Watching the mother and child he had just covered medical expenses for get loaded into a proper treatment vehicle, Karl turned to Andy and asked, “You gonna say I’ve got a good heart or something?”

“No.”

Andy shook his head. “I was just thinking—Karl, no matter when it is, you never change. From the first time we met till now, you’ve always been the same—someone who treats people with respect.”

Andy had seen it all: Karl saving the mother and child, covering their emergency treatment—but also checking that they had insurance and medical coverage. After confirming their records, Karl had quietly used their own accounts to cover the bill. The money he paid was just to authorize the payment while they were unconscious.

And Karl had even chosen the hospital they were registered at. Andy had seen the whole thing unfold on Karl’s phone.

“Respect, huh?”

Karl didn’t think much of it. “I just don’t want people feeling indebted.”

If they had the money, insurance, and coverage, there was no need to help them financially. Let their own systems handle it.

“But even so… you still saved their lives, didn’t you?”

“No debt, huh? That’s not how saving someone works.”

Andy gave him a long look. “You save a life—that’s a debt you carry forever.”

“I don’t care. And I hope they never find out.”

Karl chuckled. “Otherwise, they’ll say KK ripped the door off their car for some twisted experiment, realized they weren’t worth it, dumped them in a hospital, and even drained their bank account.”

He shook his phone.

“I mean, technically, I did do all that.”

Ripping the door open at the last second, dragging them out of a wreck, stabilizing them, and paying their bill with their own funds…

“Your reputation’s… hard to define,” Andy said, recalling a recent braindance den raid. “Funny how most people have never seen you, but still paint you as some kind of nightmare.”

“That’s just how people imagine elite mercs,” Karl shrugged. “Back in the day, maybe Morgan Blackhand had a good rep. But nowadays, all we’ve got is that walking toaster.”

He clearly blamed Adam Smasher for the bad PR.

Not that Karl cared much about his reputation—so long as no one was peddling garbage like “KK’s Wild Night at the Cloudtop Lounge” or some even weirder slander. That kind of thing was straight-up character defamation and worth digging into.

He’d rather not walk into Afterlife and overhear someone claiming they saw KK go into Big Bird’s Spin Lounge with two guys.

Wait—two guys?

He counted.

Oliver. Jackie.

Oh right… they did go into that club once on a gig.

Suddenly, the origin of that strange rumor became clear.

As Karl spiraled into that absurd thought, his phone rang. V was calling.

Since Karl had jumped out to help the injured, V had taken over tailing and handling the rest of the client handoff. By now, the job should’ve been wrapped up.

But what V said next caught Karl completely off guard.

“Cormack’s dead.”

Then, after a pause: “Kiley too.”

…What?

Now that was a surprise.

The client and the operative were both dead? On a job that was already near completion?

Even if Karl had stepped out, V was still on it. How could this happen?

“What the hell happened?”

Karl frowned. It was just a small-time job, but a failed result always left a bad taste.

Until now, Karl had never failed a mission.

Just as he was lamenting his perfect record being broken, V’s explanation gave him some relief.

“Kiley delivered the package to Cormack. Job was officially complete. But before Cormack could send over the final payment, a Militech hit squad stormed in and killed them both.”

“They didn’t pay the rest?!”

“Yep. First time getting stiffed. Well—mostly stiffed.”

Karl quickly pieced it together. Both died after the mission was officially over. V had no further obligation to protect them. And now they owed Karl and V money… posthumously.

“I thought you were the type to go above and beyond. Why didn’t you step in?”

“Didn’t make financial sense.”

V’s response was blunt.

“I crunched the numbers. That Militech team was elite. Taking them out would’ve cost me serious effort, plus it would’ve put me on Militech’s shit list. Even if Cormack paid double, it wouldn’t be worth it. Dude underpaid. So no reason to go the extra mile.”

So now V was making business decisions.

Night City really was a crucible—churning out hustlers out of even the most honest wanderers.

Karl understood. Don’t intervene: lose the final payment. Intervene: maybe get paid but definitely piss off Militech and waste energy. Not worth it.

“Great. So we just lost the rest of the money.”

“Not necessarily.”

V continued, “I woke T-Bug up—she’s pissed, but digging into Cormack’s assets in Watson. I’m planning to sell whatever looks valuable to Regina. Cormack owed us money, so we’ll take his turf and assets as payment. I’ve got the mission logs to back it up—nobody can dispute that.”

…Hold up.

When did V get this clever?

“You sure you’re V?”

“Fuck off, Karl. Just ’cause I was born a nomad doesn’t mean I can’t do math.”

V snapped, then added, “Oh, and that Militech team saw me. Their leader wants to talk.”

“To talk?”

“Kiley had just asked Cormack if the box was MaxTac gear. Cormack didn’t get a chance to answer before he got dropped. But the Militech squad straight-up told me: it’s a document containing MaxTac transport routes.”

Transport routes?

So the box wasn’t MaxTac’s gear—but it was connected to them.

Turns out that half-crazy Valentinos relic wasn’t entirely full of shit.

“So?”

“So now their higher-ups want to hire us to hit one of those transport runs.”

.-

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