"What? You don't have any chip receivers, no operating system, and not even a phone installed?"
Inside the restaurant, Oliver widened his eyes in disbelief. He stared at Karl like he was so kind of freak.
He had originally planned to repay Karl's life-saving favor by transferring so money from his account. But to his shock, Karl admitted he didn't even have an online account, let alone any cyberware or a basic operating system to support chip integration.
"Even nomads aren't like this anymore! Even monks who refuse cyberware at least use external receivers to collect donations—or, at the very least, have a phone. Are you so kind of 'purebred human' or sothing?"
"Not really... You could just say my environnt didn't expose to this kind of stuff. Explaining it is complicated. Do you know how I can get an OS installed?"
"Of course, it's possible. Any ripperdoc can handle it. After that, you can upgrade yourself however you want—add so cyberware if you feel like it. It's really no big deal. It's just about when you start. I'm just surprised you've waited this long."
"I want to see a ripperdoc now."
Karl had already finished his Chinese Cold Noodles and was sipping on an overly sweet Little K-Cola. Honestly, he wasn't a fan of the tooth-achingly syrupy cola.
"Alright, give a mont."
As Oliver spoke, his eyes flickered, indicating he was searching through a neural interface. "Let check if there's a good ripperdoc nearby. If we were in Santo Domingo, I could na four or five off the top of my head. But this is Watson, and I'm not as familiar with the area... Oh, here's one: Viktor Vector. That na rings a bell. His clinic is less than a hundred ters from here. Want to check it out?"
Viktor?
Hearing the na, Karl imdiately knew who Oliver was talking about.
[Viktor Vector: A ripperdoc operating in Little China, Night City. Runs his own clinic. Rumored to have worked as an underground doctor in the past.]
Oh, an old acquaintance.
Karl had so recollection of Viktor. From what he knew, Viktor was V's ripperdoc in 2077. And if he was trusted by the protagonist, his skills were definitely reliable.
"Alright, let's go."
"Slow down! You don't even know the way!"
Watching Karl's impatient, almost reckless attitude, Oliver quickly caught up and took the lead.
As they walked, Oliver started rambling about the cost of cyberware.
"Don't worry. My sister's a ripperdoc, so I know everything there is to know about pricing and quality. With your money, you can easily afford a Militech Paraline operating system. You'll even have so cash left over to buy other things. If Viktor's prices are too steep, we'll just walk out. Trust , getting an OS installed is basic—any ripperdoc can do it. And if all else fails, I'll take you to my sister. She's fair, and I guarantee she won't rip you off."
After a mont of silence, Karl asked a question:
"Do you always talk this much?"
"Well, you saved my life, and I feel like we get along. Honestly, I've been in the 6th Street Gang for a week now, and it's been suffocating. They're always hamring on about military discipline and rules. It's exhausting. Compared to that, being around you feels more... relaxed."
"You don't have any weird preferences, do you?"
"What the hell kind of question is that? I co from a traditional Arican family—I don't ss around with any of that weird stuff. I'm 100% straight, alright? I've even had two ex-girlfriends!"
Maybe it was the pressure of being stifled in the 6th Street Gang, or the sudden freedom after all his teammates were wiped out, but Oliver seed almost overly talkative.
"Man, when I go back, I'm probably going to get chewed out. I already reported what happened to the gang. No matter what, being the only one who survived is going to piss off the families of the dead. The higher-ups might kick out of the gang to save face. Thanks to my dad's position, they probably won't kill , but they'll most likely make leave Santo Domingo. Honestly, though, I've had enough of the 6th Street Gang. This might be the perfect excuse to get away from their rules and do sothing on my own for a change."
"Even though it's not your fault, you took down so many of them and still might get kicked out of the gang?"
"What can I say? Our lieutenant was a spineless, gilded idiot. He died nice and quick, but now the gang has to co up with an excuse to give Will Cannon so taphorical balls."
"Will Cannon?"
"One of the senior mbers of the 6th Street Gang. The dead 'gilded moron' was his nephew. Nothing I can do about it. I only found out who he was when we were eating earlier. Seriously, it's like so sick joke—my first mission, I almost get killed, and now I'm getting dragged into this ss because of so dead idiot."
Despite his complaints, a faint smile appeared on Oliver's face. He nudged Karl with his elbow and said, "Hey, man, what do you think? I'm about to lose everything and end up begging on the streets. How about we team up? Maybe beco rcs or sothing?"
"I think a single al is enough to repay your life debt," Karl replied calmly.
Still, he was sowhat intrigued by Oliver's suggestion. But if you want to work together as rcs, I don't mind. I'm pretty laid-back, and since you're a local in Night City, having soone familiar with the area would make taking jobs easier.
"Alright then, it's settled, bro! From now on, we're a sharpshooter duo. You handle the shooting, and I'll handle looting bodies for cash, deal?"
"I think your aim isn't bad either."
"It's not as good as yours, though."
As Oliver spoke, a thought suddenly struck him. "Oh, right! I've been calling you 'bro' this whole ti, but I don't even know your na. What should I call you?"
"Karl. Last na Karl, first na Karl. Just read it straight—no need to reverse it into 'Lrac.' And, of course, you can also use the codena I just thought of. I figure it'd be good to use a codena on missions to avoid exposing too much."
"A codena, huh? Oh, I get it—like Johnny Silverhand, Morgan Blackhand, or Adam Smasher. Those kinds of badass nas, right? Makes sense. As a rc, you've gotta aim for that kind of legendary status. My na's too common to bother with a codena, but I don't mind. What's your codena? I'll rember it."
"It's just a simple set of letters."
Thinking about the protagonist's iconic "V," Karl smiled and said, "Call KK."
"KK?"
"It's a codena that connects to my na. My na's Karl, so it starts with K—pretty straightforward."
"Oh, I see."
Of course, that was only part of the truth. To Karl, the codena had another layer of aning—sothing that only he could understand.
In Chinese, "KK" sounded like Kaka, which carried a specific connotation in Korean due to its phonetic similarity.
In Korean, it could an "Your Excellency" or even "The Commander."
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