chapter 59

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.. Afterlife Bar..

"Hey, Oliver, do you think I look formal enough now? Do I look like a mercenary who belongs in the Afterlife Bar?"

In the Little Chinatown of the Watson District, as Karl approached the iconic Afterlife Bar—still fifty meters away—he patted his clothes, seeking validation from his two companions.

"It's just so-so," Oliver said, his eyes darting to the Saratoga submachine gun visible at Karl's waist. He patted the Shingen smart submachine gun hanging from his own hip. "Honestly, you're trying too hard. Not as natural as me."

"And what are you two even doing?" Karl asked, rolling his eyes.

Oliver and Jack exchanged incredulous looks before Jack asked, "Karl, do you even know where we're going?"

"Of course I do. It's just a bar where mercenaries pick up jobs, right? I heard it used to be an underground morgue. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal?" Jack exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Only real legends walk into this place! Morgan Blackhand, Weyland Old Snake—you know, those world-famous mercenaries? This is where they started. Back then, they were just like us. And now it's our turn. Show some excitement, Karl! We're following in their footsteps!"

Karl, unimpressed, shrugged. "A bar converted from a morgue? Sounds more creepy than exciting. But hey, if they have world-shaking missions, I'm in."

The three of them approached the entrance. A steep staircase led down to a dimly lit passage painted in dark blues and chaotic hues. At the end stood a muscular bodyguard, whose sharp gaze fixed on the trio.

Karl had heard of him before—Emeric Bronson. Rumor had it he was associated with the Animals gang, notorious for their brutality. Whether true or not, Emeric's presence screamed authority.

As they reached him, Emeric's eyes scanned Oliver and Jack briefly before landing on Karl. He blinked once, then twice, as if trying to place him.

Finally, clearing his throat, Emeric said, "Do you have an appointment?"

"Do we need one?" Karl asked, more curious than annoyed.

"If you didn't, I wouldn't even bother asking," Emeric replied, stepping aside to reveal the door behind him.

Karl blinked in surprise. "Wait, you're just letting us in?"

Emeric smirked. "I've seen the video. It's all over Night City. A merc who takes on ACPA head-on is more than qualified to enter. And these two—" he gestured to Oliver and Jack—"are clearly with you. Welcome to the team."

Karl raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As he stepped forward to push the door open, Emeric stopped him.

"By the way, what's your name? Makes it easier to notify you next time if you have an appointment."

"Call me K. Or Karl, if you prefer something less flashy."

Emeric nodded. "Got it, K." He then pushed the door open himself.

Light and the pungent aroma of alcohol spilled out from the bar beyond.

"Welcome to the Afterlife Bar," Emeric said with a grin. "Enjoy your day."

"Thanks," Karl replied, stepping inside.

Jack and Oliver followed closely, visibly nervous about their first visit to the legendary venue. The Afterlife Bar was infamous for its mercenary patrons and death-defying missions.

Karl's first impression?

This place is a dive.

Dim green lighting cast eerie shadows over the room. It felt more like a crypt than a bar. But Karl had to admit, the atmosphere suited its clientele—mercenaries living on the edge of life and death.

Oliver and Jack, however, quickly relaxed. Since Karl's mission required meeting Blanca, they decided to unwind at the bar.

Karl hesitated to leave them just yet. It wasn't concern for their drinking habits—they were responsible enough—but curiosity about the bar's famous drink menu.

He watched as Jack confidently ordered, "A glass of old-fashioned tequila, with some beer and chili."

Oliver chimed in, "Make that two."

The bartender nodded. "Two Johnny Silverhands, coming right up."

Johnny Silverhand? The name struck a chord. Karl recalled he was a rock musician and an infamous terrorist.

Why is his name on a drink menu? Karl wondered, shaking his head.

Some things in Night City would always remain a mystery.

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