Chapter 95 - 91 Change of Household (Ten More Updates)

Preaching Seaside, the Ripperdoc’s clinic.

"Thanks to you guys, I have to pack up and skedaddle now. The sergeant has been fed up with me for a while, so I gotta find a new place to work."

It wasn’t until Lille got to the clinic that he saw the doctor was already packing up to leave.

It figures.

The sergeant had originally wanted this guy to install the Si Anweisitan for James, but not only did he leak the information, Lille also knocked him out cold.

The fight in front of the clinic caused James to edge even closer towards a breakdown, so the sergeant had no choice but to grit his teeth and haul this guy to the Aloroy headquarters’ clinic for the installation.

This change of plans was a big deal. As soon as the prosthetics were installed, James went nuts and plowed through the Six Street Gang’s headquarters first.

"Damn, dude, you find a cyberdoc who’s about to tuck his tail and run—and you’re playing me? If I die, that’s it, I’m done for!"

The effects of the drugs had worn off, and Murphy was howling in pain.

But his howling was in true old-school slick style, after which the Ripperdoc immediately put on a reluctant face.

What’s this about tucking tails and running? Is he afraid of the Six Street Gang?

Okay, yes—he was, and it was irritating.

"And who the hell is this foul-mouthed, rotten-faced guy?"

"Biotechnology retiree. Just tell me if you can treat him or not."

After Lille finished speaking, he signaled to Jack, who stepped forward and grabbed the doorframe.

The immense strength of the gorilla-like arm instantly squeezed the doorframe out of shape, and the Ripperdoc swallowed hard.

What he left unsaid was clear—if you can’t treat him, you’ll end up like this doorframe today.

"...Ah, damn, I really hit rock bottom. Should’ve bitten the bullet and gotten my license, then I wouldn’t be squashed around like a cockroach...

But if I take this job, can you guys help me find a way out? Look, I may not have a license, but my skills... they’re still good."

As he spoke, he rummaged around in his bag, revealing a lecherous smile: "I also have a way to get some powerful stuff from Super Dream, want some?"

Lille waved his hand: "Stabilize this guy first. He’s been poisoned—biohazard. Ask him for the details."

...

Murphy’s condition was worse than Lille had anticipated.

His body was starting to have abnormal reactions to electromagnetic radiation. Under electromagnetic influence, his head temperature increased significantly, almost as if he were gaining energy from sunlight.

However, conversely, his nervous system exhibited symptoms akin to hydrophobia but to "electromagnetic radiation".

In sunlight, he suffered unbearable pain, nausea, and vomiting; his prosthetics malfunctioned and his software systems were in disarray.

"What is this, some new virus?" The Ripperdoc felt it was a bit too challenging to handle.

"Don’t know, Biotechnology’s new product."

Scratching his head with worry, the Ripperdoc said, "Ah... nothing but complicated diseases. Neural inhibitors can alleviate these symptoms, but if it gets more severe, we’ll have to use blockers.

What’s more troublesome is that a lot of the readings from medical equipment are faulty because his body is interfering with their operation."

MRI, CT, X-rays are all technologies that rely on radiation to produce imaging data.

However, infected Murphy, his body cells exhibited unusual reactions to electromagnetic radiation; under these circumstances, the images produced by these methods could no longer be judged by past medical experience.

"Damn... does that mean I’m a goner?"

Murphy looked a lot better in the hospital bed by now—

Mainly because the charred blood and flesh was washed off, and then his battered face was patched up with cheap skin-like products.

He looked normal, but his condition was actually worse.

The Ripperdoc spread his hands, "I’m just a cyberdoc. For symptoms like these I’ve never seen, you have to consult medical researchers. But sadly, they usually come from big corporations."

"Damn... I just fled the company!"

The Ripperdoc hesitated, then turned to Lille and asked, "So, big guy, you said you’d help me find a way out. Can we make a deal?"

Lille felt this guy still had some cards up his sleeve.

