Leo took a deep breath.
The delicate scent of lavender incense filled the air, soothing his nerves like a soft breeze on a spring morning.
2076.
A whole year before the events of the Cyberpunk 2077 storyline.
V was still a nobody—maybe hustling on the streets or climbing corporate ladders. The Relic biochip? Still safely locked away in an Arasaka lab, untouched by Jackie, T-Bug, or anyone else.
On paper, this was a good thing. No apocalyptic heists or rogue AI nightmares. Just a city filled with small-time criminals, corrupt corpos, and endless opportunities.
But despite that, Leo couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was missing.
"You seem troubled. Want to try a tarot reading? It might offer some clarity."
The soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He turned to see the shopkeeper, standing behind a glass counter, expertly shuffling a worn deck of tarot cards. Her gentle tone and warm smile were completely at odds with the chaotic world outside.
"Maybe later," Leo replied, offering a polite grin. "First, I need to see a ripperdoc."
"Ah, wise choice."
Misty's short, tousled hair and layered punk attire contrasted her serene demeanor. She had a rare kindness about her, the kind that stood out in Night City like a flower in a junkyard.
"But it's good to see a friendly face," Leo added. "The last few days have been nothing but lunatics, psychos, and control freaks."
"Welcome to Night City," Misty said, her grin widening. "Where legends rise and corpses pile up. And from the look of you, I'd say you're fresh off the boat."
"Is it that obvious?" Leo smirked.
"You don't blend in like the locals," she teased. "You're like… well, imagine someone wrapped in silk stumbling into a garbage dump. And your face? Way too clean for a city that lives and breathes chrome."
Leo touched his face self-consciously. No scars. No augmentations. Just the youthful, clear skin of an eighteen-year-old.
"You're not wrong."
"But hey, no shame in standing out. Just means you're not another drone." Misty's voice softened. "And for what it's worth, I hope you find your place here."
"Thanks." Leo offered a genuine smile. "By the way, I'm Leonardo DiCaprio. But call me Leo."
Misty chuckled. "Misty. Pleasure to meet you."
They shook hands, though Misty's amused glance told Leo that his formal greeting was a bit out of place. Corporate habits die hard.
"You're too polite for Watson," she remarked. "Politeness is like an open invitation for trouble around here. People see it, and they smell blood."
"Noted."
"Good. Now…"
Misty's irises briefly flickered with a cool glow. Her optics were scanning something, though it wasn't intrusive. Just a subtle feature of her cyberware.
"Vik's free," she said, motioning to the door. "Head out back and down the stairs. He'll take good care of you."
"Thanks, Misty. I'll catch you later."
Leo pushed through the back door, greeted by the industrial hum of pipes and flickering neon signs. A group of locals lounged nearby, sipping cheap drinks and staring as he passed.
"No cat?" Leo murmured, remembering Misty's furless feline from the game. A minor disappointment.
He descended the cracked concrete steps, the stench of damp metal and burnt oil clinging to the air. The underground clinic's entrance was as inconspicuous as ever—a thick metal door with glowing blue paneling.
No instructions. No fancy retinal scanner. Just an old-fashioned buzz.
Knock, knock.
With a hiss, the door slid open.
The sound of a live boxing match blared from a nearby holo-screen, the commentator's voice booming. At the center of the room sat a broad-shouldered man, his glasses perched on his nose and his muscular arms crossed.
"Don't just stand there, kid. Come on in."
Victor Vektor. Ripperdoc. Boxer. Genuine good guy.
"Misty said a special guest was dropping by. Guess that's you."
"That's me," Leo confirmed. "And I need a little help."
"Let me guess… Got mugged? Scavved for parts? Or maybe you pissed off the wrong corpo?"
"Nothing that bad," Leo chuckled nervously. "But I could definitely use a checkup."
Vik let out a low laugh. "Fair enough. Have a seat."
Leo dragged a stool across the room and plopped down, the familiar scent of disinfectant mingling with the faint metallic tang of cyberware lubricant.
"Name's Leonardo DiCaprio. Just call me Leo."
"Polite, aren't ya?" Vik grinned. "We don't get a lot of those around here. I'm Viktor Vektor. But everyone just calls me Vik."
"Got it, Vik."
"So, what are we looking at today?"
"I need a neural link installed, plus a set of optics. And maybe a few beginner-level tech mods. I'm not exactly an expert on this stuff."
"No shame in that," Vik said, eyeing Leo carefully. "But here's a bit of free advice: don't go around admitting what you don't know. Ripperdocs aren't all like me. The shady ones? They'll gut you for every eddie you've got."
Leo swallowed hard. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Good. Now, I'm gonna run a basic diagnostic. Just to make sure you're not secretly wired up with anything nasty. Sound good?"
"Yeah. Sounds good."
"Great."
Vik grabbed a handheld scanner, the blue light flickering across Leo's face.
"Let's see what we're working with."
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