"Hey, Karl. Heard you guys are back in business?"
"Technically speaking—yeah, as of 7 a.m. this morning. That's, what, two minutes ago?"
Karl lounged on a plush recliner in the new penthouse, lazily answering a call from Old Captain.
"I sent you all the 'we're back' announcement. You don't have to 'hear' it—just check your messages."
"I did check them. That's why I'm calling right away."
"Then why say you heard it?"
"You ever heard of projecting confidence through language? Makes me sound like I've got my ear to the ground. Basic fixer 101."
Karl wasn't sure if he meant fixer work or car dealing, but whatever. He got to the point.
"So... you calling 'cause you've got a job for us?"
"I wish it were that easy."
Old Captain's answer caught Karl off guard.
"It's been two minutes, man. You think I've already lined up a high-paying contract for you? I don't run all of Santo Domingo. Plus, you've got a new member now, right? That guy, V or whatever? More people means I gotta think a little harder about job structure."
Karl raised an eyebrow and looked toward the kitchen, where V was prepping something he called a Badlands-style breakfast.
"What, you worried V's gonna screw up the mission? If it's a skill thing, I'll vouch for him. Taking down ten gangers solo is no sweat for him. Not many mercs on your contact list can say the same."
"No, no, no—nothing like that. I'd never doubt the skills of someone in your squad. Everyone knows Karl only rolls with top-tier talent. Sure, V's a nomad and not exactly famous in Night City, but give him a minute—he'll be a household name. My concern's not performance—it's payment."
He went on, "Your crew's one of the strongest in the city. You deserve payouts that reflect that. One more person? That means more eddies on the table. If I lowball you, my reputation tanks. Next thing you know, people are calling me the next Faraday. I just got this fixer thing rolling—I'm not about to kill it already."
Karl laughed. Talking to Old Captain always had a certain flavor.
"Didn't you used to be a corpo grunt? Since when are you too good for Faraday?"
"Hey, everyone's young and dumb once. Anyway, enough chit-chat. Main reason I called was to make sure I get first dibs. Don't want to be like NCPD patrols—circling forever and never getting in on the action."
"You're on the list. Relax. Let me know when you've got something."
"You got it."
As soon as Karl hung up, more fixers pinged in—The Padre, Wakako, and others.
While the rest of the squad enjoyed V's cooking, Karl played receptionist, juggling greetings and job offers.
By the time he finally sat down to eat, breakfast was ready.
"Skewers?"
Looked surprisingly normal—for Night City food, anyway.
"In the Badlands," V explained, "sometimes we catch lizards at night. We grill 'em in the morning with spices. Makes for a good breakfast. Couldn't get lizard meat here, so I used some pork I found in your freezer."
Night hunting, morning grilling. Makes sense.
Nomads usually move at night, away from the sun. Lizards too. A perfect match.
Despite being from a frozen slab of poorly processed pork, the skewers were… pretty damn tasty.
Karl finished four big ones, plus some bread and a glass of orange juice from the hovercar stash.
Then, it was time to talk jobs.
Other than Old Captain, most of the fixers had sent at least one job his way.
Nothing too flashy, but solid work—ideal for V's first gig as an official squad member.
To be fair, Karl shared the list with the crew so they could vote.
Discussing jobs over a breakfast table felt oddly nostalgic. Very pre-Netwatch era.
Karl mostly stayed out of it. The missions weren't a big deal.
V, on the other hand, was dead serious—comparing pay, risk, and complexity.
Eventually, he picked one from The Padre:
"Destroy an Illegal Braindance Lab."
"Some folks have been getting too bold. Time for a little warning."
The job had good pay and detailed intel—even the address.
All that was left was to show up and smash the place.
"Alright, that's our job."
No one objected. Karl messaged The Padre to confirm. The fixer sent back the location—and a deposit.
Karl didn't even glance at the deposit. He opened the attached briefing.
The more he read, the more his face twisted into a complex frown.
Jack and Oliver were having the same reaction—reading the file through the team chat and occasionally side-eyeing Karl.
Why?
Because the target of the mission was directly tied to him.
The illegal BD lab was producing and distributing a series titled:
"Cyberpsycho Karl Collection."
They had taken past footage from black-market BDs Karl had appeared in, surgically altered someone to look like him, and made him the villain—a brutal killer in a series of unauthorized, pirated BDs.
They were selling it like a greatest hits package of Karl going full cyberpsycho.
.
.
.
🔥 Cyberpunk: The Relentless
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