Chapter 15: Surgery – 2
Riko Vega had just finished arranging for a few of the guys from the church to carry DeShawn out of the workshop. The fat fixer was still unconscious, fresh from surgery, lying in a drugged-out coma.
Before Riko could walk out, Kay called to him from behind.
"Riko, wait. Get on the table too. I've been working on something new—might give your reflexes a serious boost."
Riko turned, blinking. His confusion melted into excitement.
"You mean… a Sandevistan?" he asked, eyes wide. "Shit, I've been dreaming of getting one installed."
Kay shook his head, smiling faintly. "Not quite. This isn't chrome from Arasaka or Militech. Just a neural support chip I built myself. It's not as powerful as a Sandevistan, but it works. Don't worry though—I know a guy. I'll get you the real thing when the time's right."
Without hesitation, Riko laid down on the operating chair, fully trusting Kay.
Kay didn't waste time. He prepped the anesthetic and injected it into Riko's neck. In seconds, the younger man drifted into unconsciousness.
No change in expression, Kay picked up the scalpel and made a clean incision down Riko's spine. Working efficiently, he inserted three customized neural chips—his personal designs: one for thought acceleration, one for cognitive modulation, and one for emotional alignment.
Once the surgery was done, Kay lit a smoke and sat down beside the table. He wanted to see for himself what effect the "Mind Controller" and "Cognitive Booster" chips would have in a real-world test.
---
In the Dream.
Inside the dreamscape induced by the implant, Riko Vega's subconscious churned.
His eyes, red and raw, reflected despair.
What even is this world?
Are the lower classes born just to be controlled?
Those corpos and elites—living above the law—were nothing but parasites. Greedy. Petty. Obstructions to real freedom. And here we were—trapped in a never-ending cycle of addiction, poverty, and ignorance.
The system was a lie. And he'd had enough.
But in that darkness, he found a flicker of hope.
Kay.
His brother. His savior.
Kay wasn't just a merc—he was the hope of Night City. Of humanity.
"My god…" Riko murmured, trembling in the dream. "How did I get so lucky? Kay… your dream is my dream now."
In the haze of the dream, Riko's face twisted into an expression of absolute loyalty. Fanatical. Pure.
He would follow Kay to the end. Break bones. Spill blood. Tear down empires. All for him.
---
Reality.
Night was falling. Kay leaned back in his chair, his neural link flickering with background data.
Just as he was about to slip into virtual recon mode, Riko stirred.
Kay sat up.
"Hey," he said with a smirk. "You're finally awake. Feel any different?"
Riko blinked, adjusting to the light. He slowly lifted his right hand in front of his face.
"Feels like… everything's moving slower," he muttered. "Like I'm faster… but everything else isn't."
Kay chuckled. "That's because your neural reflexes just got a major upgrade. Congrats. The operation was a success."
Riko clenched his fists, heat rising in his chest. He felt stronger. Sharper. Like the weak old version of him had been burned away.
And he owed it all to Kay.
Standing up quickly, Riko swayed for a second, adjusting to his newly enhanced body.
Kay stood too, stretching.
"You need to get used to the new speed. Let's head outside. Call the others—see how you do in actual combat."
Riko gave a short nod. "Yeah. Let's do it."
---
Soon after, behind the Puff Tavern, the open clearing was filled with an eager crowd. Word had spread: Riko Vega was about to take on eight fighters—at once.
Some were from the Puff crew, others were curious locals, even a few junkies from the street. Night City's got its own rules—but a good fight? That's always a crowd-pleaser.
Riko stood alone on one side of the lot.
Across from him were the eight mercs who'd hit the Scav hideout with them days ago—veterans who hadn't left the city after the job.
From their group, Dorothy stepped forward. She wore a bright crimson mohawk and glowing neon tattoos across her arms and collarbone.
"Yo, Riko," she grinned, stretching her arms. "We'll keep it clean. Don't worry, pretty boy."
Kay settled into a plastic chair nearby, a tub of popcorn on his lap.
This—this was what he lived for.
Let the killers do the killing. He built kings.
Then, Riko grinned.
He raised both middle fingers to the crowd and barked, "If any of you can lay me out—I'll pay for everyone's drinks tonight!"
The crowd erupted.
"Riko! Riko! Fucking beast!"
"Don't hold back, bro!"
Girls shrieked, some tearing off their jackets, flashing glowing cybernetic implants as they spun shirts over their heads like rally flags.
"Go, Vega! Slay, baby!"
---
Meanwhile, DeShawn groaned awake inside a tiny residential flat above the bar. His new prosthetic arm gleamed under the flickering lights.
He flexed the fingers experimentally.
"Chrome…?" he whispered. "Damn. That merc… that kid saved me?"
He stood up slowly and shuffled toward the window.
Outside, in the back lot, he spotted Riko and Kay.
He stared.
"Who… what kind of man is that?" DeShawn muttered, staring at Kay like he'd seen an angel in the Afterlife.
He began walking slowly down the stairs, a strange reverence in his eyes.
---
Back in the ring, Riko shouted, "If any of you go down, just stay down. Getting whooped by me ain't no shame!"
Dorothy snorted. "What are you, my grandma now? Shut up and fight!"
A whistle rang out.
A curvy girl in black fishnets strutted to the center—Issa, the Puff Tavern's resident doll. She had long, wavy platinum blonde hair, her fingers tipped with glittering chrome.
She whistled sharply and shouted, "Alright! Let's go, Riko! Wipe the floor with that loudmouth Dorothy!"
With a whoop, Dorothy charged, fist cocked.
"This is gonna be fun!" she yelled.