huh? Who's calling now? That ripperdoc? What's he want?"
Curious, she answered.
"Hey. You're L, the ripperdoc from Japantown, right? What's up?"
"Miss Rebecca, are you free right now? Could you meet me at El Coyote
Cojo in the Glen?" Rocky asked.
"Huh? Seriously? Didn't figure a respectable-looking doc like you would
go for my type. Your approach needs work, though. A bar for a first date?
Not your smartest move. Or are you another one of those idiots who
thinks with his dick?"
Her teasing barrage left Rocky speechless.
Nearby, Pilar was listening to music and absorbed in a technical project
when he suddenly felt as though someone was talking about him. He
switched off the music and looked around.
"Rebecca, you call me?"
"No. Fuck off."
"Oh."
He scratched his head, found no explanation, and went back to his music
and his work.
After a moment, Rocky finally spoke.
"You've got the wrong idea, Rebecca. I have a job for you. I wanted to
discuss the details at El Coyote Cojo."
"A job? For me? Why me? Maine's our crew leader. Shouldn't you talk to
him?"
She realized she'd misunderstood, but that still didn't explain his choice.
"I don't know exactly how your crew handles these things, but it's a simple
job. It won't take many people."
"Hmm... All right. El Coyote Cojo, yeah? I'll head over in a bit."
She decided it was worth finding out what he wanted.
Rebecca wasn't one of the core members of Maine's crew yet. Her
assignments tended to be simple: act as bait, create a distraction, buy
time. At this point, she was almost the crew's mascot.
Maine's shotgun could still knock her off her feet. She was a long way
from the Rebecca who would one day fire Guts with abandon, despite its
recoil being four times that of an ordinary shotgun.
Only after her brother, Maine, and Dorio died would she change, get more
chrome, and shoulder a major share of the fighting alongside David in his
crew.
For now, someone was offering her a job of her own. She had nothing
lined up for the next few days. A little extra money sounded good.
She dried her hair, tied it back into twin tails, pulled on her black jacket,
and headed for El Coyote Cojo.
Back in his own apartment, Rocky ended the call with a headache coming
on.
He had intended to use the job to get closer to Rebecca. Being mistaken
for a creep trying to lure a woman to a bar was still embarrassing.
* * *
The Glen. El Coyote Cojo.
Rocky waited in a private room he'd reserved upstairs, sipping his drink
with his feet on the table.
The door opened. It wasn't Rebecca. It was Jacky.
"L! Just got here. Pepe said you were upstairs. Why didn't you tell me you
were coming?"
Jacky dropped into the seat beside him, helped himself to a drink from
the table, and gulped it down. Rocky hadn't expected to see him, but he should have. For Jacky, coming here was practically coming home. Rocky simply hadn't called because
tonight was supposed to be a business meeting with Rebecca.
"I'm meeting someone to talk business, Jacky. That's why I didn't call.
Drinks are on me next time."
"Ah, that explains it. Knew you wouldn't go drinking and forget your
choom."
The door opened again.
This time, Rebecca walked in