"Wait, is the commissioner Indian?" "Huh? No—didn't you read the file, Karl? Why do you ask?" Jack replied as the elevator descended. "Does
"Wait, is the commissioner Indian?"
"Huh? No—didn't you read the file, Karl? Why do you ask?" Jack replied as the elevator descended. "Does he look Indian or something?"
"No, it's nothing," Karl muttered. "Just brought back a... less-than-pleasant memory."
A faint grimace crossed Karl's face. He clearly didn't want to relive whatever he was remembering.
"Good thing he's not. I might've had second thoughts otherwise."
"Second thoughts about what—Indians?" Jack looked more and more confused.
Karl shook his head, still avoiding the details.
"Let's just say... I have issues with hygiene."
"Hygiene?"
Jack didn't get it. They were going to kill the guy anyway—why did it matter what nationality he was? Was there something special about Indians?
"Well," Karl added with a shrug, "guy's personal tastes are just as bad anyway. Doesn't matter. It's just one bullet. We'll sterilize it with heat."
As they spoke, Karl looked out through the bulletproof glass of the penthouse elevator, watching Night City's neon-soaked skyline unfold.
With darkness settling in, the real Night City had come alive.
They'd picked up the hit from Rogue around noon. After lunch and some planning, they'd prepped and were ready to move out.
It wasn't that Karl was in a hurry to kill the commissioner. The timing was just perfect.
Night was the ideal cover for assassinations. Sure, most city cams had night vision, but that still beat broad daylight. With the job falling into their laps just before sundown, and everything ready to go by night—well, who were they to argue with fate?
It was almost like the universe wanted this commissioner dead before dawn.
"So, how're we getting there? It's a covert op—should we split up and go separately?" Oliver asked as they approached the ground floor. "Maybe this is the perfect excuse to finally try out Delamain's premium service. AI-driven armored cabs—I've always wanted to see how those work."
"Delamain? I'm down. Been curious myself," Jack chimed in. "We're not using our own wheels, so it's either that or downgrade. And we don't downgrade, do we, Oliver?"
Listening to the two car geeks banter, Karl pulled up what he remembered about Delamain.
They were talking about Delamain Corporation, Night City's only AI-operated armored transport service.
Unlike regular taxis, Delamain offered membership packages similar to Trauma Team, providing emergency assistance and secure travel. Jack and Oliver were referring to this membership.
Karl recalled seeing one of the ads they'd watched together:
"Whether it's the sleek comfort of an AV or the full-body protection of a ground-based armored car, Delamain promises the most discreet, comfortable, and considerate service. Choose Delamain—and leave your worries at the curb."
He also remembered that the service allowed passengers to delete ride and usage logs. Whether that deletion was permanent or just cosmetic, who knew—but AI oversight tended to be stricter and more efficient than human-administered systems.
Usually, they all rode together, so nobody bothered with Delamain. But tonight's mission required them to split up. For Jack and Oliver, that was all the excuse they needed.
"Discreet, comfortable, considerate, huh?"
While the other two chatted excitedly, Karl browsed the available vehicles—ignoring the flashy AVs and focusing on the armored cars.
They were based on Villefort Cortezes, upgraded with AI combat assistance. If a passenger was under threat, the car could activate "Combat Mode" to defend them.
Combat Mode?
Karl blinked at the description.
Was this still a taxi or a damn transformer? Could he override it with a manual interface or something?
The elevator doors slid open. Jack and Oliver gave a nod and split up, clearly already processing their memberships and summoning rides. Karl and V exchanged a look.
"You hopping in a Delamain too?" V asked.
"I'm not taking the subway with all its cams, that's for sure. I'll see what's available. If nothing better comes up, I'll get a membership. That 'Precision Premium' package looked decent. What about you?"
"I'm gonna check with Regina," V said casually.
"Regina? What for?"
Karl raised a brow.
He was referring to Regina Jones, a fixer from Watson who had gained notoriety recently. Karl had worked a gig for her once—rescuing Andy, thanks to Mr. Johnson.
Regina's jobs were known for being tedious and poorly paid. Karl's team rarely took them—at least not as a group. But V had been different. Since joining the crew, he often did side gigs for her during downtime.
Now Karl was just curious.
"I'm gonna ask if she knows of any nearby Scav or gang hideouts," V explained. "I'll clear one out, leave someone alive, and ride their car to the hit—scapegoat included."
Karl was momentarily speechless.
That's so... you.
Two birds, one stone. Leave it to V to stack a side hustle on top of a mission. In all of Night City, no one else would come up with something like that.
"Be careful, alright. Going solo's always risky."
V waved and started contacting Regina. Karl, watching him go, pondered his own transport situation.
Should he follow Jack and Oliver's lead—or go V's route?
One thing was clear: walking wasn't an option. The commissioner lived in Charter Hill. Trekking there from Little China? He'd collapse before reaching halfway.
As he was weighing options, a message popped up.
"I'm back in Night City. Been a while—wanna meet up?"
Sender: Blanca.
She's back from her trip?
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