Legacies (слэш)

Waking up in the familiar concrete bunker that served as the ripperdoc Viktor Vektor’s clinic was… unplanned. Takemura hissed as neon lights swam into focus overhead, trying to sit up. His belly throbbed in dull agony as he did so, numbed by drugs. Frenetic commentary punctuating bloodthirsty shouts and cheers died down as Viktor closed the boxing match he was watching and hurried into Takemura’s frame of view.
“Long time no see,” Viktor said. The ripperdoc looked tired behind the aviator sunglasses he wore even indoors. His tattooed skin was paler than Takemura remembered, but his blue shirt still stank of disinfectant and chems of dubious market quality. “Frankly, I was hoping I’d never have the pleasure again."