Big Job

Chapter 40

Big Job

When someone refused to listen no matter how reasonably you talked to them, fists often helped them understand a few things. That was exactly what Carl did.

"Jack, move aside a little."

"Carl?"

Since Jack had been busy trying to talk him down, he had not noticed what Carl was doing. Only after instinctively stepping aside did he see Carl clenching his fist and Oliver carrying the medical case.

In an instant, he understood what his two friends were planning.

"Well, looks like Jackie Welles's little lesson in kindness has come to an end."

"What lesson are you talking about?"

The half-cyborg man was still confused by what the big guy trying to persuade him was saying when he saw Carl walk over. The optical eye on his mechanical half-face flickered. Just as he was about to scan Carl, Carl's fist slammed into his face.

The blow was so powerful that the half-cyborg man felt as though his face had been punched inward. His body tilted uncontrollably backward from his seat, and he was about to fall off the barstool when Carl kindly grabbed him with his other hand.

"W-What are you doing?!"

His speech was slurred. The half-cyborg man felt like his face had been knocked out of alignment. He could not understand why, in the middle of a perfectly normal conversation, some random person had suddenly walked up and punched him.

"Nothing. You didn't answer my question, and it pissed me off, so I'm going to beat you up."

"Huh? What ques—"

Before the half-cyborg man could finish, Carl's next punch crashed into his face. With his neck firmly held, he could not cushion the impact. Under that blow, he could practically hear the bones in his neck shift.

"Ugh, you—"

Again, he did not get to finish before Carl's fist came down.

"Are you going to talk?"

"Talk my ass, you—"

Fist.

"Are you going to talk?"

"Are you fucking crazy? You—"

Fist.

"Are you willing to talk now?"

"You—"

Fist.

After more than a dozen interrupted sentences and punches, the Corpo Dog who had been arrogant and imposing just moments ago now had a face that was a bloody mess. Several teeth had fallen out of the fleshy half of his face, while the mechanical half bore slight dents. Old Hauler stared blankly as Oliver treated him.

"Seriously, my hand hurts from hitting you."

Carl shook out his hand. This half-cyborg man's mouth was truly stubborn. Carl's hand had turned red from the recoil off his face, yet he still would not talk.

"Y-You should at least ask!"

"Didn't I ask you?"

Fist.

"Y-You didn't ask!"

The half-cyborg man no longer wanted to attempt any resistance. He now strongly suspected that this guy might have Cyberpsychosis.

"Just because I didn't ask doesn't mean you can't answer."

Fist.

Carl frowned. He had not expected this guy to be so hopelessly stubborn that he did not even understand that I didn't ask doesn't mean you can't answer.

Can't this guy read the room?

"I-I..."

The half-cyborg man was now completely certain that this guy had Cyberpsychosis. All he wanted was to get out of this bar and run back to the company as fast as possible.

This damn place is too dangerous. Even a field assignment can get you killed.

"Beep, beep, beep."

Just as the half-cyborg man was about to take a few more punches from Carl before being thrown out of the Afterlife bar, Carl's communicator rang.

"KK, I've got a job here. I think you'll be interested."

Fixer Faraday had finally sent them a job.

With a job on hand, Carl had no time to deal with this company man. After knocking the half-cyborg man unconscious with one final punch, he had Jack carry him outside and throw him away. Then Carl took the half-bag of fries Oliver had returned to him and set it in front of Old Hauler.

"Have some. Don't worry. If something like this happens again, come find me at the Afterlife bar. For unreasonable Corpo Dogs like this, I'm happy to deal with as many as there are."

Carl smiled. "As long as you keep coming to support Mrs. Welles's business like you used to."

Old Hauler's lips moved as he looked at Carl's smile. Then, seeing the complete sincerity in Carl's eyes, he nodded heavily.

Old Hauler did not say anything. For someone willing to kindly stand up for bottom-feeders like them, he did not know what words of thanks could truly convey his gratitude.

Carl's youth and sunshine were completely unlike this rotten Night City, as if he had never fallen into its filth.

Sunshine like that was truly something to yearn for.

Carl, Oliver, and Jack sat back down.

"I thought you'd throw a few more punches. And you were actually willing to share your fries."

Facing Oliver's curious gaze, Carl answered quite seriously. "A job came in, so I had no choice. As for the fries, I've always believed good food can soothe a weary soul. That's why my standards for food are so high. He's injured already, so what's wrong with giving him some fries to comfort him?"

"After all, these are the best fries in Night City, right?"

Carl agreed with Jack's words, but he still rolled his eyes at him. "If you'd stepped in earlier, I wouldn't have had to."

"If you'd been any later, I might've started beating him too. I was just figuring out how hard I needed to hit him."

Hearing Jack's answer, Carl knew he was telling the truth. When Carl had gone over, Jack's fist had already been clenched.

"Forget all that. At worst, we beat him up every time we see him. Faraday sent a job. Let's all take a look."

As he spoke, Carl shared the job details he had not yet read with Jack and Oliver, then started going through them.

None of them looked at anything else first. They immediately scrolled to the bottom to check the payment. Then Oliver cried out in disbelief.

"Three hundred thousand?!"

"Eurodollars?!"

Even Jack found it hard to believe.

"Eurodollars, yes."

After the initial shock, Oliver's expression turned serious. "Looks like a deadly major job."

If a fixer like Faraday was offering three hundred thousand for a job, then he was definitely taking no less than three hundred thousand himself. In other words, this was a job truly worth six hundred thousand Eurodollars, and jobs like that—

Were basically after someone's life.

Whether it was the fixer's life, the client's life, or the mercs carrying it out.

The major job they had been eagerly waiting for had finally arrived.