Chapter 6: Party
The flickering neon signs of River Valley bled through the grime-streaked windows of the Puff Bar, casting a nauseating blend of red and violet across the rusted steel interiors. Kay sat in his usual corner booth, gnawing on a slab of grilled meat and sipping a cheap cocktail laced with illegal synth-whiskey. Across from him, Riko Vega sat with a tight expression, his arms crossed, watching every bite Kay took with visible restraint.
"Why aren't you eating?" Kay asked, raising a brow. "C'mon, man. It's 70% real meat—slaughterhouse certified. That's practically gold in this city."
Riko shook his head. "Too expensive. One pound of that goes for 120 euros. I'll stick to the 10% synthetic soy-meat mix. Tastes like recycled boots, but it's all I can afford."
Kay chewed slowly, digesting both the meat and the implication. He set his fork down, the clink echoing between them. "How much do we have left?"
Riko hesitated. "Not much. Between drinks, doll services, and a few fix jobs... 762 euros. That's it."
Kay leaned back, rubbing his temples. "Seven hundred for over twenty mouths to feed. Damn."
The two sat in silence for a moment, the sound of muffled EDM from the main barroom pulsing through the walls.
"As the freshly appointed leader of the Destiny Church," Kay said dryly, "got any divine strategies?"
Riko laughed bitterly. "Kay, I don't even know how to make money legally, let alone miraculously."
Kay clicked his tongue against his teeth and leaned forward, fingers drumming on the synthwood tabletop. He shut his eyes and began running scenarios in his head. In Night City, there were only a few ways out of poverty—and most of them involved a loaded weapon, a cybermod, and a willingness to bleed for your eddies.
Option one: turn his crew into mercs. Contract jobs through an intermediary, hit-and-runs, thefts, assassinations.
Option two: boost the Puff Bar. Braindance setups, black-market entertainment. If Lizzy Wizzy could build an empire on neural escapism, so could they.
Option three: Kay becomes the intermediary. Recruit freelancers, sell firepower, trade information.
Anything beyond that? Stealing from corps, meddling in corpo wars? That was suicide. Suits didn't play fair, and they never forgot.
Riko glanced down at his hands—cybernetic, heavy, powerful—and said, "The Six Street Gang's throwing a boxing match soon. Winner takes 5,000 euros. Think I should enter?"
Kay opened one eye and gave him a look. "No. Not with the mods I gave you. They're meant for kill-switch scenarios, not ring fights. You'd get crushed."
Riko sighed. "It was worth a shot."
"No worries," Kay replied. "We play this smart. We build the bar's name, run small contracts, gather intel. Eventually form a merc squad. I've got some beef with the Scavs anyway. They're next."
Riko nodded, admiration slipping into his eyes. Kay wasn't just some rogue Ripperdoc anymore—he had a plan. A crazy one, maybe, but one that could actually work.
"Night City chews up good people and spits out metal," Riko said, half to himself.
"Then we'll stop being good," Kay muttered.
---
That night, everything changed.
The Destiny Church—once twenty-three strong—was now fractured. When Kay told them the next target was the Scavengers' main base, fear bloomed across every face in the room. Fifteen left, running for safer turf. That left eight. Eight hungry, desperate souls willing to ride or die.
Among them were two women. One was a razor-thin techie with a neural jack shaped like a spine piercing, the other a quiet netrunner whose eyes flickered too fast to follow. Kay didn't ask their stories. He didn't need to. They stayed. That was all that mattered.
Since the numbers were small now, he had enough weapons to outfit everyone. Pistols, a few SMGs, and Riko's favorite—his custom conduit-missile arm.
But a problem remained: no netrunner. And they needed intel on the Scavs' hideout.
Kay was about to pull up the neighborhood grid when a voice whispered into his neural interface.
> Hi~
> Need a pretty hacker girl for remote support? Only 800 euros, I promise I'm worth it~
> Deal.
> Ooo, I like you. Fast and easy. Sending the data now.
High on a rooftop not far away, a girl with shoulder-length jet-black hair and augmented whiskers activated her neural uplink. Her blue cyber-eyes began processing streams of binary code, lighting up the space around her in a green haze of data.
Kay received a compressed file within sixty seconds.
> Done. You can call me Cheshire. I like people who pay up front.
> Appreciate the help, Cheshire. Add me—Kay. Or Season, if you prefer code names. Come to the Puff Bar sometime. I'll buy you a drink.
A brief pause. Then:
> You don't seem like a psycho. For Night City, that's rare.
Kay chuckled, then pulled up the data Cheshire sent.
He scanned past the structural maps and thermal charts—until something caught his eye.
On the main floor of the Scavenger den, just past a row of broken vending machines, sat a semi-circle leather couch. Scuff marks—three sets—on the cushions. The TV's internal heat gauge was peaking. Empty liquor bottles. Tire tracks.
They were partying.
> Ding! Special mission triggered: Vengeance of the Destiny Church.
> Eliminate all Scavenger members. Reward: Talent – Cybernetic Pioneer.
> Flesh is weak. Rise into metal. Join Project: Source.
Kay's lips curled into a grin. "Looks like we're not just out for blood anymore. Now we've got destiny on our side."
---
The crew moved out under cover of night.
Moonlight barely filtered through the low-hanging clouds, and the stench of piss and rust filled every alleyway. Kay walked just behind Riko, whose new arms clicked faintly with each motion. They were oversized, brutal, and perfect for tonight.
The plan was simple: infiltration, swift execution, no witnesses.
With Cheshire feeding them camera loops and heat signatures, the team maneuvered across rooftops and sidestreets until they arrived near the target. The warehouse-turned-party-zone buzzed with electronic noise and drunken howls.
Kay stayed in the shadows, rifle in hand, waiting.
"Riko," he said over comms. "You lead. I'll cover. Engage on my signal."
"Copy," Riko responded.
Kay raised the rifle, adjusted the scope, and waited for a window to open.
Inside, a Scavenger leaned over to throw up in a sink.
Click. Boom.
The bullet went clean through his skull, splattering blood across the mirror.
Riko crashed through the side door five seconds later, fist slamming into a second Scav's chest, sending metal ribs flying.
Chaos erupted.
Bullets ripped through glass. Screams echoed. And the Destiny Church made their name known in blood.
---
By the time it was over, the warehouse burned behind them. Eight bodies stood where twenty had fallen. The two women were smeared in ash and blood, their faces numb. Riko's arms smoked from overheating, and Kay... Kay just stared at the flames.
"We just picked a fight with half of Night City's organ trade," Riko muttered.
Kay gave a quiet nod. "Good. Then we know we're aiming in the right direction."
From his neural HUD, a new notification appeared.
> Mission Complete.
> Talent Unlocked: Cybernetic Pioneer. Implant compatibility increased.
Kay didn't celebrate.
Instead, he turned to Riko and said, "Next time, we go bigger."