Celebration and New Communication

"Knock, knock, knock."

"Coming, coming, who is it?"

Oliver had just finished dinner with his sister and returned to his apartment to relax. He hadn't even had a chance to sit down when there was a knock at the door. With a hint of complaint, Oliver first activated the room's camera to see who was outside. After confirming the knocker's identity, he quickly walked to the door and opened it.

"Karl? Why do you look so disheveled?"

"I took a side job, that Corpo Dog's request from before. Made some Eurodollars, so I bought some stuff to celebrate. I already messaged Jack, he'll be here in a bit."

Carrying bags and packages, Karl entered Oliver's room. After putting down the bags filled with food and drinks, he took out a piece of something and handed it to Oliver, "Here, have some steak first."

"I just finished eating, and you're already stuffing steak into me? Wait, you said you took that Corpo Dog's side job, why didn't you tell Jack and me?"

Oliver took the steak Karl offered, then belatedly realized, "You just ran off to do a job without us? You're too diligent."

"Yeah, well, the client required only one person. Negotiation, you know? I played bodyguard for a bit."

"Bodyguard?"

Oliver stared at Karl for a few moments, not seeing any injuries on him. "Looks like the negotiation went smoothly."

"It was pretty smooth."

Karl thought about it and decided he wasn't wrong. The client had no objections, the other side had no objections, everyone was happy. It was indeed smooth.

"Turn on the TV, let me see what kind of trouble people are causing in the districts today."

"What could be happening?"

Although using the TV at home required paying extra Eurodollars, Oliver naturally wouldn't be stingy with the money when his friend wanted to watch. He connected his device, started the TV, and, while saying he'd just eaten, honestly took a bite of the packaged steak in his hand.

"Hmm, this taste, this tenderness, is it ribeye? This stuff costs twenty Eurodollars a slice, I usually don't eat it much."

"Exactly, so we can't waste it."

"Of course, we can't waste it, but it's just a slice, my stomach can still handle"

Halfway through his sentence, Oliver looked at the steak in his hand and noticed obvious cut marks in the corner.

"Wait a minute, Karl, you said we can't waste it"

Oliver instantly recalled the hardship he and Jack faced when dealing with Karl's uneaten food at the Japanese restaurant.

"You didn't, order everything again, did you!"

In disbelief, Oliver looked at the pile of bags and packages Karl had put down, feeling a bit doubtful about life.

"No, just this steak I felt couldn't be wasted. The rest is all newly ordered... Don't worry, most of what I bought are snacks, I'll still eat chips and stuff. There are also a lot of chocolate bars, but they're all made with cocoa butter substitutes, I couldn't find any with pure cocoa butter."

"That puts my mind at ease."

Oliver finished the steak in a few bites, and Jack arrived, having stopped by the Afterlife bar to bring Mrs. Welles's fried potatoes.

"Oh, my favorite."

Watching Karl, who loved his mom's cooking more than he did, cheer and take the large bag of fried potatoes, sitting on the sofa and starting to eat, Jack smiled and found a spot on the sofa. As soon as he sat down, he felt something poking his butt. Looking down, he was sitting on a small submachine gun.

"Dios mío, Saratoga Submachine Gun, Karl, where did you get this?"

"Picked it up after dealing with some Maelstrom guys along the way. This one's yours."

"This is a handy and powerful little thing."

Jack held the submachine gun, admiring it, then, like Oliver, belatedly reacted to Karl's words.

"You said you dealt with what along the way?"

Karl had no choice but to explain to Jack what he had done, just as he had explained to Oliver.

"Is it that client again?"

Jack pulled the bolt of the submachine gun, listening to the crisp sound, feeling it was incredibly pleasant.

"Then it seems it's worth celebrating tonight."

"My room is pretty big, enough for you guys to sleep in. Just eat and drink as much as you want. If there's not enough, there are vending machines here to buy more stuff, but the only food in my room is burritos and stuff, Karl probably won't like the meat inside."

As Oliver spoke, he saw the TV screen, which was playing the daily news, change, displaying a new image.

"Hello, welcome to News Channel 54's breaking news report. I'm your host, Gillian Jordan. Just half an hour ago, a sudden incident occurred in Watson Kabuki District. A Cyberpsychosis patient went on a rampage in a restaurant. The exact number of deaths is currently unclear. The MaxTac team has been dispatched to suppress the situation. Residents in and around Watson Kabuki District are advised not to leave their homes for the time being and wait for the situation to be resolved."

"Cyberpsychosis?"

Jack looked at the few shots flashing on the screen. "How many is that this month?"

"There are more and more psychos."

Oliver stared intently at the screen, but noticed that Karl's potato-eating had stopped.

Karl stared intently at the restaurant flashing on the screen, frowning.

"I just bought something from that restaurant a little while ago."

"Karl, is the restaurant you bought something from the one on the screen?"

"The pattern on the packaging in the bag is still there, I wouldn't mistake it."

In response to Oliver's inquiry, Karl provided an accurate answer before picking up a french fry and popping it into his mouth. "Timing-wise, it was pretty much right before or after me. Meaning if I'd walked a little slower, I would've run into that Cyberpsycho."

"Is that good luck?"

Jack looked at Karl's somewhat dissatisfied expression, not quite understanding.

"Good luck for me, I guess."

Karl recalled the waitstaff and cashier, who had been fairly pleasant. "It's just a shame. I won't be able to go to this restaurant again anytime soon."

But in Night City in 2075, that was just how things were.

Ding.

Just as he was thinking this, Karl received a call from an unknown number.

'Spam call?'

Not wanting to be disturbed during his meal, Karl hung up without a second thought, but the phone immediately rang again.

A second call was less likely to be spam. This time, Karl answered, and a slightly subdued voice came through the line.

"Karl, is it? My name is Faraday. I have a job here you might be interested in."