Chapter 18: Gossip
After leaving the buzzing bar behind, Kay returned to his workshop and slumped comfortably into a recliner.
He thought for a moment, then transferred 80,000 euros to Vik and sent a message:
> Kay: Hey, Vik. I've paid the remaining balance for the implant mods. I've also included a 30,000-euro deposit for the Sandevistan. Let me know when it's available. Thanks.
The reply came almost instantly.
> Vik: Kay, what the hell—did you rob a corpo vault or something? You're suddenly rolling in eddies! Not bad, choom.
I've actually got a lead on a Sandevistan unit for you. Rare to come across in Night City, but hey, a ripperdoc's gotta have friends, right?
> Vik: It's a ZetaTech Sandevistan Type-2. Should be in my hands in about a week. Just hang tight, okay?
> Kay: Appreciate it, Vik. Let me know if the 30k is enough. I'll send the rest right away.
> Vik: That'll cover it. Through my back channels, I got it for 27,500. The extra 2,500 is just a finder's fee. If you need more rare gear, you know where to find me.
Kay exhaled and leaned back, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. He trusted Vik—especially with ZetaTech and Dynalar gear. If anyone could pull it off, it was him.
With the Puff Pub thriving and the workshop stable, life in Night City didn't seem too bad—for now.
As long as he didn't attract the attention of the megacorps, he'd survive just fine.
He chuckled to himself, thinking about how many Adams Smasher-wannabes the corps would throw at Riko Vega, leader of the Cult of Destiny, just for skimming their interests.
---
Elsewhere…
Riko Vega, who had just dropped off DeShawn, sneezed loudly inside his ride.
"Heh, must be all those girls still swooning over me at the Puff Pub. Dusk hits, I shine," he chuckled to himself, narcissism in full swing.
---
Back in the workshop, Kay got to work. Using materials scavenged from the bar, he quickly brewed ten batches of his custom mind-enhancing stimulant.
Each was neatly packaged in pre-prepped plastic syringes. After some thought, he slapped on a basic label:
Destiny-Potion
Cognitive Enhancer Type-2
Suggested Retail Price: 1888 Euros
Kay loaded them into a black-and-gray thermal case, slid it into the fridge, and just as he sat back down—
Knock knock.
Before he could ask, voices drifted through the door.
> "Kay, it's me, Dorothy..."
"And me, Karim..."
"Pavey, too…"
He sighed. He knew exactly why they were here.
Opening the door, Kay saw their drunken faces—victims of the earlier beatdown from Riko, now buzzed and clearly on a mission.
Before Dorothy could say a word, Kay raised his hand. "Let me guess—you guys want me to skip sleep tonight?"
Dorothy looked sheepish. "I just… really want to get stronger, Kay... please."
He rubbed his forehead, defeated. "Fine. Dorothy, come in. Everyone else, go home. I'll repair and upgrade your prosthetics tomorrow, one at a time."
> "Wooo!" "I knew Kay wouldn't let us down!" "Brother Kay is the best!"
Kay closed the door behind Dorothy. His voice carried through clearly:
"Dorothy, it's fine if you take your top off for surgery—but why are you taking off your pants?!"
Outside, the group froze.
For a moment, they exchanged curious, mischievous looks… and immediately dropped to the ground by the door, pressing their ears to it.
Screeeam!
> "Aaaahhh!! Kay! You forgot the anesthetic!"
> "…Oh? Really?"
Everyone outside went pale, bolted upright, and scattered like rats under a spotlight.
---
Inside, Kay worked fast. He implanted three new chips into Dorothy with practiced precision. Only after the last one did he remember to inject a trace amount of anesthetic.
> At least she'll sleep easy tonight, he thought, with a pang of guilt.
With his hands idle again and no sleep in sight, Kay decided to jack in. He connected the neural port at the back of his neck and engaged the Netrunner link.
Bzzzt—
The sensation of his consciousness being uploaded into cyberspace hit him like a wave.
In this free-floating, virtual form, he felt liberated—like his soul had detached from the meat and was sailing through the net. Kay loved this part of his life: swimming through the data streams of Night City's digital underbelly.
He didn't seek trouble—not anymore. He avoided pissing off the NCPD, avoided poking around in Corpo mainframes.
All he wanted was to explore the hidden corners of the Net, listen in on encrypted whispers, and maybe plant a few Trojan payloads on hostile systems—nothing major.
Tonight's info haul didn't disappoint.
In under 30 minutes, he'd dug up more dirt on Night City than mainstream media could broadcast in a week.
Unreported but confirmed events:
A Militech high-value transport convoy got ambushed by a mercenary crew out near the Badlands. Total bloodbath.
A cyberpsycho outbreak erupted in a Watson food plant, forcibly "contained" by the NCPD's MaxTac unit.
And the MaxTac? Yeah, they just recruited a fresh meathead from the carnage.
All this was business as usual.
But Kay knew—beneath the smoke and mirrors, something bigger was stirring.
And Night City?
It never stayed quiet for long.