"Um… anyway, thanks for helping out with the clan stuff. I heard from them that you helped set up a new smuggling route. I honestly don't kn
"Um… anyway, thanks for helping out with the clan stuff. I heard from them that you helped set up a new smuggling route. I honestly don't know how to thank you."
Sitting inside Afterlife, Panam spoke with a hint of awkwardness. She had invited Karl and the others out and was covering the bill with her own savings. Karl just smiled casually.
"Everyone's making eddies off this. No need for thanks. If anyone deserves it, it's V—he's the one who brought up the Aldecaldos in the first place."
"V…?"
Hearing that, Panam turned to look at V, who was quietly downing drink after drink.
She thought for a moment, then sat down beside him and nudged him with her elbow.
"So… what were you thinking?"
"What do you mean, what was I thinking?"
"You know what I mean..."
As their voices dropped and their conversation grew quieter, Karl glanced over at Oliver, Jack, and T-BUG. They all nodded in unison. He chuckled, shifting over slightly to give the two some space.
Nice.
Grabbing his glass with clawed fingers, Karl shifted it slightly—then noticed something odd about Claire, the bartender.
Same look, same sharp movements, same face. But something about her was different today—she seemed unusually excited, like she was eager to go do something.
That piqued Karl's curiosity. To him, Claire had always been the calm, composed type—someone who anchored the Afterlife's bar without breaking a sweat. He'd never seen her look this hyped before.
"Something good happen, Claire?"
They were familiar enough that Karl didn't mind asking when she passed by. "Rogue give you a raise or something?"
"You could tell? I was really trying not to show it on shift."
Claire looked mildly surprised that Karl had picked up on her mood, but then smiled.
"As if Rogue would give me a raise. If that ever happened, I'd be way more excited than this."
She explained:
"I've got a test run for a street race tonight. It's been a while since I pushed my ride to the limit. Just thinking about the engine screaming through the streets gets me fired up."
"A test run for a street race?"
Karl echoed the phrase, confused.
"Claire… you take part in underground street races? Never would've guessed."
"I've done a few already. It's addicting. Once you get used to the rush, you fall in love with it. You get it, right? The roar of the engine, tearing through the chaos and gunfire."
"Tearing through gunfire? That doesn't sound like a race. Sounds like some full-on car chase warfare."
Karl furrowed his brows—but if there's one thing guaranteed to catch attention, it was the word "race". And sure enough, Oliver had already leaned in.
"Claire. Street racing. Give me the full rundown. This sounds like my kind of thing. How does it work?"
"What, Oliver… don't tell me you're thinking of entering?"
"Of course I am. If there's real street racing in this city, I've gotta show 'em what I can do behind the wheel. Who's ever seen me lose in a car?"
Claire didn't mind the idea of another racer entering the fray. She gave Oliver a quick explanation of how it worked.
To put it simply: Night City-style street racing wasn't just about speed—it was combat on wheels.
Drivers had to rely on precision handling and aggressive tactics. But they were also allowed to open fire on rival racers. Gunfire, ramming, dirty tricks—anything went. As long as your car crossed the finish line first, it was all fair game.
It wasn't just about speed. It tested your shooting skills and how well-armored your vehicle was. This was Night City, after all—racing with bullets was just part of the scene.
"Ah, so that's what it is."
Hearing Claire's explanation, Oliver lit up.
"I remember now! I heard about this as a kid. Wanted to go watch once, but my sister dragged me back—it was too dangerous. So the races are back on?"
"Wanna join?" Claire grinned. "There's a test run tonight. If you rank well, you might qualify for the annual championship. Wanna give it a go?"
It was clear she was passionate about her off-hours hobby. Seeing Oliver interested, she kept the pitch going:
"But if you're serious, you'll need a car that can take a beating. And you'll need a gunner—someone in the passenger seat to lay down fire. That's the rule: two-person teams, or the race doesn't count."
"A two-person race, huh..."
The more he heard, the more fired up Oliver got. He'd always loved racing, and now that he was old enough to actually compete?
Yeah—there was no way he was turning this down.
Only problem was...
"I'm not interested," Karl said flatly.
Hell no. Oliver's driving was a one-way ticket to nausea and chaos. Sitting shotgun while also having to shoot at other cars? Not happening.
"I'll be your gunner, Oliver."
Unlike Karl, Jack was already fired up. He loved this kind of thrill, and the second Oliver looked over, Jack volunteered himself.
"Then we're in. Let's give it a shot tonight."
The two immediately started grilling Claire for details, forming a racing duo on the spot. Watching them get hyped, Karl glanced back at V—still deep in conversation with Panam—and said to T-BUG:
"Looks like none of them are getting back early tonight."
"I'm upgrading some gear tonight too. Might be out late."
Karl blinked.
Wait… am I the only one without plans tonight?
As that thought hit him—
He got a new message.
From Blanca.
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🔥 Cyberpunk: The Relentless
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