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"Just finished your call?"
Under Chiyome's watchful eyes near the desk, Karl approached. "The person you were talking to… looked kind of familiar."
"That was my mother," Hanako replied naturally. "I had to report the meeting to her."
Report.
Karl caught the word. "Report," not "talk" or "share." A term more fitting for a superior and subordinate. Between mother and daughter? That told him something. But he let it go for now.
"How did the meeting go?"
"It was interrupted by the whole traitor purge. Postponed for now," Hanako said with a smile. "But… nothing troublesome left to deal with."
In other words, Karl wasn't needed anymore.
Which meant, all things considered… this job turned out to be surprisingly easy.
Looking back on the whole thing, it wasn't nearly as dangerous as his friends had feared—like walking into the lion's den. He'd just been a blade for a key moment, then joined Adam Smasher for cleanup that Smasher could've handled solo anyway. Overall… everything had been under Hanako's control from start to finish.
"So this is the end of it?"
"Indeed." Hanako nodded lightly. "Kenichiro-san is waiting for you on the 44th floor. He's already prepared what you requested."
"Back down to 44? Ugh. More elevators."
Karl shot a glance at the elevator and grumbled. "Up and down, up and down… real VIP treatment, huh."
To his complaint, Hanako gently raised a hand.
"A small token of apology for dragging you all the way up here just to report."
She tossed something toward him.
Karl caught it midair, reflexively.
Nothing fancy—he had already seen it clearly in flight. A silver knife with no handguard, about ten centimeters long and three wide. Slim. Incredibly light. The mirrored blade gleamed, razor-sharp.
Seemed like a pretty solid knife.
But instead of focusing on the blade itself, Karl's mind lingered on the throw.
It was too clean. Natural. Trained.
His gaze swept over Hanako's hand as she lowered it. No calluses on her fingers or joints. That didn't add up.
Throws that smooth came from practice—and practice left marks. No way around it. Unless she was meticulous with hand care… or hiding something else.
He let it go. No point asking.
Karl flipped the knife upside-down in his grip, tucking it underhand.
"A mystery alloy, razor-sharp little knife. Not bad. I'll take it."
"That's not all."
Hanako caught his casual tone and clarified:
"There's a small recessed groove in the handle. If you ever run into a mechanical problem, hold the knife with a half grip and touch the groove with your pinky. I've already added your access permissions. Touch it, and it'll activate."
"Activate what, exactly?"
"It contains a miniaturized EMP device. Something Arasaka developed recently—part of a project countering ESA's little tricks."
She said it like it was no big deal.
"Two seconds after activation, you'll need to throw it. It has a four-meter effective radius."
Karl's eyes narrowed. A micro-EMP inside a knife?
He immediately reevaluated the blade in his hand.
He'd seen EMPs before. Hell, even in games before 2075. He'd used actual EMP grenades too. He understood how they worked.
When Maine and the crew took down Jimmy Kurosaki, the guy had an EMP too—but it wasn't this small. This was next-level engineering.
Put simply: you can load an elephant onto a ship. But trying to stuff one into a refrigerator? That takes genius.
Karl was certain—there couldn't be many of these knives in Arasaka's stock. Something this compact and precise wouldn't be mass-produced. Grenades were cheaper, easier to sell.
He carefully slid the knife away.
"Looks like you're satisfied," Hanako said, smiling as she watched him stow the blade. "Then, until next time."
She didn't have anything else to say in person. Under Chiyome's silent watch, she picked up her phone, waved it lightly at him, and buried herself in her CEO duties.
Her mother was away. Handling Night City's affairs fell to her now.
"See you next time, Hanako."
Not that it'd be long—he knew she'd text him soon anyway.
With that, Karl stepped into the elevator, gave Chiyome a small nod, and started his descent.
44th floor.
Kenichiro was already waiting for him, surrounded by gear.
"Everything that should be here—and everything that really shouldn't—is here."
In the armory and shooting range of Arasaka Tower, he gestured toward a carefully arranged array of weapons.
"From our finest Arasaka builds to Tsunami's Asura. I used my own clearance to pull these. Take whatever fits."
Then, unusually, he added a note of caution:
"Just remember the combat style you want to master. Choose wisely."
"Can I take them all?"
Looking over the racks of weapons, Karl's first instinct wasn't even about himself. He thought about arming Johnson's crew. Maybe even sending a few to his NCPD friends.
"I know what you're thinking."
Kenichiro narrowed his eyes.
"But if Arasaka-grade weapons start turning up in the hands of NCPD officers, do you think the other corps will stay quiet?"
"If you don't want your friends dead, you'd better think twice. There aren't many secrets left in this city."
He'd been there on that investigation with Johnson, after all. He knew exactly who Karl had ties with.
"…Got it."
Karl pushed aside that line of thinking.
The only weapons he could safely take were ones for his own team. Anything else would risk blowing back hard. These were his spoils—his payment.
So… weapons.
Karl scanned the lineup again. This time with focus.
"I want to try them all first. Test shots."
Kenichiro nodded.
"This is a firing range, after all."
.
.
.
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