Johnson still hadn't figured out why that name sounded familiar when a knock came at the holding cell door, followed by a voice: "Deputy Chi
Johnson still hadn't figured out why that name sounded familiar when a knock came at the holding cell door, followed by a voice:
"Deputy Chief, the City Council has issued an urgent directive. It requires your review."
"He's got quite the manners—calls the Deputy Chief 'Chief'," Oliver muttered.
Johnson ignored the kid from Santo Domingo—just like himself—and quickly set aside his thoughts. Turning with a frown, he asked, "An urgent directive? Didn't the Chief already look at it?"
"Yes, sir. The Chief reviewed it and instructed you to read it as well."
He already reviewed it but still wants me to take a look?
Johnson frowned deeper.
These days, a good eighty percent—maybe more—of the NCPD essentially followed his orders, but the Chief still held the top title and had his own circle of loyalists with authority. Out of courtesy and mutual respect, Johnson typically went along with him.
But now there was something the Chief had reviewed and still couldn't decide on—passing the buck to him?
Could it be something about the transportation routes being discovered by the City Council?
If those "tributes" funneled upward were exposed and affected someone's cut, sure, that might justify the urgency.
But the whole route and crew were Johnson's people. Could the Council really have sniffed it out? And even if they had, would they really dare put something that involved so many in a formal directive?
There were plenty of corrupt folks inside the City Council too.
Is this some directive that needs a fall guy? He's passing the hot potato to me?
Johnson had played the game long enough to know how internal politics worked. Once he ruled out the transport route, his next thought was: scapegoating.
He had plenty of experience in that. The reason he'd remained a precinct captain for so long, despite all his accomplishments, was because he'd either willingly or unwillingly taken the fall for superiors and subordinates alike.
But things were different now.
If they were still trying to make him the scapegoat as Deputy Chief—wasn't that going too far?
He used to take the blame as a patrol officer. If he was still doing that as Deputy Chief, what was the point of the promotion?
Still, when Johnson told Karl and the others to mask up again and opened the holding cell door to receive the directive from his subordinate, he realized he'd been wrong.
This one really did need to be discussed.
The City Council's directive was simple—barely a few words.
"Lock down Watson District."
Just that. One sentence. But it made Johnson's brows knit together.
Lock down Watson?
There's been no plague, no large-scale gunfight, no cyberpsycho rampage—why impose a lockdown?
Even after the bloodbath in Japantown, where the rapid response unit had to intervene, people still went about their business eating and drinking. No lockdown there. And Johnson hadn't heard of anything unusual happening in Watson lately.
Locking down Watson wasn't like kicking out Pacifica or the Badlands. Watson had originally been intended as a second city center. Sure, over time it fell into disrepair for various reasons, but it still had one of the highest populations in Night City and ranked just behind City Center, Heywood, and Westbrook in terms of economic output.
Okay—maybe its economy was only slightly better than Santo Domingo's, which had already been expelled from Night City. But Watson was still considered a core district, right next to two of the most prosperous zones. If the Council wanted to lock it down, there'd definitely be unrest.
Just thinking about street gangs using the lockdown to run wild gave Johnson a headache—let alone the residents' reaction.
Especially now, with Pacifica and the Badlands recently booted from Night City, and now they were talking about sealing off Watson? How would that look?
What—Watson residents don't count as people anymore? Only corpo wage slaves in City Center are real citizens?
Johnson rubbed his forehead. The directive gave no explanation—not even a contact to follow up with. If he wanted to ask why, there was nowhere to go.
What the hell were they thinking? NCPD had only recently started to stabilize, and now they wanted to toss in another powder keg? Wasn't Night City chaotic enough already?
"Mr. Johnson, something wrong?"
Karl had seen Johnson rubbing his forehead and walked over, trying to glean some intel. Johnson didn't bother hiding anything. Under the surprised gaze of the reporting officer, he simply handed Karl the device containing the City Council's directive.
The officer blinked, stunned. He stared at Karl, wondering who the hell this young man was—no badge, no uniform, just casually holding a City Council directive?
Could he be... Johnson's secret son or something? Never heard anything about that…
As the officer watched in bewilderment, Karl finished reading the document.
"Lock down Watson…"
He muttered it, confused.
He lived in Watson, and he hadn't heard anything major going down lately. What was this about?
"What do you think, Mr. Johnson?"
Karl, without hesitation, passed the device to the others. A directive that should've been kept confidential was now being openly circulated among strangers. The reporting officer looked like his eyeballs were about to pop out.
"Is the City Council planning to kick Watson out of Night City too?" Karl asked.
"I doubt they'd dare," Johnson replied. "Lucius Rhyne—the former mayor—is dead, and the new mayor hasn't been elected yet. Everyone's scrambling for votes. Doing something this unpopular would only enrage the public. There must be an exceptionally urgent reason behind this."
"An urgent reason…"
Karl suddenly thought back to what they'd seen in that Tiger Claw exec's home—the message from Saburo Arasaka:
Wait for him.
Could it be—
Karl's eyes widened. He understood.
And when he turned to look at his teammates, he saw they were already looking at him too.
Clearly, they'd all reached the same conclusion.
Karl turned back to Johnson. "Mr. Johnson, when does the lockdown begin?"
"Let me see… the execution date is…"
Johnson raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Four days from now. Indefinite duration?! That soon?"
"Four days, huh…"
Karl now knew the deadline.
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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