After thinking for a moment, he said, "Do you know the Red Shirt Psychiatric Hospital? There’s a doctor there I paralyzed. You could use his credentials to get a job there."

"Isn’t that one of Scavenger’s designated collaboration spots?" The Ripperdoc was taken aback.

He was well acquainted with Gloria, and in fact, he was the one who had recommended the gig to her.

"That’s it." Lille nodded, "So, you accepted?"

The Scavenger thought for a moment and said, "Not bad, but can you handle the director of that hospital? It’s impossible for me to keep working under someone else’s identity, right? It will be noticed eventually."

"We’ll deal with the trouble if it comes—just a lousy hospital. If worse comes to worst, I’ll find someone to take care of him."

"Well, that’s..." The Scavenger agreed with Lille’s words.

Whether it was the Six Street Gang or Valentino, they both had plenty of means to threaten a place like Red Shirt Psychiatric Hospital.

Especially considering it was a Scavenger cooperative hospital—everyone was against it.

Lille sent the information of the doctor to the Scavenger and continued, "So, what were you about to say?"

"...Actually, that new prosthetics doctor the Six Street Gang brought in used to be a corporate dog, from Moore Technology. Maybe you guys can ask him."

The Scavenger’s words reminded Lille of some details.

According to the timeline, in the year 2076, the year "Cyberpunk Edgerunners" took place, the prosthetics doctor here was still this Scavenger.

But then in 2077, the prosthetics doctor at this place changed, becoming a young man who had left Moore Technology.

It was said he was even involved in research and development before.

According to Lille’s experience—if someone retires from a company, 99% of the time they haven’t completely cut ties with the company.

The company might even have someone pretend to retire or be fired, then send them to infiltrate gangs.

Could this prosthetics doctor be doing just that?

"That’s valuable information. When does he arrive at the clinic?"

"Tonight, otherwise I wouldn’t need to hurry packing up my gear."

"Then keep packing your gear. We’ll be waiting here."

"Wow, so heartless. Not even going to ask me to stay."

"Just bugger off."

The Scavenger shook his head, sighed, moved his stuff onto the vehicle, and then drove off to his new workplace.

Left in the clinic were only Lille and his team, and Murphy lying on the ship.

They waited until evening, V played boredly with the empty drink cans on the table.

"So what are we here for, exactly?"

Lille seemed very composed, fiddling with a program in his head, "Big money requires patience, slicing people with a knife is the least paying part of the job."

Murphy joined the discussion, nodding in agreement, "That’s right. If I had figured that out sooner, I’d probably be retired somewhere by now.

Been a mercenary all my life, the money I earned went either into prosthetic enhancements or medical bills, hardly saved much, and I could drop dead on the street any day."

V didn’t retort and picked up another empty can from the floor. The three cans were stacked up, wonky and uneven.

It looked rather like a Nordic stone stacking meditation—Cyberpunk limited edition.

Lille continued, "How about you tell us about yourself? You used to be in this line of work, right here in Night City? Ever been to the other side?"

Murphy propped himself with one hand, shifting his position, "No, I used to mix in Mexico. It’s even crazier than Night City, and the money is way too little.

Ah, if it weren’t for the big debt I racked up on drugs, maybe I’d still be there."

"So, you owe a big drug lord money, and then sold yourself to Biotechnology? How did they even take someone like you for security?"

"That’s where you’re wrong. The jobs I took over there were all about escorting pharmaceuticals, right up my alley—don’t look at me now, I’m a professional when it comes to transport protection."

Lille and V unconsciously smiled at each other.

It was funny—the robbery of transport convoys was their area of expertise, too.

The sun went down, time slowly advancing.

"Ouch... that feels much better, I was really close to biting the dust back there."

Thump.

Jack, who was on guard duty outside, tapped the window, "Someone’s here, two cars, a sedan and a... V340, must be the doctor."

"Not this piece of junk again."

V muttered.