After finishing their meal, Oliver watched David walking away with a spring in his step, practically floating.
Then, he turned to Karl and asked:
"Karl, you said that as long as he doesn't try to pocket the money, it's all his. But aren't you afraid he might just take the cash and run?"
"10,000 eddies isn't that much to us right now."
Karl swirled the last bit of his luxury restaurant fruit juice, savoring the taste.
"If he's honest, giving him the money is just an investment. But if he really thinks about running off with it instead of doing his job properly..."
A small smile crept onto his lips.
"If we can find him to wire him the money, we can also find him to deal with him."
"Fair point."
Oliver crossed his arms and looked at David's fading silhouette.
"Still... I've got this weird feeling that kid is gonna do well. Maybe he'll even exceed expectations. Think I might be biased 'cause he's from Santo Domingo like me?"
"Come on, your so-called 'homeland' won't even let you go back."
Karl chuckled.
"You Night City people are something else. Not one of you calls yourselves a 'Night City citizen.' You all cling to your districts like it's your birthright. Jack's from Heywood, you're from Santo Domingo— gotta make sure everyone knows."
"How else are we supposed to distinguish ourselves in this city?"
Jack came back, waving a bill in his hand.
"Dinner cost us 1,200 eddies. Could've bought a tenth of a whole pig for that."
He clicked his tongue.
"Kid looked scrawny, but damn, he can eat."
"That's just how it is when you're still growing."
Karl, who had footed the bill, was well aware of how extravagant their meal had been.
Truth be told, it was ridiculous.
Other than their group, the only people in the restaurant were corporate big shots or high-ranking gangsters.
"So, what's next? Heading back—"
Karl was about to ask about their next move when his personal terminal buzzed.
A message from Blanca.
Blanca: Interested in taking on another side job?
Huh?
Another one?
Karl had no issue with taking work, but the frequency was getting ridiculous.
He still hadn't finished the last two jobs Blanca had sent his way, and here she was, dropping another one in his lap.
Was she some kind of mission board NPC?
Karl: Still working on the tasks you gave me. You know they aren't exactly urgent, so I've got some spare time. What's the job? If it's a long-term thing, I'll have to pass. But if it's something quick, I can squeeze it in.
As he typed, a thought crossed his mind.
At this rate, he was taking more gigs from Blanca than from any other fixer.
Then again, it made sense.
She paid well, her jobs were clear-cut, and she didn't pull the kind of scummy tricks that fixers like Faraday did.
That bastard always took a huge cut for himself and paid out crumbs.
No way in hell Karl was ever working for him again.
Blanca: It's just a short-term job. There's a retired lieutenant from the New U.S. Armed Forces, name's James Norris. He arrived in Night City recently.
I'll be straight with you—he's one of ours, from Militech. He was supposed to come here as a retired officer and handle some... "small tasks" for the company.
But for some reason, yesterday, he suddenly shot and killed our liaison officer and then fled into the city center.
Karl frowned.
The message stopped abruptly, which felt a little strange.
Karl: So, you want us to take care of this rogue soldier?
Blanca: No. I want you to observe him. Find out why he did it. If possible, try talking to him—convince him to get back on track and finish his mission.
Karl chuckled.
So, the liaison's life doesn't matter, huh?
As long as you're still useful, a little "mistake" can be ignored.
Classic corporate mindset.
Karl: And if he refuses to cooperate?
Blanca: Then let's just say he's gone cyberpsycho. Take him out.
Karl: That's it? Just like that?
Blanca: Mm-hmm.
Gotta love Blanca's gigs.
So simple. So straightforward.
Karl: He's in the city center, right? I can start looking now. Got any detailed intel? And what's the payout?
Blanca: He has a military-grade counter-intrusion chip. No exact location—you'll have to find him yourselves.
As compensation for the missing intel, I'll increase the pay.
How does 150,000 eddies sound?
Karl paused.
A corp actually giving out extra money because they're missing information?
Karl: More money for less intel? That doesn't sound like a corpo move.
Blanca: Oh? Saying it so bluntly now? I thought you'd at least try to sugarcoat it.
Karl: Sugarcoat what? Let's be real—if you're paying this much, it means you don't really expect me to talk to this lieutenant.
Blanca: Sharp as ever. You sure you don't wanna work for me full-time? I could use someone as capable as you.
Karl: Cut the crap. Just get to the point. We're not that close.
Karl understood exactly why Blanca was being so friendly.
It was because he was useful.
If he wasn't?
He'd end up just like the dead liaison officer.
Or like James Norris—hunted down as a liability.
Blanca knew he saw through her, but she didn't seem to care.
Blanca: Alright, I'll be direct.
James Norris was implanted with an experimental military-grade Sandevistan that's still in development.
And the guy in charge of the project? Let's just say we don't get along.
Karl exhaled sharply.
Ah. Another goddamn office war.
Of course.
Blanca: If James Norris is confirmed to have gone cyberpsycho, then this project will be considered a failure.
And when that happens, the lead researcher will be executed for wasting company resources.
And guess what?
I'll be able to take over the project myself.
Karl: Office politics again, huh?
Guess I should just get used to it.
Blanca: That's how things work in the company.
If even a hardened soldier like Norris loses his mind after getting the implant, it proves that this tech isn't viable for normal people.
Which means there's no reason to keep experimenting.
Don't worry—I just need confirmation that he's cyberpsycho.
The implant? I don't care about it.
If you're interested, you can take it.
Just remember—it has military-grade dream recording and surveillance software installed.
If you don't have a counter-intrusion chip, you'll want to strip out those parts first.
Karl: I don't make a habit of ripping cyberware out of people.
Especially prototype gear that probably has some nasty rejection effects.
But fine, I'll take the job. Send over the details.
While waiting for the files, Karl turned to Jack and Oliver.
"So... we've got a new job."
"A former lieutenant.
150,000 eddies.
Sounds like we're hunting James Norris."