Cyberpunk: 2075

"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 Carl like he was some kind of freak.

He had originally planned to repay Carl's life-saving favor by transferring some money from his account. But to his shock, Carl 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 some kind of 'purebred human' or something?"

"Not really… You could just say my environment didn't expose me 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 some 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."

Carl 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 me a moment."

As Oliver spoke, his eyes flickered, indicating he was searching through a neural interface. "Let me check if there's a good ripperdoc nearby. If we were in Santo Domingo, I could name 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 name rings a bell. His clinic is less than a hundred meters from here. Want to check it out?"

Viktor?

Hearing the name, Carl immediately 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.

Carl had some 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 Carl'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 some cash left over to buy other things. If Viktor's prices are too steep, we'll just walk out. Trust me, 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 moment of silence, Carl 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 hammering 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 come from a traditional American family—I don't mess 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 seemed 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 me out of the gang to save face. Thanks to my dad's position, they probably won't kill me, but they'll most likely make me 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 something 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 come up with an excuse to give Will Cannon some metaphorical balls."

"Will Cannon?"

"One of the senior members 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 some sick joke—my first mission, I almost get killed, and now I'm getting dragged into this mess because of some dead idiot."

Despite his complaints, a faint smile appeared on Oliver's face. He nudged Carl 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 become mercs or something?"

"I think a single meal is enough to repay your life debt," Carl replied calmly.

Still, he was somewhat intrigued by Oliver's suggestion. "But if you want to work together as mercs, I don't mind. I'm pretty laid-back, and since you're a local in Night City, having someone 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 time, but I don't even know your name. What should I call you?"

"Carl. Last name Carl, first name Carl. Just read it straight—no need to reverse it into 'Lrac.' And, of course, you can also use the codename I just thought of. I figure it'd be good to use a codename on missions to avoid exposing too much."

"A codename, huh? Oh, I get it—like Johnny Silverhand, Morgan Blackhand, or Adam Smasher. Those kinds of badass names, right? Makes sense. As a merc, you've gotta aim for that kind of legendary status. My name's too common to bother with a codename, but I don't mind. What's your codename? I'll remember it."

"It's just a simple set of letters."

Thinking about the protagonist's iconic "V," Carl smiled and said, "Call me KK."

"KK?"

"It's a codename that connects to my name. My name's Carl, so it starts with K—pretty straightforward."

"Oh, I see."

Of course, that was only part of the truth. To Carl, the codename had another layer of meaning—something 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 mean "Your Excellency" or even "The Commander."