CYBERPUNK: Travel to 2075

..You Can Kill Him at Any Time..

After the Maelstrom gang vehicle carrying Karl and his employer, Blanca, entered the industrial zone in the northern part of Watson District, it didn't head into a factory as Karl had expected. Instead, it stopped in front of an old apartment building.

In the past, when the Watson District was still planned to become a major city center, wealthy developers had built apartments on the outskirts of the industrial zone, believing it would separate them from the working-class population. However, as Watson fell into decline, the wealthy gradually abandoned the area to avoid frequent "protection fees" extorted by the Maelstrom gang.

Now, these once-luxurious apartments housed factory workers. The idea of "living like the rich" had become a cruel irony, yet Karl appreciated this location compared to the cold, steel factories that held some unpleasant memories for him. The sight of the apartments, basking in the hazy sunlight of Night City, made him feel somewhat better.

Of course, the sunlight wasn't bright; the city's pollution ensured a constant haze.

As the vehicle pulled up, Karl immediately noticed two Maelstrom gang members standing outside the building. They held Saratoga submachine guns, their polished exteriors indicating careful maintenance.

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[Militech M221 Saratoga]: Initially designed for corporate security, the Saratoga is now a favorite among gang members for its reliability, affordability, and ease of modification. If you spot one of these smaller, sleeker submachine guns on the street, it's best to steer clear. Saratoga isn't a cheap, low-power Lexington; it's a weapon for serious combat.

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Karl's eyes lingered briefly on the weapons. He appreciated the Saratoga's design but preferred his first gun, the Lexington, which he had heavily modified and kept at home. Still, the sight of the Saratoga instinctively made him brush his fingers against the Kenshin pistol holstered at his waist.

He doubted the Maelstrom gang would start shooting indiscriminately—they weren't reckless enough to kill their own people along with potential business partners—but as Blanca's bodyguard, he had to stay alert.

The two Maelstrom members shifted aside and lowered their weapons in a show of "welcome."

"It's time to get out," Blanca said, opening the door.

Karl glanced at the silent driver in the front seat, then stepped out of the car. As he did, he heard a faint click.

It was the sound of a safety switch being turned on.

Looks like someone's prepared for things to go south, Karl thought, keeping his expression neutral. He calmly walked to Blanca's side, accompanying her as they entered the four-story apartment building under the watchful eyes of the Maelstrom gatekeepers.

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Once inside, one of the gatekeepers approached the driver holding the Saratoga.

"Did they do anything unusual during the ride?"

"No," the driver replied. "The corpo looked tense, though. My artificial eye scan picked up a spike in her adrenaline levels, but it seemed to be simple nervousness about the negotiations. Nothing suspicious."

"And the bodyguard? That's the guy who took out one of our bases before, right?"

The driver's red-glowing artificial eyes flickered as he hesitated. "That guy… he didn't show any nerves the entire ride, even when we drove him straight into our territory. Compared to the usual mercs who nearly piss themselves as soon as they get into the car, he was… calm. Too calm."

"Too calm? What do you mean?"

The driver looked uneasy. "I don't think he cared where he was going because he could kill me at any moment if he wanted to. The entire ride, I felt like my life was in his hands. I didn't even dare run a red light. Hell, I didn't even breathe too loudly because I was afraid I'd piss him off. I didn't take my gun off safety until after he got out of the car."

The gatekeeper frowned, skeptical. "You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not," the driver insisted, his voice shaking slightly. "If anything, I'm understating it. That guy doesn't even have subdermal armor—just a standard bulletproof vest. But I'm telling you, if he wanted to, he could kill all of us in that building without breaking a sweat."

The gatekeeper glanced toward the apartment building where Karl had disappeared. "There are ten of us in there. Ten guns pointed at him. He couldn't kill us all."

But even as he said it, doubt crept into his voice.

Because when Karl had walked past him earlier and made brief eye contact, he had felt it too—that strange, instinctive fear.

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