The next day, the shop delivers surprises.
Rocky calls the supplier in the morning and spends €5,000 to order one hundred doses of stimulant raw materials.
He rides to the clinic. Moments after he steps in, Vik follows him through the door.
"Not bad. Your place looks better than mine," Vik says, giving the room a once-over.
"It's comfortable, but the rent hurts."
Compared with Little China, a clinic in Japantown costs more. Rocky also chose a prime spot, so the rent bites hard.
Vik laughs. "That's how you are. Rent, food, entertainment—if it makes you happy, the price is worth it."
"Enjoy it while you can. That's Night City. Nobody knows how long they'll live. Might die on the street tomorrow. You know me, Vik."
When Rocky first came to Night City, he had no "golden finger." Being a ripperdoc and taking the occasional gig was already his ceiling. In a city built on neon and excess, he decided to live easily where he could. Comfort first.
Vik nods. "Yeah."
He used to dream of becoming a Night City legend. Now he knows a steady life is what he wants.
Vik brings in the cyberware he ordered for Rocky. Rocky stows it and logs each item on the clinic terminal.
Then Vik carries a cardboard box packed with lucky cats and quirky ornaments.
"Misty asked me to bring these. Said to set them up for good luck."
Rocky accepts the gesture. "Tell her thanks. I'll put them out."
Vik surprises him with a second box. This one holds trophies.
He sets the gold cups on the counter. Rocky has no words for a moment.
"Vik, why'd you bring these?"
"You said yesterday you wanted them for the new clinic. So I brought them."
Rocky rubs his scalp, metal fingertips making a soft rasp. "I was joking. And I didn't beat you."
He did say it, but only as a joke. Those were Vik's wins. How could he display them?
Vik only shakes his head with a smile. "You were distracted yesterday. You already have the strength to beat me. I can tell. I trained you. I watched you grow from a skinny kid who knew nothing to this. I'm happy.
"These don't mean much to me now. Leaving them here is fine. Jackie beat me after I coached him. Now you count as my student, too. Take them."
Vik's proud, easy look tells Rocky that refusing would insult the gift.
Vik taught him almost everything. What he has now came from Vik.
Rocky isn't the sentimental type. He files the promise in his heart: he'll repay Vik.
"Thanks, Vik."
"Alright, get back to work. I've got an appointment. Don't forget me when you're rich. And show up next week to spar."
Vik waves and heads for the door.
"Vik."
Vik turns, puzzled.
Rocky wants to say he'll become a true legend one day, stand at the top of Night City and the world, and not waste what Vik taught him. He hesitates and holds it. He'll say it when he earns it.
"Nothing."
Vik doesn't press. "I'm off."
Rocky sets Vik's trophies carefully on the shelf by the boxing gear. He leaves a pair of gold gloves and a few big cups on the clinic workbench, where he and every client can see them.
He flips the "Open" sign and waits for customers.
No one shows up at an underground clinic on day one without publicity.
Rocky shrugs and studies how ripper clinics are distributed across Night City.
By evening, still no first customer. He checks the time and sets the research aside.
He opens his contacts and calls Wakako Okada.
She picks up with that unhurried, velvet tone. "L. It's the first time you've called me. What is it?"
Wakako Okada is a top fixer in Westbrook with deep ties across local crews.
Rocky has often dealt with her through Jackie, so he has her number. This is his first time calling her directly; typically, she pings Jackie, and Jackie calls Rocky.
"I opened a ripper clinic in Japantown. New shop, no name yet. You're the power in this district, so I hope you'll steer people my way," he says.
An underground clinic can't advertise. With no reputation, the beginning is the hard part. So Rocky goes to the local queenpin and asks for introductions. Get some first traffic, earn trust, then build from there.
"I see. Let me guess—under a megabuilding?" she says, amused.
"Yes."
"I've heard whispers that a new clinic opened under the towers. Didn't think it was yours.
"Don't worry. I'll tell my people to visit you. I trust your skill and your character. Sending them won't hurt my name."
Rocky smiles. That solves the initial source of customers.
"Thank you. Anyone you send gets ten percent off."
"Good. I wish you a thriving business. And come to me for gigs when you have time."
"Got it."
He hangs up and keeps waiting.
This call was always part of the plan. In Night City, skill matters, but so do relationships—especially in a line that can't run ads.
Not long after the call with Wakako, another call comes in.
The raw materials Rocky ordered have arrived.