After Maine, ever the observant one, tactfully stepped away, Karl took the datachip Rogue handed him. According to her, all the intel and mission specs were inside.
He slotted the chip into his modded phone and began reading through it. Surprisingly, Rogue hadn't asked to discuss the job in a private booth or over secure comms—she just handed it over in plain sight at the bar.
Given how recognizable both Karl and Rogue were in Night City—especially in a place like Afterlife, the mercenaries' shrine—it wasn't exactly low-profile. Anyone watching could tell Rogue had just handed KK a contract.
Normally, a fixer hiring a merc isn't a big deal. But when the city's most powerful fixer hires one of its top-tier mercs? That's another story. You could bet half the city's underworld was going to take notice—and wonder whether they might be the next target.
But as Karl reviewed the job details, he understood why Rogue had made such a public move.
This was meant to be public.
The visibility was the message. Everyone needed to know this job was carried out by KK, at Rogue's request.
The job itself was surprisingly simple.
Brick, the current leader of Maelstrom, had stepped over the line. He'd jacked one of Rogue's shipments.
Now, hitting transports isn't exactly unusual for gangs. If anything, it would be more suspicious if they weren't intercepting corporate cargo. But this time, they'd hit a transport after being explicitly told it belonged to Rogue. And they didn't stop there—they killed the couriers and didn't even bother wiping the dash cams.
That kind of open provocation wasn't something Rogue could let slide.
If it had just been a theft, maybe she'd have brushed it off—chalked it up to Maelstrom being a pack of morons. But killing her people after being warned, and leaving behind video evidence? That crossed the line from stupid to suicidal.
And this was no longer just about goods—it was about Rogue's name.
You don't become the queen of fixers in Night City by letting people walk all over you. Let something like this go unpunished, and you may as well start planning your retirement. In this business, if your name doesn't mean anything, you don't mean anything.
If someone crosses you, they get a lesson. And that lesson has to be public. Everyone needs to know it came from you.
Sure, there were plenty of mercs who could get the job done. But finding someone who'd do it right, clean, and could still finish the mission if things went sideways? That list was a lot shorter.
Rogue had been considering sending V, if KK was still on break. But then she spotted Karl ordering chicken nuggets and figured, why not kill two birds with one stone?
"This one's not easy," Karl said after scanning the job. "Solo op. Can't kill Brick. Gotta teach him a lesson instead. Sounds like a pain."
He wasn't wrong. Infiltrating Maelstrom's HQ alone was tough enough. Humiliating Brick without killing him? That was even trickier.
"Would be easier if I could just off him."
"Killing Brick means some other dumbass takes his place," Rogue replied flatly. "He may be scum, but he's got a brain. I don't need someone worse picking a fight for revenge. I've got a business to run."
She made her point clear. This wasn't about vengeance. It was about making sure Brick—and everyone else—knew where the line was.
"I figured you'd care more about the dead couriers."
"I already paid their families. That's good enough—for Night City."
Karl wasn't surprised.
Rogue might have some code of honor, but she wasn't sentimental. A fixer like her had seen too much, lost too many. One courier dead? That wasn't a reason to start a war.
And odds were, after this job, she'd still cut a deal with Brick. She wasn't sending Karl for revenge—just to keep her name sharp.
That old hag, Karl thought, recalling something Panam had once said.
He remembered her calling Rogue worse things, too. For someone like Panam—an idealistic Nomad—Rogue's brand of pragmatism was toxic. But to Karl?
He blinked. "Let's talk payment."
From Karl's perspective, Rogue was just doing business. Compared to fixers like Faraday or Colemark, she was downright respectful. At least she offered compensation. That alone put her above 99% of the fixers in town.
Expecting emotional bonds between mercs and fixers? That was only possible if you had history. Like Rebecca and Pilar's dad—"Sunrise." He used to run jobs for Wakako. After he disappeared, Wakako at least looked after his kids. But most mercs would never get that kind of treatment.
For Karl, the fact that Rogue gave a damn about appearances and offered a payout already made her one of the best.
Rogue shrugged. "Want life insurance with that? You pay the premium—if something happens, I send a payout to your friends."
"You serious, Rogue? What, you opening an insurance agency now? Menu updates and new scams?"
Karl rolled his eyes but asked anyway. "How much?"
"For you? Ten grand upfront. If you die, I pay out a hundred."
"I'm not an idiot."
Ten to one? Only a fool would bite.
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