Viktor Vektor x Reader

One

"Fuckin' piss rain.", you growled as your eyes peeked out from under the hood of your jacket to see what it was like on the streets.

It was cold and damp, just as one would expect from Night City at this time of year. What bothered you, however, was the rain.

It poured down from the sky like buckets, flooding the streets and pooling so much water that the sewers couldn't hold it anymore and you were up to your ankles in shit.

Literally.

Disgusted, you curled your mouth as dark water poured out of a drain not far from you. It smelled of rubbish and human remains. On top of that, the air quality in Night City was bad at all times of the year.

"Shit...", you muttered and put a cigarette in the corner of your mouth.

Actually, you wanted to stop smoking, but on days like this, or any other day, you could only fight the irritation inside you with nicotine. The stem glowed bright red, a puff of smoke rising as you took your first breath.

Immediately you felt better as the familiar scratching and the slight taste of tar burned in your lungs. Tapping your foot, you continued to stare at the road from your shelter.

It was heavy rain, so heavy that one couldn't move two steps without getting showered. You had to arrive dry at your destination or you would be given hell.

With your eyebrows drawn together, you let out a cloud of smoke. The small plumes barely made it under the open sky before the rain broke them up.

The only thing you could take away from this day was that you liked to hear the water splashing. That didn't happen often, even in the elaborately built parks in the better parts of the city there were hardly any fountains. And when there were, they were without real water.

A shiver made you wrap your arms tighter around your body. You had only a thin jacket and an old t-shirt underneath. At least your trousers were long enough to cover your ankles but your shoes already had holes and the cold crept through them into your feet.

"A wonderful day to be piss shit poor.", you growled and looked up again, hoping it would stop raining soon.

No, of course it wouldn't. Knowing your luck, it would go on like this all day and you would miss your appointment.

"Fucking hell...", your eyes lit up red as you tried to call someone.

No one answered.

What did you expect?

They wanted you to come running whenever they ordered it, not the other way around. You would not be allowed any luxury, not yet, at least. But maybe one day when you had won enough fights.

With a snort and a bitter grin on your lips, you flicked the cigarette away with two fingers. It hissed as the embers were extinguished by the salty water.

A groan escaped you. You let your head fall back against the broken window of the closed kiosk and exhaled deeply.

What should you do now?

You couldn't afford to take a taxi, but turning up soaked and then in your clothes wasn't any better. And you didn't want to ask your street friends either. Most of them didn't have a driving licence, or were driving a car that should not be on the roads.

No, you didn't want to get a criminal record. Although that probably wouldn't have deterred anyone. At least not those you were forced to work for.

Again you made an annoyed sound. Your lips curled as your foot bobbed impatiently on the surface of the water.

Now of all times it had to rain. No one was as lucky as you.

"Damn...", all at once the anger was like tracking.

Instead, the feeling of having to give up spread. Realistically, you wouldn't make it. And even if you did, people would still be unhappy with you.

There was simply no victory in this situation.

"Well.", you pulled your old sports bag over your shoulder to keep it halfway dry under your jacket and stepped out into the rain.

It was cold. Really cold, almost like it was raining ice.

It didn't take three steps and you were already soaked. Old, tattered fabric clung to your skin. You could feel the filth that had settled in the fibres over all the times you had used it.

What you wouldn't have done for a washing machine. Or at least some money to go to the laundrette.

Goose bumps spread all over your body. With every step it became colder and more uncomfortable. You had barely made it down the street to the next crossroads before you began to shiver all over.

Your breathing changed. Everything was suddenly stiff, your fingers, your toes and even your lungs felt as if they wanted to contract to stay warm.

"Fuuuuck!", you gasped and wiped the water from your face with your sleeve.

You could hardly see anything. Everything was just wet. As if the sky wanted to turn Night City into another Atlantis.

Waves formed around your legs as you barely managed to lift your feet because so much water had already soaked into your socks.

Silently you went through every single swear word that came to your mind while your teeth clenched to keep from chattering.

Relief overcame you when you finally made it to the next motorway bridge. You could stand in the dry again for a moment. Although that was no success either. You were already freezing all over and clothes that dried only to stick to your skin wouldn't keep you warm.

You'd probably catch a cold or at least something nasty that was no use to you.

"Fuck, I have everything!", you groaned and threw your head back as you realised that your sports bag was filled with water.

Everything was drenched, from your gym clothes, to your boxing shorts and even the gloves felt moist on the inside.

The day couldn't have been any worse. At least that was what you thought until a car rolled up on your side of the street and the door opened.

"(Y/N).", a deep voice suddenly called out for you.

Irritated, you had squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath.

Getting shot by the NCPD would have been nice.