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The scorching sun burned over Night City, turning chrome and glass into blinding mirrors.
Inside a sleek Villefort Cortes V5000 Ville, Dexter DeShawn leaned back comfortably in the rear seat. Expensive sunglasses shielded his eyes. A thick cigar burned slowly between his fingers.
Beside him, resting inside a temperature-controlled case, lay several syringes.
Destiny Potion.
Arthur Vale's creation.
Dex exhaled a cloud of smoke and smiled faintly.
If this worked the way Arthur claimed… Night City's balance of power was about to shift.
The passenger door opened.
A heavily augmented man stepped inside.
Abertha Darry.
A seasoned merc. A killer with more chrome than flesh.
Dex studied him carefully.
Abertha's hands trembled slightly.
Not from fear.
From overload.
Too much cyberware. Too many combat implants running hot. The early signs were obvious.
Cyberpsychosis wasn't a question of if for someone like Abertha.
It was when.
Abertha grinned.
"Heard you had trouble in Pacifica, Black Fatty," he teased. "Why didn't you call me yesterday? If I was there, you wouldn't have lost your right hand."
Dex's smile tightened for half a second.
Then he chuckled.
"Maybe you're right," he admitted. "But that's in the past."
He tapped the cooler.
"I got a job for you. And something special."
Abertha leaned forward.
Dex continued, voice low and measured.
"Corporate employee's daughter. Snatched by Tyger Claws on her way home from school. Name's Pomme Yui. I've sent you the intel."
"Bring her back alive. Seven thousand five hundred eurodollars."
Dex lifted one syringe and held it between two fingers.
"And this. Free sample."
Abertha raised an eyebrow.
"What's that?"
"Exclusive channel. Comes from a major corporation," Dex said carefully. "Suppresses combat cyberware side effects."
Abertha took the syringe and inspected it.
Plain casing.
No branding.
No serial number.
"Retail price?" he asked.
"Eighteen eighty-eight eurodollars."
Abertha snorted.
"Expensive little toy."
But he didn't hand it back.
Dex giving him this meant one thing.
Trust.
And trust was currency in Night City.
Abertha smiled.
"Alright. Wait for my good news."
---
Abertha wasn't alone in this city.
He had Meina Valez.
His girlfriend.
His partner.
His netrunner.
They drove toward the target location in a beat-up Quadra.
Low-rise slum district.
Concrete cracked. Neon signs flickering. Garbage piled in corners.
Tyger Claws territory.
Abertha activated his internal comm.
[Meina. Your turn.]
Her voice came through, slightly distorted through neural uplink.
[I'm in. Hacking local surveillance. Give me a second…]
A faint hum vibrated through the car as her cyberdeck heated up.
Her RAM processing spiked. Sweat formed at her temples.
[Four total. One guarding front gate. Two inside tormenting the girl in a car. One in the living room maintaining weapons.]
Abertha's jaw tightened.
[We move fast.]
There was a pause.
[Abertha… maybe we shouldn't do this one. Let's leave Night City. I'm worried about you.]
His trembling hands rested briefly on the steering wheel.
[Not yet. We need more eddies. When we have kids, they'll need school. Safety. A future.]
Silence.
Then—
[…Okay. I'll create a distraction.]
At the entrance stood an old self-service vending machine.
Meina hacked it instantly.
Cans exploded outward in a metallic cascade.
The Tyger Claws guard blinked.
"Free drinks? What the hell?"
He stepped closer.
Abertha moved.
Silent.
Precise.
He appeared behind the guard like a shadow.
Snap.
Neck broken.
Body dragged aside.
Clean.
Professional.
---
[Inside living room target still armed.]
[Copy.]
Meina activated the building's television remotely.
Static filled the room.
But the Tyger Claws member inside didn't take the bait.
He kept cleaning his rifle.
Abertha exhaled slowly.
He couldn't see clearly inside from this angle.
Risk of ambush.
As he stepped through the doorway—
The gunman's eyes locked onto him.
No hesitation.
Abertha triggered Sandevistan.
Time fractured.
The world slowed into syrup.
And at that same instant—
He injected the Destiny Potion into his neck.
'Thump.'
His heart roared.
Blood surged.
He braced for the usual pain.
The migraines.
The distortions.
The creeping hallucinations.
But—
Nothing.
No screaming voices.
No flickering shadows.
Instead—
Clarity.
Sharpness.
Strength.
It felt like his body had been reset.
Every implant synchronized perfectly.
Every nerve firing in harmony.
Abertha understood immediately.
This was different.
He moved.
One step.
Gun raised.
One shot.
The Tyger Claws member's head burst apart in frozen slow motion.
He pivoted.
Two more targets in the back.
Three controlled shots.
Three kills.
Total elapsed time—
Six seconds.
Time resumed.
Meina hadn't even finished forming her worried thought.
[Abertha? Abertha—?]
He stepped outside carrying Pomme Yui, barely conscious but alive.
Placed her gently into the back seat.
Got in beside Meina.
"It's done."
She stared at him.
"You… you didn't hallucinate?"
He shook his head.
"No overload. No pain. Nothing."
He flexed his hand experimentally.
"DeShawn's potion works."
Meina's voice trembled.
"I was scared… I thought—"
He placed a hand on hers.
"I'm still here."
Fifteen minutes later, after securing the area and looting weapons for resale, Abertha called Dex.
"Job's done. Target secured."
Pause.
"About that Destiny Potion."
Dex smiled when he heard the tone.
"Yes?"
"I want ten doses."
A beat.
"No. Thirty."
Dex laughed softly.
"As expected of you."
"One thousand eurodollars per dose. Friend discount. But I only have ten right now. More tomorrow."
"Deal."
Abertha ended the call.
He looked at the syringe casing still resting on the dashboard.
Thirty doses.
Thirty opportunities to fight without losing himself.
Thirty chances to delay hell.
---
Inside his clinic, Arthur Vale watched the test results stream across holographic displays.
Vitals.
Neural stability.
Cyberware stress metrics.
All transmitted through the embedded micro-signal inside the potion.
Abertha Darry's readings were flawless.
No psychotic spike.
No neural fragmentation.
Arthur smiled faintly.
The first real-world combat test had succeeded.
Destiny Potion wasn't just suppressing symptoms.
It was stabilizing the neural interface.
If scaled—
If distributed—
He leaned back in his chair.
Night City was filled with mercenaries teetering on the edge of madness.
What if he became the only supplier of sanity?
The only cure to cyberpsychosis?
Power didn't always come from guns.
Sometimes—
It came from dependence.
Arthur's fingers tapped lightly against the desk.
"Phase one complete."
Outside, Night City's skyline shimmered in the heat.
Unaware.
That something far more dangerous than bullets had just entered circulation.
And this time—
It didn't explode.
It healed.