The Moth Bar.
Karl had assumed that once Daphne's mission ended, this old agent outpost would've been abandoned. To his surprise, it was still in use—only the owner had changed.
"You spies aren't too worried about leaks, huh? The last owner and the current one are both agents of the New United States. You've really turned this bar into your permanent hideout?"
"This used to be one of our secret bases."
Lied was behind the counter mixing drinks. "Besides, we've already established a new base. Even if this place is exposed now, it doesn't really matter."
"So that last part's the real reason, huh."
Karl leaned an arm on the bar, glancing around. "Still… this bar feels a lot more rundown than it used to. Your management skills can't match your predecessor's."
"Not everyone needs to sit around waiting for orders all day."
Lied replied as he slid a glass in front of Karl.
It was a glass of sweet iced tea, with mint leaves and ice—Karl's go-to drink at almost every bar he visited.
"You've really done your homework on me."
Karl casually picked up the glass. With a glance, he confirmed it was clean.
No harmful substances. Just an excess of syrup from the sweet tea. The ice was made from good-quality water.
On that front, it matched the quality of the previous bartender.
He took a small sip, feeling the flavor bloom on his tongue, and narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
It was exactly to his liking.
"Just the necessary intel," Lied said, noticing Karl's pleased expression. He pulled out a flat object and slid it toward Karl across the bar. "I believe the basis for any partnership is mutual understanding."
"What a textbook answer. Do you agents get trained to say things like that? Sounds like a standard-issue line."
Karl accepted the object Lied had passed over.
It was a flat, glass-like device. If not for the red and blue English letters flickering faintly across the surface, it would've looked like an ordinary piece of glass.
For a moment, Karl thought he was looking at a tablet.
And its function likely wasn't far off.
As the red and blue letters flickered, they began to form lines of text. But the words were scrambled—completely out of order, impossible to read as proper sentences.
"Encrypted?"
Karl looked up at Lied. The thing was clearly not showing any useful info—unless it was malfunctioning, it had to have a dedicated decoding method.
"Please wait a moment."
Lied's tone was polite as he gestured toward the flickering interface. "Someone will be contacting you shortly."
"You're not the contact?"
"I'm just the operative assigned to work with you."
Karl let out a sigh.
Military-grade secrecy really was something else.
First, he was sent to meet an operative at one location, only to be redirected to this supposedly abandoned base to connect with the real contact.
At this rate, you'd think they were planning an assassination on Saburo Arasaka or something—oh wait, Saburo's already dead. Guess it's Yorinobu now.
Hopefully it wouldn't turn out to be that same old Smith guy again, acting all cryptic.
As he was thinking that, the red and blue letters finally stabilized, forming a full sentence:
"First contact—Mercenary KK."
"How am I supposed to reply?"
Karl turned to Lied and pointed at the glass device. "Can they hear me on the other end? Is there a mic in this thing?"
Lied didn't speak. He just nodded, clearly not wanting to interrupt the voice capture with his own.
"As long as they can hear me… I'm KK. I don't think I need to introduce myself, so—what's the job?"
The letters shifted again.
"KK, I know you're smart and hate small talk, so I'll get straight to the point—Hansen in Dogtown has a document. I want it."
Karl drummed his fingers lightly on the counter.
So the Intelligence Agency—New USA—wanted a file from Hansen. Was he supposed to act surprised? Or curious about what was in the file?
Obviously not. As a merc, all Karl needed was one thing: clarity.
"Hansen, huh? That bastard's no joke. Without an invite, getting into his turf might be tougher than Arasaka Tower. At least Arasaka's lobby doesn't have half as many exosuits and ACPA posted. You got intel and a plan?"
The text changed again.
"The document is on Hansen's person. No plan has been made."
"That's it? No plan, no internal spy, no entry point? You're basically asking me to walk in blind?"
Karl frowned at the reply. "You guys confident you can actually pull this off? Sounds more like a suicide mission to me."
"I may have personnel who could attempt it, but none of them have even half your success probability. Or rather, not even close to what you and Lied together could accomplish."
"Well, guess I'm flattered then. You really trust me that much?"
"Because you are KK—Night City's top-tier merc. I might not trust my own judgment, but I fully trust what you demonstrated working with us in the past, and how you handled the Arasaka family."
Karl raised an eyebrow at that.
It was starting to sound like one of those military tech ads—"Arasaka-grade quality, guaranteed."
"I'll take that as a compliment. So, this document Hansen carries—it must be stored somewhere. You got intel on where?"
"That wasn't flattery. It's a factual evaluation of your capabilities. Hansen always wears a military dog tag. Though he's betrayed the New United States, he still keeps his old ID badge close to his chest. The file is hidden inside a compartment within the dog tag."
"A dog tag, huh. That's about as personal as it gets."
"According to my intel, that document concerns a covert operation by Washington's high command—an operation targeting me. If you retrieve it, your reward will be substantial."
An operation targeting me?
Reading that last line, Karl froze for a second—then realized who was on the other end of the transmission.
No wonder they were being so cautious.
No wonder even Lied, the legendary elite operative from the intelligence files, was sitting there like an obedient dog, listening without a word.
