Karl wasn't entirely sure whether this mechanical relic—something developed by Militech back in the day—was actually under Barghest control and being used to chase them. But one thing he knew for certain:
This thing was bad news.
Honestly, Karl had always thought killer robots were a cool trope in movies. But when you're the one being hunted, and that cold chunk of metal is barreling toward you?
Yeah. Not so cool.
When in doubt, shoot first.
Karl wasn't about to wait for this spider-bot—looking eerily like his old pal "Shorthead"—to make the first move. When it got within thirty meters, ready to pounce, Karl raised his weapon.
Kenshin. Fully charged.
He pulled the trigger. Electromagnetic acceleration flared to life, launching a round like a bolt of lightning—straight at the bot's glowing crimson eye.
CLANG.
A harsh metallic impact rang out. Karl's expression darkened.
"Even the eyes are reinforced? The older it is, the tougher it gets—what is this, a martial arts manga?"
"Don't get cocky, Karl! It's coming!" Lied's warning exploded in his earpiece.
The mech's claws spun wildly as it lunged. It really did move like a spider, clearly designed to mimic arachnid strikes—fast, precise, and lethal.
"Good thing old tech wasn't that absurd."
Karl exhaled lightly and flashed to the side. His body moved like lightning, dodging the Hellhound's deadly lunge.
The claws missed by a hair, carving a deep gouge in the load-bearing wall behind him. Rebar and concrete shredded like paper.
Karl glanced at the mess, a sigh in his heart.
"If this keeps up, the damn wall's gonna collapse and bury us. That'd be a lame way to go."
He holstered the Kenshin, its barrel still glowing hot. But the result was clear—standard weapons weren't cutting it.
Karl carried three guns: Kenshin, Yoru, and Yinglong. All elite pieces. The Kenshin, a tech weapon, was especially known for its armor-piercing capabilities. And yet, even that couldn't penetrate this bot's optic sensors.
"If bullets won't work, guess it's time for blades." Karl muttered as his hand went to his waist.
He drew a small knife—gifted by Seiko. It was short, but loaded with anti-mech lethality. As the blade glinted in his hand, Karl didn't hesitate—he hurled it straight at the Hellhound.
Right as the blade left his fingers, the mech shifted position, preparing to leap off a support pillar. But just as its "legs" touched the wall—
The EMP blade activated.
"Mechanical or not, everything's got a weakness."
Karl mentally thanked the fact that Kanto's anti-EMP tech hadn't made it into legacy bots like this.
The red light in the Hellhound's optics blinked out. Its massive body crashed from the wall to the floor, completely inert.
Karl strolled over and casually yanked the blade from the wall. It was nearly embedded to the hilt, but still cold and sharp.
He gave the mechanical corpse a once-over.
"Three meters tall, legs alone are like six feet," he estimated.
Lied, who had witnessed the entire thing, was stunned.
This was state-of-the-art military robotics from a bygone era—bulletproof, rebar-shredding claws, the whole nine yards—and Karl had taken it down with a throwing knife. Just like that.
When the Hellhound pounced, Lied had been racing through tactical responses in his mind.
Karl had already ended the fight.
"No wonder they call him KK." Lied thought.
Karl's instincts were razor-sharp. In a single glance, he'd spotted the Hellhound's vulnerability. And once he saw it? The rest was over.
A true merc legend.
Karl didn't seem particularly proud. To him, using an EMP blade on a robot—or a neurotoxin knife on a person—was just basic logic. Adapt your tactics to the target. Any decent merc could've done the same.
He just happened to have the right blade on hand. That was all.
In fact, Karl expected to be able to analyze an enemy instantly and devise the most efficient takedown. If he couldn't, that would've been the real problem.
Fear, tension, dread—he still felt those emotions. But even with them clouding the air, his brain stayed sharp. Always planning, always precise.
Zzzzip—
With a flick of the wrist, Karl activated a monowire. A silver gleam flashed through the air—one of the Hellhound's legs fell clean off.
He raised an eyebrow.
There was almost no resistance. It felt like slicing paper.
This machine—once a symbol of mankind's peak tech—was no more than a fragile toy now.
Lied had said "impervious to bullets and blades." Right now, Karl figured maybe it was just bullets.
He nodded slightly. Firearms might have stagnated—but melee weapons? Those had gotten better. Smarter. Sharper. Engineered for modern efficiency.
Guns had evolved mostly in terms of smart features and tracking systems. But raw firepower? That hadn't changed much. Why improve what already worked?
Close-combat gear, on the other hand, had kept evolving—designed to slice cleaner, cut deeper.
Clack-clack—
After a minute, the Hellhound twitched. EMP disruption wore off.
Before the bot's red eyes could light up again—
Slice. Slice. Slice.
Karl had already carved it up with the monowire, dismembering it into scrap.
But as he cut, he came across something curious.
"Hey Lied—what the hell is this thing?"
Karl held up something that looked like a card, plucked from the Hellhound's frame. He'd made sure not to damage it during disassembly. Something about it felt… central. Core-like.
"Behavioral system component," Lied answered. "It stores the Hellhound's movement patterns. That's all I know. Research teams looked into it years ago but couldn't crack it. If you force it, it fries the whole core. Since it still responds to legacy corp commands, they just left it alone."
"Huh. Good to know."
Karl flipped the card in his fingers, then slipped it into his jacket pocket.
Summary: it's good stuff.
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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