Cyberpunk: The Relentless

Chapter 122: Chapter 122: The 6th Street Takeover



8:44 PM – Karl sat inside a small diner in the Glen.

He opened his messages.

Jackie & Oliver: "We'll need a bit more time to wrap up. Order something while you wait. We'll be there by 9. Everything's been quiet—6th Street hasn't shown up. It's been smooth so far."

Karl wondered if Jackie had run into his ex.

Since this morning, when Jackie and Oliver had dropped him off at school, they'd been on security duty for nearly twelve hours.

Had 6th Street backed off because they saw them standing watch?

Or were they planning something later?

According to the address Jackie sent, the bar they were watching over was new—right on the borderline between 6th Street and Valentinos turf.

If 6th Street had even a little common sense, they'd recognize that this bar belonged to the Valentinos.

Twelve hours without starting a fight? That probably meant they were accepting it.

Maybe they're just biding their time.

Karl wasn't sure.

But either way, Jackie's job was only for today.

Whatever happened after tonight wasn't their problem.

Worst is over. No way they show up at the last minute...

Karl was mentally jinxing the situation while sitting in a corner booth.

Through the window, he could see straight into the bar across the street—Oliver's bright blond hair was practically glowing.

"Did that bastard put something in his hair to make it shine like that?"

Karl ordered tomato pasta and a bottle of real water from the electronic menu.

He was just about to pick something for Oliver and Jackie when the diner door creaked open.

"Chkk—"

The sound of old glass and metal grinding together filled the room.

Karl glanced up.

A familiar face walked in.

David?

Karl was about to call out—hand already half-raised—when he noticed the person behind him.

A middle-aged woman followed closely behind.

Her face was worn with exhaustion, deep lines from years of hard work.

Even without introductions, Karl recognized her immediately.

Gloria Martinez.

David's mother.

A trauma medic at a Night City emergency center.

David was smiling, chatting excitedly with her.

Despite her tired expression, Gloria smiled back, responding warmly.

Karl quietly lowered his hand.

They were probably heading home from City Center and stopped here for dinner.

Considering Gloria usually worked past midnight, this was a rare chance for them to eat together.

"She probably got off early just for this."

Karl leaned back in his seat, glad he had picked a corner booth.

With the backrest blocking part of the view, David hadn't noticed him yet.

If he did see Karl, he'd definitely drag him over.

"I should probably stay out of this."

Karl didn't want to intrude on a mother-son moment.

He also knew that Gloria had worked hard to keep David away from street life.

Seeing him casually chatting with a mercenary in a place like this…

She might worry he was falling in with the wrong crowd.

Karl wasn't just some random street kid.

He was David's friend.

Which meant he needed to be careful about how he handled things.

David's mother dreamed of him becoming an Arasaka executive.

She'd protected him from the streets his whole life.

If she saw David happily chatting with a merc in combat boots, armed to the teeth...

Would she still feel at ease?

Karl stayed quiet.

Thankfully, David didn't notice him.

He glanced around the diner before picking a window seat—coincidentally, right in front of Karl's booth.

David picked one of the best seats in the diner.

Clearly, he had learned a thing or two from Karl and the others.

"Jackie and Oliver won't be here for a while. David and his mom should finish eating before then. If not, I'll tell them to hold off."

Karl watched silently as David and his mother placed their orders.

"I'll have the tomato pasta."

David picked the exact same dish as Karl.

"What about you, Mom?"

Gloria hesitated for a long time before ordering the same meal.

Karl, listening from his seat, glanced at the menu.

Tomato pasta was the cheapest thing on it.

3 eddies.

Even in a legit restaurant in The Glen, food was this cheap.

This place really was dirt poor.

Karl hadn't paid attention to menu prices in a while.

Unless something had three digits, he barely noticed.

While waiting for their food, Gloria brought up the money David had suddenly sent her.

"David, where did you get that much money? 5,000 eddies? You didn't do something illegal, did you?"

"No way, Mom. I've just been selling braindances at school. Legit ones. You know I used to help that ripperdoc sell BDs, right? I just got lucky—made a lot this time. Don't worry. Selling normal braindances isn't against the rules. You think I'm just sitting at home all day? I'm checking inventory."

"Selling BDs can make that much?"

"Of course. No one else at the academy can get them—I'm their only source."

"This won't mess up your studies, will it?"

"Not at all, don't worry. I only sell during breaks. I pay full attention in class."

"If you say so..."

Gloria still looked a little unsure.

David put on his most confident look.

"You'll see. We've got exams coming up this week. I guarantee I'll make top ten in the whole school."

"As long as your grades don't suffer..."

"They won't—trust me. Oh, and Mom, since I can already make good money, you don't have to work so hard anymore. You should stop taking such long shifts. I think I can cover my tuition myself now. I'm old enough to take responsibility for myself."

Gloria shook her head.

"It's good that you're making money, and I'm proud of you, but there will always be bigger expenses in the future. What if you get into the university program? You'll have extra costs. You can't just stop working hard because you're making a little money now. You'll need it later."

"There's always scholarships..."

Before David could finish his sentence, the diner door slammed open.

"BANG!"

A group of men stormed in.

They were dressed in Entropism fashion, clothes marked with 6th Street insignias.

Each one was armed.

[Entropism]: A Night City fashion trend that values function over style. It's popular among 6th Street and some mercs.

"Fix us some food—this diner belongs to 6th Street now."

Hearing this, David glanced toward the window.

Somehow, without him noticing,

More than twenty 6th Street members had gathered outside, blocking off the entire street.

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