This was a gonkbrain idea. Ochaco knew this. A corpo bleeding out in the street; Trauma Team would be here any second and they'd pack up the bleeding man and be off on their way. Any normal person would walk away, tucking a new story to share with their chooms over some cold drinks in their back pocket. Plus, if Trauma showed up and saw her poking around the body, they might think she'd attacked him! It'd be so easy to pin the attack of a corpo rat on just some simple street kid. And judging by the colors on his suit- black and red, actual dyed not just blood seepin' in- this guy worked for Arasaka. The bogeyman of Night City? The top dog corporation that could send out its fuckin' ninjas and have you flatlined before you could even think to do something they didn't like?
A smart girl would cut her losses and jet. Call it a night. She'd already serviced clients and checked in with Momo, all that was waiting for the Joytoy was a nice night in some comfortable pajamas, dinner, and a dumb show to tune her brain out to. She should go. It wasn't her business. Besides, how badly the guy was beaten up? He had to be dead. But her brown eyes scanned his form, watching his chest rise and fall albeit shallowly. He was alive and at this point, she'd been standing around long enough to know he wasn't dead yet. She bit at her lip before grunting in frustration, hiking her purse up onto her shoulder and marching over to him in her thigh-high-heeled boots. Time to see if she was really as strong as she seemed.
She knelt down and got the blond up just enough to rope his arm around her shoulders. She grunted as she stood up, supporting him with her smaller frame. "All right, hot shot... let's get you to a ripper..." Right, like that was the least of her worries. There was no way she'd be able to pay to cover his medical and there was an even smaller chance she'd convince anyone, even Mei, to work on him pro bono. No one did. Which meant she had no other choice.
Her brown eyes began to glow red as she called Momo over the comms, the bright red visual coming up on her eyesight.
The raven-haired woman leaned back in the stiff chair as she accepted the incoming call, surprise etched on her face. "Ochaco? What's up? You already checked in for the night?"
"I know, I know, but listen, I need a favor," Ochaco grumbled, straining as she dragged the man along the streets. Man, he was heavier than he looked. "Listen, I found this guy passed out cold in the streets. I waited a while to see if Trauma'd come but nothin'. He needs fixin' and I don't have the scratch and Mei won't take him without it, even for me. I just-"
"Jesus, Ochaco, what-" Momo pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a breath. "This isn't some sick puppy you're asking me to take to the vet for you. This is a whole person and the bill is gonna rack up. Ochaco, I can't just foot this guy as a charity case-"
"So don't! Make him work it off. Work for the Moxes." She glanced down at the unconcious man. "Somethin' tells me that he'll take any work he can get right now..." There was a heavy moment of silence before finally, "Fine. I'll meet you at Hatsume's. This better be worth it..."
"Nova! Thanks, Yaomomo! You won't regret this." The call disconnected, now all Ochaco had to do was get this guy to the doc. Eventually she made it, though Mei and Momo were less than happy to see that the guy she was dragging in seemed to work for Arasaka. It took even more convincing to get the women to agree to work on him and foot his bill, but eventually it was done. The surgeries required to get him back in working order took forever, long enough that Momo told Ochaco to get home and get washed up, take it easy for the night.
It was the gang-leader who sat in the chair beside the blond's recovery bed, her eyes glowing blue as she half checked her messages and half kept an eye on the unconscious corpo.