18. The Big Job

When a person refuses to listen to reason, a fist can often make them understand, and that is exactly what Karl did.

"Jackie, step aside."

"Karl?"

Because he had been busy trying to talk sense into the man, Jackie hadn't noticed what Karl was up to. It was only after he subconsciously stepped aside that he noticed Karl’s clenched fist and Oliver, who was carrying a medical kit. In an instant, he realized what his two friends were planning.

"Alright, looks like my 'Jackie Wells School of Kindness' session is over."

"What school session is over?"

The man with the half-mechanical face was still confused about what the big guy who had been lecturing him was talking about, when he saw Karl walk over. The cybernetic eye on the mechanical half of his face flickered, and just as he was about to scan Karl, Karl punched him square in the face.

The impact was so violent that the man felt as if his face had been caved in. His body tilted backward uncontrollably, and just as he was about to tumble off the bar stool, Karl grabbed him with his other hand—"out of kindness."

"You... what are you doing!"

With his speech slurred, the man felt as though his facial structure had been displaced. He couldn't fathom why, in the middle of a perfectly fine conversation, someone would randomly walk up and punch him.

"Nothing, just felt annoyed that you didn't answer my question, so I decided to beat you up."

"Huh? What quest..."

Before the man could finish, Karl’s next punch landed on his face. Because his collar was held in a vice-like grip, he couldn't roll with the impact; he could almost hear the bones in his neck shifting under the force.

"Ugh, you bas..."

Before he could finish, another punch landed.

"Are you going to talk or not?"

"Go f—"

Punch.

"Are you going to talk or not?"

"Are you sick in the head? You..."

Punch.

"Ready to talk now?"

"You..."

After a dozen more punches, the man, who had been arrogant and condescending just moments ago, was now a bloody mess in front of the stunned, treated-by-Oliver old-timer. Several teeth had been knocked out of his flesh-and-blood side, and there was a slight indentation on his mechanical half.

"Man, my hand hurts."

Karl shook his hand. The guy really had a hard head; Karl’s hand was bright red from the recoil, yet the man still hadn't said a word.

"You... you have to ask..."

"Didn't I ask you?"

Punch.

"You... you didn't ask."

The man had given up on any thought of resistance; he was now convinced that this guy was a Cyberpsycho.

"Can't you answer even if I don't ask?"

Punch.

Karl frowned. He hadn't expected the guy to be so stubborn—the man couldn't even grasp the concept that "me not asking doesn't mean you can't answer." Couldn't this guy read the room?

"I... I..."

The man was now certain that this guy was a total Cyberpsycho. All he wanted now was to leave the bar and run back to the corporation. This place was too dangerous; you couldn't even go on a field assignment without something going wrong.

*Beep, beep, beep.*

Just as the man was about to take a few more hits before being tossed out of the Coyote Bar, Karl’s comms device rang.

"KK, I’ve got a gig that I think you’ll be interested in."

Faraday, the fixer, had finally sent a contract.

With a gig on the table, there was no time to deal with this corporate stooge. Karl knocked the man unconscious with one final punch, had Jackie haul him out and dump him, and then took the half-bag of fries he had retrieved from Oliver and placed them in front of the old-timer.

"Eat up. Don't worry, if you run into this kind of trouble again, come find me at the Coyote Bar. I’m more than happy to deal with as many unreasonable corp-rats as you find." Karl smiled. "Just keep looking out for Mrs. Wells' business like you always have."

Looking at Karl’s smile, the old-timer’s lips moved. He looked into those eyes, which held not a hint of deceit, and nodded heavily.

The old-timer didn't say anything, for to someone willing to stand up for people from the bottom of the ladder like this, he didn't know what words of gratitude would truly suffice.

A youthfulness and brightness so completely different from this rotting Night City, as if he had never been dragged into its depths...

Such sunlight—it was truly something to yearn for.

Karl, Oliver, and Jackie sat back down at their table.

"I thought you’d throw a few more punches. And you actually shared your fries."

Facing Oliver’s curious gaze, Karl was quite earnest: "A gig came in, so I had no choice. As for the fries, my philosophy has always been that good food can soothe a weary soul, which is why I’m so picky. The guy was already a casualty; what’s wrong with offering some fries to comfort him?"

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

Listening to Jackie, Karl agreed, though he rolled his eyes at his friend: "If you had moved faster, it wouldn't have been my turn to step in."

"If you had been any later, I probably would have started swinging too. I was just calculating how much force I needed."

Hearing Jackie’s reply, Karl knew it was true, as he had noticed Jackie’s fists were already clenched when he walked over.

"Forget it, let’s not dwell on that. If we see him again, we’ll just beat him up again. Faraday sent a gig, let’s take a look."

Karl shared the contract details he hadn't yet read with Jackie and Oliver. They all skipped the fluff and went straight to the reward at the bottom. Oliver gasped, unable to believe his eyes.

"Three hundred thousand?!"

"Is that in Eurodollars?!" Jackie was equally incredulous.

"Eurodollars, that’s right."

After the shock, Oliver’s expression turned serious: "Looks like a deadly job."

For a fixer like Faraday to offer three hundred thousand, he was surely taking at least another three hundred thousand for himself. In other words, this was a contract worth six hundred thousand Eurodollars, and gigs like this... were almost always aimed at taking lives.

Whether it was the fixer’s life, the client’s life, or the mercenary’s life.

The big job they had been longing for had finally arrived.