Chapter 133 - MAX-TAC
T-Bug.
Carl knew that name as well as he knew Jackie and Vik.
Before arriving in 2075, he had seen the old footage—T-Bug had been the netrunner for V and Jackie's crew.
What did he remember about her?
A dark-skinned, bald woman?
This job… looked worth taking.
"What do you think about Wakako's job?"
Carl was already leaning toward accepting, but he wanted Jackie's input—he had more street experience.
"Wakako, huh… Can't say much about her. I don't know Japantown's fixers that well."
Jackie paused, thinking before answering. "But I've heard she's got some Tiger Claws connections. She also deals with rich corpos up in Charter Hill and North Oak. She's got more corporate connections than most fixers."
"Charter Hill and North Oak?"
Carl recalled the two areas.
[Charter Hill]: A newer district in Night City, home to ambitious corpos with mid-to-high-level wealth. A prime location for upward mobility.
[North Oak]: Once a refugee slum during Night City's reconstruction. Now, after corporate cleanup and redevelopment, it had become a dreamlike luxury district.
Only top-tier executives and high-society elites could afford to live there. Massive private estates, artificial landscapes, controlled micro-ecosystems, and impenetrable security—these were just basic amenities for North Oak's residents.
"People living there still need fixers?"
"Of course. Some things can't be handled openly. Corpo types love to talk shit about fixers, saying they're just street dogs waiting for corporate scraps—but when they need a job done off the record, they're the first to throw a bone."
Jackie smirked, then turned to Carl. "So, what's the job?"
"Pretty much like that gig we got from Faraday—rescue mission. No details on who the target is or where they're being held. We need to contact a netrunner named T-Bug for intel."
"Figures. A fixer who's made a name for herself in Westbrook wouldn't hand out full mission details upfront."
Oliver, still driving, hadn't checked the briefing yet. But hearing the lack of specifics, he nodded approvingly.
"Better than that Faraday asshole. At least she understands the value of operational security. Makes it easier to trust her with a job."
If this were Faraday, he'd probably send the same contract to three or four different merc crews, making them fight over the job. Even if a team accepted, leaks from competing mercs could compromise the entire mission.
"Admit it, you just hate Faraday. Having detailed mission info upfront isn't a bad thing. Lets us decide whether it's worth taking before committing."
Carl smirked.
Rejecting a job before accepting it was one thing. Accepting then backing out? That was reputation suicide in Night City.
For mercs, fixers like Faraday—who made sure those who weren't up for the job backed out early—were actually preferable.
Oliver didn't disagree, but he had another reason for preferring Wakako.
"Nah, it's not just that… Wakako's paying 40K for this gig, Carl. She called it a small job, and it's 40K. Think about it. How much did we get for our first job with Faraday?"
Oliver still remembered that number all too well.
"6K eddies. That bastard gave us 6K. You tell me—how much did he skim off the top? At least Wakako's 40K makes me actually feel like my balance is going up."
"Different job, different payout. Besides—"
BANG BANG BANG!
The sudden burst of gunfire cut Carl off mid-sentence, making all three passengers in the Thorton Hera tense up.
"Enemies?!"
Jackie instinctively ducked down, peering out the window.
"Arasaka? Did they change their minds?"
"Gunfire's not that close."
Carl had already drawn his Kenshin, but a quick glance at the situation told him they'd overreacted.
"Just a stick-up."
Ahead of them, four street thugs had stopped a luxury sedan, dragging the owner out at gunpoint while firing shots into the air to scare off bystanders.
"Late-night heist. Pretty standard."
Jackie watched the corporate suit kneeling beside his car, hands over his head. "If I were him? Would've run their asses over."
"Maybe his ride ain't bulletproof?"
Under the dim streetlights, Carl couldn't tell the make or model, only that the vehicle oozed luxury.
"No way. That's a Guadria 66 Model 640 TS. Bulletproof glass is probably the least impressive thing about it."
Oliver, a car enthusiast, identified it instantly, even in the dark.
"That car's been around since 2055—twenty years now. But even today, it's still top-five in Night City for style and speed. Damn shame to see it jacked by some street punks."
Despite his words, Oliver had no intention of getting involved.
They were mercs, not heroes. This was NCPD's problem.
"These gonks are screwed."
Jackie shook his head. "There's traffic surveillance around here. Boosting a car right in the open? If I were that corpo, I'd pay off the cops just to have these guys locked up."
"Might not even need to wait."
Carl glanced up, spotting something closing in fast—a dark silhouette barely visible against the night sky.
"I think they're already dead."
"Wait… that's—"
Following Carl's gaze, Oliver and Jackie spotted the approaching AV.
Oliver recognized it immediately.
"Scorpius! Militech's Scorpius AV—with an NCPD badge!"
This Militech-built aerial vehicle was designed for military ops. In Night City, only one group had bought a fleet of them—and painted 'NCPD' on the side.
"MAX-TAC."
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