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Chapter 223 c
🕑 Added 2025-05-13 15:07:58 +0000 UTCChapter 223 c
“If not, then what—hang Fingers up and beat him? Or just kill him outright?”
“V, Lucy… do you two also think the way I handled Fingers isn’t quite my usual style?”
The two women nodded.
Leo motioned with his chin toward the waiting room. “See all those dolls lining up out there? Forget killing Fingers—even if we just roughed him up and put him out of commission for a while, have either of you thought about what happens next? What about them? Besides Fingers, who else will help them?”
Fingers was a creep, no doubt. The implants he gave to dolls were so bad even Scavs wouldn’t want them. But that was exactly the problem. The people who came to him weren’t just poor—they were the kind of desperate no one else wanted to deal with. People who couldn’t even afford to step inside a real clinic. The absolute bottom of Night City’s food chain.
The implants he installed were junk, sure. But at least they kept these people alive. Barely scraping by, barely holding on—but alive nonetheless. Even ants cling to life. These people wanted to live, even if reality felt like hell.
Cutting Fingers down in a clean sweep might be satisfying in the moment. But then what? Who would those poor bastards turn to next? Who would care if they lived or died?
And besides… Fingers might’ve been a sleaze, but buried somewhere deep inside him, there was still a sliver of decency. Maybe it was nothing more than a candle flickering in the dark—but to him, and to those who needed him, that tiny flicker still meant something.
Remember what he was doing when we barged in? The doll on the surgery chair couldn’t afford endorphins or anesthetics. Fingers was holding her head still with both hands, trying to keep her from thrashing and making a mistake during the procedure.
Someone might say: “Isn’t that what a ripperdoc’s supposed to do?” And they’d be right. It is the bare minimum. But in Night City, how many ripperdocs still follow even that?
WNS and 54 News had reported countless malpractice cases—drunken doctors killing patients during surgery. But because those doctors came from the right families and had the right connections… and because the patients who died were the kind who’d sold everything they owned just to afford one appointment… they all thought the same thing: So what? They were nobodies. If they die, they die. At worst, toss ‘em a hollow apology and move on.
“I said I’m sorry, what more do you want?”
“Give me a break, doctors are human too. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Let’s not get hung up on facts. What, the patient had no fault at all?”
You might find it hard to believe. But this is Night City. Here, nothing’s too absurd to be true.
Judy leaned on the stair rail outside, looking completely defeated. “I’m the one who let her go back to Clouds. If I’d known this would happen… I should’ve stopped her.”
Leo tried to encourage her. “Losing your cool won’t help. Panic and regret only waste time.”
Judy snapped, “Cool? You think I’m not calm? Evelyn’s already dead—and you want me to calm down?!”
“We don’t know that yet. She might still be alive. Right now, every second counts—we can’t afford to waste any time.”
Leo’s words slowly pulled Judy out of her spiral. He reignited her hope.
He was right. Fingers had only just sent Evelyn away a day or two ago. Even black braindance didn’t kill someone that fast… probably.
Which meant—they still had a chance.
But even so, they were short on leads.
“All we know is she got dragged off to shoot a black braindance. How’s that supposed to help us find her?”
“We also know there’s a connection to the Skull Moth. That’s something, at least.”
Judy buried her face in the crook of her arm. “You’re way more optimistic than I am. That thing? You call that a lead?”
“You ever heard of Skull Moth before? Anything at all, even a scrap?”
Judy shook her head. “You know how this business works. In black BD, anything goes. The market is deep as a crater and twice as dark. You’ll find every freakshow and fetish imaginable. And the packaging always changes—makes it harder to track and harder to get caught.”
In other words—she didn’t know.
Leo just shrugged. Fair enough. Judy was a BD editor, not a black market producer. It wasn’t her fault.
Still, he’d hoped she might know something.
No matter. He had another plan.
“We need to figure out where they recorded the BD. A place that nasty’s gotta be hidden—doubt they do any of this outdoors.”
Black BDs were illegal—not just because of the psychological trauma they inflicted on users, but because the actors involved were often forced into it. Unlike legal BDs, where actors had safety protocols and exit clauses, black BDs didn’t fake anything. If someone got shot, stabbed, burned—then that person actually got shot, stabbed, burned.
That’s why most black BD stars never lived long enough to get famous. One shoot, and they were gone. Disposable.
Which meant those things couldn’t be filmed in public. They had to be recorded somewhere private.
“Yeah, it’s gotta be a quiet, out-of-the-way spot,” Judy agreed.
V suddenly chimed in, “If that’s the case, maybe we can find clues in older releases. If we can buy a few Skull Moth BDs from a fixer, we might get somewhere.”
Leo shot her a look. “You think these people are dumb enough to leave behind evidence like that?”
V retorted, “Got a better idea?”
Judy folded her arms. “Actually, I do. There’s a site called LoveNight City. It’s a total cesspool—everything and anything goes. We might be able to dig something up there.”
“That’s not bad. V’s idea wasn’t bad either,” Leo said as they all headed downstairs. “Actually, I’ve got another one. Fingers said he called Wakako, right? I’ll go talk to her, see what I can find out.”
Judy looked uneasy. “Okada Wakako? I’ve heard of her, but do you really think she’ll give you anything?”
Judy had dealt with fixers before. She knew how they operated. They didn’t just go to the highest bidder—they survived on trust and reputation. A fixer who casually sold out someone’s information wouldn’t last a week.
That’s why Night City had dozens of fixers, but only a handful that people actually remembered by name.
Wakako Okada was one of those names.
Judy didn’t think she’d betray her principles just like that.
“She might. She might not. Either way, it doesn’t cost us anything to try.”
“Alright. Then we split up. I’ll check out LoveNight City, and you go find the fixer.” Judy hesitated. “We’ll meet at my van?”
“Good.” Leo nodded. “V, go with Judy. I’ll handle Wakako alone. It’ll be easier that way.”
Lucy asked tentatively, “You don’t need me to go with you? You know, in case she doesn’t want to talk… I could…”
Leo cut her off with a shake of the head. “No. Better not.”
He knew what Lucy meant. But Wakako wasn’t like most people. Nobody liked someone rooting around in their neural link. The only people who had that done to them were either already dying… or people like Mayor Rhyne—who could be silenced with money and didn’t care about revenge.
Wakako was still a fixer. Doing something like that to her would leave a mark.
Besides, if she refused to cooperate, Leo had other, softer ways of getting what he needed.
Just after Leo parted ways with V and the others, he spotted two men in a standoff just ahead.
