"Freakin' awesome—!"
"V, you're just like Oliver."
Karl raised an eyebrow at V, who stood at the open hovercar door, yelling out loud in excitement.
"You don't get it. This is what we call bold ambition!"
Oliver, thrilled that V was reacting just like he had, beamed with pride and leaned over. "Come on, V! Want to take the controls for a spin? I'll hand them over to you."
Karl groaned. "Pretty sure that's not how you use that idiom…"
His linguistic nitpicking went ignored as the crew basked in the excitement. V sat beside Karl and eyed the control pillar in the center of the cabin.
"This is where I plug in, right?"
"Yeah, let me disconnect—go ahead and give it a shot. Trust me, it feels amazing."
"Hey, don't forget about the fuel," Karl warned, watching them swap control back and forth like kids with a new toy. Then he turned to V. "By the way—your car broke down? We saw it parked on the roadside."
"Yeah. Engine trouble—again. It's a recurring issue. I built it myself, after all," V said, scratching the back of his head. The excitement he felt just moments ago dimmed a bit. "Now I'm not sure what to do with it."
He'd thought Karl and the others would pick him up in a regular car. That way, he could've driven his own back to Night City—maybe even salvaged some use out of it. But now that they were riding a high-speed hovercar? No way he could ask them to wait around while he tinkered with his junker.
"No big deal," Jack offered casually. "You built it from parts, right? Then you know how to take it apart. Sure, it's not worth much—but it's your build. Got some meaning. We'll strip the thing down, load the usable parts in here, ditch the trash. Once we're back in the city, you can rebuild with fresh gear."
"I like it," Oliver nodded. "I'll even introduce you to a parts dealer I know. He owes me a favor—might give you a discount."
"You're telling me… we're going to dismantle my car and haul the scraps inside this thing?"
V glanced around the lavish hovercar interior… then thought of his beat-up Galena.
Was this… hauling junk in a luxury ride?
"Won't it mess up the inside or something?" he asked. He already knew Karl had borrowed the car, so he was worried about damaging it—or worse, making Karl pay for repairs.
"Don't worry about it."
Karl waved him off like it was nothing. When Kenichiro handed him the hovercar, he specifically said: as long as Karl didn't crash it into the roof of some Militech research lab and get caught leaking sensitive movement data, he could do whatever he wanted. The guy had an entire fleet of these parked on a private level.
Damaging the interior wasn't the concern.
What Karl really had on his mind… was time.
Kenichiro had told him—twice—that the car had to be returned in ten days.
Once could've been casual.
Twice? That meant something.
Kenichiro didn't seem like the type to fuss over property. Which meant…
"Something's going to happen in Night City within ten days. And I need to be back in time."
But what?
Karl pondered quietly as the hovercar began its descent.
Meanwhile, in Night City—
The heat had died down, and Maine's crew was finally taking contracts again. That's when the call came in—from an old contact.
"Faraday?"
Hearing the calm, low voice of the fixer on the other end, Maine instinctively frowned, but kept his tone measured. "What do you want?"
"I've got a job lined up. Thought you might want it."
A gig. From Faraday.
These days, the man's reputation in fixer circles was… tainted. It had never been spotless to begin with, but after his fallout with Karl's crew—where he prioritized eddies over loyalty—things went south fast. That scandal alone was enough to get most mercs to ghost him.
After all, if Karl's team wouldn't touch his jobs anymore… who had the guts to?
That unspoken truth had kept Maine and Faraday from talking much lately. But now, just as Maine was getting back in the game, Faraday came knocking.
"What kind of job?" Maine asked cautiously.
He figured he'd hear it out—and reject it if it smelled bad.
Faraday didn't seem to notice his wariness.
"Remember that gig you got from Karl a while back?"
Chrome Titan.
Maine knew exactly what he meant.
That op had spiraled out of control once Arasaka stepped in. It wasn't exactly a secret anymore. And if Faraday was bringing it up now… that could only mean one thing.
Militech had acquired deeper intel about Arasaka's "Chrome Titan" program.
This wasn't going to be easy.
Maine knew that corporate warfare was never simple. Even with solid intel and ideal timing, last time still ended in chaos. Arasaka's special ops rolled in, and if it weren't for Karl's crew, he'd be dead.
Now they wanted to try again?
And worse—Arasaka already knew this time.
This was a suicide run.
He was about to say no—
—but Faraday cut in with a line that hit deep.
"You want to be a legend in Night City, don't you, Maine? So tell me—how far behind Karl are you?"
How far behind… Karl?
Faraday's voice pressed on.
"Karl isn't even a legend yet. Not officially. And you're content to just coast as some run-of-the-mill merc? Pull this off, and your name will echo through the city."
Legend.
Every merc in Night City chased it like moths to neon.
Maine swallowed hard, lips parting to reply—
—but Faraday hung up after one final message:
"Think it over, Maine. Ask yourself why you became a merc in the first place. Look at Karl—he started after you. And look where he is now. Famous, respected. The whole city knows his name.
Fame, or obscurity—you decide.
I'll be waiting."
The call ended.
Maine stared at the blank screen.
He knew it was bait. He knew it was a trap.
But still…
What merc could say they didn't want to be the next Morgan Blackhand?
.
.
.
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