A Day Off Mission

"So boring."

Carl sat at the Afterlife bar counter, complaining to Jack's mother, Mrs. Welles. "We can't get any jobs, Mrs. Welles. At this rate, we're going to starve to death."

"There's no need to be in such a hurry, Carl."

Mrs. Welles smiled as she set down a plate of fries. "Isn't it nice to have some free time? Here, try these fries I just came up with."

"Oh, the ones with salt and pepper you mentioned before!"

Watching Carl go from utterly dejected to instantly energized over a plate of fries, Oliver and Jack, seated elsewhere at the counter, both felt a little helpless.

Their little team had been together for a week now. During that time, they had taken on five jobs here and there, and they had come to understand Carl's personality much better. If Oliver and Jack had to evaluate Carl now, they would both unhesitatingly use a Chinese phrase Carl had taught them to describe him.

Making trouble when there's nothing to do.

That wasn't to say Carl liked picking fights or causing trouble. Oliver and Jack had simply interpreted the phrase literally. Put another way, Carl just couldn't stay idle. The moment he finished one job, he wanted to move on to the next, without understanding how to rest or relax at all.

When other mercenaries took a job with a hefty payout, they would have to rest for ten days or half a month after finishing it before they could barely work up the interest to take another. Carl was different. He was often already thinking about how to take the next job while still on the current one. He was practically a job machine.

Oliver and Jack weren't saying Carl's habit of making trouble when there was nothing to do was bad. Thanks to Carl's crazed job-taking, both of them had improved considerably, and their wallets had gotten heavier by the day. That was certainly something to be happy about. But people weren't machines, after all. They needed proper rest too, which was why they had dragged Carl to the bar for drinks today.

"Stop looking so gloomy. Have a drink."

Watching Carl happily eat his fries, Oliver raised his glass to Jack.

"Anyway, Carl said that once our reputation is big enough for us to take fixer jobs, he'll start picking and choosing what we do. We just have to hold out until then."

"It's not that I think having too many jobs is bad. We're mercenaries, after all. Having work is naturally better than having none. I'm just wondering whether these little jobs we've been doing can really make us famous someday and get a fixer's attention."

"You want to take on something big, Jack? Like our first job?"

"Everyone needs something to look forward to, right? If every job could bring in thirty or forty thousand eddies, then even dying would be worth it."

Kids from Heywood always tossed the word death around casually. Normally, when they were out on a job, only Carl would call them out for it. But today was different.

"Jack!"

Mrs. Welles glared at him.

"Oh, sorry, Mom."

Jack realized he shouldn't have said something like that so casually in front of his mother and hurriedly apologized. Saying things like that had become an unconscious habit around Carl and Oliver, and he hadn't corrected himself in time.

"You should say things like that less often, Jack."

As Oliver spoke, he received an unexpected call. It was from his older sister.

His sister had originally told him during their last call that she would be back in Night City in two days. But then she had kept saying things came up, delaying her return until now. She had finally come back and wanted to meet her younger brother.

"I'll head out first."

After saying goodbye to Carl, Jack, and Mrs. Welles, Oliver left first. Ever since he had been kicked out of the Sixth Street Gang, he couldn't return to Santo Domingo without inviting trouble. But his sister could come to Watson District. He planned to pick her up and take her somewhere for a meal.

Not long after Oliver left, Jack had something to do as well. His current girlfriend, Misty, who was also Old Vic's landlord, wanted to go for a stroll with him. After privately messaging Carl to explain, Jack casually made up an excuse to his mother and left. His mother preferred Jack's ex-girlfriend to his current one, and Jack didn't want her to know he was going on a date.

In no time at all, the three-person team that had finally gotten a day off was reduced to Carl alone at the counter, eating fries.

What could he do?

One teammate had gone to see his sister, while the other had gone to see his girlfriend. What could he do?

Fine.

He might as well go home and keep studying hacking or watching braindances. At least those had proven to be effective for learning.

"Thanks for the food, Mrs. Welles."

After finishing his fries and leaving the Afterlife bar, Carl walked along the streets of Heywood when he suddenly realized something rather important.

Oliver, who had driven them here, was gone. How was he supposed to get back to Watson District?

The subway?

But he had never ridden it before. He wasn't familiar with it.

Forget it.

He would take a cab.

Just as Carl was about to call for a taxi, his phone rang.

Well, well. A familiar face. Wasn't this the big-spending client who had said this number would only be used once? Why was he using it again?

A Corpo Dog was still a Corpo Dog, but Carl had to answer the call. After all, the guy really was generous with money.

"Beep."

"I have a job. I need someone to act as my bodyguard and accompany me to a negotiation. Fifty thousand eddies, one person. If you want it, be at the Silent Motel in Watson District in an hour."

The caller hung up immediately, giving Carl no chance to say anything. Arrogant as hell.

Fine.

It was fifty thousand eddies, after all. Let him be arrogant. It didn't matter. He was the client; Carl just had to do the work.

After thinking it over, Carl decided not to bother Oliver and Jack, since they both had things to do. They had finally gotten a day off to spend with family and girlfriends, so he wouldn't message them and make them worry about him taking a job. Knowing them, they might even abandon what they were doing and secretly come over to cover him.

It was also a good chance to test the cyberware Old Vic had installed for him yesterday.

Over the past few days, aside from the money he had spent on braindances and hacking lessons, Carl had put every eddy he earned from jobs into yesterday's modifications.

Feeling the strange sensation in both arms, Carl shook them out, then pressed a hand against the Arasaka Corporation technical pistol at his waist, the JKE-X2 Kenshin.

A technical pistol used electromagnetic energy to propel full-metal ammunition to extreme speeds, allowing it to punch through cover and walls. Ordinary Subdermal Armor was as fragile as paper before it. After his previous encounter, Carl had painfully learned his lesson and spent a fortune on this gun. Now was the time for it and his arm modifications to prove their worth.