“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. KK.” At the hotel where the team was staying, Kenichi Kazunari had already been waiting for Karl and the oth

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. KK.”

At the hotel where the team was staying, Kenichi Kazunari had already been waiting for Karl and the others for quite some time.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Kazunari,” Karl replied politely. He always referred to older people with respect, and Kenichi was no exception. After the brief greeting, he got straight to the point. “So, is the meeting with Kurt Hansen arranged? When do we go?”

“The meeting is scheduled for 8:30 p.m. tomorrow evening. At that time, we’ll depart from this hotel in a designated vehicle.”

“A designated vehicle?” Karl raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the Hella they had parked in the basement. “Can’t we use our own car?”

“There are certain inspection protocols,” Kenichi explained.

“Just for us, or does everyone get the same treatment?”

Kenichi simply answered, “Your reputation, Mr. KK—even in Dogtown, Kurt Hansen knows your name well.”

“In other words, they’re afraid I’ll bring something in and take him out, huh?”

Karl couldn’t help but smirk. Hansen was being overly cautious. If Karl really wanted to kill him, he didn’t need to sneak anything in—his cyberware was more than enough. Still, he understood. Hansen was the ruler of Dogtown, and a ruler needed to be careful. Karl didn’t dwell on it.

Looking outside at the midday sky, he realized they’d arrived early. There were still about 30 hours before the meeting. No way they were going to sit around the hotel all that time.

Not that the hotel was uncomfortable—far from it. Originally designed as a luxury resort for the elite, the place was only partially finished, but for Karl’s crew, who were used to tiny rooms in megabuildings, garages, or tents in the Badlands, a nearly 100-square-meter suite felt palatial.

Still, no matter how comfy the rooms, expecting a squad to sit tight for 30 hours was pushing it. Especially for someone like V, who couldn’t sit still. Even Oliver and Jack hadn’t brought any braindances or training chips to pass the time. What were they supposed to do, sit and watch TV and chat for 30 hours?

Even the food and drinks were supplied by Barghest. While it wasn’t bad, it didn’t seem necessary to confine themselves here.

“Did Barghest impose any restrictions on us leaving?” Karl asked.

“None,” Kenichi replied. “You’re free to go wherever you wish, Mr. KK—so long as you don’t do anything that might jeopardize the meeting.”

“No need to call me KK. Just Karl is fine. We’ve worked together before. And we’ll be relying on you for the negotiation. But good to know—as long as we behave, we’re free to go?”

“Exactly. If that’s what you’d like, please, feel free.”

So they didn’t have to stay locked in. That was enough for Karl.

Dogtown was new even to Oliver and Jack, both locals. Now that they had the chance, they weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to explore.

“I’ll go start the car,” Oliver said.

Before he turned nineteen, Dogtown hadn’t yet fallen under Hansen’s control. The Unification War hadn’t even broken out yet. And Oliver, who’d lived in Santo Domingo his entire life up to age 24, had never visited this mysterious, militarized zone. He was by far the most curious of the group.

“I’ve heard Dogtown is a hotspot for global arms deals,” he said. “There’s weapon trading everywhere and all kinds of badass custom mods. The stadium is supposed to be the main marketplace. How about we check that out first?”

V’s eyes lit up. Clearly, his idea of “sightseeing” was weapon shopping. Forget food and culture—guns were what interested him.

“The EBM Petrochem Stadium? I’m down,” Jack chimed in. “Even though we’re not short on weapons after Karl’s last job, we didn’t get any real heavy hitters. I could use something with serious firepower.”

Karl, remembering the RPG he saw back at Kerry’s place, agreed. “Same here. Brown and the others got theirs through Dogtown channels. Might be time we picked one up too.”

“That’s three votes,” Jack said. “I’m good with wherever. Let’s do it.”

Oliver didn’t mind driving. Meanwhile, Kenichi’s expression changed slightly as he listened.

Maybe it was just his imagination… but the way they were talking, it almost sounded like they were planning something shady. RPGs, heavy weapons—it was a bit much for a casual shopping trip.

Would Hansen’s people misunderstand their intentions?

As Kenichi hesitated, wondering if he should say something, his uncle Kenichi Shiro’s words echoed in his mind:

“When working with them, just let them do their thing. Don’t try to make sense of it. Your rational mind won’t understand.”

So Kenichi chose to keep quiet. But just as the group was about to head out, he called them back.

“One moment, everyone.”

He handed each of them a set of items.

“What’s this?” Jack asked, inspecting a chip and a card.

“Those are facial projection chips developed by our company,” Kenichi explained. “They’re based on Militech behavior prediction models. Once inserted, they project a virtual disguise over your face using light fields. As long as no one physically touches your face, the projection will mimic your expressions perfectly.”

“In other words, it’s a non-invasive facial illusion tech,” Karl said, then picked up the card. “And this?”

“Temporary identities,” Kenichi said. “Karl, yours designates you as an Arasaka-hired security advisor. The rest of you are listed as members of a special Arasaka operations unit.”

“Special ops?” V blinked and looked at his card.

Sure enough, it read:

Second Operations Unit – Captain

Karl chuckled. “Figures. Kenichi Shiro still hasn’t given up trying to recruit V.”

–

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