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In the promotional materials for the Nekomata sniper rifle, its power was described like this: "Its tungsten spike rounds can pierce the thi
In the promotional materials for the Nekomata sniper rifle, its power was described like this:
"Its tungsten spike rounds can pierce the thickest armor and walls, shattering titanium bones—before the Nekomata's destructive power, no one is safe."
And for once, the marketing wasn't lying.
With electromagnetic tension driving the shot, once fully charged, the Nekomata's tungsten spikes could easily breach even someone like Adam Smasher—an opponent against whom most conventional weapons were useless.
The devastating round pierced his alloy skull and drove into his brain like a spike.
"Is he dead?"
That was Oliver's first thought as he watched the round strike Smasher's head.
Even a monster like Adam Smasher shouldn't be able to survive a direct hit to the brain with a tungsten dart.
His organic brain was one of the few human parts left in his body. It was the core of his power, and his greatest weakness. If that brain took a hit, even Adam Smasher couldn't survive.
Smasher would die—if the brain was truly hit.
The round bored into his head, stripping away part of the smooth titanium cranium. But beneath the torn surface, there was no blood. No brain matter. Just the gleam of more metal.
"There's another layer inside?!"
Oliver's eyes widened as he saw a smaller but solid inner shell protecting Smasher's brain.
Due to the limited availability of Smasher's combat footage, few people outside Arasaka's research division had any idea what kind of cyberware he was packing. Smasher clearly knew his brain was his biggest weakness. It made sense he would reinforce it—but not even Oliver had expected this level of obsessive redundancy.
Multiple surgeries, all targeting his brain—each one a massive risk. And this lunatic had done it twice?
Unlike Oliver, Karl wasn't shocked. He'd seen enough of Smasher to know this was exactly the kind of thing he'd do.
A second brain shield?
If it helped him survive—of course he'd do it.
What's a little psychotic risk to someone like Smasher?
That's what made him a legend.
Karl looked at the dented second layer, so close to Smasher's brain.
If he moved now—if he used his monowire—he could probably break through.
He was certain.
But as Oliver's shocked voice came through the comms, and T-BUG groaned in frustration as her ICE intrusion was cut off, Karl took a step back.
Then, calmly, as team leader, he gave an order:
"Retreat."
"Retreat?"
Jack and V, now free to move in due to the disabled turrets, hesitated when they heard Karl's command. But only for a second.
There'd be time to ask questions later. During combat, they followed Karl's word.
Because he was Karl.
"We're heading for the AV," V confirmed, sheathing his thermal katana and sprinting with Jack toward Oliver and David. Their AV was waiting at the ridge.
Karl turned to leave.
But then Smasher's head swiveled precisely in his direction, his undamaged mouth speaking in a flat, unshaken voice:
"Why didn't you strike? Was it fear? Or concern for my retaliation?"
"Maybe a little of both, Mr. Smasher."
Karl didn't lie.
Smasher had likely shaken off the EMP by now. He could've reactivated his Sandevistan. Even blind, he could launch a suicidal counter if Karl attempted a fatal blow.
Karl wouldn't pretend he wasn't afraid—not even to Adam Smasher.
But Smasher didn't accept that.
His body remained aimed at Karl.
"If you keep working with that halfway-competent crew of yours, you could kill me."
Coming from Adam Smasher—who disdained everyone—that was practically a compliment. It caught Karl off guard.
But he had a different take.
"Killing Adam Smasher as a team and earning the glory? Sounds great."
But—
"But Mr. Smasher, you were also planning to take some of us with you, weren't you?"
Karl saw it in him.
Even blind, even with his brain casing cracked, Smasher's weapons and armor were untouched. His combat capabilities were nearly unchanged.
To kill him now, they'd have to get up close—and that was exactly what he wanted.
If Karl went in alone, he'd probably die with him.
If they all went in, someone else would die too.
Not worth it.
He wasn't afraid of dying. But he was afraid of dying for nothing.
He had no vendetta with Smasher. In fact, if anything, he still owed him a life.
So what was the point of dying here?
Karl shifted his stance—and Smasher's arm rose to aim.
"Running away?"
His voice held a strange undertone. Almost nostalgic.
It had been decades—maybe fifty years—since he last said that to someone. Back then, it was a man with a prosthetic arm.
"Of course I'm running. I'm a merc, not a martyr. When it's time to run, you run."
Karl waved at him.
"But give me a little time, Mr. Smasher. I think I'll be ready to face you one-on-one soon."
"Arrogant brat!"
"I'm damn proud of it."
Karl chuckled.
"Relax, Mr. Smasher. I still owe you a debt. I promised to break that chrome body of yours and spare your life. And when I do… I want to do it right. With my own two hands."
With that, Karl vanished.
Smasher adjusted his aim—but then… stopped.
He could've chased him. But didn't.
Why?
Was it… anticipation? Or maybe… he didn't want to go out like this.
A duel, huh…
Adam Smasher remembered his old rival.
"You think you're Morgan Blackhand, kid?!"
He shouted after him—
But didn't move.
He had every reason to pursue Karl. Rage. Pride. Vengeance.
But he didn't.
Because Karl wasn't Morgan Blackhand.
He wasn't that rival. The one worth dying to defeat.
Or maybe…
Smasher thought of the knife.
Hanako and this kid…
So much like Michiko and…
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PS: Side note—fun trivia! Did you know that in official lore, Saburo Arasaka's charisma stat is only 2? Meanwhile, Hanako and Oda are at 10, and Johnny Silverhand and Yorinobu are both 9.
Also, Michiko Arasaka was once described by the creators as a cross between "Battle Angel Alita" and a genius prodigy.
It's even said that during dates, Smasher was super cautious around her—not just because of her status, but maybe because she kicked his ass while he was in his civvie-grade date-night cyberware. (Yes, he had that.)
Apparently, he was more afraid of her than of her dad.
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