Cyberpunk: The Relentless

"Yo, if it isn't the Dragon of Night City!" "Say that again and I'm out of here, Rogue." Karl glared at her from across the private booth in

"Yo, if it isn't the Dragon of Night City!"

"Say that again and I'm out of here, Rogue."

Karl glared at her from across the private booth in Afterlife. He'd just been enjoying a round of drinks courtesy of Old Captain and some familiar faces, only to get called into a meeting by Rogue herself.

"You said you had a gig. Get to it or I'll start calling you Grandma."

"Relax, Karl. Today's a good day."

Rogue didn't seem the least bit offended. She just chuckled and leaned back, completely unfazed.

"Everyone here at Afterlife's in high spirits. Can't believe you guys actually landed a hit on Adam Smasher."

"Does everyone have a grudge against that guy or what?"

"Not everyone. But most people don't live long enough to hold one."

With her arms draped casually over the couch, Rogue gave him a lazy grin.

"Even if people don't hate him, they sure as hell can't stand him. He walks around like he owns Night City. But now? You made him back off. That alone is reason enough to party. For the record, even Morgan never pulled that off."

The name hit Karl like a jolt.

Morgan.

Not a common name—and not one you dropped casually in the Afterlife. If Rogue was referring to that Morgan, then this was serious.

"Morgan Blackhand couldn't do it, huh? Sounds flattering, but let's not kid ourselves. Smasher and Blackhand were archenemies. If they ever clashed, Smasher would've gone full beast. I just got lucky and ran when I had the chance."

"Escaping Smasher in one piece is impressive on its own. Forcing him to retreat after injuring him? That's another level."

Rogue eyed Karl with something close to approval—and maybe a hint of nostalgia. Kids these days, too damn humble. Back in her day, even surviving a single encounter with Smasher would earn you three nights of free drinks at Atlantis. And here Karl was, brushing it off like it was no big deal.

She'd hated that place—the only reason she even went was the pay and job variety—but she knew how merc culture worked. If you survived Adam Smasher or got Morgan Blackhand's respect, you were a legend.

Now Atlantis was gone, and she'd built the Afterlife in its place. But weirdly enough, the mercs with the real bragging rights? They were the ones staying quiet.

And Rogue could tell that the Afterlife was already buzzing with talk about Karl's crew. Just this morning, she'd had several shady types walk in and ask for Karl by name. She didn't need a netrunner to figure out what they wanted.

Smasher was a wall. If you wanted to touch anything inside Arasaka Tower, you needed someone who could get past that wall.

That used to be Morgan. Now? People were starting to look at Karl.

And Rogue, fixer instincts fully alert, wasn't thrilled about that. Not because Karl couldn't handle it—but because she didn't want to see him and his crew get torn apart by political bullshit.

She'd even called him in early, before any clients could pounce, to warn him. But seeing how grounded he was, maybe she didn't need to.

He was more mature than she'd ever been at his age.

"Anyway, the gig's in your inbox. Check the attachment. If you're interested, wrap it up in the next few days."

"Sure."

Karl raised an eyebrow—why send it as a file when they were sitting right here? But he didn't argue. He pulled it up and started reading.

And stopped.

It was an assassination contract.

Karl had done all kinds of gigs—escort, delivery, cleanup. But assassination? That was new. The closest thing had been that mission from Kenichiro, which they outsourced to Maine and Brown's team. And that wasn't even a real hit job.

This, though? This was the real thing.

"An assassination job, huh..."

It wasn't that his team couldn't handle it. But they weren't exactly known for subtlety. Still, the payout was solid.

Then he saw the name.

"The new NCPD commissioner?"

"Used to be a corp sales exec. His grand idea is to solve the NCPD's budget crisis by laying off half the force, pocketing the surplus, and launching a five-eddies-a-minute emergency hotline. Oh, and he's telling patrols to stop making arrests—just issue fines."

"Sounds like a dream come true for the Animals or private security firms."

"Exactly. Guess who backed him for the position?"

Rogue's tone sharpened.

Karl caught on immediately. There were only a few companies that fit that bill.

"Let me guess… the top dog in private security."

"Bingo."

The Lazarus Group.

Elite, ruthless, and always ready to expand.

"So the dog turned on its owner?"

"Not quite. More like it saw Arasaka pulling back and decided to chase a new bone."

"And that bone came with a new leash. Who's holding it now?"

"Who else but Lazarus? The same folks who tightened ties with Militech after the last Corp War, and launched their own private security line when budgets got tight."

Karl nodded slowly.

This wasn't just an assassination. It was a message. And he was starting to understand exactly who it was meant for.

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