"Morning, old man."
V greeted him.
While they'd been talking, Viktor had arrived at his shop to start the day.
Viktor set down his jacket and pointed at the surgery chair behind Ethan. "Lie back. Let me run some more checks—getting old. My skills haven't slipped, but I keep forgetting little things."
Ethan obediently lay back in the chair.
V stretched and yawned. "Vik, this guy's surgery bill is on him. If he skips out, come find me. I've gotta get to work."
Viktor had just plugged the diagnostic cable into Ethan's neural port. "V, you need to rest. The company doesn't give a damn about your life—but you should."
V waved it off and headed out.
Ethan's gaze deepened. Old man Viktor was, in the truest sense, V's real family.
"Arasaka. They'll wring you dry." Viktor shook his head, then carefully reviewed Ethan's biometric and cyberware data.
"That one—V? She mentioned you paid half already. Ten thousand for my work. If you've got the eddies, another ten covers it... actually, forget the discount. Just pay what you can—I only let V run a tab."
Still have enough. Ethan's eyes lit up.
"No need for credit. Transfer done. Great work. Please pass along my share to V."
Viktor liked customers who appreciated his craft, but he also knew how these young hotshots burned through money.
"You kids—always chasing the big scores. Flash chrome, riding around with your crews, hitting up races... but cyberware's something you need to pace yourself with. Too much and you turn into a full-blown psycho."
"So I install quality gear. Body-friendly stuff that works for young guns like you who like getting your hands dirty."
"Also—you overpaid."
Ethan shook his head. "I need you to change my face. The full treatment."
"Trouble?" Viktor smiled sheepishly. "Well... but changing external features isn't really a solution. The databases paired with high-end Kiroshi optics can ID you regardless."
Ethan understood. Viktor—even the worst ripperdoc—could give you a new face. But that only fixed the surface. Your real identity could still be exposed.
"Dogtown has some black-market tech. Behavioral pattern faceplates. Supposedly they can make you into a completely different person from the ground up—adjustable skin musculature, voice modulator, full-spectrum target sampling..."
"Honestly—" Viktor chuckled, a bit embarrassed. "I'd love to see tech like that. Should be fascinating to study."
Behavioral pattern faceplate?
Ethan remembered. That was the black-market tech V used in Dogtown to impersonate Aguilar and issue threats to Hansen's people. But hearing Viktor explain it, the complexity exceeded his imagination.
Get into Dogtown first. Figure out that cyberware later.
In the end, Ethan went through with the facial reconstruction surgery.
Walking out through Misty's shop, Ethan politely nodded to her.
Now he needed to figure out how to get back into Dogtown.
That dump's Hands and the Colonel both wanted him ground to dust.
His performance had earned V's offer. But doing this was on him now.
Of course, V could help—but Ethan wasn't about to open with "send me into Dogtown."
That would make him worthless. Arasaka might as well deploy a proper agent.
Waving the tiger-skin banner meant the bluff was already out there. Ethan's plan: leverage corporate resources for now.
Specifically: poach Hands' business.
That was step one.
Ethan wasn't going to broadcast Hands' corporate background to everyone.
If someone more powerful learned Hands was going down, the vultures would pick clean Dogtown and Pacifica before Ethan got a bite. Besides—
Suddenly demanding Hands hand over his business under threat? That might push him over the edge. And clients wouldn't trust some random new fixer anyway.
Starting anything is hard. Ethan never thought beginnings were the worst part—it was not knowing where to go that really hurt.
[INCOMING CALL: V]
Ethan sat by a Jig-Jig Street food cart, eating Japanese food that Takemura would have called garbage.
Sometimes Ethan felt like he had no taste. Takemura said the chicken meatballs and ramen were awful, but Ethan thought—aside from the texture and questionable hygiene—they went down fine.
Whether the meat was actually meat was another question. Synth protein or high-protein bugs, probably.
"Files are done, Cole."
V was efficient. Fitting for her career trajectory. She'd also switched to the codename.
Strong execution.
Ethan nodded. "Thanks, boss!"
"Get to Dogtown ASAP. I've got a pile of things for you to investigate. Too much work on my end, and I can't be showing my face in Dogtown constantly—"
"That dump—corporate people walk in and Hansen smells it immediately."
An idea sparked.
"Boss, have you looked into Hands?"
V made a "wait" gesture. After a moment: "Mm... yes. Wife's German, likes speaking French—"
"Emma. That's her name."
"Hands hired a security company. Bodyguards around the wife and kid 24/7."
"Why—got a thing for other men's wives?"
Ethan slurped his noodles. "If you want to make trouble for someone, going through family is usually effective."
"Her wife has any downtime? Like, entertainment activities where the guards aren't hovering?"
V caught on instantly. "If you're thinking of messing with her, targeting family works."
"Every Saturday, Mrs. Hands visits a braindance club in Westbrook. Hangs out with some corporate women and entertainment stars. Security stays outside."
"But fair warning—don't go too far. Can't guarantee Dogtown people or Kurt Hansen won't get involved."
Ethan stood up, noodles unfinished.
"Won't be a problem. Just a 'friendly' chat. Let Mr. Hands lose some sleep."
"I'm not about to hurt a woman."
V ended the call. Ethan studied his new reflection in the grease-stained glass by the food cart. Viktor's work was precise.
Even more handsome now. Damn.
"Boss, ramen was great!"
He called out to the clearly Japanese-styled chef, who was working himself ragged.
"Arigatou gozaimasu! Your kind words are—"
At that moment, a green-haired Tyger Claw nearby choked. "Bastard, why does this taste like shit?! You call this cooking?"
"Nani?! Fuck—why is there a cockroach in my bowl?!"
The round-faced chef looked mortified. The Tyger Claw grabbed him by the collar—gleaming katana and surrounding threats, screaming and cursing.
Ethan turned and walked away, shaking his head.
"Had one in my bowl too. Whatever..."
PLZ THROW POWERSTONES.
300 , 500 , 1000 for each milestone 1 Bonus Chapter.