CYBERPUNK: Travel to 2075

For advanced chapters

patreon.com/Thereator

Corporate Intrigue

The negotiation took place on the fourth floor. Perhaps corpos had an inexplicable obsession with being "on top." Even for something as mundane as negotiations, the top floor was the preferred location.

The room was guarded by ten Maelstrom gang members, clearly brought in as security. Among them was another corpo—a young man in his late twenties, wearing a tailored suit and polished boots. Unlike Blanca, who had dressed plainly and tried her best to hide her nerves, this corpo oozed the stereotypical arrogance of a Night City executive.

He wore a smug expression, his nose perpetually tilted upward, and his gaze carried a thinly veiled contempt. Everything about him screamed punchable.

A guy who deserves a beating, Karl thought as he evaluated the man at the far end of the conference table. Compared to this egotistical corpo, Blanca at least had some redeeming qualities—her looks, for one.

"Sit down, Blanca," the man said casually, his tone as condescending as his expression.

Blanca hesitated, her emotions barely concealed, before she took a seat opposite him.

"Juanito…" she muttered, her voice heavy with frustration.

"Relax, Blanca," Juanito replied with an air of mock reassurance. "This is just a discussion—a minor matter that both of us can agree on, right?"

"Minor?" Blanca's expression darkened. She clenched her fists but held back her anger. "Tell me what you want so I can give it to you and be done with this."

Juanito smirked, leaning back in his chair with practiced ease. "Nothing unreasonable," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "After all, you took good care of me when I worked under you."

The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, and Karl immediately picked up on the underlying tension between them. Corporate politics—dog eats dog, Karl thought.

While the two corpo adversaries traded thinly veiled insults, Karl's attention shifted to the room itself. The negotiation space was about 120 square meters, connected to adjacent rooms via thin walls. He discreetly noted the positions of all the Maelstrom gang members and their weapons.

Contrary to the intel provided by his employer, there were eleven gang members here, not ten. Including the driver and gate guards, that made a total of fourteen. However, the discrepancy wasn't enough to throw off Karl's plan. He'd handled worse odds.

The Maelstrom members, meanwhile, were sizing up Karl. Dressed in standard body armor with only a pistol at his side, he looked like a typical street merc—a young one at that, barely seventeen or eighteen by appearance.

Most of the gang underestimated him. They'd heard rumors about a legendary merc who had taken out one of their bases, but they didn't recognize Karl as that man. Information in the gang was fragmented, and these members were disposable hires from a higher-up. To them, Karl was just another kid trying to make a name for himself.

Back at the table, the conversation had escalated.

"I want you to hand over all your assets," Juanito said, his voice dripping with venom. "Resign voluntarily and leave the company. Oh, and by 'assets,' I mean everything—including the funds for your garage."

Blanca slammed her hands against the peeling surface of the table and stood up, trembling with barely restrained fury. "That's impossible! What you've uncovered isn't worth even half of that."

Juanito chuckled, his smirk widening. "Oh, Blanca, do you really think you can bargain with me? You destroyed the evidence of your little backdoor deal with the Maelstrom gang, but I don't need it. I already have everything I need—and more. You didn't get this chance on your own. I orchestrated it. I contacted the Maelstrom gang and set this all up."

His words struck Blanca like a slap.

"You?!"

"Yes, me. I'm the one who gave you this 'opportunity,' Blanca. Did you really think you were clever enough to outmaneuver me?" Juanito sneered. "You only got ahead because you graduated from a better school. In every other way, you're inferior to me."

"You've been plotting against me this entire time?" Blanca's voice trembled, though now it was from anger rather than fear.

"Of course," Juanito said with a smirk. "And don't even think about recording this conversation. I've had my Maelstrom friends set up jammers. Nothing from this room will reach your precious corporate HQ."

Blanca's rage seemed to boil over for a moment before it abruptly vanished. She sat back down, her expression eerily calm.

"We can renegotiate if you relax your terms," she said coldly.

"Renegotiate?" Juanito laughed. "Blanca, I'm not here to negotiate. I'm here to inform you. The terms are final. Oh, and I'm enjoying this—a little revenge on the side, seeing you like this. It's refreshing."

Juanito leaned back, laughing heartily.

"Are you happy?" Blanca asked suddenly, her voice quiet but cutting.

Juanito froze, confused by the unexpected question. "What?"

Blanca reached under the table and drew a sleek handgun, pointing it directly at Juanito's forehead.

"Stupid," she muttered. "In corporate games, you don't forget the real rules: always bring a gun."

Bang.

The shot echoed through the room.

Juanito's smirk vanished forever.

For advanced chapters 👇🏼

patreon.com/Thereator