At Coastview, in the Ripperdoc's clinic.
"Thanks to you, I'm now packing up to get out of here. The Sergeant's had it out for me for a while. I'll have to find a new place to work."
When Leo arrived at the clinic, he found the doctor already packing up to leave.
And rightly so.
The Sergeant had originally hired this guy to install a Sandevistan for James. But not only did the doctor leak information, he also got knocked out by Leo.
The fight in front of the clinic pushed James further toward the edge, forcing the Sergeant to drag the guy to the Arroyo headquarters' clinic for the installation.
That one change in the plan caused all hell to break loose—right after getting the implant, James went berserk and practically plowed through the entire Sixth Street gang's headquarters.
"Man, seriously? You found me a ripperdoc who's about to tuck tail and run—don't mess with me! If I die, that's it!"
The medication was wearing off, and Murphy was howling in pain.
But even through his cries, the old-timer in him showed through. The ripperdoc put on an unwilling expression.
"What do you mean 'tuck tail and run'? You think I'm scared of the Sixth Street gang?" Okay, maybe he was—but it still stung.
"And who's this foul-mouthed, burnt-up face?"
"Biotechnica. Just retired. Now, can you treat him or not?"
Leo finished speaking and gave Jackie a signal. The big guy stepped forward and grabbed the doorframe with one hand.
With the immense strength of his Gorilla Arms, Jackie crushed the doorframe, turning it to dust. The ripperdoc swallowed hard.
The unspoken words were clear—if you can't treat him, you'll end up like this doorframe.
"...Ugh, damn it, I really drew the short straw here. I should have just taken the damn licensing exam. Then I wouldn't have to scuttle around like a cockroach... But if I do this job, can you help me find a place to work? Look, I might not be licensed, but my skills...they're still good."
He rummaged through his bag with a sleazy grin. "I can even get you some primo braindances. Interested?"
Leo waved him off. "First, stabilize this guy. He's been poisoned—biological hazard. Ask him for the details."
Murphy's condition was worse than Leo had expected.
His body was reacting abnormally to electromagnetic radiation. Under EM radiation, his head temperature spiked, almost as if he was absorbing energy from sunlight.
But on the flip side, his nervous system exhibited symptoms similar to hydrophobia—a fear of "electromagnetic radiation."
In sunlight, he experienced excruciating pain, nausea, impaired implant function, and software malfunctions.
"What kind of new virus is this?" Even the ripperdoc was baffled.
"No idea. Biotechnica's latest product."
The ripperdoc scratched his head in frustration. "Damn, it's always something weird. Neuro-suppressants can ease these symptoms, but if it gets worse, only blockers will help. What's even more troublesome is that many diagnostic tools are giving faulty readings. His body is interfering with the equipment."
MRI, CT scans, X-rays—all rely on radiation to produce images.
But in Murphy's infected state, his body cells reacted differently to EM radiation. Under these conditions, traditional medical experience couldn't interpret the imagery.
"Are you saying I'm a goner?"
Murphy, lying on the operating table, looked somewhat better now—
Mainly because they had washed off the charred blood and flesh, then used cheap dermal substitutes to patch up his ruined face.
He might have looked normal, but his body was in a worse state.
The ripperdoc spread his hands. "I'm just a ripperdoc. For symptoms like this, you need a medical researcher, but unfortunately, they usually work for big corporations."
"Dammit, I just fled from a corporation!"
The ripperdoc hesitated, then looked at Leo and said, "So, about that new job you mentioned, can we make a deal?"
Leo sensed the guy was holding something back.
Thinking it over, he said, "You know the Red Sash Psychiatric Hospital? There's a doctor there I incapacitated. You can take over his credentials and work there."
"Isn't that place under Scavenger protection?" The ripperdoc was taken aback.
He knew Gloria well—he had even recommended her for that gig.
"That's right." Leo nodded. "So, you in?"
The ripperdoc thought for a moment. "Not bad, but what about the hospital's director? I can't keep working under someone else's identity forever. They'll figure it out."
"If it becomes a problem, I'll deal with it—just a lousy hospital. I'll find someone to take it out if need be."
"That's true," the ripperdoc agreed with Leo's reasoning.
Whether it was Sixth Street or Valentinos, they were both powerhouses with plenty of ways to pressure a psychiatric hospital.
And it was a Scavenger-affiliated hospital, after all—a place everyone despised.
Leo sent the doctor's information to the ripperdoc and continued, "So, what were you going to say earlier?"
"...Actually, the new ripperdoc Sixth Street hired was once a corporate drone, and he worked for MoorE Technologies. Maybe you could talk to him."
The ripperdoc's words triggered a memory in Leo.
According to the timeline, in 2076—the year Cyberpunk: Edgerunners takes place—this clinic was still run by this ripperdoc.
But by 2077, the ripperdoc had been replaced by a young guy who had retired from MoorE Technologies.
Rumor had it that he used to be in R&D.
Based on Leo's experience, 99% of people who "retire" from a corporation never truly cut ties.
Sometimes, corporations would even fake someone's retirement or firing, sending them to infiltrate gangs.
Could this ripperdoc be one of those cases?
"When's he arriving at the clinic?"
"Tonight. Otherwise, I wouldn't be rushing to pack."
"Then you keep packing. We'll wait here."
"Not even a goodbye? Harsh."
"Get lost."
The ripperdoc shook his head, sighed, and loaded his things into his car. Then he drove off to his new job.
Leo and the others, along with Murphy lying on the table, were left alone in the clinic.
As evening fell, V grew bored and started stacking the empty drink cans on the table.
"So, what are we doing here exactly?"
Leo remained calm, tinkering with a program in his head. "To make big money, you need patience. The part where you pull out the knife is always the least profitable."
Murphy, now joining in the discussion, nodded in agreement. "You're right. If I had understood that earlier, I might have found a place to retire by now. Spent my life as a merc, most of the money went into implants or medical bills. Didn't save much, and I could still end up dead in the street any day."
V didn't argue. She found another empty can on the floor, adding it to the lopsided stack of three.
It looked like a cyberpunk version of the Nordic rock-stacking meditation trend.
Leo continued, "So, what about you? You said you used to do this work, just not in Night City? Ever been to The Afterlife?"
Murphy shifted slightly, propping himself up. "Nope. I used to work in Mexico. It was even crazier than here, and the pay was crap. If I hadn't run up a massive debt on drugs, I might still be there."
"So, you owed money to some big drug lord and sold yourself to Biotechnica? How'd they even find someone like you for security?"
"You don't get it. I took jobs escorting drugs down there, specialized work—don't let my current state fool you. When it comes to transport, I'm a pro."
Leo and V exchanged a smile.
How convenient—they were pros at hijacking transport convoys.
As the sun set, time moved slowly.
Murphy: "Whew… feeling a lot better now. Earlier, I thought I was a goner."
Knock, knock.
Jackie, standing guard outside, tapped on the window. "Someone's coming—two cars, one sedan, one V340. Looks like it's the doctor."
"Another one of these junkers."
V muttered.