"Who are those two? Don't recognize their faces."
A crowd had gathered around Karl and Lied, drawing the attention of Kurt Hansen. He gave the pair a once-over, then turned to his subordinate to inquire about their background.
"From the East Coast," the subordinate replied after scanning data with his cybernetic eye and cross-referencing it with their appearance. "Minor family with a bit of backing. The older one's the younger guy's uncle."
"A family, huh? Which one?"
Now Hansen was intrigued.
After the fragmentation of the United States, many of its once-prominent families had collapsed or faded into obscurity. A minor family with some backing? That phrase alone was enough to make him suspicious.
"The Van Buren family."
"Martin Van Buren..."
Kurt Hansen repeated the name aloud.
That was the name of the eighth President of the United States.
Back when America was founded, the Van Buren family wasn't particularly famous. Even Martin Van Buren's great-grandfather had arrived in the New World as an indentured servant. But after Martin became President, the family had squeezed its way into the ranks of America's aristocracy. Still... this was 2077. At best, they were a minor house now.
"Should we keep an eye on them?"
Hansen shook his head. "Just a small-time family. Check what they're doing here, but no need to focus on them."
His gaze drifted over to the younger Van Buren. "The people around him will keep watch on our behalf."
The subordinate glanced toward the handsome young man, noting the men and women clustered around him, and nodded.
There's a world of difference between how information is gathered about someone who's being watched and someone who isn't. For high-profile guests like these, all they needed to do was monitor the movement of the crowd. If it dispersed, they'd know something was up.
As Kurt Hansen looked away from the younger Van Buren, deep within the throng of people, Karl casually cast a glance in Hansen's direction.
"Kurt Hansen is no longer watching us," Karl murmured into the comms as he fended off the attention of eager men and women. "But how are we supposed to get close to him? Everyone's got their eyes on us."
"Gather intel. No need to act yet."
Lied, far more at ease mingling among the guests with a drink in hand and a polite smile on his face, was exchanging chatter while feeding updates through the comms. "I've already picked up part of Hansen's schedule. After the banquet, he's heading out to train some new Hellhounds recruits."
"Training Hellhounds means he'll probably head to another floor in the tower. Doesn't seem relevant to us. What, are you planning to sneak into the recruits, get close to him during sparring, and swipe his dog tag in the middle of a fistfight?"
Silence followed Karl's sarcastic remark—Lied was clearly mulling over how to approach Hansen and snag something that personal from him.
"Stay in contact," came Lied's eventual reply over the comms, then silence.
Stay in contact?
Karl blinked at the message. That was it?
Is this guy even reliable? He doesn't seem to have a solid plan...
Aren't intelligence agents supposed to be those lone-wolf types who think all their superiors are idiots, handle everything themselves, and end up saving the world single-handedly?
Guess I've been watching too many spy thrillers with Oliver.
Karl sighed to himself. He'd have to come up with something on his own.
At the very least, this so-called ace agent had given him a useful lead.
"So, he's planning to train the Hellhounds recruits soon..."
Disguising himself as a Hellhound rookie was clearly out of the question.
To join the Hellhounds, your background had to be ironclad. And recruits handpicked by Kurt Hansen for personal training? You better believe their IDs had been verified six ways to Sunday.
If Karl tried to impersonate one of them, he'd get exposed almost immediately. With someone as paranoid and cautious as Hansen, even a single slip-up would be enough to get him killed.
Sure, Karl was confident he could escape from a room full of Hellhounds—but the mission would be blown.
If Hansen realized someone had gotten close to him, and that the infiltrator had real skills, he'd immediately figure out their intent. At that point, trying to snatch the dog tag without hurting him would be impossible.
In other words, to get the dog tag, he'd have to act without alerting Hansen at all—or even arousing suspicion.
How the hell is that supposed to work?
If something that personal went missing—especially something linked to the President—people would know it was gone the very next second.
Karl pondered for a while, then decided to keep it simple.
Stealth theft wasn't viable—it'd be noticed. So instead, he'd let it be noticed... just not right away.
