Chapter 17: Cake
DeShawn's eyes were wide with disbelief.
"That level of close-combat skill... it's rare in Night City. Maybe only the top fighters in the Animals gang could keep up…"
Kay turned his head calmly toward DeShawn.
"Riko's hand-to-hand combat skills this morning were no different from those eight punks he flattened. I used a stim—an injectable formula I developed—to temporarily enhance his nervous system. No side effects. It boosts reflex response. Of course, the one I'd give you is a diluted version—not as powerful as a Sandevistan, but it can be stacked with it. And it helps reduce neural strain from overclocking implants."
He paused for a moment, then added, "Think of it as injectable adrenaline, only cleaner. Right now, we can't mass-produce—too little infrastructure. But we can push out around a hundred units a day. What do you think? Interested in helping us move it—sell it to ripperdocs, clinics, maybe even merc crews?"
DeShawn swallowed, hard. For mercs, something like this wasn't just a drug—it was a second chance at life. And in Night City, that meant everything.
If Kay wasn't exaggerating about the effects, then yeah... this was going to be massive.
But there was a catch—and he knew it. You move this kind of product in bulk, the corps notice. And without a serious defense squad or some heavy corporate backing, you're just a fat payday waiting to get zeroed.
Still, his eyes gleamed as he stared at Riko. Kay noticed and felt slightly awkward under the intensity of that gaze.
DeShawn leaned forward, cautious. "What's your price point?"
Kay was already thinking it through. He knew the market. Knew what was possible. If he tried selling through black clinics himself—or left it to Riko to hawk it in back-alley ripper shops—it might move ten units a week, max.
But DeShawn? He had reach. Real networks. If the price was fair, he could offload hundreds daily.
After all, Night City wasn't just any city—it was the crown jewel of the Free State. Seven million residents. Tens of thousands of cyberpunks. Constant gang wars. Street fights. Corporate hit squads. In a place like this, consumables that saved lives would fly off shelves.
What Kay didn't say aloud was that his so-called "no side effects" claim wasn't entirely true.
The drug he created was modeled after an early prototype of a Mind Accelerator, which hyperstimulated the nervous system. While there was no immediate withdrawal, that craving for heightened awareness—the combat high—was hard to shake. And once someone experienced that kind of edge, going back to baseline felt like crawling through mud.
Even without chemical dependence, psychological addiction was inevitable.
Still, Kay figured he could balance the risk. He'd dilute it—cut it to 1ml per dose and mix it with saline. That would reduce both the potency and cost significantly.
"The raw cost per shot is about 500 euros," Kay said at last. "Maximum safe dosage is four injections. Anything more could lead to organ failure."
He turned to DeShawn. "So? What do you think is a fair selling price?"
DeShawn, running numbers in his head, rubbed his metallic chin with a mechanical hand. "Most mercs are already on borrowed time. They're not gonna use this unless they absolutely have to. But if the performance matches what I saw earlier... then yeah, maybe 3,000 euros max. Anymore, and they won't be able to afford it."
Kay nodded, agreeing. "Let's settle at 1,000 euros per unit. For you, I'll cut that to 800 wholesale. I'll hand you 100 units upfront. Hand them out, let your mercs field-test it. Get me feedback."
"Deal," DeShawn said without hesitation.
Riko's eyes were burning with admiration as he looked at Kay.
This guy… he really did care about the crew. If this had landed in the hands of a megacorp, they'd slap a 10,000-euro price tag on it, easy.
But Kay?
Just 1,000 euros. A fair price for something that could save your life.
Turning to DeShawn, Kay added, "So, do you need anything else from us today?"
DeShawn shook his head, face grim. "I ran into trouble with the Voodoo Boys over in Pacifica. Lost a few good people. I was planning to ghost the whole thing… then I ran into you two."
Riko, ever the hothead, leaned forward. "We're brothers now, yeah? If you want, I'll head to Pacifica with you. Meet these Voodoo punks face-to-face."
But both Kay and DeShawn shook their heads.
DeShawn knew better than to stir that hornet's nest. Voodoo netrunners weren't the kind of people you wanted to cross without backup. And Kay had no intention of catching Kurt Hansen's attention—not yet.
The Church of Destiny was still too small, too fragile to take on Dogtown's warlord.
DeShawn's optics flickered blue. "Dr. Kay, I've wired over 160,000 euros. Confirm receipt when you get a sec."
"If I need help, I'll call. For now, I'm off to check on my netrunner—T-Bug. She got her mind fried by Voodoo malware earlier. I'm worried."
"Alright. Take care," Kay said, nodding. "Riko, walk DeShawn out, will you? I've got to hit the lab—need to prep the next batch for tomorrow."