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Watson District, Little China—
When Jax and the crew filtered into Viktor's underground clinic, the big man was already in the middle of a massive reorganization. Despite his calm demeanor, Viktor's raw strength was on full display as he effortlessly hefted several reinforced crates onto the central workbench.
"Perfect timing," Viktor grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "I've pulled a few choice pieces from the back. We'll go through them one by one."
Jackie, always eager to help, stepped in to move the heavier boxes. Within minutes, the workshop was transformed into a high-end chrome bazaar.
Viktor pushed his glasses up his nose, looking at the group. "Jackie told me you hit the motherlode out in the Badlands. You brought some salvage for me to look at, I assume?"
Maine didn't waste words, placing two padded cases on the table. Viktor opened the first, his specialized optics whirring as he scanned the contents. He nodded slowly, then opened the second. His expression soured slightly.
"This one is a clean pull. Practical. But this second one…" Viktor sighed, poking a blackened lead with a surgical probe. "It's damaged. I can patch the housing, but there's a fifty-fifty chance it glitches mid-combat. I don't sell ticking time bombs."
"What's the market value for a repaired military-grade Sandevistan like that?" Maine asked, his eyes reflecting the potential eddies.
"Even with the damage? Two hundred thousand. Easily," Viktor replied.
Maine's eyes lit up. "Then we—"
"Hold on," Viktor interrupted, his tone firm. "I have principles, Maine. I deal in the black market, sure, but I ensure my buyers don't end up dead because of a hardware failure I hid. If it's defective, it stays off my shelves."
Maine let out a sheepish chuckle. "My bad, Doc. Jackie told me you were an upright man. I just get a bit blind when the numbers get that high."
He didn't feel embarrassed. In Night City, a Ripperdoc with a conscience was rarer than a real tree, and Maine respected Viktor more for it. Most Docs would've stripped the parts and sold them to the nearest Scavenger for a quick buck.
"Now, about your project, Jax," Viktor said, turning his attention to the young solo. "Jackie says your Katana is a pile of scrap and you need something custom."
"Normally, I don't do forge-work," Viktor continued, his voice picking up speed. "But you're Jackie's brother, so you're a friend of the house. I'll handle the fabrication, and I've got high-tensile alloys in the back that Arasaka would kill for. But for the design? I need Pilar. I'm a surgeon, not a weapons architect."
Jax took a deep breath, his excitement palpable. "I need a primary blade, Viktor. Something for close-quarters, obviously. But some missions need stealth, and others need reach. I want a sword that isn't just a sword. I need a long-range mode—something that can hit at rifle distance."
Viktor nodded, scribbling notes on a digital tablet. "Go on."
"It needs to be heavy. I don't care about the weight; I can swing a slab of iron if I have to. But I also need a short-blade option for when things get tight in an elevator or a vent. A modular system?" Jax asked, feeling like he was asking for a miracle.
Viktor chuckled. "Modular isn't hard. The trick is the coupling. If it's not a single piece of steel, the toughness drops. I'll have to reinforce the locking mechanism with electromagnetic clamps. Pilar! Get over here, I need your brain!"
As Viktor and Pilar huddled over a holographic blueprint, the rest of the crew began salivating over the open crates. Jackie was practically drooling over a heavy-duty cybernetic limb, his eyes fixed on the matte-black finish.
"Look at this one," Rebecca whispered, her previous sulking forgotten as she pointed at a Dynalar Sandevistan Mk.4. "Twenty-five percent time dilation. One second becomes four. It's beautiful."
Maine looked at the Sandevistan—a sleek unit with black neural-link leads—then looked at Jax. "We should install this for Jax. If he has this on top of his natural speed, he'd be top-five in the city rankings overnight."
"No," Jax said, his voice quiet but absolute.
"Why not?" Maine asked, stunned.
"I'm not against chrome, Maine. I've got the basics," Jax explained. "But a Sandevistan isn't a standalone piece. You need the neural bridge, the reflexive boosters, the whole package. It turns your spine into an antenna. One good hacker with a high-tier deck, and I'm a statue. Or worse, I end up like Boett—screaming because my 'invincible' hardware just bricked itself."
Jax knew his Potential Burst was safer. It was internal. It didn't have a serial number Arasaka could track, and it didn't have a wireless port a Netrunner could exploit.
"Your choice, kid," Maine said, though he looked conflicted. He held the Sandevistan up for the crew to see. "Then... this goes to Jackie."
"Me?" Jackie pointed at himself, his jaw dropping.
"You're the muscle, Jackie. If we're hitting high-tier targets, you need the edge. Consider it a gift from the team. Jax did the work, so thank him."
Jackie took the unit with a rare, solemn expression. "I won't let you down, Maine. I swear it."
"Don't worry about me," Maine laughed, slapping Jackie's shoulder. "The mysterious merchant I've been talking to on the dark-nets finally came through. He's got a military-grade prototype he needs to move fast. Three hundred thousand eddies."
"The guy who's always so paranoid?" Dorio asked. "He actually agreed to a face-to-face?"
"Yeah," Maine said, a strange look crossing his face. "And the funniest part? We actually know the guy."
"Who?" Jax asked, curious.
Maine looked at Jax. "It's your neighbor, kid. The one from the Megabuilding."
Jax froze. His neighbor? There was only one person in his hall who fit the bill of a "paranoid tech merchant."
"Gloria Martinez?" Jax whispered.
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