"Knock, knock, knock."
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Who the hell is it?"
Oliver had just returned to his apartment after having dinner with his sister. He hadn't even had the chance to sit down before someone started banging on his door. Muttering complaints under his breath, he pulled up the security camera feed to check who it was.
Upon recognizing the visitor, he quickly walked over and opened the door.
"Karl? You look kind of rough."
"I took on a side job—remember that corpo from before? Made some eddies, so I figured I'd buy some stuff to celebrate. I already messaged Jackie; he'll be here soon."
Karl stepped inside, carrying several bags filled with food and drinks. After setting them down, he pulled out a packaged item and handed it to Oliver.
"Here, have some steak."
"I literally just ate... Wait, hold up—you went on a job alone and didn't tell Jackie or me?"
Oliver took the steak but then frowned as realization dawned.
"You ran off to do a gig solo while we were busy? You're way too eager, man."
"Yeah, yeah. The client insisted it had to be a one-person job—just a negotiation gig, you know? I was just hired as security."
"Security?"
Oliver studied Karl carefully. Not a single scratch on him.
"Looks like the negotiation went smoothly."
"Yeah, really smoothly."
Karl thought about it for a second. His employer had no complaints. The other side certainly didn't have any complaints. No one had any complaints. So yeah, super smooth negotiation.
"Turn on the TV, let's see what kind of shitshow the city's got going on today."
"What's there to see?"
Even though turning on the apartment TV cost extra, Oliver wasn't going to be stingy in front of a friend. He accessed his system and activated the screen. As he did, he absentmindedly bit into the steak Karl had handed him.
"Mm... The texture, the tenderness... This is ribeye steak, isn't it? Damn, these go for 20 eddies a piece. I don't usually splurge on this stuff."
"Exactly, so no wasting it."
"Of course not. It's just one piece—my stomach still has room—"
Oliver paused mid-sentence. He glanced at the steak in his hands, his eyes narrowing at the clean-cut marks on the edges.
"Wait a damn second, Karl. When you say 'no wasting'..."
A memory hit him.
The disastrous night at the yakitori restaurant.
Karl had ordered everything on the menu, taken one bite, and then left the rest for Jackie and him to clean up.
"You didn't... do it again, did you?!"
Oliver's expression darkened as he eyed the massive bags of food Karl had dumped on his table.
"Nah, just this steak. The rest is new. Relax, most of it's just snacks—chips, chocolate bars... though they're all made with cocoa substitutes. Couldn't find any with real cocoa butter."
"Alright... That's a relief."
Oliver finished off the steak in a few bites. Jackie arrived shortly after, bringing along a massive bag of fries from Mama Welles' bar.
"Ohhh, my favorite!"
Karl practically lit up at the sight of the fries. He immediately plopped down on the couch and started devouring them with childish enthusiasm—almost like he enjoyed Mama Welles' cooking more than Jackie did.
Jackie chuckled at the sight, then dropped onto the couch himself—only to feel something hard pressing against his ass.
Frowning, he reached beneath him and pulled out a compact SMG.
"Dios mío (My God), a Saratoga SMG? Karl, where the hell did you get this?"
"Picked it up after dealing with some Maelstrom guys on the way. This one's yours."
"This little thing packs a punch."
Jackie inspected the submachine gun with admiration, running his hands over it like he was appreciating fine craftsmanship. Then, just like Oliver before him, he processed what Karl had just casually said.
"Wait, what do you mean dealt with?"
Karl sighed and gave Jackie the same explanation he had just given Oliver.
"That corpo again?"
Jackie pulled the charging handle on the SMG, listening to the satisfying mechanical click.
"Well, I'd say that's definitely worth celebrating tonight."
"My place is big enough to crash if you guys wanna stay over. Just eat and drink all you want. If we run out, there's always the vending machine. I don't keep much stocked—mostly burritos, but knowing Karl, he probably wouldn't like the meat inside."
As Oliver was talking, the TV screen suddenly changed from regular daily news to an urgent broadcast.
"Good evening, and welcome to an emergency report from N54 News. I'm Gillian Jordan. Just half an hour ago, a cyberpsycho went on a rampage in a restaurant in Kabuki, Watson. The exact death toll remains unclear, but MAX-TAC has been dispatched to contain the threat. Residents in Kabuki and surrounding areas are advised to remain indoors until further notice."
"Another cyberpsycho?"
Jackie frowned as the broadcast showed flashes of on-site footage.
"How many is that this month?"
"Too damn many."
Oliver was focused on the screen, but then he noticed Karl had stopped eating his fries.
Karl was staring at the restaurant on the screen, his brows furrowed.
"I just bought food from that place."
"You're saying the restaurant on screen is the one you just went to?"
"The logo's still on the bags. No way I'd mistake it."
Karl responded with certainty before casually picking up another fry and tossing it into his mouth.
"Judging by the timing, I must have left right before it happened. If I'd been a little slower, I'd have run into that cyberpsycho."
"Should we call that luck?"
Jackie looked at Karl's expression—he didn't exactly look pleased about it.
"Luck for me, sure."
Karl recalled the friendly service staff and cashiers.
"Shame, though. Won't be able to go back there anytime soon."
But this was Night City in 2075.
That was just how things were.
"Beep."
As he was thinking, a call from an unknown number came through his interface.
"Spam?"
Not wanting to be interrupted while eating, Karl hung up without a second thought.
But immediately, the call came through again.
The second time? Probably not spam.
Karl picked up, and a calm, measured voice came through the line.
"Karl, right? My name is Faraday. I've got a job that might interest you."