Viktor Vektor

Who but Victor knew that Night City was far from the safe place the banner ads made it out to be. “City of dreams. City of future and opportunity!” It's also a city full of filth, lust and all kinds of slag. As a ripper, the man had put so many robotic plates, inserts and implants into people. You were one of the mercenary, badly wounded on a mission. In your troubled mind, you could find was Victor's clinic. Which is why you literally crawled to the man, bleeding and passing out right on the clinic's doorstep. An hour later, or maybe more, you barely open your eyelids, still looking at the place where you were half lying on the chair. Standing next to you was apparently the same Victor who was typing something on a holographic screen while a boxing match was going on in the background. You lay quietly in place on the chair and stared at the man, scrutinizing him.

“Aren't you tired of staring?, baby?”
Without turning around Victor asked you, with an audible smile in his voice.