"I want to invite you, Viktor Vector," Neo said, standing beneath the soft blue glow of the ripperdoc's ceiling lights, "to join Night's Ember."
He paused for a moment, then added with quiet sincerity, "Don't misunderstand. This isn't a takeover. I'm not trying to fold you into anything. It's a genuine invitation. The truth is, our crew needs you—badly."
Viktor leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the faint hum of his surgical tools filling the silence. Neo continued.
"Dorio and Pilar can handle basic medical patches. But when it comes to the heavy stuff—trauma-level injuries, full cybernetic surgeries, maintenance cycles, dosage calibration—we're in the dark. You're the only one who can cover that ground. And you know I'm not wrong."
Neo's tone softened. "I get it, Vik. You've never been the ambitious type. You're the kind of man who just wants to live his days out in peace, running this clinic, patching up broken mercs. But listen to me—on the road to tearing Arasaka down and burning this rotten city clean, I need you with me."
Viktor Vector was a good man. A ripperdoc with old-world principles in a city that had long forgotten what those were. His hands were steady, his code unbroken. And that made him irreplaceable.
But Viktor only smirked, lighting a cigar as he studied Neo.
"'Tear down Arasaka,' huh? 'Rebuild Night City from the ashes.'" He blew out a slow puff of smoke. "You know, I've lost count of how many times I've heard that speech."
His voice was calm, but there was a weathered weight behind it.
"I've heard it in every tone a man can speak—angry, desperate, idealistic. From punks fresh outta Watson to corpos who thought they could buy rebellion in a bottle. From fixers at Afterlife to mercs bleeding out on my table. Everyone says they'll change the city."
He looked Neo straight in the eye. "None of them ever do."
Viktor continued. "I'm old-fashioned, kid. That's why I've survived this long. I've seen enough idealists end up as stains on the sidewalk. So if you're asking for my answer…"
Neo raised a hand lightly, cutting him off. "Got it."
A half-smile played across his lips. "You don't want promises. You want proof."
He turned slightly. "Jackie. Open it."
Jackie Welles stepped forward and heaved open one of the two heavy crates they'd brought in. The metallic latch clicked, releasing a hiss of cold air.
Inside—rows of polished, pristine chrome. Cybernetic parts gleaming under the clinic lights.
Viktor blinked. Then his pupils dilated as he recognized the make.
"Holy shit… these are Militech Grade-IV augments." He crouched closer, running his fingers along the carbon plating. "And not just the old models either. These are from their unreleased line. Brand new."
Then the realization hit him.
"Wait… a few days ago, Militech's convoy got hit in North Watson. The cargo vanished—rumor was, Maelstrom jacked it. Don't tell me—"
Neo didn't answer. Jackie just grinned. "We didn't just jack it back, old man. We wiped Maelstrom clean off the map. That plant is ours now. Full of space for labs, gear, beds. We even have room for your entire setup."
Viktor froze, staring between them, his cigar slipping from his fingers.
"You're insane," he whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief. "You actually killed Maelstrom. Every last one of those chrome-brained psychos?"
Jackie chuckled. "Yup. Like I said, Night's Ember doesn't play small."
The old ripperdoc let out a long breath. Something flickered behind his eyes—something he hadn't felt in years.
For a moment, Viktor wasn't the weary doctor chained to a clinic. He was young again—the ex-fighter, the rebel who'd once believed he could take on the world.
He smiled.
"…Alright, kid." He stood straight, shoulders squared. "You've got yourself a doctor."
Neo's grin widened. "Welcome to Night's Ember."
Jackie started clapping immediately. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Maine joined in with a booming laugh, and soon the rest of the crew followed. Rebecca whooped loud enough to rattle the shelves, Dorio added her steady rhythm, and even Kiwi cracked a small, amused smirk.
Pilar, naturally, couldn't resist taking it a step further—literally. He sprinted toward the open floor, flipped backward twice, then landed in a messy, half-successful Thomas spin.
The clinic erupted in laughter.
It wasn't much. Just claps and cheers. But in this city—where laughter was rare and trust was rarer—it meant everything.
For the first time in years, Viktor Vector felt the old pulse again.
The fire. The fight. The purpose.
"Alright," he said finally, voice back to its calm, professional edge. "Jackie, Maine—onto the tables."
They exchanged a glance, shrugged, and flopped down on the surgical beds with identical grins.
"David," Viktor called, "grab those two augment sets from the left crate."
David jumped to obey.
When Viktor inspected the parts, his brows furrowed, then lifted with surprise. "Huh. Interlinked architecture."
Neo stepped closer. "Meaning?"
"These are synchronized augments," Viktor explained, tapping the pieces together. "They function independently but can link in pairs—one feeding power or targeting data into the other. Double synergy, double impact."
Jackie let out a low whistle. "So… like, fusion mode?"
Maine grinned. "Man, that's some Voltron shit right there."
Viktor laughed for the first time all day. "Pretty much. I like how you put it. Voltron for mercs."
Jackie cracked his knuckles. "Well then, doc—plug me in. Let's see how this baby purrs."
Maine smirked from the opposite bed. "Hell yeah. Two men enter. One mech leaves."
Viktor sighed, smiling faintly. "You two are idiots. I like you already."
He glanced over at David. "You studied cyber-mod engineering at Arasaka Academy, right? Get over here. You're assisting."
David's eyes lit up. "Yes, sir!"
…
The clinic was soon alive with the sound of buzzing saws, surgical servos, and the rhythmic click of metal meeting flesh.
Viktor Vector—now Doctor Vector of Night's Ember—was in his element again, steady hands working like a craftsman painting light on steel.
Outside, Neo stepped quietly toward the counter, pulled out a credchip, and set it down beside the tool tray. The amount glowing on the display made even the clinic's machines blink.
"Consider that your welcome bonus," he murmured.
Then, without another word, he slipped out the door.
…
Afterlife.
Neo walked past the bouncer without a second glance. No one dared to stop him now.
"Hey," said the bartender, wiping a glass as neon shimmered off her chrome nails. "Welcome back, legend. What'll it be tonight?"
Neo smiled faintly, eyes glinting beneath the dim lights.
"Something strong," he said. "Something that burns."