"This is News 54. Today, we bring you a major announcement regarding personnel changes. After a series of rigorous evaluations and internal
"This is News 54. Today, we bring you a major announcement regarding personnel changes.
After a series of rigorous evaluations and internal reviews, the NCPD has finalized a significant organizational adjustment. We're proud to announce that Mr. Johnson, a native of Santo Domingo here in Night City, has officially been appointed Deputy Chief of the NCPD. This decision recognizes Mr. Johnson's long-standing contributions and exceptional leadership in the field of law enforcement.
Known for his unwavering sense of justice and relentless pursuit of public safety, Mr. Johnson's promotion is both a personal milestone and a morale boost for the entire department.
In his new role, he will oversee daily operations and work closely with the Chief to develop and execute anti-crime strategies aimed at enhancing public safety. We're confident his leadership will inject fresh momentum into the NCPD and strengthen stability across our districts.
We look forward to seeing Mr. Johnson continue his outstanding service to our city. Stay tuned—up next: weather and sports updates."
The voice from the TV filled the room. Jack, biting into a slice of pizza, turned to Karl and said, "Looks like Mr. Johnson's appointment as Deputy Chief is official."
"I'm listening. Took them three whole days to make the announcement. NCPD's really out here setting records for slow response."
Karl, who had still been mulling over what had happened a few days ago at the Arasaka estate, found himself drawn in by the report as he munched on a handful of fries.
Ever since the NCPD Chief was assassinated—and the Scav suspect died of what they were calling "sixteen self-inflicted gunshot wounds"—Johnson's promotion had been a done deal. The last three days were just bureaucratic filler. Still, this kind of delay? Classic NCPD.
In any other city, three days to fill the deputy chief spot wouldn't raise eyebrows. A week or more, even. But this was Night City. The NCPD was supposed to act fast. Instead, they moved like molasses. Chaos inside must run deeper than it looked.
Still—at least Johnson had the position now.
"When I was a kid, I used to daydream about having someone in the NCPD on our side. Being able to move without second-guessing anything. Can't believe that fantasy actually came true."
Oliver flipped to another channel, catching another segment about Johnson's promotion. The man stood tall in full uniform on-screen. Oliver clicked his tongue.
"So… does this make us like those mafia families in the movies? You know—the ones with deep government ties?"
"You really need to quit watching so many gangster flicks."
V stepped out of the elevator, catching the tail end of that comment. "If the gangs in Night City were actually like that, we wouldn't be getting contracts every day to clean up after them."
"You out for a morning jog or something, V?"
Karl looked him over, spotting faint bloodstains on his clothes. "Up early again. Lemme guess—Regina Jones job?"
"Yeah. Just a small gig clearing out Scavs nearby. Ran into a cyberpsycho mid-mission. Regina wanted him alive, so I had to knock him out and haul him in. Guy wasn't going quietly, though. Took a bit more work than expected."
V hung his jacket on the rack and dropped onto the couch with a breath. "Fighting psychos before breakfast? That's not how I like to start my day."
"Here. Have some fries."
Karl slid over his plate. "Mrs. Wells prepped them—just needed to fry 'em. I handled that part. Give 'em a try."
He added, "The psycho wasn't too hard to deal with, was he?"
"Not really. Took less than a minute. He couldn't match my speed, so I slashed his hamstrings first. That kept him grounded. After that, it was just about control. Almost decapitated him out of habit, but I remembered Regina wanted him breathing. Managed to stop the blade right at his throat—cut maybe a centimeter. Still got blood all over me."
"Bad angle. Next time try cutting sideways?"
As Karl and V casually discussed techniques for subduing cyberpsychos between bites of fries, Oliver and Jack sat quietly, half-listening—half-in disbelief.
Both of them were top-tier mercs in Night City. But listening to these two talk about holding back during fights with cyberpsychos? That was another level.
Karl's growth was at least something they'd witnessed firsthand. But V?
When he first arrived in Night City, he wasn't even that impressive—just another rookie taking gigs. Half the time he was running minor jobs, wiping out low-level Scavs. Now he was going toe-to-toe with cyberpsychos and walking away clean?
Was grinding Scavs really like racking up XP in an RPG? Kill enough, and you just level up?
What they didn't get was V's definition of "free time."
Morning stroll? Do a gig.
Bar meetup? Fit in a mission.
Downtime between missions? Train.
Sleep? Neural implants running skill chips the whole time.
V was constantly pushing his edge—physically and mentally. With that kind of dedication, of course he was getting stronger. And those low-tier gigs? They weren't just cleanup—they were real combat drills, helping him blend old experience with new enhancements, mastering every mod he installed.
Stack all that up, and yeah—V's growth rate made sense.
As Karl and V polished off the fries, V started eyeing the last piece of pizza on Jack's plate when T-BUG appeared from upstairs.
She leaned over the second-floor railing, looking down at the crew chilling on the massive couch.
"One of my old fixer contacts is heading back into Night City," she called. "Doesn't want to go through the city's border scans, so he's planning to slip in through Pacifica. He got in touch—wants someone to escort him in. Karl, you interested?"
Karl blinked. "A fixer you used to know, T-BUG?"
All four of them looked up, their attention instantly shifting.
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