Cyberpunk: 2075

Carl watched as the cybernetic eyes on Demon's face exploded before him.

He staggered, head spinning, body tilting to the side.

"Hey! You okay, KK?!"

Oliver rushed in first, catching Carl before he collapsed completely.

His gaze flicked toward the now-headless Maelstrom ganger, his face twisting in both awe and disgust.

"Shit... that really does look like a blood flower blooming."

"Almost died."

Carl groaned, pain flooding through his entire face.

His hand felt like it was dislocated too.

The Crusher's recoil was insane—

One shot and his arms had gone numb.

"C'mon, let's get you up."

Jack stepped in to help lift Carl, his eyes briefly scanning his crooked nose and the torn flesh of his cheek.

Then, he placed a firm hand on Carl's nose.

"Brace yourself."

CRACK.

Carl felt a sharp snap in his skull as Jack forcefully reset his nose.

"AAARGH!"

The searing pain made Carl scream.

"Goddamn it, Jack! You couldn't give me a second to prepare?!"

Jack grinned, completely unfazed.

"The more you prepare, the worse it hurts."

His voice was way too calm for someone who had just realigned another dude's broken nose.

"How's it feel now?"

Carl grimaced, running his fingers over his nose, wincing.

"Better. Hurts like hell, but at least it's not throbbing anymore."

He exhaled, then glanced toward the dead Maelstrom ganger.

"Judging by the quality of that subdermal armor, she must've been one of the top dogs here."

Carl sighed, relieved.

"There's no way a regular grunt could afford armor that tanked Copperhead rounds. Looks like we can breathe a little easier."

"No wonder this gig pays ten grand," Jack muttered.

His tone had changed—that "corporate chick" was back to being a corpo bitch.

"I thought she was just being generous, but nah—this gig was actually a pain in the ass."

He kicked Demon's lifeless body.

"That kind of armor? Starts at least thirty grand easy."

Carl chuckled, clapping Jack on the shoulder.

"Well, once we find that damn crate and torch it, we'll be walking away with seventy grand. You'll have enough to afford some decent subdermal plating."

Jack grinned.

"Long as we hit up Vik first. We're all pretty fucked up."

"Agreed."

Oliver bent down, picking up the Crusher Carl had dropped.

"Might as well check these bodies, see if we can skim some creds from their accounts."

He smirked.

"Just hope we didn't shoot their heads up too much. Can't hack into a fried brain."

Carl shrugged.

"Not happening. I made sure to pop every single one."

Then he shot Oliver a glance.

"By the way... any idea why she was so dead set on killing you?"

Oliver frowned.

"Beats me."

He nudged Demon's corpse with his boot.

"I've never even been to Watson before yesterday. Whatever grudge she had wasn't from me."

Jack let out a low whistle.

"If she were still alive, we could've had a netrunner dig into her logs and find out."

Carl smirked.

"Well... too bad she's dead."

Despite their casual chatter, the trio didn't waste time—

Jack limped around, gathering weapons to sell later, while Carl and Oliver searched for a terminal to dig up any logs about the crate's location.

It took thirty minutes, but Carl finally found a working computer in an office on the first floor.

He jacked in, sifting through files.

No logs about their specific target—

But something else caught his eye.

It was a record of all Maelstrom activity over the past few weeks.

Raids.

Ambushes.

Conflicts with rival gangs and corpos.

Everything.

Carl leaned back.

He remembered the news report he'd heard when he first arrived in Night City—

"Maelstrom's been stirring shit up in Kabuki again."

Then there was the Sixth Street convoy that got hit.

And now this corporate crate.

It wasn't random.

Maelstrom was building toward something.

Something big.

...But that wasn't his problem.

He was just a merc.

He had no business getting caught up in gang wars.

Just as he was about to disconnect, his commlink buzzed.

"Yo, found the crate."

Oliver's voice came through.

He also sent over coordinates.

Carl smirked.

He disconnected from the terminal, pulled out his Lexington, and fired a single shot—

Blowing the computer to hell.

It wasn't really about concealment—

They had already been exposed on the cameras anyway.

Carl just wanted to test his gun's stopping power.

The Lexington couldn't penetrate subdermal armor, but it could destroy a computer just fine.

Still, watching the bullet embed itself into the terminal instead of blowing straight through, he thought—

"It's... passable, I guess."

The penetration just wasn't enough.

Yeah… maybe he really did need a new gun.

Carl had already made up his mind—

His "old love" of just two days was about to get ditched.

By the time he reached Oliver's position, Jack was already there.

And right in front of them—

Was the exact same crate described in the client's dossier.

Carl nodded to the two of them, then dialed the corpo's number.

After a few rings, the line connected.

"How's the job?"

No greetings.

No introductions.

She already knew it was Carl calling.

This number was probably created just for this job.

"We've got the crate. Want us to verify it first?"

"Describe it."

Carl scanned the box and relayed its features and markings—

Including the red flower emblem printed on its surface.

"That's the one. Destroy it."

"Understood."

Carl glanced at Oliver, giving him a nod.

Oliver plugged into a nearby access point, linking up with the room's security feed and starting a recording.

Meanwhile, Jack tied several grenades to the crate.

After dragging it to a far corner, he yanked all the pins and sprinted away.

Five seconds later—

A blast wave tore through the room.

The crate was blown to pieces.

For just a brief moment before it detonated, Carl thought he saw data shards inside—

Thin, rectangular slates of encrypted information.

But they were gone now—

Incinerated.

Oliver disconnected from the feed, saved the recording, and sent it to Carl.

Carl forwarded it to the client.

Seconds later—

The call ended.

No extra words.

Instead—

A text message came in:

"You did well. You weren't too curious. I'm satisfied."

Immediately after, Carl's account flashed a notification—

70,000 eddies received.

"Well?"

Oliver eyed the smoldering wreckage—

He was curious about what was inside…

But more interested in the payout.

"Just came through. Sending your cuts now."

A moment later—

Oliver's account pinged with a deposit of 23,300 eddies.

Jack got the same amount.

"There's an extra 100 eddies that wouldn't split evenly."

Carl smirked.

"Let's call it dinner money. We should hit a decent spot tonight."

"I know a few good places."

Jack grinned.

Then, after a brief pause, he added:

"Though… a hundred eddies won't cut it at those spots. I'll send a bit back."

Carl waved him off.

"Forget it. My treat."

And with that—

Their first job as a crew was officially complete.

Job payout: 100,000 eddies.