"Need a ride?" Outside the precinct, Andy looked at Karl and his crew standing on the street. "You guys came in an NCPD vehicle, right? Your
"Need a ride?"
Outside the precinct, Andy looked at Karl and his crew standing on the street. "You guys came in an NCPD vehicle, right? Your own ride should still be parked over in Japantown. Want me to drop you off?"
"No need. Our Herrera was upgraded with remote-control protocols and has autopilot—it'll be here soon."
Oliver waved his hand. "You better get back to work, Andy. You're probably going to be swamped with what went down in Japantown—and whatever comes next."
"Then I'll leave you to it."
Andy gave a nod, then shot a glance at the one in Karl's squad who called himself "Yori" before turning and heading back into the precinct.
Arasaka Seisen sensed the look. Watching Andy's back, he had already formed a theory in his mind.
Looks like this friend of Karl's is sharper than average. He's already figured out something about who I really am.
But Seisen didn't dwell on it for long, because soon their Herrera rolled up—clearly cramped with how many people it was about to carry.
"So, Yori."
Oliver stepped forward and pulled open the driver's side door. "You coming with us now, or want to look around a bit first?"
"Look around?"
The word felt unfamiliar to Yori. He raised an eyebrow. "At this hour? You guys still have somewhere to go?"
"How about grabbing a bite?"
Jack offered, "Not talking booze. But a few snacks and drinks to chill with at midnight sounds good. After all—"
He nodded toward the distant, towering Konpeki Plaza. "Once we're back there, even if we wanted to eat well, it's not really an option."
Yori understood. For security reasons, all meals inside Konpeki Plaza had to be made in-house. And ever since they'd gotten more familiar, Karl had started assigning him prep work in the kitchen—peeling veggies and so on.
And that was just for cooking. If they wanted anything fancier, like bar snacks, Yori would probably have to do it all himself. As someone also bossed around by Karl, Yori instantly got Jack's point.
"So where are we going?"
"Hop in first."
V called out to Yori. "We'll talk on the way."
The Herrera, now packed with five people, started up. As they drove, Jack—seated in the front passenger seat—picked up where he left off.
"Normally, I'd recommend the Afterwolf Bar. Yori, you know the place—my mom owns it. But I swear, I'm not just biased. It's genuinely solid. That said, we're skipping it tonight."
He looked ahead. "You ever heard of Afterlife?"
"Afterlife…"
Yori echoed the name, recalling the info he had stored. "The mercenary hub in Night City?"
"More accurately, it's where mercs and fixers gather. You'll find top-tier solos—and the dumbest fixers."
Oliver chimed in from the driver's seat. "And don't forget all the corpo dogs who want to contract gigs out to both."
"Sounds like you've got beef with fixers, Oliver."
"Not most of them. But some are total scumbags. We once ran into this braindead asshole who skimmed half our payment before even passing on the job."
"Let me guess. He's dead now."
Yori had spent enough time with Karl's crew to get a read on them. "You guys don't strike me as the forgiving type."
"It wasn't that bad," Karl said calmly. "He didn't mess with us again, so I didn't bother going after him. Later, he tried scamming someone else—and got iced."
So they'll let it go once, as long as you don't push it?
Yori felt like he was beginning to truly understand Karl.
NCPD HQ was in Heywood, while Afterlife was in Watson, so it took a while to drive there. But they encountered no crime scenes, shootouts, or chaos—just smooth traffic.
Seems the situation in Japantown did tighten up public safety, at least for now.
With NCPD's increased enforcement lately, Night City was more stable. But even having organized traffic? That wasn't just the police—that had MaxTac written all over it.
With those cyberpsycho-hunting lunatics deployed to crush the Tyger Claws brawl, nobody in their right mind wanted to provoke them right now.
Thanks to that, Karl and the crew had a pretty smooth drive.
After nearly forty minutes of law-abiding cruising, they reached Afterlife.
It was Yori's first time here, and as he stepped into the underground passage that led to the entrance, he had the same thought Karl had when he came for the first time:
"I heard this used to be a morgue. Did they have to use this creepy green lighting for the bar's theme? This place is seriously cursed."
"Told you it was creepy."
Karl's eyes lit up. "Knew someone from the East would get it. First time I said that, Jack and the others didn't feel a thing. This place looks like the fuckin' underworld. And with a name like 'Afterlife'? Not exactly good karma."
"Yeah, that name really doesn't help."
Yori nodded.
"Okay, but I still don't totally get what you mean by bad karma."
Jack scratched his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Alright, imagine this. You walk into a place filled with bats and black cat statues. Everything's black, and it's called 'Friday the 13th.'"
"…Okay. That I can picture."
As Jack was mulling that over, the bouncer at the Afterlife—Emmerick—gave them a once-over and stepped aside.
They looked unfamiliar, but Emmerick had noticed the gear they carried.
One of them had a modified Kang Tao Yinglong—only elite mercs or professional bodyguard teams ever got their hands on something like that.
That alone was enough to grant them entry into Afterlife.
Tonight, the place was packed. Probably because the Japantown chaos had disrupted a lot of gigs for both mercs and fixers. Every table was taken.
As Karl stepped inside, the first thing he saw was a familiar figure.
Dark brown skin. Massive frame.
He immediately recognized the man he hadn't seen in ages.
Dexter DeShawn.
Fat Black Jesus.
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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