Cyberpunk: The Relentless

There were six cars in total. Let's take out two first.

As data streamed through, with T-Bug's assistance, Karl smoothly hacked into the control systems of the two fastest-moving vehicles.

If they had been older models without upgraded control systems, hacking into them would have been a pipe dream. But as luck would have it, the group chasing them—who might very well be The Wraiths—had heavily modified their rides. A perfectly fine Thorton Colby C240T had been turned into a spiked, gun-mounted death machine. Controlling them? A piece of cake.

Once he confirmed control, Karl didn't hesitate to give a command.

"Engine self-destruct."

Trying to play high-speed chase against a car with a netrunner inside? These guys really had a death wish.

Boom!

The explosion from the engines blowing out left nothing but charred remains of the two vehicles' occupants. The blast even impacted some of the nearby pursuers, one of whom lost control and spun out of the chase.

"Oliver, now's the time!"

"Already on it!"

Jack roared from the rooftop as Oliver yanked the steering wheel hard. The violent turn generated such intense centrifugal force that Karl nearly got thrown out of the car.

But now wasn't the time to worry about that.

"Take them out."

Karl opened his eyes, gripped Saphire tightly, and leaned out the window. With their car now facing the enemy vehicles head-on, he wasted no time opening fire.

"Let's see some explosions, you bastards!"

With the car's autopilot engaged, Oliver activated his Sandevistan.

Then, reaching into the center console between the driver and passenger seats, he grabbed a handful of grenades. As their car weaved through the enemy convoy, he yanked the pins and tossed them out the window like confetti.

Boom! Boom! Boom-boom!

As the deafening explosions tore through the enemy vehicles, Oliver grabbed the wheel again, took a quick glance at the rearview mirror, and flipped off the smoldering wrecks left in their wake.

"You wanna race with me? Maybe in your next life!"

"You've definitely got road rage, man."

Jack, still in the back, finished off any survivors who had managed to bail from their wrecked vehicles before tapping the roof with his gunstock, signaling Oliver to slow down.

"So… who the hell were those guys?"

After circling back to survey the carnage, Oliver finally voiced the obvious question as he stepped out of the car.

They had gunned down their pursuers without a second thought—yet hadn't even figured out who they were.

"Hell if I know."

Karl kicked a shattered piece of a gun lying on the ground. "They came looking for trouble, got wiped out for nothing, and didn't even try to surrender so we could interrogate them."

"I mean, we didn't exactly give them a chance to surrender, did we?"

Jack rifled through a few bullet-riddled corpses and eventually spotted a familiar insignia on their clothing.

That symbol...

"Shit, they really were Wraiths."

"The Maelstrom of the Badlands… guess that saying isn't wrong. How many psychos are out here?"

Karl shook his head. "We're just a single car. Normally, we wouldn't even be worth robbing. But they came in full force, boxed us in with a whole convoy… I don't get it. What the hell were they thinking?"

"Who cares?" Oliver said, kneeling to loot the bodies. "What really matters is whether they've got anything worth taking."

After rummaging through several corpses, Oliver came up empty-handed—except for a handful of eurobucks.

"Three hundred thirty eddies? Are you kidding me? These guys were broke!"

"What do you expect from Wraiths barely scraping by in the Badlands?"

Karl gestured toward the wrecked vehicles. "They blew all their eddies on modding their rides, and now we've trashed them."

"Maelstrom in Night City, Wraiths in the Badlands—one mods their bodies, the other mods their cars. Either way, both are just broke-ass gangers to us."

Oliver shook his head helplessly. "Alright, let's keep moving. How's the contact with Dakota Smith?"

"She said she's already arranged a nomad specialist for us. They're waiting in an abandoned town up ahead. She even waived the fixer's fee for this job—put all 30K eddies toward hiring the right person. So whoever's coming must be real competent."

Karl's words made Jack raise an eyebrow.

"A fixer waiving their fee? Sounds like she's expecting us to owe her one for later."

"She didn't say it outright, but yeah, that's the gist of it. Still, she did us a solid, so we gotta acknowledge that."

"As long as it's not some dumb gig from a guy like Faraday, I'm fine with it."

Dissing Faraday on the daily was practically a ritual for Oliver by now.

They didn't dwell on the topic for long—after all, they had someone waiting for them. So after wrapping things up, they got back on the road.

Their destination wasn't too far. After another half-hour of driving, the abandoned town came into view.

"Karl, what's the status on the nomad?"

"Got a message—he's already noticed us approaching. Asked if the incoming vehicle was ours. He's cautious. I confirmed it for him. They're watching us from the rooftop of a small house near the town entrance."

"I've locked onto them."

T-Bug's voice came through. "There are three people up there. The one in charge is heading down now. The other two are still on the second floor."

"Three of them, but only one coming down to negotiate?"

As Oliver muttered to himself, their vehicle rolled to a stop at the town's entrance. Karl, feeling a bit cramped in the back, nudged Jack to get out first before stepping out himself.

Looking up, he spotted a young man with short black hair approaching from a distance.

"Looks pretty young. You sure he's reliable?"

Oliver's comment nearly made Karl roll his eyes.

Who the fuck was he trying to hint at?

"Guess we'll find out soon enough."

As the designated negotiator, Karl strode forward to meet the black-haired young man, while Oliver and Jack remained behind, arms crossed, watching.

"You're the client who put out this job?"

The young man scanned Karl from head to toe before adding, "You're pretty young. You sure you're reliable?"

What a goddamn rookie.

That was Karl's first impression. Normally, you don't talk to a client like that right to their face.

Pushing aside that thought, Karl extended a hand in a gesture of goodwill.

"What should I call you? I'm KK."

"KK?"

For some reason, the black-haired man seemed momentarily taken aback. Then, after a brief pause, he reached out and shook Karl's hand.

"Didn't expect you to use a single-letter alias too."

Then, he gave a name that made Karl freeze for a moment.

"I'm V."

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