In Neo's memory of how things should've gone, Evelyn's fate was grimly clear—she'd crashed hard after the Konpeki job, broken beyond repair. The Woodman, ever the parasite, had sold her to Fingers. Fingers couldn't fix her either, so he sold her again—to the Scavs, who used her body to record illegal braindances until her mind shattered completely.
And in the end… she'd taken her own life, in Judy's bathtub.
But now—
Evelyn had barely reached Fingers' clinic before being taken again. Bought.
The timeline was shifting.
And Neo didn't believe in coincidences.
...
The trio left the office.
Outside, the hallway was a war zone. Tiger Claws lay sprawled across the floor, groaning or unconscious. The sharp, acrid scent of gunpowder still hung in the air.
David was flexing his hands, a faint hum still crackling from his Sandevistan.
"C'mon!" he shouted at the handful of Tiger Claws still standing. "You done? Or you wanna be next? I don't got all day!"
The few remaining gangsters hesitated, glancing past him—then froze when they saw Neo emerge from the corridor.
Their faces went pale.
Without a word, they bolted in the opposite direction.
David blinked. "…Wait, they ran?"
Neo smirked. "Good. Saves us the trouble." He turned toward the exit. "Let's move. We've got another stop."
...
Jig-Jig Street.
The street throbbed with color and sin. Neon signs flashed across rain-slick pavement, girls and dolls alike calling out from doorways. The air smelled of smoke, perfume, and rusted chrome.
They weaved through the narrow alleys, past vendors hawking black-market implants, until they reached the cracked sign that read:
FINGERS MD – Quality Enhancements, Low Cost!
The irony was painful.
Two heavily cybered punks stood at the clinic steps, blocking the way. One of them spat, arms crossed. "Hold it. You three got business here?"
Neo didn't even look at them. They weren't worth his time.
David stepped forward instead, voice calm but firm. "We're here to see Fingers. We just need to ask a few questions. So, do yourselves a favor and let us through."
The thug grinned, showing a set of metal teeth. "Oh, I'll let you through, choom. But who's letting me through later, huh? Maybe that fine piece right there—" He nodded toward Judy, his tone dripping with sleaze. "She can stay. We'll make it worth her while. Way better than the dolls inside."
The other laughed, a wet, ugly sound.
They didn't laugh long.
Before the second breath could leave their throats, David vanished in a burst of yellow-white static.
The world slowed to a crawl.
He reappeared behind them, pistol already drawn.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three clean headshots. The sound of skulls cracking like porcelain filled the air.
When time snapped back to normal speed, three bodies hit the pavement almost simultaneously.
David exhaled, holstering his pistol. "All clear, Neo."
Neo nodded. "Good work."
Judy stood frozen, her eyes wide. The smell of ozone and blood hung thick between them. David had always looked so bright, so young—like the sun breaking through the smog.
But that sunlight had teeth.
He'd killed three men before she could blink.
And she understood then: this city didn't give you time to hesitate.
Neo pushed open the door. "Come on."
Judy took one last look at the corpses on the steps, then followed them inside.
...
The clinic was chaos.
Shouting echoed through the cramped, dimly lit space. Dozens of women—some from the Mox, some freelance dolls, some just desperate—filled the room, yelling over one another.
"Try calling the Mox again! I'm not letting that pig touch me!"
"You think the cops will do anything? Ha! He is the law here!"
"Back off, slut! Wait your turn!"
The smell of cheap antiseptic and sweat hit them like a wall.
When Neo, Judy, and David stepped in, heads turned.
A familiar voice called out, "Judy? The hell you doing here?"
A Mox girl pushed through the crowd, her face softening when she saw who it was.
Judy nodded quickly. "We're looking for Evelyn. Is Fingers still inside?"
"Yeah," the girl said, lowering her voice. "Busy as always. Got half the damn city waiting on him. Good luck getting in."
David leaned close to Neo, muttering under his breath. "I've heard stories about this guy. Real bad ones. Half his patients come out more broken than when they went in. Dude's butcher rate's higher than his cure rate."
Neo gave a quiet hum of agreement. "That's Night City for you. Corruption's not a flaw here—it's the operating system."
He stepped past the line, ignoring the protests.
"David," he said without looking back, "keep the crowd calm. If anyone gets noisy, shut them up."
David cracked his neck. "Understood."
...
Neo shoved open the door to the back room.
Inside, the so-called doctor was hunched over a surgical table, fingers deep inside a half-conscious doll's open torso, wires and tubing spilling out like viscera.
Without even glancing up, he said, "Sorry. Gotta wait your turn. I don't do line jumps, even for the desperate. Out you go."
Neo's tone was ice. "Funny thing—you're not the first one who said that to me today."
He stepped closer, his boots echoing against the floor. "The last three said the same words. They're all dead now. Want to join them?"
That made Fingers pause.
He turned slowly, surgical mask still hanging from one ear. "Look, if this is about protection money, I paid the Claws. You can tell them that. I'm square, okay? This is all a misunderstanding."
Neo smiled faintly. "You think I'm Tiger Claws?"
He stepped closer, the dim light catching the silver edge of the blade at his hip.
"I'll give you one chance," he said softly. "Turn around. Look me in the eye. Then decide whether you really want to make that call."
Fingers hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, he turned.
And when he finally met Neo's gaze—calm, cold, utterly human—his trembling hands dropped the scalpel.
Because in those eyes, he saw something far worse than a gang enforcer.
He saw the man who killed Adam Smasher.
And that realization froze the scream in his throat before it could ever escape.