"I don't think we need any pleasantries, Mr. Reed."
Karl's use of "Mr." caught Reed's attention.
It wasn't just that Karl had some intel on Reed—Reed had plenty of intel on Karl as well. In fact, he had much more. His background, interests, blood type, preferred combat styles... everything. And that intel indicated one thing: whenever Karl addressed an older man with "Mr.," it meant he was showing a certain level of respect.
It wasn't clear how much respect that was, nor whether it came from habit or etiquette, but it was certain that when Karl showed signs of wanting to talk, all one had to do was listen—he would state his request on his own.
Reed, who always followed protocol, heard Karl continue.
"Let's get straight to the point. My mission is to establish contact with you and assist you to a certain extent in the tasks to come. I have no intention of prying into whatever the NUSA or the Intelligence Bureau are planning. From this point on, you call the shots. I'll follow."
You call the shots, I'll follow?
Reed nodded slightly to himself at those words.
No wonder all the reports, whether written files or internal analysis from the Bureau, spoke so highly of Karl. If he joined Militech, he'd be the Morgan Blackhand of 2077. He wasn't just skilled—he knew how to operate.
A merc who digs too deep into a mission isn't someone you can trust or use, no matter how capable. But a merc who knows the rules and has the skills? That's someone who's a pleasure to work with.
Since Karl had made it clear he didn't need excessive explanations and was ready to follow instructions, there was no need to hold back.
Reed said directly, "Come with me. Let's head somewhere familiar. But first—"
He looked at Karl's exposed face. "You'll need to cover that up."
"That's not a problem."
Karl slotted a chip. His appearance shifted. "But I did enter Dogtown with my real face. Is that going to be an issue?"
"As long as you stay discreet, it'll be fine."
Reed glanced toward the vehicle he had arrived in. "You don't mind walking, do you?"
"Taking a walk once in a while is good for physical and mental health."
After altering his appearance, Karl added, "By the way, Mr. Reed, are you sure your own identity is secure? I've got spare facial-masking chips if you need one."
"My face isn't particularly recognizable. Besides, I've got one of those chips myself."
As he spoke, Reed inserted a chip too. His African-American features shifted into those of a white man, his entire skin tone changing as well.
"We have tech you can't even imagine."
"An upgraded version? Changes the whole body now, not just the face? Still looks like projection tech, though. Doesn't it glitch when you move?"
"It uses integrated optical camo. It won't glitch during short-term use. Just don't let it overheat from extended projection."
Reed didn't mind revealing that part. After all, Militech had restarted the project thanks to KK's active use of it, and Arasaka would soon have their own version—probably even an improved one. Once both corps had it, it wouldn't be long before a mass-market version dropped.
"This stuff is fantastic. I wouldn't be surprised if a stripped-down version hits the shelves soon. I might even buy one myself," Karl said, never one to hold back praise for good tech.
The two strolled casually away from the basketball court, chatting along the way. Several vehicles raced past them, heading toward the spot where Reed had previously been in a firefight.
Once they arrived, the newcomers didn't hesitate—they whipped out high-caliber rocket launchers and fired at the vehicle Reed had left behind.
A towering explosion followed, heatwaves rippling outward in all directions.
Feeling the temperature shift, Karl glanced back—just once—but that glance revealed something he'd missed earlier, when Reed had blocked his view.
There was a mark on the attackers' vehicles.
It had been a long time since Karl had seen that mark in the city.
Not because the gang it represented no longer existed, but because they didn't dare show themselves in the areas Karl usually operated.
"Dogtown is still Dogtown, huh…"
Karl sighed. "Even the Scavs are out here running wild in broad daylight. Mr. Reed, I owe you an apology. Your delay was completely justified. I shouldn't have said anything earlier, because cleaning up the Scavs…"
He turned to face the vehicles.
"…is a good thing."
As Karl turned, the remote commands he'd issued to the vehicles were already in motion.
The Scavs' engines began to overheat, the rising temperature affecting nearby components. The methanol fuel in the tanks caught fire.
The Scavs, cheering and waving their launchers around, suddenly felt heat rising beneath them. One by one, the seat cushions ignited, catching their backsides on fire—cutting off their celebration with panicked screams.
There was no more cheering.
The methanol fuel, highly flammable and extremely volatile, spread fire to every vehicle in the convoy.
Inside the flames, the Scavs screamed in agony, scrambling to escape. But they couldn't. Inside those vehicles were stockpiles of rocket ammo, grenades, and other explosives, which had become dangerously unstable due to the heat.
Moments later, the vehicles exploded in rapid succession, a thunderous chain of blasts shaking the entire street.
Fire surged into the sky. Shockwaves swept across the area, engulfing everything in a sea of flames.
Even without turning back, Solomon Reed knew exactly what had just happened behind them.
He hacked the vehicle systems and made them self-destruct—just like that, in a single moment after looking back.
Reed's evaluation of Karl rose again.
KK... He clearly wasn't someone you could understand from a dossier alone.
In the corner of Reed's eye, Karl looked quite pleased—he even cracked a smile.
After all, clearing out the trash always feels good.
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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