Viktor Vektor x Reader

Fifteen

"So now you know the bunch.", Vik sounded equally defeated as he was filled with pride. "They can be a little overwhelming at first. They'll grow on you."

It was touching how loving he spoke of the these people. Loyalty or a sense of duty towards others didn't exist in Night City.

Everyone looked out for themselves.

But the way Viktor and the others had acted reminded you a little of you and your family. Before it had crumbled apart like a dream in broad daylight.

A sigh made your heart feel heavy.

"Appreciate it.", you flashed him a smile, offering a hand to shake goodbye. "But I won't stick around for too long. I'll come back with what I owe you though. Now worries."

The last part seemed to take him by surprise. Eyebrows rose past the thick brim of his glasses. His lips opened a crack wide to release a breath.

"Ya know, about that...", he rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't sweat it."

You frowned.

"I pay my debt. Always."

He shook his head.

"This is not a debt, sweetheart.", his hand reached into one of the many pockets of his pants to fish out a pack of cigarettes. "There's nothin' to pay back. Just keep your head up."

The cart board box was all crunched and torn. The colour of the label started to fade away already, you didn't even recognise the brand. It looked ancient.

And there were still some cigarettes left in the box.

"How old are these?", you asked with a huff.

"Old enough to give me the old fashioned lung cancer.", he answered dryly and took one of them between his lips. "Fancy one?"

He offered you some.

For a brief moment your eyes remained on the cigarettes.

"Never seen some like these.", you said and took one.

It was only then that you realised that your hands felt different. They were heavy, almost like metal, yet not a single thing indicated that they weren't exactly like your organic ones.

Just to test the durability, you turned your wrists, curled your fingers and spread them as wide as possible. At some point the same tension occurred that came with real skin that stretched over muscles and bones.

"Good.", the switch of a lighter clicked. "They're working."

A smile made its way to your lips. You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief. He had offered you a cigarette to see if your body accepted the new implants.

If not, he would have been able to tell the issue by a thing as simple as a tremble.

He really was a damn good ripper.

But why weren't you able to shake off the feeling that you knew him?

"Anyways...", you placed the cigarette behind your ear to meet his face. "I should get going."

"Got placed to be?", he offered you the lighter.

You stared at it but didn't accept.

Yes, you did have places to be. But he didn't have to know. Or rather, you didn't want him to. It made your vulnerable.

Even though he did not seem to be the type of guy to exploit weaknesses. It was odd, but Viktor struck you as a genuinely nice guy.

A weird thing to be in a place like Night City. Stupid, if someone was to ask you. But nobody did.

"Gotta earn some money.", you explained and shoved your hands into your pockets.

Viktor, in all of his kindness, had not only given you new cyberware but also clothes that weren't drenched in your own guts.

It wasn't much, just one of his old blue shirts and some pants that didn't fit you. Just as expected, Vik was a large guy, therefore his clothes were too.

Everything was a bit loose but comfortable.

As if by chance, he let his eyes wander along your arms as you stretched to get one arm into your new jacket. Just like everything about Viktor, it seemed a little old school and out of place.

Thankfully, you didn't pay attention as he caught himself looking at your face for a little too long to excuse it as just a brief checkup.

Immediately, he turned away to take a drag of his cigarette as you looked back at him.

"Thanks again.", you really wanted to shake his hand to say goodbye, but once again he didn't accept the gesture.

Instead, he took his time to smoke. Thin strands of grey seeped out from between his lips.

Wrapped in silence the two of you just stood there, in this dirty back alley that was covered with trash and people who had nothing to loose no more.

It was only then that you realised something about his face that felt familiar.

His ears.

He wore earrings, two large buttons that each had a K and an O painted on them. But it wasn't the accessories that made you take a second glance.

He had cauliflower ears. Anybody else would have shrugged it off as some sort of flaw. But you knew that this kind of trait came from multiple hits against the head.

Hits that were common in a sport like boxing.

Now that you thought about it he also had a scar on his nose. It must have been broken at some point. Also not uncommon for boxers.

You should have realised by the time you had noticed the golden glove dangling around his neck.

"You... box too?", you asked out of the blue, unable to keep down your curiosity.

All of a sudden he stopped and looked at the red glow at the tip of his cigarette. Some of the ash danced to the ground like rotten snowflakes.

"No.", he finally said and flipped the rest away into the street. "Am just a fan."

The smile he gifted you as he turned back seemed oddly heavy. Almost disappointed in himself.

You couldn't quite put your finger on it but somehow that answer must have hurt him.

"Hm...", your mind wandered off for a brief second but it just couldn't remember why he felt so familiar now that you knew he must have boxed at some point in his life. "Anyways. Gotta roll. Thanks by the way. Really."

"Don't sweat it.", he was already down a few steps into the basement as he stopped in his tracks. "And don't be afraid to stop by whenever you need something, sweetheart. Good ol' Vik will be happy to help ya out, k?"

"Sure.", you smiled.

How oddly nice he was. Almost naive.