Chapter 11: H10
Kay and Sasha waited in silence, letting the elevator hum beneath them as they ascended through the steel veins of the H10 Skyscraper. Ten minutes passed before the doors finally slid open for them.
Inside the lift, a flickering holo-ad blasted from the side panel:
"Come feast at The Slaughterhouse! Now with 70% real meat—still dripping, still warm…"
"Damn," Sasha muttered, smirking. "Looks kinda fire. You ever try it, Doc Kay? Oh—and hey, you're the first guy I've ever brought home. That's gotta mean something."
Kay raised an eyebrow, playful grin creeping across his lips.
"Oh? Should I feel special? You trying to tell me something?"
Sasha clasped her hands behind her back and gave an exaggerated whistle. "Nah. Just feels... weird, y'know?"
Ding.
The elevator chimed.
"Here we are."
Sixth floor.
Sasha led the way with casual confidence and stopped in front of Room 606. Her eyes flashed for a second—remote biometric scan. The door clicked open.
Kay stepped inside.
The apartment was sparse. Minimalist, utilitarian. No frills. Just a bed, walls lined with glowing cables, and a wall of hardware that screamed netrunner. Twelve curved screens blinked around a stack of four high-grade port servers. This wasn't a living space—it was a cockpit for digital warfare.
"Grab a seat," Sasha said, already pulling on her gloves. "Gonna take a bit. Drinks are by the window—soda, beer. Help yourself."
Kay nodded and dropped into a corner chair. He didn't speak again.
The room was maybe half the size of V's old apartment, but it was perfect for a solo netrunner like Sasha. A panoramic window overlooked Night City's neon heartbeat—billboards, buzz-drones, rain-slick chrome reflecting synthetic starlight.
An hour slipped by.
Sasha cracked the last encryption, her fingers dancing over the interface.
"Done," she whispered to herself, stretching her arms.
She turned, ready to share the loot report—only to find Kay leaning against the windowsill, eyes closed. Three empty beer cans beside him. Not asleep. Not really. Just… still.
Sasha blinked. Then smiled.
"Kay... you're a weird one."
Instead of waking him, she pulled a soft throw from the closet and draped it gently over his shoulders. Standing over him, she murmured, "Good night, choom."
---
The Next Morning
The door creaked open. Morning haze poured through the skylight.
Kay blinked himself awake, still groggy.
"You're up?" Sasha stood at the doorway holding a box. "Here—breakfast. Locust pizza."
"…Charming," Kay grunted, rubbing his temples.
As he took the box, Sasha sat opposite him and powered up one of her terminals.
"I dug into the neural data from last night's BCIs," she said, fingers tapping. "Twenty units total. Nineteen of them? Small fry—between 400 and 2,000 euros each. But one? Worth 13K."
She turned the screen toward him.
"Final tally: 34,766 euros. Your cut was 75%. I've transferred the rest to you."
> [You received 26,266€ from Sasha.]
Kay looked at the alert, a touch sheepish.
"…Thanks. And for the pizza too."
"No problem. You passed out like a tired cat. Seemed cruel to wake you."
Kay stood, wiped the crust from his mouth, and took a moment to wash up. He had things to do—real things—and yet he'd spent the night here. With her.
Before he left, Sasha gave him a slight nod. No words, just an unspoken vibe. Something in between trust and curiosity.
---
He stepped into the elevator. As it descended, Kay stared through the glass wall at the stretch of alley outside.
H10 Skyscraper...
Something buzzed in the back of his brain.
This place... feels too familiar.
And then it hit him.
This was V's first apartment.
Before everything fell apart. Before legends were written in blood.
And if he remembered right, Vik's clinic was just one block over.
Perfect. He needed a checkup anyway—and maybe some chrome.
---
In the underground garage, Kay found his Vito parked where he left it. Firing up the engine, he cruised slowly toward Watson, where the backstreet ripperdocs worked miracles between ramen joints and gang shootouts.
It took longer than expected—ten minutes for what should've been a thirty-second dash in the game—but this was real life now. Even chrome moves slow in the rain.
---
At last, he pulled up to Misty's Esoterica, the little divination den hiding Vik's clinic.
Wind chimes clinked softly as he stepped inside.
A warm female voice greeted him. "Welcome. Need a reading? Or... something else?"
Misty looked almost just like her game model—same hair, same vibe—but more alive. More grounded. The collar around her neck shimmered in the light.
"Actually," Kay said, "I'm here to see Dr. Viktor. Do I need an appointment?"
"Nope. One sec, I'll ping him. He was finishing up a prosthetic install last I checked."
She tapped her holo-tab, looking genuinely happy to help. No suspicion, no attitude. Just a chill soul doing her thing.
Moments later, a reply buzzed through.
"Doc's done. You can head in. Clinic's downstairs—go through the back door, down the stairs. Can't miss it."
"Thanks, Misty. I'm Kay, by the way."
She smiled warmly. "Misty."
Kay slipped into the alley, boots crunching the grit. He descended into the underbelly of the building—and walked straight into the sanctum of Night City's kindest ripperdoc.
---
Vik stood beside the operating table, drying his hands with a cloth. His eyes flicked up.
"You're new," he said, friendly but cautious.
But Kay cut in with a grin.
"Dr. Viktor… I've heard you're the best ripperdoc in Night City. No question."
Vik chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "People say all kinds of things. You referred by one of my regulars? I'm not the best, but I'm fair. If you're short on eddies, we can work something out—buy on credit, pay later."
Kay's thoughts flashed—This is the guy. The legend. V's right hand.
Everything in this dim-lit, tech-strewn room radiated nostalgia. Tables of chrome arms. Cabinets stacked with neural enhancers. Holo-monitors pulsing softly.
If there was anywhere in Night City that felt like home, it was here.
"No need for credit," Kay said. "Not today. I want to see what you've got. Let's talk chrome."
Vik laughed again, clapping a hand on Kay's shoulder.
"Well now, you're speaking my language. Come on—let me show you what we've got in stock."