Chapter 156: Chance Encounter

"Hit us up if you ever need help in the Badlands again."

"I will. See you around."

After waving goodbye to V and his crew—who were hauling a pile of scavenged gear—Karl and his team headed back to Night City, bringing their client with them.

A single day in the Badlands, but overall, a damn good haul.

Met V.

Met a new fixer.

Not bad at all.

As their car weaved through the streets of Santo Domingo, Karl reconnected with T-Bug now that their net signal was back.

"Job's done. Just need to drop the target off with the client. You up for a drink in person? We've never actually met offline."

"Next time. I'm still handling some post-op interference. Right after you pulled the guy out, Militech started scanning for his biometrics. They want him for something. I'm blocking the signal for now."

"The guy got fired from Militech."

Karl recalled Blanca's words. "It's probably one of their cleanup squads. They're getting rid of loose ends. Not our problem, though. Once we drop him off, it's out of our hands. No need for heavy jamming—just throw them off a little. Militech's people aren't dumb. Once they see we ran the gig, they'll follow protocol."

"Got it. I've sent out interference. They'll be chasing bad data for a while. Thirty minutes enough?"

"More than enough. Trust my driving."

Oliver's voice came through the comms as he floored the gas pedal.

"I've been racing through these streets since I was a kid."

"Since you were a kid? Your Quartz Aerondight was a gift from your sister on her twentieth birthday."

Karl clearly remembered Oliver mentioning that once.

"You don't need your own car to steal your dad's keys and take his for a spin."

"My guess? You got your ass kicked a lot as a kid."

"Shit talk all you want. My old man trusted me."

"In other words, he just didn't give a damn about what you did."

Karl's words hit just right—Oliver went quiet, clearly just a little offended.

Jack, on the other hand, changed the topic. "Come to think of it, don't all the corps have dedicated teams just for cleaning up fired employees now? Gotta make sure no one takes trade secrets to a rival. Real paranoid shit."

"Yeah, but they only bother with important people."

Karl shrugged. "If you're some low-level corpo nobody, they won't waste resources taking you out. They'd rather screw you over financially—slap you with debts so big your grandkids'll still be paying them off."

Skreeeech—

Right as Karl was talking, Oliver suddenly slammed on the brakes without warning.

Karl and Jack, neither wearing seatbelts, nearly faceplanted into the dashboard.

"What the hell?!"

Jack immediately reached for the door handle, kicking it open and nearly activating his Berserk implant—his first instinct was that they'd been ambushed.

"Enemies?"

Karl had already drawn Saphire.

"No."

Oliver stared straight ahead for a second, then turned to them, looking a little embarrassed.

"My old man's out patrolling today. I just saw him."

"...Huh?"

Karl and Jack followed Oliver's gaze down the street.

Sure enough, a short distance away, a middle-aged man with blond hair—wearing a jacket with the 6th Street Gang insignia—was walking along the sidewalk with a few other 6th Street members.

The resemblance to Oliver was unmistakable.

"Well, that's some timing."

Karl thought for a second, debating between calling him uncle or sir, before settling on the first.

"This is my first time meeting you, Uncle. You're looking sharp."

"He's just a stubborn old bastard."

Oliver muttered before nodding at Jack and Karl, then slowly pulling the car up beside his father. He rolled down the window.

"Old man, making your rounds?"

"Hm?"

Oliver's father immediately reached for his waist the moment he noticed an unfamiliar car stopping next to them. But when the window rolled down—revealing not the barrel of a gun but his son—he paused.

"Oliver? What are you doing here?"

He eyed the car for a moment. "New ride?"

"Borrowed it. Had a job out in the Badlands today. Passed through here this morning—someone was trying to block my way. Didn't think I'd see you this afternoon."

"This morning… must've been Firearm's people."

Oliver's father snorted. "That bastard's been getting more active lately."

Will "Firearm" was one of the most senior figures in 6th Street, second only to the boss himself. It was his nephew—sent on a golden job to make a name for himself—who ended up dead, leading to Oliver's departure from the gang.

Oliver's old man clearly had nothing good to say about the guy.

"Good afternoon, sir."

Karl, always polite when it came to his friends' parents, greeted Oliver's father from the passenger seat.

"And you are…?"

The older man's gaze landed on Karl's black hair. Recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by a small smile.

"You must be KK. This dumbass has told me about you. Thanks for looking after him."

"It's more like he's been looking after me."

Karl replied sincerely.

If Oliver hadn't shown him the ropes, he'd probably still be some low-level merc scraping by in the backstreets. And without Oliver's support on missions, Karl wouldn't have been able to take the risks he did.

"Hey there."

Jack, squeezed into the back, also greeted Oliver's father. Unlike Karl, though, he wasn't a stranger.

After all, Jack used to run with the Valentinos.

Oliver's father simply nodded at him and said,

"Next time, let's grab a drink."

"Count on it."

Jack grinned.

They didn't linger long.

T-Bug could only keep the signal jammed for thirty minutes, and there was still some distance between Santo Domingo and Wild Wraiths Bar in Heywood—the meetup point where the old fixer and the client were waiting for the car and their target.

As their truck rumbled back onto the road, one of the older 6th Street members walking behind Oliver's father stepped up.

"Firearm's been getting bolder."

"With the higher-ups making moves, his people think they can do whatever they want."

Oliver's father exhaled slowly. "I'm telling you, it won't be long before things start falling apart on the inside."

At those words, the other 6th Street members fell silent.

Will Firearm was already the second most powerful man in the gang. Now, he was making plays with the top brass.

What was he planning?

6th Street… was about to get messy.

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