Chapter 174: The Old Captain (+extra)

Drwal thxxx

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"Yo, Karl, you're here."

There weren't many people in the reserved booth at Afterlife—just the two merc leaders waiting inside.

Seeing Karl arrive, Mann raised his glass in greeting.

"Already drinking?"

Karl smiled, nodding at both Mann and Brown before settling onto the booth's couch.

"I thought you guys would be a little more tense."

"You said the job doesn't start tonight. Besides, I haven't had a drink with Brown since the last gig. Of course, we had to knock back a few."

Mann took a long sip and downed the rest of his drink.

"Right, Brown?"

"As a merc, I can't argue with that."

Brown, 46 years old, his face marked with the scars of a long mercenary career, nodded slightly.

"Long time no see, Karl."

"Yeah, been a while, Brown."

Karl took a swig of the bottle of soda left on the booth's table before asking,

"Did you discuss the job with your teams?"

Brown nodded again, this time more firmly.

"The whole crew agreed to take it. After all, we've crawled out of hell together before. They'd rather trust you than some random fixer throwing gigs our way. Besides…"

He chuckled.

"The payout is too good to turn down."

Brown glanced at Mann, smirking.

"Sixteen grand per squad. What, did you strike gold or something?"

"Not exactly. The money isn't mine—it's from someone higher up. You could say I'm acting as a 'part-time fixer' for this one."

Karl tapped his temple.

"You guys understand the job, right?"

"Taking down a lone Arasaka Hundred Ninjas Unit operative… definitely a challenge."

Mann nodded, a grin creeping onto his face.

"But doable."

"Do we have movement intel on him, Karl?"

Unlike Mann, Brown was straight to business. He wanted details—the more they knew, the less chance of unexpected problems.

"I'd love to say yes, but the people above me can't hand over intel directly. At least not in a way that makes it obvious. They want this to look like a 'random' hit. So… no."

Karl shrugged.

"But with your teams working together, you've got the face, name, identity, and approximate location. Finding him shouldn't be too hard."

Saying that, Karl suddenly remembered something.

Data streaming—

"The sixteen grand for each team—just sent it over."

"Getting paid upfront, huh?"

Mann checked his balance and grinned wide.

"Damn, Karl, you're feeling generous."

"I always work with deposits. If I expect that from others, I should do the same. Sixteen grand per team is the deposit. Once the job's done, we'll all meet up at Wild Wolf Bar—I'll cover the drinks. That'll be the real payout."

Karl leaned back, stretching slightly.

"This isn't an easy gig. Take that money and upgrade your gear—maybe even swap out some implants."

"A full round of drinks from Karl as payment? That's worth it."

Brown glanced at Karl, reading between the lines.

"Let me guess… the 32 grand is the full amount they gave you, isn't it? You're not keeping any of it?"

"Bingo. But I'm just a part-time fixer this time. If I ever go full fixer, then I'll start worrying about skimming a cut."

Karl waved a dismissive hand.

"If you feel bad about it, just make sure the job goes smoothly. If this thing gets handled cleanly, my other job's paycheck might even go up. And hell—come to Wild Wolf more often. Keeps the idiot gangers from causing trouble. Lately, 6th Street's been lurking around."

"6th Street? They don't usually operate outside Santo Domingo."

Brown narrowed his eyes.

"Doesn't Valentino keep an eye on Wild Wolf Bar?"

Brown raised an eyebrow at Karl's comment.

"Lately, Heywood's been expanding. They got into a fight with the Tyger Claws over in West Wind Estate, and most of their guys have been pulled over there. Meanwhile, 6th Street is pissed off, so… you get it. Word is, some of those dumbasses are even planning to go after the Priest."

"Going after the Priest? That's ballsy."

Even though Brown mainly operated in Watson, he was well aware of Heywood's most infamous fixer.

Most mercs stuck to a specific district, just like fixers, but the ones who made it to Afterlife weren't your average hired guns.

They didn't just take jobs in their home turf—they worked all over Night City.

Naturally, that meant getting familiar with fixers from different districts.

Just like Mann, who primarily worked in Santo Domingo but still took gigs from Cormac instead of just sticking to Faraday. (Cormac, a fixer from the comics.)

At their level, everyone knew everyone.

Brown crossed his arms.

"So is 6th Street trying to start a full-on gang war?"

"More likely it's internal power plays—someone using outside fights to wear down their rivals and move up the ranks."

Karl shrugged.

"Not really our problem as mercs. Just keep an eye out for 6th Street jobs while you're working. And swing by Wild Wolf more often. A bigger presence should make even the dumbest gonk think twice."

"Man, you're KK. If they find out you're always around that bar, no one's gonna be stupid enough to start shit."

Mann leaned back, but suddenly, his cyberoptics flared.

"Incoming call—hold on. Unknown number. Let me check."

Karl and Brown went quiet.

Watching Mann take a random merc call felt weirdly familiar…

Could this be—?

After about a minute, Mann's optics dimmed.

He looked between Karl and Brown and nodded.

"Some new fixer reached out to me. Says he's just getting into the business in Santo Domingo. Wanted to introduce himself and offer me a gig. But since I just took Karl's job, I turned him down."

"A new fixer in Santo Domingo? Who is it? Some bottom-tier nobody?"

Karl asked, but the answer he got sounded familiar.

"It's the Old Captain—the guy who sells used and stolen cars. Apparently, he wants to be a fixer now."

"Him?"

Karl remembered Old Captain.

He'd bought his Hera from the guy. Never expected a car dealer to start working as a fixer.

"Santo Domingo's still mostly run by Faraday, right? Wonder if Old Captain's got any shot at making a name for himself."

As Karl mulled it over, his own phone rang.

This time, it wasn't an unknown number—it was the same contact he used when he bought his car.

"No way…"

Karl glanced at Mann and Brown, then picked up the call.

"Yo, can you hear me? It's Old Captain. I'm getting into the fixer game now, so I figured I'd reach out. Listen—big-shot KK—any chance you could bless a newbie like me and put that high-class trigger finger of yours to work? Pay's negotiable—hell, I'll make sure you've got stacks of cash to burn!"

…

Karl blinked.

So he called Mann first, and now he's calling me?

He felt a little conflicted.

Something about Old Captain desperately cold-calling mercs reminded him of the early days—when he, Oliver, and Jack couldn't land gigs and had to chase down every lead.

"Man… It's rough out here for everyone."

Karl sighed internally before properly introducing himself.

"This is KK. I'm listening."

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