Chapter 16: Watching the Battle
Riko Vega raised his arms high, shoulders tense, chin tucked in—textbook defensive stance. He wasn't cocky. He was focused.
Because the crowd wasn't just here for the fight. Everyone from the block had shown up. Even those who didn't know Dorothy personally came running. Word had spread like wildfire.
Amid the growing noise, a familiar voice broke through.
"You're the chrome doc who patched me up, right?"
DeShawn appeared beside Kay, his movements still sluggish from surgery, but a smile on his face. "Mind telling me your name? I'm DeShawn."
Kay didn't look away from the ring. His eyes were locked on the fight. But his voice was cool and clear.
"Yeah. I used a lot of high-grade meds to save your ass and drag you back from death. You owe me eighty thousand. I'll cut you a deal—fifty percent off. Just pay 80K."
DeShawn blinked, then chuckled. "No problem. A measly 80K to stay alive? Seems like a steal."
"Then don't talk," Kay said flatly. "You're blocking my view."
"Uh… right."
---
Inside the Arena
Riko's neural reflexes were firing on all cylinders. He didn't have a Sandevistan installed—not yet—but whatever Kay had done to his nervous system was working overtime.
Compared to the sluggish punches coming at him from every direction, he felt like the world had dropped into slow-mo.
Was this what it felt like… to ascend?
He slipped into evasive movement, feet light on the concrete. Every dodge was effortless. Each sidestep, clean and sharp. He moved like a phantom.
His opponents? They might as well have been frozen in place.
In one smooth motion, Riko ducked under a wild swing, twisted left, then drove a right hook into Dorothy's ribs.
Crack!
Dorothy gasped and staggered, clutching her side in pain. She tried to drop into a crouch, but Riko didn't let up.
He pivoted on his heel and launched an uppercut into a tall guy's chin. The impact lifted him off his feet. The man's eyes rolled back before he hit the ground.
Gasps echoed around the lot.
"Holy shit..." someone muttered.
"It's brutal—so brutal!"
The audience had expected a chaotic, messy brawl with screams and blood. Instead, they got a clinic. A massacre.
A complete wipeout.
Riko danced through the crowd of opponents like they were training dummies, knocking each one to the ground with surgical precision. The entire match was over in 4 minutes and 32 seconds.
All eight of his challengers lay sprawled on the concrete, groaning.
Riko raised one arm and shouted, "Drinks on me at the Puff Tavern tonight!"
Silence hung for a beat—then the crowd erupted.
"The winner is Riko Vega!"
"Hell yeah, I knew our boy would take them all down!"
"Riko! Riko! Riko!"
---
Still amped up from the fight, Riko walked over to the drink crates and cracked open two cold beers. He walked back and offered one to Kay.
DeShawn watched him with wide eyes, stunned.
"Wait… that guy… isn't he from one of the major corps? That's… that's a Sandevistan-level performance…"
Kay took the beer and chuckled. "Let's talk, DeShawn. That man is Riko Vega. He's the one who saved you. And he's also the leader of our new crew—The Destiny Collective."
Kay gave a small smirk. "Interested in joining?"
DeShawn blinked. "Huh? Uh… yeah. Yeah, absolutely!"
Riko, standing beside them, raised an eyebrow. As a well-known fixer, DeShawn was rarely impulsive. But here he was, agreeing without hesitation.
Maybe even he could feel it...
Kay wasn't just building a crew—he was building something bigger.
The crowd slowly dispersed, whispering excitedly, casting sideways glances at the trio as they disappeared into the bar.
---
Upstairs at the Puff Tavern – Private Room
The three of them sat around a small table. Because of his size, DeShawn had a side of the couch to himself. The bartender, Loki, delivered drinks and quietly exited.
An awkward silence settled over the room.
Riko took a sip of his drink, then leaned in and muttered, "We need a motto. Something with punch."
He raised his glass and said dramatically, "All filth shall be reborn through the fire of fate…"
Kay stopped mid-drink. "What?"
DeShawn looked equally confused. "...What?"
Riko coughed. "Just came up with it. Destiny Collective needs its own creed, doesn't it?"
DeShawn gave them a thoughtful look. It finally clicked—this was a new gang. A fresh movement. A new force in Night City.
And despite being a corporate fixer, something about these two drew him in.
Kay sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Fine. You're the leader. Call it whatever you want. If it makes you happy."
He turned to DeShawn. "So, DeShawn. What do you think of the Destiny Collective?"
The fixer mulled it over for a second, then nodded slowly. "Honestly? I like it. You've got muscle. And heart. Riko's a beast, no question. But you don't have any backing. And Night City… Night City eats the weak. The corpos, the gangs—they're all watching."
He paused before continuing. "Still... I'm in. I've got contacts. Mid-level suits in some corps. They let things slide for me. And I've got a roster of mercs who don't mind dirty work."
He hesitated for a beat.
Kay noticed. "Something else?"
DeShawn shifted in his seat, unsure of how blunt to be. But Kay's gaze was steady.
Riko, however, slammed back his drink in frustration. He could tell DeShawn wasn't fully sold.
What was he supposed to do?
All he was good at… was hitting things.
Kay lifted a hand calmly. "Relax."
Then he turned to DeShawn again.
"Let me ask you something. That fight out there—what did you think of Riko's performance?"
DeShawn whistled. "Unreal. Smooth. Precise. Is he already running a Sandevistan?"
Kay grinned. "Nope. That was all muscle. No Sandevistan. No cyber reflexes."
DeShawn froze. "...That was just him?"
"Just him."
---
To Be Continued...