It had been a long time since Karl had carried out a solo mission. And this one involved meeting with an Intelligence Bureau agent—something that, even for a seasoned merc like him, demanded thorough preparation.
It wasn't that someone of his caliber could afford to be careless.
On the contrary, the more famous a merc became, the more cautious they needed to be.
Unlike his early days, when he operated under the radar, now that he was well known, countless eyes were watching his every move.
People would scrutinize his skills, search for his weaknesses. Operating under these conditions meant staying constantly on high alert, without even the slightest lapse.
After all, in a solo op like this, there were no trusted teammates to watch your back. If something went wrong, there'd be no one to lend a hand.
And let's not forget—this time he was dealing with an agent from the New United States. "New United States." "Intelligence agent." Neither of those terms exactly inspired peace of mind.
Karl made thorough preparations before heading out. He brought along a transceiver capable of transmitting his location and summoning the NCPD or his squadmates at any time, as well as an emergency chip that could directly contact high-ranking members of the Aldecaldos or the 6th Street Gang.
On top of that, he concealed three firearms and two knives on his person, ensuring he could respond instantly to any sudden developments. He had even visited Viktor for a full cyberware maintenance check, making sure everything was in optimal condition.
He was fully prepared—except for one thing: the Intelligence Bureau agent assigned to meet with him was late.
"Did I get the location wrong?"
The idea that an NUSA Intelligence Bureau agent would be late seemed so absurd that Karl began to doubt himself. Had he come to the wrong place? Or messed up the time?
According to the briefing Blanca had given him, the agent—code-named Reed—was a top-tier operative, one so high-level that even Blanca herself didn't have clearance to view his full file. The report claimed that in his youth, he'd rivaled Morgan Blackhand. Just imagining that was enough to make it clear—this guy was elite among elites. The spy of spies.
Karl admitted that his impression of "ace agents" mostly came from braindances and old flicks. In those, agents always arrived on the dot, precision down to the second, using complex calculations to eliminate enemies with perfect timing. That image had left such a strong mark on him, it had become a mental template.
He checked his phone again for the agreed location and time.
No mistake.
Andrew Jackson Basketball Court.
Named after the seventh President of the old United States and founder of the Democratic Party. Dogtown only had one place with that name. No way he got it wrong.
The time?
10:30 AM.
The agreed meeting time had been 10:20.
Even if his phone had glitched, he had a backup one just in case—like if the main one exploded or got bricked. The phone he was checking now was the backup. Both showed the same time, down to the second. Unless someone had hacked both phones just to mess with the clock—an extremely unlikely scenario—Karl was forced to accept a more logical conclusion:
The agent was late.
"Unbelievable."
He sat down on the dilapidated bleachers of the court, watching a chaotic gunfight break out just 300 meters away. He yawned.
Yep, this was Dogtown. The place might have a "simple and honest" reputation compared to Night City proper, but this was already the fourth gunfight since Karl had arrived.
Night City saw plenty of action too, but at least there, not every shootout involved a dozen gangoons going full-auto.
"Militech MK31 Heavy Machine Gun."
Karl watched a brute with Gorilla Arms heft the weapon one-handed and fire at a vehicle full of enemies. In his mind, the passengers in that vehicle were already dead.
Originally designed for armored vehicles, the MK31 had an absurd rate of fire and overwhelming power. Its main weakness was its reload time—usually only good for a single burst in real combat. But that one burst was more than enough to mow down anything in its path.
And the poor bastards being targeted were still trapped inside the car. They were toast.
Or so Karl thought—until things took an unexpected turn.
As spent shell casings glittered in the sunlight, a dark figure suddenly rolled off the top of the vehicle. The moment they hit the ground, they sprang into a forward sprint. In the blink of an eye, the shadowy figure had weaved through the barrage and appeared right in front of the heavy gunner with the Gorilla Arms.
Karl saw the black-clad figure twitch their hand—just a little—and draw a pistol with astonishing speed.
There was no muzzle flash.
Only the sight of a neat hole suddenly appearing in the gunner's throat.
A clean shot. The bullet had punched straight through.
"A suppressed weapon, and a damn good custom job," Karl thought.
The brute crumpled. But three more gunmen, who had been firing at the vehicle, hesitated when they saw the figure standing by the body. Maybe they thought the heavy gunner was still alive.
That hesitation proved fatal.
The black figure used the falling body as cover, leaning into the weight with a shoulder, then angled their head and gun hand around the corpse.
Three nearly silent shots rang out.
Each of the remaining attackers dropped, a neat hole in the center of their skulls.
"Clean, precise. Not a single wasted bullet. Impressive aim."
Karl nodded slightly. He had finally gotten a good look at the figure.
And he hadn't expected the person he was supposed to meet to be him.
As the figure finished off the attackers, let the heavy corpse slump to the ground, and strode swiftly toward him, Karl stood.
When the man was close enough, Karl spoke:
"You're late, Solomon Reed."
"Ran into some thugs on the way. I didn't want trouble, but they were probably hopped up on who knows what."
Karl recognized him—a Black bartender from downtown he'd seen a few times before. Reed added:
"Still, I don't think I'm that late."
"Eleven minutes. I can live with that."
Karl looked him over. "You probably already know who I am, but I'll introduce myself anyway. I'm Karl—or maybe you know me better by a different name."
"KK," Reed said.
How could he not? This was the merc who once uncovered his identity—and who had since made quite a name for himself.
-
-
-
-
🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
📢 CHOOMS, JACK IN! 📢
Cyberpunk: The Relentless has 500+ chapters ahead available on Patreon! 💾🔥
Night City doesn't slow down for anyone.
Here, every alley hides a threat, every deal can turn into a bloodbath, and every second could be your last.
🌃 Chrome.
🔫 Bullets.
💀 Cyberpsychos.
🏢 Corpos.
🩸 Street wars.
If you want to stay ahead of the public release, Patreon is where the real action begins.
Don't fall behind, choom. Night City eats the slow. ⚙️🔥
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
🛑 ALSO AVAILABLE ON PATREON:
🌃 Cyberpunk: Dogtown Legend
👩👦 Cyberpunk: Lucy Adopted Me and I Got a System
🧠 My Cyberpunk 2077 Simulator
🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
🛡️ Star Wars: The Rise of Mandalore
🌌 Star Wars: Relics of the Past
🏰 Game of Thrones: Secrets Beneath the Dreadfort
⚡ The Rebirth of Harry Potter
🌹 R18: Reincarnated in Her World
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
🔗 Patreon: www.patreon.com/c/MrMagnus
👤 Patreon Name: SrMagnus
🐦 X / Twitter: https://x.com/SrMagnusBook
⚠️ Power Stones decide which novel updates faster!
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━