V wanted to get to the bottom of things, but at that moment Jackie sent her a message urging her to meet that fixer he mentioned earlier—Dexter DeShawn. V had no choice but to excuse herself and leave for the meeting.
Luckily the place wasn't far. She could come back soon to pick up Berry and continue asking questions. Or so she thought.
Inside the clinic, only Berry and Viktor were left.
"Who won?" Berry asked curiously, seeing Viktor leaning on his hand, eyes glued to the boxing match.
"Hernandez! You hear me? Back in the day, that limping Malone guy would've been KO'd already!"
Talking about his favorite thing—boxing—Viktor was visibly excited, eyes locked on the screen. Boxing was one of the few things left in life that could still make his dopamine spike. Not even earning a pile of money through his partnership with Berry could compare.
"But… these days…" Viktor's tone suddenly dimmed. "Even regional fighters use extra head-padding… absorbs seventy-five percent of incoming force."
Clearly, Viktor was deeply dissatisfied with how the overuse of cyberware had corrupted the spirit of boxing. In that sense, he and Berry were the same—both conservative anti-cyberware types.
Two people who hated implants making money off of bootleg cyberware sounded like a cruel joke, but that was the reality.
"Miss the old days, huh?" Berry stared at the boxing footage for a while, but she couldn't make sense of it—she only felt that both fighters could hit hard.
"Ah…" Old Vik was completely absorbed, forgetting to answer her.
"Right, how's our business doing lately?"
She suddenly brought up their joint bootleg-cyberware business. Normally, Berry only handled production while Viktor handled distribution. But lately, thanks to Arnold's growing reputation on the streets, Berry had also struck deals with several fixers—those guys wanted functional, cheap combat gear for their goons.
Business was booming.
But fame attracts trouble, and the market was limited. If they were making money, that meant someone else was losing it. Plenty of jealous people had come to stir up trouble, so Berry had been paying extra attention.
"Speaking of business…" When real matters were mentioned, Viktor reluctantly paused the match and looked through a drawer. He pulled out a chip and handed it to her.
"Business has been getting better. Even some Pacifica mercs have been ordering from us…"
As the saying goes—after the good news comes the bad.
"But…" Yes, here it comes.
"A shipment headed for Kabuki got hit. All the info's on the chip. Take a look."
The moment Berry heard "robbed," her expression tightened. She didn't speak, just took out her holo-glasses, slotted the chip, and watched.
"This is footage from nearby surveillance."
"Two days ago, we got an order in Kabuki. I had a friend deliver it, but he got hit at a crossroad."
"The driver barely escaped, but everything else—vehicle and cargo—was taken."
"As for who did it, the footage is pretty clear."
"Scavengers…" Berry muttered hatefully as she watched the armed men hijacking the truck. She despised the name.
"Exactly." Viktor paused, then continued. "Looks like we cut into their organ-peddling business."
"Well, what did we expect? Those scum who sell second-hand implants aren't going to let cheap, durable gear flood their turf."
Viktor had long abandoned all street prestige to live quietly in Little China as a ripperdoc because he was tired of street violence. But now that someone messed with Berry, the rare spark of anger appeared on his face.
In truth, Viktor had agreed to partner with her mostly to help her. Of the money they earned, Viktor only took thirty percent—seventy went to Berry.
Middle-aged and no longer greedy, Viktor simply wanted a peaceful life. But seeing a promising young person like Berry, how could he not lend a hand?
Their business mainly covered Little China and Kabuki. Viktor had strong connections in those areas, and Scavengers couldn't get a foothold. But once you stepped outside…
Now, someone dared to hijack them in broad daylight, and in Kabuki no less. That was a direct slap in the face.
"This won't stand." Berry removed her holo-glasses, frowning in irritation. "This is provocation—blatant provocation. Those organ-cutting bastards are testing our bottom line."
Having been in the streets for some time, she saw right through their intentions.
If she backed down this time, she'd be signaling weakness. Today it was Kabuki. Next time? Little China. No way would she allow that.
"I'll handle it," she said firmly. "It's time to hit the Scavs hard."
"Sending Arnold again?" Viktor asked.
Previously, Arnold handled all "trouble."
"No. This time Arno and I go together." Her eyes burned with fighting intent. "My two new bodies are almost done. I can't afford financial problems right now."
It was time to teach those sewer-dwelling Scavengers a lesson—keep them far away from her business.
"If you're going yourself, aren't you going to call V and Jackie?" Viktor frowned deeply. Arnold going alone was one thing—he was a machine. But Berry? That was different.
"Relax, Vik. I'm not some pushover," she said confidently. "Besides, with Arnold around, there aren't many mercs in the city who can take him down."
"Mm." Viktor still didn't look convinced.
She didn't want V and Jackie involved for now. Cheap cyberware money was just the start; she had bigger plans, and fewer people knowing was better.
"Who was the client?" Berry asked. "What's his reaction to the loss?"
"That batch was ordered by a guy named Charles. He's a ripperdoc too, working near the border of Kabuki and Northside." Viktor spun lightly in his chair. "As for his attitude? Furious, of course. Says we either compensate him with another batch or refund his deposit. Why, you think he had something to do with the robbery?"
"I didn't think so at first. But the fact he's a ripperdoc… that's suspicious." Berry tapped her chin. "Not everyone's as decent as you, Vik. Most ripperdocs in this city have ties to the Scavengers."
"Heh, thanks for the compliment. I just want clean money—helps me sleep at night." Viktor didn't argue; he knew better than anyone how dirty the trade was.
Ripperdocs weren't "doctors." They were implant dealers with installation services. Expecting medical ethics from them was wishful thinking.
Implants were never cheap—especially certified corporate ones. Their procurement costs alone were high. Scavengers provided these ripperdocs with an alternative supply: cheap, questionable second-hand implants.
Those might still be dripping blood in the barrel, but no ripperdoc would ignore profit. Even those with a shred of conscience were forced by Scavenger violence to cooperate. Only someone like Viktor—famous for being tough—could avoid being pressured.
So the cycle went:
Scavs loot bodies → sell implants to ripperdocs → ripperdocs sell them to mercs and gangsters who can't afford legit gear → those people get killed by Scavs → implants get harvested again.
A perfect, sickening business loop.
Now, Viktor's affordable, durable bootleg gear had cut directly into their market—drawing hostility.
But Berry had no intention of backing down.
"I'll investigate this client first. Maybe he'll give us a clue." She prepared to leave.
"Hold on…" Viktor called after her. "Since you mentioned business—maybe it's time we gave our little bootleg-cyberware 'company' a real name. Everyone keeps calling it 'Viktor's stuff.' Doesn't sound great. Our business is big enough now."
"Is that so…" Berry thought.
Her eyes drifted around the room, seeking inspiration. Suddenly she noticed something on Viktor's desk—a dreamcatcher.
"See that? A friend gave it to me years ago," Viktor said fondly. "A real Native American warrior—strong as hell."
"Then let's call it 'Hive.'" Berry said, inspired by the intricate webbing. "'Hive.' One day, I'll build our own hive right here in Night City."
She stared at the dreamcatcher as though seeing her envisioned future through its threads.