The clinic is quiet. Monitors tick. Stainless trays wait under bright lights.
Rocky walks out of the back lab and stops beside the chair. Jackie props himself up on an elbow, eyeing the color.
"This is the good stuff you mentioned? What is it?"
"An injectable serum. Boosts overall body function. If tomorrow turns into a fight, this helps."
"You want me to take it?"
"Yes. Lie back."
Jackie is not a drug guy, but he trusts Rocky. If Rocky says it helps, that is enough—no need to overthink when the professional is standing right here.
He stretches out on the operating chair. Rocky gloves up, sterilizes the site, brings the injector online, and starts a calm pre-op cadence that sits Jackie's heartbeat where it should be.
"L, did you and Lucy know each other before?" Jackie asks as Rocky finishes calibrations.
"No. Yesterday was the first time I met her."
"In the afternoon, while you were out, I chatted with her and accidentally mentioned you worked for Vik," Jackie says.
"It is fine. Just do not tell her about the braindance I saw," Rocky says, smiling.
"Yeah, I know."
"Okay, I am starting. Keep your breathing even. It will not hurt, but you may nap a bit."
"No problem."
The injector kisses skin with a soft click. Serum threads into Jackie's system, warmth unfurling through muscle and bone. Time loosens, then trims away.
"Wake up, Jackie."
Jackie blinks up at the ceiling, then sits fast, surprised at how light his body feels.
"Wow. That is wild."
"How do you feel?" Rocky asks.
Jackie stands, bounces on his toes, swings a few test combinations at the heavy bag in the corner, and laughs at the snap in his arms.
"This really is good stuff. L, where did you get it? Must have cost a fortune."
"Cost is five thousand euros, and I made it."
Jackie stares. He knows Rocky disappears into the workshop, but he did not expect this.
"You made it? Then you must be loaded."
"It is going well, but I am just getting started."
"With tech like that, what is the plan? Start a company?"
"That is the plan. Already in motion."
"So you were serious about being a corporate dog."
"Of course. I only brought it up because I figured you might hate the idea," Rocky says.
Jackie throws an arm over his shoulder and grins.
"Hate what? Whether work or company work, you still live for yourself—nothing to look down on. I should back you. If corps cannot be erased, I would rather see you at the top than someone like Saburo Arasaka. I trust you to do better than any of them."
Rocky's shoulders ease. Jackie is not pushing back. He is in.
"Exactly my thinking. Only power beats power. I am not just going to break these companies' pretty dreams. I am going to change the world."
"Honestly, I am looking forward to it. Remember, I have your back no matter what. You are my brother. I am not kissing Saburo Arasaka's feet, but I will help my brother anytime. If you need me, say it. I am bad at corporate politics but great at everything else."
Jackie's hand lands on Rocky's shoulder again, firm. However, Rocky moves next, and Jackie will support, trust, and respect it. That is friendship here. It lasts until the end.
"Good to hear. Brothers for life."
It hits Rocky more than he expects. Having a brother who backs you in Night City is rare.
Do not worry, Jackie. He thinks I will help you get what you want and be a legend in this city.
You do not need giant corporate deals to become a legend. If you are strong enough, no one cares where you started. Adam Smasher is proof. As a war merc, he served corps and governments. Plenty of so-called legends died by his hand. Now he is lashed to Arasaka and still counts as a Night City legend. No one argues.
Rocky sets his own bar higher. He wants Jackie to surpass Adam Smasher. That will be an absolute legend when Jackie can stand in Arasaka Tower, crack Adam Smasher with a punch, and kick Saburo Arasaka aside.
They gear down the clinic and head out. After the injection, Rocky drives Jackie back toward Heywood. Passing City Center, he brakes in front of a boutique clothing store.
There is one more piece to prep. If you are going to pass as corporate staff, you need a suit.
Inside, racks hold tailored cuts in neat gradients of price and fabric. Measuring bots hum. Tailors glide between mirrors and pins.
"Oh man, I look serious in a suit. L, check me out."
Jackie squares his jacket in the mirror. His big frame turns the cut into presence, a real suit bruiser.
"You look a little like a debt collector, but it works. Suits fit you," Rocky says.
"Maybe I will only wear one a few times. The suit fits my body, not my heart."
"Relax. No one is asking you to wear it to a day job."
Rocky vanishes into a fitting room and comes out in a simple, sharp set that hides his muscles. He reads as balanced and precise. The mirror throws back a corporate elite with a quiet weight that makes people give space in corridors. On his face, the look sells as a newly promoted executive from any major in Night City.
"Gosh, L, this suits you more than me."
"Not bad."
They pay and walk out with garment bags. Prep is complete.
Rocky drops Jackie at home, then returns to his place to rest and prepare for tomorrow.