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"Sixty-four."
Under the fearful stares of Arasaka security personnel, Karl lowered his Midnight blade and did a quick body count.
That made sixty-four.
"The floor is cleared."
As system alerts rang out from all directions, Karl walked past the retreating personnel and stepped back into the elevator.
All in all, purging internal Arasaka staff hadn't been that hard. The real cleanup lay in the tangled web of political influence left behind by the late Vice President. But that? Not Karl's concern.
The elevator began its ascent. After a short ride, the doors opened—revealing Adam Smasher, his metallic body nearly soaked red with blood. In the fading intensity of his crimson eyes, Karl could make out a silent question.
Without waiting for him to ask, Karl said flatly:
"Sixty-four."
"You've got a long way to go, kid."
Smasher stepped into the elevator. The car sank noticeably under his weight before leveling out. Cramped again, the cyborg finally spoke:
"One hundred and two."
That big of a gap?
Karl looked up at him. He wasn't surprised to lose, but that margin… nearly 40?
Even if Smasher was a walking war machine—even if he had priority intel and knew which floors had the most enemies—that was still too much of a gap.
Karl had expected a difference of 20, maybe 25. But 40? That was almost two-thirds of his own count.
He was still missing something.
Karl fell silent, remembering one of the other reasons he'd come to Arasaka Tower today.
He needed to handpick some weapons—and cyberware too. Have them shipped over for Vik to inspect.
He was still far from Adam Smasher.
Still far from Morgan Blackhand.
"Good thing I recorded that duel between Kenichiro and Chiyome," he thought. "I'll study it again and again. No skipping out on jobs either. Time to take on something serious."
In the heavy silence of the elevator, Smasher didn't boast. Instead, he looked at Karl, still brooding, and returned to the question he hadn't finished earlier:
"You and Hanako. You two close?"
Hanako…
The question brought Karl back. He looked up and locked eyes with the cyborg. Without hesitation, he nodded.
"We're alright. I guess you could call us friends."
Karl only shared food with people he called friends—or those who needed comforting.
"Friends?"
Smasher studied Karl's face. Genuine. Unfiltered. No pretense. That made him pause.
For once, the steel giant said nothing.
Then he looked away and muttered,
"If you've got feelings… better watch yourself."
"Feelings?"
Karl frowned slightly, confused by the sudden turn. But Smasher didn't explain.
"Getting cozy with something that looks like a lamb but flies like a hawk... it's pathetic. Like thinking you can reach the sky with your bare damn hands."
"...That poetic flair of yours is new, Smasher. Didn't think you had it in you."
Smasher snapped his gaze back, eyes glowing dangerously.
"Maybe I should've let you die back then. Watched your guts spill out instead of stepping in."
"Yeah, maybe."
Karl smiled genuinely.
"But you didn't. And I'm grateful for that. So if I ever beat you—"
He raised his chin, staring straight into Smasher's mechanical eyes.
"—I'll break your tin-can body to pieces. But I'll let you live."
"I don't forget kindness, ever. Not for a second."
Smasher stared back.
He never broke eye contact.
Until now.
Today… he looked away.
It stung. Like looking into the sun—something that shouldn't hurt anymore, but somehow still burned.
Humanity.
Adam Smasher didn't have it.
But he could feel it radiating off this kid.
So blinding, it almost hurt.
He didn't understand it.
Couldn't understand it.
So instead—
"You make me sick, kid."
"Pray we never stand on opposite sides."
"Because next time… I'll kill you."
There was no bluff in those words.
That killing intent—naked, raw, and ice-cold—filled the elevator.
Smasher didn't believe in lies. Or masks.
But Karl? He chuckled.
His tone didn't change one bit.
"And I'll still spare you, Adam Smasher."
"One life for one life. You'll walk away once. That's my promise."
His voice rang with calm certainty.
So confident it bordered on madness.
He had just lost. Badly.
But he said it like it was fact. Like there was no alternative.
And somehow, Smasher… didn't laugh.
Maybe he could do it.
Maybe he really would.
Words that would've made Smasher burst out laughing—coming from Karl, they landed differently.
There was no threat.
No anger.
Just certainty.
Ding.
The elevator reached floor 132.
Adam Smasher stepped out, paused, and turned to face the doors.
As they started to slide shut, he suddenly lunged—
—to the shock of nearby Arasaka personnel, he tore open the metal between elevator shafts with his massive arms and stepped to the edge.
He looked up.
The elevator was rising.
With Karl inside.
Rising higher. And higher.
So high, even Adam Smasher—neck craned—couldn't see the top anymore.
"Disgusting. Sick little bastard."
He turned away.
"Next time—I'll gut you."
Ding.
Karl had arrived.
Floor 140.
The peak of Arasaka Tower. The highest point in all of Night City.
And there, on the executive floor, Karl saw her.
Hanako, waiting calmly, her meeting already concluded.
She had just ended a video call. In the fading glow of the disappearing projection, Karl glimpsed the last image—
—a striking woman with long blue hair and an unconventional, almost eccentric, style.
.
.
.
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