Cyberpunk: The Relentless

"It's a mess downstairs."

Standing in the banquet hall, Karl watched the Arasaka executives chatting away with fake smiles, seemingly unfazed by the chaos unfolding below. He popped a freshly rinsed grape under his helmet and into his mouth.

The thumb-sized purple grape burst with sweet and sour juice as he chewed, instantly sharpening his senses.

Sourness really does wake you up.

Karl's peripheral vision remained on Hanako and Maki as he sent a message through the comms to V and the others.

Karl: Need backup?

V: It's a mess, but we're holding!

V replied while slicing through a squad leader's neck with his glowing thermal katana. Fortunately, the man was just infected—no internal explosives—so V didn't need to activate Sandevistan to escape.

Catching his breath, V followed up.

V: How's it looking upstairs? Safe?

Karl: Smooth sailing. Peace, prosperity, and pageantry.

V: Huh? What's that supposed to mean?

Karl: Singing and dancing to celebrate peace. Usually a way to paper over the cracks.

As Karl explained, he scanned the execs. Despite their composed faces, a few twitched at each rumbling explosion from below. The banquet hall's soundproofing was excellent—Karl only heard clearly thanks to comms.

Were they getting updates from subordinates? Or maybe the subtle vibrations were giving them away? Execs who survived a nuke fifty years ago might be a bit sensitive.

He popped a green grape into his mouth.

Karl: What about Mr. Kenichirou? Need help?

Kenichirou: Stick to your assignment.

Alright, then.

Looked like things upstairs really could go on as if nothing was wrong.

Just as Karl had that thought, a suited employee approached—or rather, wandered to the fruit table next to him. The man plucked a grape glistening with moisture and popped it into his mouth.

As he chewed, Karl noticed a flicker of blue light in the man's eyes. Data was streaming in. Someone was interfacing with his optics.

Karl shifted focus away from Hanako, locking onto the suited man. The man, perhaps sensing this, turned and met Karl's gaze.

His face was unfamiliar. Karl was sure they'd never met. But the feeling he gave off was eerily familiar.

Karl had seen this type before.

There was a client who often tossed bizarre missions at their squad, never giving his real name. Karl and Oliver just called him "Blue Eyes." This guy? Felt exactly like him.

Not just because of the blue, data-flowing eyes—but something deeper.

Something non-human.

A strange, uncanny inhumanity.

They locked eyes. The man looked forty or fifty, with neatly kept brown hair. On the surface, he was a textbook corporate elite. But that uncanny feeling? It shattered the illusion—like the perfect appearance was just a skin stretched over something else.

Karl opened his mouth to speak, but the man spoke first in a calm, emotionless tone:

"Karl, you're special."

He used Karl's real name, unprompted. Karl showed no surprise. He simply responded through his helmet:

"Why do you say that, sir?"

"You're unique—a vessel that could contain and unify all things."

"You mean my compatibility with cyberware, sir?"

"Not just cyberware."

The man stepped closer. His glowing eyes seemed to pierce straight through Karl's visor, through his own eyes, and into his mind.

"You can hold everything."

"Everything..."

Karl laughed. "That's a stretch. I doubt I could swallow a watermelon whole."

"Strange, unclear language. Yet oddly beautiful," the man said, shaking his head.

"You are not like me. But you are not just flesh and blood. You are singular."

"Sounds like I'm a big deal," Karl chuckled, drawing a small blade from his belt and subtly aiming it at the man.

"Alright, we've had our chat. Now it's my turn. I don't know who you are, but I find you suspicious. And today, I have sovereign-level clearance to act on suspicion alone. Hands up. Face the wall."

Karl didn't expect the threat to work, but he said it anyway. He was tired of riddles. Whether this man was controlled by some AI or not—Karl had no patience for cryptic nonsense.

The suited man glanced at the blade.

"Neurotoxin blade. Excellent craftsmanship. According to spec, even a minor cut leads to fatality within 20–30 seconds via bloodstream."

He raised his hands and turned slowly to face the wall.

"I surrender. Please do not damage this vessel."

Faced with the threat, he surrendered instantly.

After all, calculating optimal outcomes was his baseline function.

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🔥 Cyberpunk: The Relentless

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