The person on the other end of the line clearly had the rank and authority to justify such extreme secrecy and command presence.
There weren't many people who could trigger a secret operation from high-level officials in Washington.
And if you added the hawkish faction into the equation—
Then the list of possible targets narrowed down to just one.
Rosalind Myers, President of the New United States of America.
The person on the other end of the transmission was her.
And she had subtly revealed her identity to Karl through a single sentence.
She hadn't stated it outright, but had conveyed the message in a way that any smart person would understand.
She was extremely cautious.
Even with this encrypted glass panel built specifically for confidential communication, she refused to leave behind any trace that could compromise her identity.
Karl understood—and naturally, he wasn't so tactless as to call her by name.
The reason she had hinted at her identity was to get him to take this seriously.
Or perhaps to show that he was someone she took seriously.
That she valued KK, the mercenary.
If even the President of the New United States was extending a gesture of goodwill, there was no reason for Karl to slap away the hand of someone smiling at him.
Especially since they were, after all, in a working relationship.
"I understand," Karl said with a slight nod.
"So to put it simply—the dog tag Hansen carries has a hidden file. My job is to find a way to retrieve it with Mr. Lied. The task is clear now.
But I should give you a heads-up—Hansen isn't exactly the type to hand something over quietly. If something were to happen to me…"
"You won't fail," the reply from Myers came through, almost like a warning. "Because if you do, Hansen will know who sent you—and when that happens, your situation will be worse than it is now."
Karl's tone remained light as he replied to what sounded like a mix of warning and concern:
"No, no. I do consider the possibility of failure. But I think… if I really did fail, Hansen might not survive it either.
And if it came to that, I'm sure someone else would be the one coming after me."
Rosalind Myers, on the other end, clearly didn't understand what he was implying.
"What exactly are you saying, KK?"
"I'm just being honest," Karl said with a smile, as if explaining an unimportant detail.
"The most likely way I'd fail… is by accidentally killing Kurt Hansen.
I mean, if you're going to take something someone carries on them at all times, and you slip up… well, ending their life in the process seems pretty natural, right?
Surely you wouldn't mind if Kurt Hansen ended up dead?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
The encrypted glass panel flickered with red and blue text, trying to form a reply—but nothing came immediately.
After a long silence, a cold line of English finally appeared, firm and undeniable:
"Kurt Hansen's life has its own value."
"So… killing him would still count as failure, huh? Guess I'll have to be extra careful then."
Karl paused for a moment, then added with a relaxed tone:
"Don't worry—I'll do my best to keep Hansen alive.
As long as he doesn't make it too difficult for me."
"I look forward to your performance."
With that, the screen returned to its red-and-blue encrypted garble.
"Well, then the mission's settled."
Karl casually placed the glass panel back onto the counter.
"Mr. Lied, for this operation, do you want to go with your plan? Or mine?
Because from here on out, it's time for the doers to get busy."
Lied, who had been silently listening to Karl the whole time, now saw KK in a completely new light.
This man—he wasn't worried about failing to get the file.
He was worried about accidentally killing Kurt Hansen, the King of Dogtown.
His entire demeanor radiated a self-assurance bordering on arrogance.
Was this the kind of attitude only a street merc could develop?
So completely different from someone trained inside the Intelligence Bureau.
Lied mentally evaluated him, quickly pinpointing the difference between them.
Operatives from the Bureau built their confidence on the backing of the New United States, on elite training, and the self-identity that came with being a top-tier agent.
They too carried a belief that no mission was impossible—but when facing truly difficult situations, they'd weigh the risks, the limits of their strength.
Sometimes, they'd even lose confidence.
But this mercenary—this man raised by the streets—was a different breed.
From beginning to end, he exuded a pure, unshakable confidence.
Or perhaps—
Mercs without that kind of belief in themselves had already died on the road.
Only those who always believed they'd survive could carry that kind of near-arrogant conviction.
It was… a unique feeling.
And perhaps infected just a little by Karl's unwavering confidence, Lied—faced with the question of whose plan to follow—decided to ask:
"So how do you want to do it?"
He was genuinely curious what this legendary merc, with a perfect success rate and glowing reviews from every employer, would come up with.
"Me?" Karl said, surprised that the Intelligence Bureau's ace—rumored to be on par with Morgan Blackhand himself—was asking him for ideas.
Karl was usually quite modest.
He believed that in front of someone older and more experienced, he should listen first.
But since he'd been asked—he'd answer.
"Infiltrate. Look for an opening. Snatch. Run."
Just four simple words.
But they said everything Karl needed to say.
Mission plans weren't better just because they were complicated.
Sometimes all you needed was a clear direction.
Even if the details were loose, overplanning could make things worse—one misstep could collapse the entire operation.
"So that's the kind of plan it is…"
Lied considered Karl's approach.
His own plan had been to locate Hansen's lover, use her to swap the dog tag, and then retreat from Dogtown before things blew up.
Comparing the two—
Lied came to a decision.
"Let's go with your plan."
They could still run their own ideas in parallel.
The two plans didn't conflict.
And if the switch failed—then they'd just snatch it and run.
-
-
-
-
🔥🦾 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!
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━