"Maine, you're Jackie's friend," Viktor said quietly, his tone heavy but sincere. "So I don't want to watch you turn into one of them."
The words hung in the sterile air of the clinic. The smell of antiseptic mixed with ozone, the soft hum of medical drones filling the silence.
Maine sat up slowly from the operating table, his massive frame creaking with the sound of metal joints shifting under flesh. "Vic… there's gotta be a way," he said, his voice low and strained. "Sedatives. Inhibitors. The best shit you've got. Pump me full of it. You telling me even that won't work?"
Viktor sighed and adjusted his glasses. "Maine, you can't patch a dying heart with duct tape." He folded his arms. "Sedatives and suppressants don't fix cyberware rejection. They just slow the crash. You've already tried all that. Look where it's gotten you—shaking hands, sleepless nights, memory gaps. It's not working."
Maine didn't answer. He just clenched his fists.
Dorio, standing beside him, touched his shoulder gently. "Then maybe…" she said softly, "let me take it. The Sandevistan. It's too rare to just throw away."
Maine's head snapped up. "No."
The word cracked like a gunshot.
"I'm not letting you risk that, Dorio. I don't care if it kills me, I don't care if I go cyberpsycho—but I won't let you plug that thing into your spine. That's not up for debate."
He looked away, jaw tight, voice trembling under the weight of conviction. "I wanted that chrome to protect everyone. To make us stronger. If someone's gotta take the hit, it's me. That's what leaders do."
Dorio didn't argue. She just watched him, the sadness in her eyes sharper than any blade.
Viktor set down his tablet and leaned on the counter. "You've got time," he said. "Don't rush into this. Think it through. The truth is, Maine—you're one of the few who still get it. Most punks in this city chase power for ego or fear. But you chase it for your people. For love. That's rare."
He gave a faint smile. "If you still wanna go through with it after this talk… I'll pour you a drink before I cut you open."
…
Maine didn't respond. His mind was a storm of static.
He could see the possibilities laid out in front of him like branching cables—one path led to death, another to madness, and a third so slim it might as well be fiction: full compatibility.
But if even Viktor, the most honest ripperdoc in Night City, refused to promise him odds… then maybe there weren't any.
He stared at his reflection in a nearby mirror—half-man, half-machine, the flesh beneath his chrome sweating under the clinic lights. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice at the door.
"Then…"
A new figure stepped inside, his shadow cutting through the neon haze.
"…why not let me take it?"
Viktor turned. Dorio blinked. Maine frowned.
It was David.
He looked determined, more than anyone had ever seen him.
"Huh?" Viktor replied, arching an eyebrow. "You're volunteering for a military-grade spinal implant?"
David nodded. "Yes."
Maine barked out a laugh, a low rumble that shook the room. "Kid, you serious? That chrome'll vaporize you. You got the body of a noodle and the nerve of a freshman. You'll either drop dead on the table or go psycho before you can blink."
David didn't flinch. "I'm scared," he admitted. "But I'm more scared of staying ordinary."
…
He took a step forward, eyes burning with conviction.
"My mom worked herself to death so I could have a chance—three jobs, barely sleeping, all so I could go to Arasaka Academy. I didn't fit in. Everyone there had money, chrome, status. I had hand-me-down tech and cheap implants."
He clenched his fists. "When I couldn't afford the licensed Braindance software, I went to a black-market ripper to upgrade my link. I wrecked school property and had to pay ten times the damage."
He looked down, his voice trembling. "And then, that night… when the gangs clashed with those corpo dogs in the streets, me and my mom were caught in the crossfire. When that burning car came down on us, I thought it was over."
His gaze lifted."Then he showed up. Neo. One sword stroke, and the car split in two. I saw him. I saw what strength really looks like."
David's hands shook from the memory of that night. "I'm done being weak. Done being some corpo's chew toy. I don't wanna keep bleeding my mom dry just to survive. I want to be strong enough to protect her—to protect everyone I care about."
He bowed low, deeply, sincerely. "Please. Let me install the Sandevistan."
…
For a long moment, no one spoke.
The room was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft buzz of cyber-tools and the distant hum of neon outside.
Normally, a speech like that would earn a few laughs. Mercs in this city didn't believe in idealism—they believed in eddies and survival.
But something about David's words hit different.
The kid wasn't posturing. He meant it.
Maine scratched the back of his neck, looking away. "Tch. Damn it, kid. Why's your speech gotta sound like a funeral prayer? What's next, you gonna cry on me?"
Dorio smiled faintly. "You don't see it, Maine? He's just like you were back then. Head full of fire, no sense of self-preservation."
Viktor chuckled softly. "Heh. I'll say this much—he's got the guts for it."
Then, more seriously, "But words don't install chrome. Let's see if his body can actually handle it."
He gestured to the table. "Up you go, kid."
…
David lay down without hesitation. The cool metal of the table pressed against his back as Viktor began scanning his vitals. Data flickered across the tablet—heart rate, neural latency, blood oxygen, adaptive thresholds.
A minute later, the screen turned green.
All green.
Viktor raised his brows. "Huh. Not bad."
Maine leaned over, squinting at the data. "…No way. The kid's clean across the board?"
"All systems optimal," Viktor confirmed. "Stable nervous load, low rejection risk. You sure you're not secretly corpo-grade?"
David gave a lopsided smile. "Guess poverty builds resilience."
Viktor chuckled. "Maybe it does."
Then his tone grew serious. "But don't celebrate yet. The Sandevistan interfaces directly with your spinal cord. It's the hardest, riskiest procedure out there. Once I start, there's no going back. You ready?"
David grinned faintly. "Doc, don't insult a future legend with a rookie question."
Viktor's laugh echoed through the clinic. "Ha! Alright, hotshot. Let's make history."
…
When the procedure began, Viktor's hands moved with the precision of a surgeon and the rhythm of a craftsman. The air filled with the hiss of cooling nanoblades, the faint hum of energy scalpels cutting through synthetic tissue.
By the time Viktor sealed the incision and stepped back, the operation light flicked from red to blue.
It was done.
Maine just stood there, stunned.
The impossible had happened.
David Martinez, a street kid from nowhere, had just survived a full Sandevistan installation.
"Wait," Dorio murmured. "Wasn't this supposed to be for Maine?"
Viktor wiped his hands on a towel, smirking. "Yeah. It was. But fate's got a sense of humor."
He looked over at David, who was already sitting up, flexing his hands as if testing new life.
"Congrats, kid," Viktor said quietly. "You just wired yourself into legend."