After grabbing some drinks at the Afterlife, Karl's crew didn't stay long. Too many people kept approaching them, so they left by midday and
After grabbing some drinks at the Afterlife, Karl's crew didn't stay long. Too many people kept approaching them, so they left by midday and returned to their apartment, bringing lunch for T-Bug, who had stayed behind. In the spacious lounge on the first floor, Karl sat down with the others on the couch and shared the details of the job he got from Rogue.
"We're supposed to assassinate the NCPD commissioner? That's a pretty huge job..."
Even Oliver, who was used to all kinds of high-stakes work, looked genuinely surprised. In his mind, the NCPD commissioner was a big-shot with a significant presence in Night City.
Sure, people liked to joke that the NCPD was just another gang with badges, but no matter how corrupt, it was still the only official law enforcement agency in Night City, established by NightCorp. And that "official" status made a huge difference.
As soon as something carries the weight of being official, it becomes legitimate. That was something every gang in the city dreamed of. Whether it was contraband, street brawls, or turf wars—as long as the name "NCPD" was stamped on it, it went a lot more smoothly. Even if someone decided to investigate, bureaucracy would drag things out, and once something hit the review phase, the system could be manipulated in countless ways.
Oliver remembered back when he was with the 6th Street Gang. The moment anyone brought up the NCPD, they'd talk tough, say those cowardly officers were no match in a one-on-one fight. But when they actually encountered NCPD patrols, they'd fall in line and cooperate without resistance.
It wasn't just empty bravado. The 6th Street Gang did have the strength. But the NCPD had one thing they didn't: legitimacy.
And more than that, the NCPD also had its own paramilitary force. Beating up some street cops might be doable, sure. But if you pushed your luck, the MaxTac unit would be dispatched. Then you'd really be screwed.
Oliver frowned as he processed the implications.
"This gig's way trickier than taking out some gang boss. Take a gang leader down, and someone else is always eager to take their spot. Sure, there's blowback, but it dies down. But killing the NCPD commissioner? That kind of 'official' death… they're gonna investigate the hell out of it, even with a scapegoat. No wonder Rogue passed it off to us. Even the corps wouldn't touch this one openly."
"It's not that they can't," T-Bug said, casually eating the pasta they brought her. She held her fork up like a pointer. "If the corps wanted him gone badly enough, he wouldn't survive the night. They'd make it look like a heart attack, a car crash—whatever."
She shrugged. "But the real issue? Too many eyes on them. Other corps would seize the chance to retaliate if there was any evidence. No one wants that heat."
"Let's not get caught up in corporate politics," Karl said, sipping his tea. "We're mercs. The pay is solid. That's enough. Whatever the real reason behind the job is—not our business."
"Not our business?" Jack grinned. "Didn't Mr. Johnson just get promoted to captain? Only the deputy and commissioner are above him now. Don't tell me this hit has nothing to do with helping him move up."
"Hey, maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. It's not like we're doing it for him. If the guy dies mysteriously, and Johnson's the only reliable officer left, of course he gets promoted. Even if he doesn't become commissioner, giving him command of more squads is only natural, right?"
V, sitting quietly nearby, wasn't bothered by their blunt conversation about deciding someone's life. Oliver was the only one clinging to old ideals because of his brief time in the 6th Street Gang. But even V could see it clearly: they'd taken the job. The commissioner's fate was sealed.
Now it was just a matter of how.
"Assassination, huh... what a pain," Oliver muttered, leaning back.
"Best way would be to camp out across from his regular route to work, lie prone with the Nekomata, and take the shot through the wall. Clean and quick. One bullet, instant brain matter on the sidewalk. But if this has to be a covert job... that plan's out."
The Nekomata sniper rifle was a rare, high-tier weapon. Once you fired it, everyone would know it wasn't some street punk behind the trigger. Its ballistic fingerprint was too distinct, and finding out who had one was easy.
In Little China, for instance, just ask Viktor. As the best ripperdoc around, he knew who had elite cyberware and who had access to top-shelf weapons—because you needed the former to handle the latter.
"Even if I ditched the Nekomata after the hit and pinned it on some scav, it still wouldn't add up. A scav with a Nekomata? Nobody's buying that. This isn't Dogtown."
Oliver rubbed his temples. "And I'm not tossing the Frostbite either. That rifle's limited to 300 units. No way I'm parting with it."
"Then why not buy a normal sniper from the market?" T-Bug asked, wiping her mouth.
"I think you're both missing the point," Karl interrupted. "Why are we stuck on long-range options? This isn't a reenactment of that American president getting shot."
He smirked. "The guy has a house, right? Let's just go in and do it up close."
"Breaking into the commissioner's home to kill him? That might make it easier to frame someone... but getting in and out? Risky. No way his place isn't wired with bioscanners and Trauma Team alerts. What if he's a platinum member?"
"Trauma Team or MaxTac. Pick your poison."
"...Huh?"
Karl explained.
"You're forgetting MaxTac. If the commissioner dies in public, that gets all of NCPD's attention. MaxTac rolls in, starts combing the scene. If their netrunners sniff anything out, we're in deep."
But if he died at home? They could jam the signal, mess with the time of death. At worst, they'd only have to deal with medics or patrol officers. No MaxTac.
That sold the team. They didn't fear MaxTac per se—but having to fight them without blowing their cover? That was another story.
"All right, up-close kill it is," Karl confirmed.
With that settled, T-Bug got to work. As their netrunner, she always took point on recon. She hacked into the NCPD database like it was nothing, searching for files on the commissioner.
"Not a high-clearance profile. Public official. Way easier than a corpo. NCPD database... got it."
Within seconds, she was combing through the commissioner's dossier. V, watching from the side, was quietly amazed by her speed. Compared to the netrunners from his old tribe, she was on a whole other level.
Seven million people in Night City, and this was who he had on his team.
Not just her.
V blinked, realization hitting him a little late.
He'd been cast out by his tribe, a nobody. But here? He was part of one of the most elite merc squads in the city.
Was he the weak link?
He remembered how helpless he'd felt against Adam Smasher. Sure, he might never reach that level. But at the very least, he needed to be strong enough to hold his ground. Buy time. Protect the others.
"Got it!"
T-Bug's voice snapped him back. V glanced at his HUD—barely two minutes had passed.
Two minutes. That's all it took for her to retrieve the full profile of the NCPD commissioner.
It was already in his optics. He pulled it up—data flooded his retinal display.
Name, birthdate, blood type, work history...
"Wait... sexual preferences: reptile fetish? Lizards?"
V stared at a transaction record from a private club.
He didn't understand it.
But it shook him to his core.
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