The scent of disinfectant was the first thing Kiwi picked up on after waking up from the upgrade at Vik's clinic. She didn't try to sit up right away, despite the faint throbbing in her forehead, and simply turned her head to the left to look at the ripperdoc.
"Good morning!" Vik greeted cheerfully as he was halfway through cleaning the instruments used in the operation, including his ripperdoc glove. "I already ran a full diagnostic—everything's working great. In the end, going for fewer, higher-quality parts instead of tons of implants was the smarter move."
Kiwi snorted, catching the clear note of pride in Viktor's voice at her having followed his advice.
"Medication?" she asked.
"All ready for you." Viktor pointed to a bag of meds next to Kiwi. "Take a red one with breakfast and a blue one with dinner for a week—that should be enough for everything to settle properly. I won't give you immunosuppressants since it looks like your body's taking the implant surprisingly well. Remarkably well, in fact. Still, come by in three days for a routine check-up, or sooner if anything feels off."
"Better safe than sorry." Kiwi took a moment to fully reconnect with her senses before getting up from the operating chair without losing her balance. "I'll try to get you that eighty-year-old bottle of wine as soon as possible."
Vik gave her a thumbs-up.
The fact that the ripperdoc had a taste for alcohol turned out to be pretty convenient for Kiwi. While other clients at the clinic enjoyed perks thanks to their connections or long-standing status, she had VVIP treatment for the simple reason that she could get Faelan to supply Vik with wine in unlimited quantities.
She grabbed the bag of meds and headed down into the basement—the shared home she had with her friend, who seemed to fantasize about having a secret base. Not that she was complaining.
"Let's just hope Fae's experiments don't draw the wrong kind of attention," Kiwi sighed, flopping down onto her bed and staring up at the root-covered ceiling.
Even after years of getting used to his mystical crap, him suddenly talking about fantasy potions was… hard to process.
If he pulled it off (and Kiwi had a feeling he would), those potions could become assets as valuable as they were dangerous.
After all, anyone could just drink a bottle and something would happen.
They could become commodities, weapons, and symbols all at once.
Her first concern was simple: that a megacorp would get their hands on a sample and replicate it in a lab.
The idea of corpos gaining access to potions sent her into a quiet panic.
But Fae quickly dismissed her concerns.
Sure, a lab could easily analyze the raw materials (and he was counting on that), but there were two things Kiwi was overlooking.
One: They'd need unaltered, natural materials to make them.
That's expensive for them, while Faelan could just snap his fingers and make it happen.
Two: Even if they managed to recreate the formula down to the last nanogram or identical step, they still wouldn't be able to produce it—because they'd be missing the mystical crap that activates the properties.
"And potions are just one of the ideas..." Kiwi closed her eyes and took a slow breath to calm herself down.
[Incoming call]
Kiwi glanced at the caller ID and answered.
"[Kiwi! How'd the upgrade go?]"
"[All good. What's up, Sasha?]"
"[Just two quick things. First, Dorio told me to tell you that Faelan's experiment worked. In fact, it looks like we'll have a surprise for the infiltration against Vanesa.]"
Fae confirmed the potions worked?
Whew. She couldn't even remember the exact effects of the ones he planned to test on the scavvers…
She wasn't sure whether to be excited or terrified.
And apparently neither Sasha nor Galina knew about them yet… she had to record their faces when they found out. Oh, and Vik would definitely find out too—Fae had said some of the potions could be incredibly useful at the clinic. Might even turn into another product line down the road.
"[Good. More options is always better. What else?]"
"[Remember Uncle Gordon? He wants to get everyone together for a meal at his restaurant, which he's closed again. I was thinking we could set it up after we wrap up the whole thing with the traitor fixer—make it a welcome party for Dorio too.]"
Kiwi's mental alarms went off.
"[Gordon wants me and Fae to show up for a meal again, after what happened last time?]"
She almost thought she'd misheard.
"[Yeah, I thought it was weird too. Uncle Gordon took a full week to recover from the depression after Faelan's brutally honest comments about the dishes last time. I doubt he'd invite us again unless he's regained confidence in his cooking or… has something planned.]"
Yeah, that night Kiwi found out Fae had a shockingly perceptive palate when it came to food. If it had been a few decades ago, he might've made a living as a food critic.
"[And if he needs us there, then whatever he's planning clearly involves us.]"
"[I tried asking my mom—she gave me nothing.]"
"[That just makes it even more suspicious…]"
"[I think if we can convince Faelan to be a bit, just a tiny bit more gentle with his constructive criticism about the food, everything could go fine!]"
Kiwi decided to ignore that last part.
"[Anything on your end?]"
"[Wouldn't call it a problem exactly, but it's been harder than I expected to dig up internal details about the megatower. It's clear someone's been slowly erasing the accessible info without raising red flags, because this is supposed to be public data—standard across every tower.]"
Kiwi shook her head. Megatowers didn't seem nearly as appealing as they had when the two of them first escaped the factory.
Rent through the roof, vending machines that blasted ads inside your own unit, and stuff like the washing machines or showers worked on a pay-per-use basis. The neighbors were annoying, people lived in the hallways, and trash piled up on the stairwells.
Their current home was a hundred times better—and if the plan she'd talked about with Fae went well, they might end up with something even better. But for that, they needed Gordon's help, so if he really needed something from them, it might be a great chance to make him owe them one...
"[Tell Gordon we're in, but we're not giving him an exact time until we finish the 'job' we've got going on.]"
If Dorio got hurt during her quest for revenge, it'd be best to postpone the meal until Vik gave the all-clear.
"[As long as we give him a day to prep, he said any time's fine.]"