Why Is It Maelstrom Again?

Chapter 24: 2. Why Is It Maelstrom Again?

"You came."

"I came."

Carl had really wanted to say something like, "You shouldn't have come," but she figured her Corpo Dog employer probably would not understand that kind of exchange. After greeting her, she fell silent.

This was the second time Carl had met her employer. Compared with their previous hurried encounter, when she had only felt the woman was overbearing and intimidating, Carl now had the spare time to observe her.

Her employer had worn makeup when they first met. She had looked quite pretty, but Carl had barely examined her before the promised reward of one hundred thousand caught her attention. She had not really gotten a good look at her employer's face. Now that she looked closely, the woman seemed to be around twenty-three or twenty-four. Her features were striking, with high brows, deep-set eyes, short black hair, black eyes, and slightly darker skin. Looking more carefully, she had the facial features of a Southern European—more specifically, from somewhere around Spain or Italy. In other words, a Latina face.

Carl was somewhat face-blind when it came to white people, but she could still distinguish ethnicities through facial features. Still, she did not find her employer's highly distinctive appearance particularly strange in Night City.

After all, America was already a nation of immigrants, and Night City was even more of a crossroads for every ethnicity on the West Coast. Forget seeing a Corpo Dog with Latina features—Carl would not have found it strange even if she encountered a Native American descendant claiming to be Mohican. After all, the so-called Mohawk, that hairstyle unique to the tribe, was extremely popular in Night City these days.

Her employer seemed to be waiting for something. Even after Carl arrived, she did not intend to move. Standing beneath the Silent Motel, she did not stand out much. Without makeup or a suit, and dressed only in a black coat, there was nothing particularly remarkable about her besides being prettier than the girls standing by the roadside. Carl, on the other hand, drew plenty of attention with her looks and mercenary attire. But after seeing someone beside her, most of the passing girls gave up on approaching. Even those who had started walking over were forced back by her employer's cold stare.

The silence between Carl and her employer lasted for a while. Then, perhaps to ease her boredom, or perhaps so the bodyguard accompanying her would understand more about her, she spoke. "My name is Blanca. You can call me that during future operations as well."

Blanca was a common Spanish name, meaning white and pure. In Carl's memories, there had even been a French queen consort from Castile with that name in the thirteenth century. But comparing the name to the person...

Carl looked at Blanca, dressed entirely in black, then thought about the meaning of her name. It felt completely reversed.

"For the mission later, you only need to ensure my safety. See less, say less. I do not need you involved in anything related to this. Even if you hear something, forget it. I assume you can do that?"

Carl silently nodded, making herself look truly taciturn. She was not Oliver; she normally did not have that much to say.

But while she chose to respond with silence, her employer kept talking. Her feet constantly shifted her weight on the ground, as though she were trying to ease her nerves. "There should be around ten people on the other side. If negotiations fail, I'll brush my hair back. Once you see that gesture, shoot the person talking to me. Then cover my retreat. Do you understand?"

"Mm."

Carl silently memorized the information. Ten enemies. Kill on the hair-brushing signal. Protect the NPC—her employer. Reward: fifty thousand.

Easy enough to remember.

Carl would not ask why Blanca, as a corporate employee, had to negotiate alone and hire a mercenary like her as a bodyguard. It was not important. Whether Blanca had no one in the corporation she could trust, or whether this was merely a personal matter unrelated to the company, Carl did not care.

She only cared how many enemies there were, whether they could be killed, and how much the reward was. With that information, Carl felt she could take the job.

Mm, if there was any additional information she needed, it would be where the enemies were.

Seeing Carl's calm posture, as though she did not consider the ten people on the other side worth worrying about, Blanca was about to add a few more precautions when a black Rayfield Hera EC-D I360 pulled up in front of them.

Rayfield Hera EC-D I360: The first model in the Hera series. Because it was too durable, easy to repair, and affordable, it nearly bankrupted Rayfield. It also taught the later Rayfield Board of Directors a lesson: product quality could be solid, but not too solid. First produced in 2023, the vehicle had fallen behind the times, yet many owners who loved it continued modifying it. It could still be seen on the streets of Night City.

Like Oliver's Rayfield Quartz EC-L R275, it was a Rayfield product. Cars of this type were generally used by the middle class and those at the bottom, representing durability and affordability.

Under Carl and Blanca's gazes, the rear door of the Hera EC-D I360 opened. The back seat was empty, facing the two of them as if inviting them inside.

Carl sensed that her employer's breathing had grown heavier.

So this was the car sent to pick them up.

Nice. Better than squeezing into a two-seater. Whenever Carl rode in Oliver's car, she had to cram herself in with Jack, that huge brute. After Jack switched to Subdermal Armor, it had become even more unbearable. Carl had long since had enough.

Her employer walked toward the car, and Carl immediately followed closely. Once inside, seated in the vehicle, Carl saw the person in the driver's seat turn around, shaking a head that glowed red. No—more accurately, the driver turned around, shaking the eight red-glowing cybernetic eyes embedded in his head.

That look was far too distinctive, with his entire face modified beyond recognition. Carl sighed inwardly.

Of course it was Maelstrom again—those cybernetic lunatics who no longer treated themselves as human. Old acquaintances.

She was sick of killing them. Couldn't they pick someone else for once?

No one knew what Carl was thinking. After the Maelstrom driver confirmed their identities, he turned back around and started the car. The two headed toward the northern Industrial Park of Watson District, Maelstrom's most important stronghold.

It seemed that, aside from the leverage they had on her before, this employer had something else in Maelstrom's hands.