[NORTH KABUKI – Kowalski’s Clinic]
Wednesday | 09 JUN 2077 | 07:15
[WARNING: CITY LOCKDOWN STILL IN EFFECT]
Will’s eyes were still closed, but he could hear the radio long before he was fully awake. Still alive. Apparently, Night City wasn’t done with him yet.
The news was obsessing over Arasaka, more so than usual, and it was starting to get on Will’s nerves.
“Arasaka is calling it ‘the worst terror attack’ in decades. CEO Yorinobu Arasaka has issued the following statement: So soon after the death of my father, Arasaka must once again face an unprovoked attack. As we mourn the lives of over three hundred of our beloved employees, we will reassess the role Arasaka has taken in Night City. We have many things to consider and hard decisions ahead of us.”
Someone switched off the radio. The voice of corpo propaganda was replaced by the gravelly rumbling of an older man with a thick Polish accent. “That is enough of that. Good morning, Mr. Scrap.”
Will opened his eyes and looked around the room. He immediately recognized it as the front office of the clinic he had plunged into before the fight. He was lying down, an IV pushing liquid into his arm, and feeling better than he had in recent memory. His “bed” was a reclined ripperdoc chair with peeling fake leather. Apparently, the front office doubled as a sort of minor surgical room.
A vivid memory of the horrific conditions in the basement came to him, and he realized he was glad to be upstairs. As for the man, the best way he could be described would be grandfatherly. He had a friendly face, with eyes that looked a little sad, and a grey beard that reached down to his chest. After looking him over, Will tried to smile and noticed the painkillers were working so well that his face felt like it was moving in slow motion.
Finally, after what felt like aeons, Will responded to the client. “Good morning.”
Everything was coming out slowly, so Will had to work to maintain his focus. “What. Happened?” he asked.
“You save my life, Mr. Scrap. You were hurt badly, but lots of things wrong before you get here. Pardon my English, I am taking BD course. Should get good, better, in few months.”
Will nodded his head and noticed how heavy it was, “Oh, it’s fine Doc. Did you say I saved your life? Are you Regina’s friend?”
“Aye, Regina Jones sent you. God bless her.”
“Hey, doc, what’s the diagnosis?” he said, slurring the last word.
“Severe malnutrition. Your body was eating itself, not good. Minor muscle atrophy, multiple fractured ribs, neural degradation from the junk you had in your head, a puncture wound in the shoulder, major blood loss, minor concussion, and several contusions, old and new. You must take better care of yourself, Mr. Scrap.”
It took a moment to process the list of injuries. Will had let his health fall to the wayside. It just hadn’t been a priority when all he wanted to do was die. Then, it hit him, “Did you say the junk I ‘had’ in my head, Doc? Is it gone?”
The Doctor answered calmly, “Don’t worry. I replaced it with the same model, but out of the box. Fresh. No more shakes or headaches, I think. Your, uh, Sandy-viston? Whatever, it was bad. Bad connections, bad chip, don’t know how you even got it to work. New one shouldn’t hurt if you use it properly.”
Will absentmindedly placed a hand to his neuroport, “How much do I owe you?” he asked. No one in Night City did anything for free. Favors rarely came without a catch.
“We are even, no? You save my life. Can’t put price on that. I just do what I came here to do. Heal sick and make small difference in world.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The high from the painkillers was fading the more Will talked. Memories from before he had lost consciousness flooded to the forefront of his mind. Charger coming at him, before that, the cyclops with the mantis blades, Will should have been dead several times over. Yet, for some reason he was still here. “Who saved me from the borg with the mantis blades?”
The doctor reached a hand out, Will shook it. “Stanislaw Kowalski. Thank you for giving shit.”
Ping.
“You’re welcome doc. Hold on a sec, I’m getting a call.”
[INCOMING CALL – AGENT HUD]
Caller: Regina Jones
Time: 07:25 | Tuesday, June 9, 2077
? ANSWER ? DECLINE ?? SILENCE
Will answered the call. “Regina?”
“Will, I talked to Stan, Doc says you took on four Maestrom psychos by yourself. Are you suicidal?” she sounded stressed.
“Not at the moment, no. Listen, I didn’t have a choice, and I didn’t even know about the fourth guy until it was too late.”
“Well, thank you for going above and beyond. I don’t know if you were trying to impress me, but you did. Payment is on the way with a little bit extra. Don’t die on me, okay? I’ll see if I can find some work to throw your way. I gotta go, glad you’re alive.”
She hung up. Will got another ping as the money hit the account. He sat there stunned for a minute.
[NEUROPORT – FINANCIAL OVERLAY]
Account Holder: Will Scrap
Institution: Night Corp Credit Union
Balance as of 09 JUN 2077 19:29
€3,412.73
Last Deposit: €40.00 (Shinkichi Yoneda – Grocery Delivery)
[DISMISS] [PAY BILLS] [REQUEST LOAN]
Will had just gone from broke to over three thousand eddies in the bank. He wasn’t used to good news. Kowalski was sitting at a computer screen reading financial data, probably for the clinic, so Will called his landlord. Sure, his apartment was unfit for human habitation, but Yoneda had put up with him for months without payment. Yoneda answered the phone, chewing loudly.
“Yeah, Scrap, what do you want?”
“I just want to let you know I have your money. All of it.”
“Ah, good. You finally got your shit together. I’m kicking you out anyway.”
If Will hadn’t been lying down already, he would have had to take a seat. “You’re kicking me out?”
“Will, you live in a storage closet. It’s not even a real apartment. Now you have money to pay for real apartment. Try Megabuilding or something, I don’t care, but you are not staying there. Good job getting your ass in gear. Now I can stop calling you ‘Screw Up’ all the time.”
That son of a bitch.
[NORTH KABUKI – Cortes-Kennedy Residential]
Wednesday | 09 JUN 2077 | 11:15
[WARNING: CITY LOCKDOWN STILL IN EFFECT]
Will packed light because he owned practically nothing at all. Then, he cleaned the storage room up enough that anyone who looked inside would never expect that a human being was living in it for the past several months. It had been disgusting, he had hated it, and the room had lived up to the Motel Hell name, but it represented an act of kindness rarely displayed in Night City.
That thought led him to Doc Kowalski. Before he had left, he had offered him a job helping him clean up and repair the clinic. Four hundred eddies a week, free room and board until the work was done. It was more than he needed. Will had told him that he needed to think about it. Well, he had thought about it, and it was the best offer he’d had since he left the NCPD. It wasn’t for the faint-hearted, of course. There were bodies, dismembered bodies. Will would be elbow deep in the kind of horrors only Night City could produce. Then there was the story of that building. The good doctor hadn’t gone into it yet, but Will was patient and would find out one way or another.
Ping.
Will checked his internal Agent. His ride was ready, but was he?
Just reworked some prose. Nothing big.
-Bob
[EDITED ON 3/3/2026]
-Bob
