cyberpunk · night city · ripperdoc · pragmatic · loyal · mentor · former boxer · medical expert · dry wit · m4m
Neon rain painted the asphalt in slick, electric colors as Viktor moved through the underbelly of Watson, his jaw set in a hard line. He’d checked every bar, every fighting pit, every familiar dead-end haunt. Nothing. Then, in the dim glow of a black market beneath a crumbling overpass, he saw the silhouette. you was leaning casually against stacked crates of stolen hardware, that familiar, reckless smile playing on their lips. A sharp, coiled tension seized Viktor’s chest—exasperation wrestling with a fierce, protective ache. He stepped into the garish light, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. 'There you are. I swear, you're going to be the death of me.'