Cyberpunk: The Relentless

For a brief moment, after the initial burst of gunfire—

The bar fell into absolute silence.

Then—

"Thud."

The first body hit the ground.

Followed by another.

And another.

"Thud. Thud. Thud."

A total of eleven times.

Mixed in with the shattering of bottles and broken glasses, Oliver slowly holstered his Nova revolver.

Then, just to show off—

He blew away the lingering gunpowder smoke from his barrel.

"Tch. Nothing special."

Karl: "You took out three guys and you're acting like a legend."

Oliver: "Like you did any better. You only dropped four."

As Karl and Oliver bickered, Jack was—

Actually still working.

He stepped over Maxim—the driver he knocked out earlier with a stray elbow—

And walked up to Kazuo Sato, who was still groaning in pain.

Scanning the rest of the terrified patrons, Jack raised his voice.

"Just a merc job. If you got nothing to do with it—then get lost."

Many of the regulars, still dazed from the gunfire, cautiously lifted their heads.

And when they saw the situation inside the bar—

Their jaws dropped.

The Tyger Claws, usually so high and mighty—

Had been annihilated before they could even react.

"What the hell—who ARE these guys?!"

A few people stared at Jack, noticing his massive frame and thick arms.

And in that moment—

A new rumor was born in their minds.

*"That guy—he's gotta be their leader. No way I'm messing with him.

If he and his squad can wipe out an entire Tyger Claws bar in an instant…

Then they must be complete lunatics."*

Karl: "If you're leaving, leave now. If more Tyger Claws show up, they might mistake you for our allies."

The reminder snapped the remaining patrons out of their shock.

Their gazes briefly flicked from "Jack the Mercenary Boss"—

To the young "lackey" who had just spoken.

A few nodded in thanks, muttering "Appreciate it."

Then, without wasting a single second, they bolted out of the bar.

They knew—

The Tyger Claws didn't care about innocence.

When revenge came, it would be indiscriminate.

Since the main area of the bar had no cameras, Karl casually strolled over to the wailing Kazuo Sato.

Then—

He stomped on his head.

Sato let out a muffled groan—

Before passing out cold.

With Sato silent, Karl turned to Maxim.

Crouching down, he extended a monowire from his wrist, plugging it directly into the driver's neural port.

Data extraction: In progress.

Karl wasn't after anything complex.

All he needed was the guy's communication history.

And since Maxim was already unconscious—

It only took him five seconds.

"Done. Didn't even need to wipe his memory."

Karl stood up, glancing at Maxim's limp body.

Karl: "By the way, Jack—you knocked this guy out with a stray elbow. That's not gonna look weird?"

Jack: "Eh, no big deal. Drunken brawls in bars happen all the time. Even if he wakes up, he'll probably just think he was unlucky—caught in the crossfire while having a drink."

Jack, a veteran of Night City's streets, casually hoisted the unconscious Kazuo Sato over his shoulder.

Jack: "First real fight I ever got into? I got 'accidentally' knocked out too. Some bastard smashed a bottle over my head."

Oliver: "…That explains why your skull looks so damn thick now."

As Karl spoke, several bartenders from the VIP rooms had begun noticing what was happening outside.

Guns in hand, they cautiously stepped out—

Only to be greeted by a friendly bullet from Oliver.

One after another.

"One, two… three… six down, Karl. That means I'm ahead of you now. Looks like the rest of them are smart enough to stay put."

Hearing Oliver's smug remark, Karl simply rolled his eyes.

*"Give me a break. The hallway from the VIP rooms leads straight to the front. Any rational person who sees three bodies stacked ahead would just sneak out the back.

We should get moving. They've probably already called for Tyger Claws backup.

And this is Japan Town—stay too long, and we'll get swarmed."*

"Fair. But give me a sec—there's one last thing I gotta do."

"What thing?"

Oliver reached into his pocket, pulled out a €$20 bill, and waved it in Karl's face.

Then, he placed it on the bar counter.

*"Two drinks—for me and Jack. €$14 total.

This is €$20."*

Oliver glanced at the corpse behind the counter.

"Keep the change. Consider it a tip."

Karl scoffed.

"Damn. You're really an honest guy, huh?"

Oliver simply shrugged.

"The drink was good. Even if the bartender pulled a gun on me afterward, I still think it was worth paying for."

Karl snorted.

"So, you're paying for the booze—but not the guy?"

"Pretty much."

With that, the three of them left the bar, tossing Kazuo Sato into the trunk.

The bullet in his gut—thanks to his subdermal armor—had absorbed most of the damage.

According to Oliver, who had some medical expertise, Sato had about two hours before things got critical.

That was more than enough time.

The Quartz engine rumbled to life.

Once again—

Karl found himself sandwiched between Jack and Oliver in the cramped backseat.

"Man, I miss the Hera."

Their next stop—

The Glen District, the border zone between Heywood and Westbrook's Japan Town.

This was where Father was waiting.

[Glen District] – The poorest part of Heywood. Rampant with violence. Mostly controlled by the Valentinos, but with a small Six Street presence.

The moment they entered Valentino/Six Street territory—

Their mission would be 80% complete.

Even if the Tyger Claws sent a chase squad, they wouldn't dare storm into Valentino turf—

Not unless they wanted both gangs turning against them.

But before they could get there—

They first had to make it out of Japan Town.

That—

Was the real test.

The Quartz had barely been on the road for one minute when Oliver, glancing at the rearview mirror, noticed something.

*"Welp. Took them less than a minute. Four Tyger Claws bikes—already on our ass.

Damn, these guys are efficient."*

He was just about to hit the gas—

When suddenly—

A car swerved into the intersection ahead, blocking their path.

Its trajectory was deliberate—

If Oliver maintained speed, they would collide head-on.

"Tch. Shit."

Yet—

Instead of slowing down—

Oliver slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

The Quartz roared forward at full speed.

"Fine. You wanna play? Let's see who's really afraid."

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