If he could buy enough time to escape Dogtown, that was still better than trying to swipe it under heavy guard.
As the banquet continued, Karl politely turned down nearly a dozen invitations from flirtatious young men and women to "go somewhere private." After that, he shared his plan with Lied—and the ace agent finally showed a hint of real usefulness.
"I know there's a tunnel beneath this Jadeite Tower," Lied said, a trace of hesitation in his voice. "It's filled with toxic sewage and laced with proximity mines planted by the Hellhounds. But if you want the fastest exit, that's your best bet."
"I've got internal mods for resisting toxins and radiation. The sewers won't kill me—at least not right away. But you..."
"Will their elevators still be functional?"
"They'll lock things down. But if you've got the skills—or mantis blades—the exterior wall could be a viable option. Just make sure to avoid the patrol drones."
"Then that's the plan."
"That's the plan?" Lied echoed in disbelief.
He'd clearly underestimated how fast Karl would move once he made up his mind. The moment Karl saw that the plan was feasible and aligned with his style, he acted.
As the banquet drew to a close, Karl accepted an invitation from the same young woman who'd approached him earlier. They were about to leave the Jadeite Tower for a "private conversation" at a nearby hotel. At the same time, Kurt Hansen also stood up, ready to begin his training session with the Hellhounds recruits.
With a bright smile, the young woman clung to Karl's arm, clearly enjoying the jealous looks of the others. But just then, the brilliant lights of the Jadeite Tower abruptly went out.
The hackers monitoring the banquet floor noticed no sign of intrusion.
Because this wasn't an intrusion.
Karl's left arm was still wrapped around the young woman. But in his right hand, fingers were subtly curved—
A small throwing knife, a gift from Haruko, had just been flung into the electrical control system he'd identified earlier.
The blade disrupted the lighting system with a targeted EMP.
And in the brief gap before backup power came online and the surveillance system rebooted, Karl executed his move on the woman beside him.
"Memory wipe."
The blue-eyed girl fell into a daze in the darkness. Her grip on Karl's arm slackened.
Meanwhile, the sudden blackout caused a momentary panic. Karl slipped free from her grasp and took a steadying breath.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
He had maneuvered himself to be exactly seven meters from Kurt Hansen—who was also heading toward the elevators.
That distance was perfect.
The panic lasted no more than two seconds before the lights blinked back on.
"Ugh..."
The girl wobbled slightly, but Karl was quick to catch her.
"You okay?" he asked with a charming smile.
She blushed.
"I'm fine."
In her memory, he'd never left her side.
Together, they stepped into the elevator.
At that precise moment, a knife weaving through the crowd completed a seamless handoff with a chip.
'Nicely done, Lied. Fast reflexes.'
The elevator began to descend. On the opposite side of the hall, Kurt Hansen frowned.
"Find out what caused that outage. Something feels off," he told his men as he stepped into another elevator.
The elevator descended to the floor where the training would take place. Greeting the recruits with a speech full of charisma and conviction, Hansen praised the perks of joining the Hellhounds—status, power, family prestige.
He watched them train, personally mentoring a few promising candidates. Everything was proceeding smoothly. The future of the Hellhounds looked bright.
And yet... the uneasy feeling in his gut kept growing stronger.
After flooring another recruit during a sparring demonstration, a staff member handed him the outage report.
"Looks like an EMP—temporary disruption to the floor's electrical system."
"An EMP?" Hansen growled. "Dig deeper."
Instinctively, he gripped the dog tag on his chest.
It was still there. Everything seemed fine.
A false alarm?
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a sharp sting pricked his palm.
He opened his hand.
A thin cut had split open his skin.
Hansen stood frozen for a moment, staring at the blood.
Then he looked down at the tag on his chest—now visible, hanging from his open hand.
The dog tag had been sliced neatly in two from the bottom, like twin razor blades.
And in between those two thin metal halves—the specially modified compartment where he'd hidden a critical data chip—
Was gone.
(End of Chapter)
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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