"Bang, bang, bang."
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Who is it?"
Oliver had only just finished dinner with his sister and returned to his apartment to rest. Before he could even sit down, someone knocked on his door. Grumbling slightly, he first checked the room's camera feed to see who was outside. Once he confirmed the visitor's identity, he quickly walked over and opened the door.
"Carl? Why do you look so bedraggled?"
"I picked up a side job—the commission from that Corpo Dog. Made some money, so I bought stuff to celebrate. I already messaged Jack. He'll be here soon."
Carrying several large bags, Carl entered Oliver's room. After setting down the bags full of food and drinks, she took out 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 went and took that Corpo Dog's side job? Why didn't you tell Jack and me?"
After taking the steak Carl handed him, Oliver belatedly processed what she had said. "While we were busy, you went off to do a job alone? You're way too hardworking."
"That's true, but the client required it to be just one person. A negotiation, you know. I went as a bodyguard."
"A bodyguard?"
Oliver looked Carl over a few times but saw no injuries on her. "Looks like the negotiations went smoothly."
"They really did."
Carl thought about it and decided that wasn't wrong. The client had no objections, the other side had no objections, and nobody had any objections. It had indeed gone pretty smoothly.
"Turn on the TV. Let's see what kind of nonsense people in the different districts have been up to today."
"What could have happened?"
Although using the TV at home cost extra Eurodollars, Oliver naturally wasn't stingy with that much money when a friend wanted to watch. After connecting it with his device and turning it on, he said he had just eaten, yet his mouth was honest as he took a bite from the packaged steak in his hand.
"Mmm, this flavor, this tenderness... it's rib steak, isn't it? These cost twenty Eurodollars a piece. I hardly ever eat them."
"Exactly, so don't waste it."
"Of course I won't waste it. But it's only one piece. My stomach can still fit—"
Halfway through his sentence, Oliver glanced at the steak in his hand and noticed obvious cut marks along one corner.
"Wait, Carl, when you said not to waste it..."
Oliver instantly remembered the ordeal he and Jack had gone through at the Japanese restaurant, trying to finish the food Carl had taken one bite from and then abandoned.
"You didn't order everything all over again, did you?!"
In disbelief, Oliver looked at the huge pile of food bags Carl had set down and began questioning his life.
"No. Just this steak—I thought it couldn't go to waste. Everything else was newly ordered. Don't worry, most of what I bought are snacks. I'll eat chips and stuff. There are plenty of chocolate bars too, though they're all compound chocolate. I couldn't find any made with pure cocoa butter."
"Then I'm relieved."
Oliver quickly finished the steak. Jack arrived as well, having stopped by the Afterlife bar on the way and brought fries Mrs. Welles had made.
"Oh, my favorite."
Seeing Carl, whose love for his mother's cooking had surpassed even his own, cheerfully accept the huge bag of fries and sit on the couch to start eating, Jack smiled and found himself a seat on the couch too. The moment he sat down, though, something poked his butt. Looking down, he realized he had sat on a compact submachine gun.
"Dios mío, a Saratoga Submachine Gun. Carl, where did you get this?"
"I dealt with a few Maelstrom guys on the way and picked it up. That one's yours."
"It's a fine little thing—compact and powerful."
Jack fondly examined the submachine gun from every angle, then, like Oliver, took a moment to register Carl's words.
"You said you dealt with what on the way?"
Having no choice, Carl explained to Jack what she had done, just as she had explained it to Oliver earlier.
"The same client again?"
Jack pulled back the submachine gun's bolt. The crisp click sounded utterly delightful.
"Then it really is worth celebrating properly tonight."
"My room's pretty big. You can both sleep here, so eat and drink as much as you want. If it isn't enough, there's a vending machine here and we can buy more. Though the only food in my room is burritos and stuff. Carl probably won't like the meat in them."
As Oliver spoke, the TV screen, which had been playing the usual news, suddenly changed and switched to a new broadcast.
"Good evening, and welcome to News Channel 54's emergency report. I'm anchor Gillian Jordan. Half an hour ago, an incident occurred at Kabuki Hall in Watson District. A cyberpsycho carried out a massacre inside a restaurant. The exact death toll remains unknown. Psycho Squad has already been dispatched to suppress the situation. Residents of Watson Kabuki District and surrounding areas are advised not to leave their homes until the situation is resolved."
"A cyberpsycho?"
Jack watched several clips flash across the screen. "What number is this for the month already?"
"There are more and more crazies."
Oliver stared intently at the screen, but then noticed Carl had stopped eating her fries beside him.
Carl stared tightly at the restaurant shown on the screen, frowning.
"I'd only bought stuff from that restaurant not long ago."
"Carl, the restaurant where you bought the food was this one on the screen?"
"The logo on the packaging in the bags is still there. It's this place. I wouldn't mistake it."
Carl gave Oliver a certain answer, then picked up another fry and put it into her mouth. "Judging by the timing, it happened just before or after I left. If I'd walked any slower, I would've run into that cyberpsycho."
"Is that supposed to be good luck?"
Jack looked at Carl's seemingly dissatisfied expression, unable to understand it.
"Good luck for me, I guess."
Carl recalled the waiters and cashiers, who had been fairly nice. "It's just a shame I won't be able to go to that restaurant again anytime soon."
But in Night City in 2075, there was nothing that could be done about things like that.
Beep.
Just as Carl was thinking about it, an unfamiliar call came through on her communicator.
Spam call?
Not wanting to be disturbed while eating, Carl casually hung up. But the call immediately came again.
A second call was unlikely to be spam. Carl answered it this time, and the next second, a somewhat steady voice came through.
"Carl, right? My name is Faraday. I've got a job here that you might be interested in."
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