"Vik, we're here!"
"Took you long enough."
Vik turned his chair toward the group entering from outside.
"I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna show. You stacked so many boxes in my so-called tiny clinic—what if someone saw them and ran off with the loot?"
"C'mon, Vik. This place is hardly tiny. The backroom alone's half a warehouse," Oliver chuckled. "And hey, we came straight over the moment the rain stopped."
"So, any tracking software left in the weapons?" he added casually.
"Yeah, a few. Looked like they hadn't been scrubbed yet. I cleared 'em. But listen—next time you should get T-Bug or V to handle this stuff. I'm not a weapons tech. It's not like they're cyberware."
Vik shook his head and turned to T-Bug, who'd just walked in last.
"T-Bug, you better run another check. I'm no authority on this."
"I will," she replied, giving the clinic a curious glance—it was her first time here. She followed Vik's gesture toward the stacked crates in the corner.
"All the weapons are in here?"
"Yup. Anyone walking in might think I opened a gun store on the side."
Vik looked over at Karl.
"As for the cyberware you sent… all brand new. Fresh off the production line. You sure you weren't on a shopping spree at Arasaka Tower?"
"Now you too, Vik? I keep saying—I was there on bodyguard duty."
Karl set the half-full bucket of fries on the table beside him.
"Here. A little thank-you. Fries, still warm."
"Old man like me shouldn't be eating this crap too much…"
That said, Vik reached over without hesitation, snatched the fries, and turned back to his never-ending stream of boxing replays.
"I made a list of the cyberware you brought. It's on the pad right there. Take a look, and whenever you want something installed, come back in. I'll only charge for the procedure itself—gear's yours already."
"Appreciate it, Vik."
Jack grabbed the datapad and called Oliver over. Karl already knew what he'd selected, but the others were just now getting their first look.
"Zoom that in—lemme see… Edge boost, smartlink, visual cortex enhancers, blood pump, full-resist suite, bio-conductors… Holy shit, Karl—how much did you grab?!"
Oliver turned to Karl, stunned.
"So those elite Arasaka assholes we've been fighting all had this kind of loadout?"
"I told you—this is the grade used by their upper-echelon ops. Not your average security grunt. You've seen those guys—can't afford this stuff, and even if they could, they'd break trying to handle it."
Karl leaned back, arms folded.
"Take your time choosing. Don't go stuffing too much into yourselves at once. If you cyberpsych out, I'm not gonna be the one putting you down."
"Pick what fits," Jack agreed, scrolling through.
He noted that there weren't any heavy-grade overhaul items—no Gorilla Arms, no Mantis Blades, no Projectile Launchers or Sandevistan/Kerenzikov full-system mods.
Karl had chosen with care.
Their team had already undergone quite a few major procedures in the past two months. Any more risked pushing someone into cyberpsychosis. Karl's restraint made sense.
Not everyone had his freakish tolerance for chrome. Jack had Berserk installed; Oliver ran a Sandevistan. Both of them had needed recovery time between major upgrades. Karl, though? Seemed like his body just welcomed it.
As they mulled over their next upgrades, Karl spoke again.
"Oh, and I saw Adam Smasher at Arasaka Tower today. Had a little… contest with him."
"You what?!"
Everyone instantly looked up. Oliver reacted first:
"You don't mean an actual fight with Adam Smasher, do you?!"
He eyed Karl up and down. No missing limbs, no bloodstains…
"Nah, not a duel. We were competing—who could clear more traitors faster."
Karl gave them the short version, then sighed.
"Still, I didn't expect to lose that badly. The difference was… obvious."
"Dude, we're talking about Adam Smasher here," Oliver said.
"Only guy who ever kept up with him was Morgan Blackhand. And rumors say he's more chromed now than he was fifty years ago—barely 5% organic. He might be stronger than ever. No shame in losing."
"Yeah," he added, "he's old as hell compared to us. Give it time—tables'll turn."
"Now that's what I like to hear," Jack grinned.
"He's a legend. So what? We're gunning for legend too. I'm sick of hearing that getting killed by Adam Smasher is what makes you a legend. Why not flip it? Let's make killing him the new bar."
Their merc crew was just two months old. Who's to say what could happen in the next year?
"You know what?" Karl laughed. "With you guys hyping me up, I'm feelin' cocky again."
"I threw some tough talk his way, too. No idea if he took it seriously. But one day, I'll say that same line to his face—while he's on his knees, scrap metal all around him."
Karl's smile turned razor sharp.
"He looked down at me in that elevator, thinking he was high and mighty just 'cause of his chrome and height? Let's see how tall he feels when I'm standing over his shattered body."
Right then, Karl's comm pinged—several new messages.
He glanced at the screen and let out a short laugh.
"Old Captain, Padre, Wakako, Dakota… all at once, huh?"
No coincidence. These fixers must've heard about his performance during the Arasaka purge. Probably from someone inside. Word traveled fast in Night City.
Fixers were bloodhounds when it came to talent.
He looked up at the others.
"We've got work. Looks like we're back on the clock."
After all…
If Adam Smasher was the goalpost—
They still had a long way to go to become legends.
.
.
.
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