"Alex, won't you stay for a drink or a bite? Is New America really so strict with your schedule?"
After wrapping up what turned out to be a relatively hassle-free mission, Karl watched Kurt Hansen walk away. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a certain New American agent leaving in silence—without even offering a word to their temporary allies.
"We won't be seeing each other again."
Alex turned and looked Karl square in the eyes as she spoke. Then she glanced up at the Riot Suppression AV still hovering in the sky.
"The nation will remember what you've done today."
"The nation will remember what we've done today?"
Karl repeated the line with a chuckle.
"Pretty sure it's Rosalind Myers who'll remember."
"Karl, I doubt Alex's bar is going to welcome us anymore. Or maybe next time we show up, she won't even be there. What do you say we head out of Dogtown and hit Afterlife for a proper drink?"
Having received word that the Phantom Dogs were taking over and that his team was clear to disengage, Maine approached Karl with an invite.
"I'd planned to treat you all to something before this gig got in the way. Now's the perfect time to pick up where we left off."
"No problem with that, but…"
Karl's gaze drifted toward the area where he and Kurt Hansen had been standing earlier.
"You think we should invite that guy too?"
That guy?
Maine followed Karl's line of sight and frowned. The place was completely empty—no sign of anyone.
Was Karl talking to thin air?
Maine knew Karl wasn't the type to randomly glitch out or go cyberpsycho. After a moment's pause, he realized—
Someone was there. Hidden.
Maine immediately raised his arm. His built-in projectile launcher was locked and ready.
"Enemy?"
He aimed straight at the spot. He couldn't see anyone, but his mini-missiles could level that whole section in a blink. If Karl said the word, he'd fire without hesitation.
"No," Karl said, shaking his head as he watched the empty space.
"Not an enemy. More like… a semi-familiar face. There's something about him. Never expected so many government agents to moonlight as bartenders."
Maine didn't fully follow Karl's muttered comment, but Karl turned away before he could ask.
"Forget it, Maine. He's already gone. Probably a backup agent New America sent, just in case we botched things. Guess that says something about Rosalind Myers' level of caution—either we're being underestimated, or she's just paranoid as hell."
"A covert agent?"
Maine's expression darkened.
"So they officially hire us, but secretly send in one of their own?"
"Or maybe he was just another asset under orders to provide quiet support. Either way, he's no amateur."
One of the reasons Karl had stayed close to Kurt Hansen—aside from his usual tendency to avoid exertion and prevent sudden attacks—was because he'd been curious about the person lurking in the shadows. And now, it was clear that guy was with New America.
"Man... being Black really does give you an edge in stealth," Karl muttered.
"Good thing he wasn't hostile. He'd have been more trouble than all those Militech goons combined."
"You're talking about the New American agent?"
"More or less."
Hearing Karl muse aloud, Maine's thoughts drifted.
Black, highly skilled, covert operative from New America?
That sounded like someone he once knew.
Could it be…?
Before defecting from New America, Maine had been invited by a fellow soldier to help form a spy network in Night City. He'd turned it down—too focused on building his own legend.
But that man… if it really was him…
"I heard he died in a betrayal six years ago," Maine thought.
"…Must be a coincidence."
Still, he couldn't help but glance once more at the spot Karl had been watching—as if trying to glimpse someone long gone.
Solomon… are you still serving the state?
"Maine."
Walking through shadows, his skin perfectly blending into the darkness, the New American agent whispered the name.
As a covert operator embedded in Night City, he had moved swiftly to Dogtown once he received top-level orders. He'd witnessed the entire battle.
Never needing to step in, he'd simply watched over Kurt Hansen from the shadows. Only when he was sure Hansen was safe did he retreat.
He'd spotted his old comrade—but hadn't revealed himself.
Officially listed as dead, his mission demanded complete secrecy. Reuniting with old friends was tempting—but never more important than the mission.
Still…
He hadn't expected someone to notice him.
"KK."
The name of the mercenary who'd left such a strong impression the first time they met—and who had spotted him again now.
Wearing civilian gear, the agent emerged from the darkness and slipped into the bustling crowd.
People moved like rivers, flowing in all directions. The agent melted into the stream and was gone in an instant.
Elsewhere, the two mercenary teams had regrouped, joking as they joined the fleeing crowd, heading off into the city.
They too vanished into the flow—like drops in a river, like time quietly slipping past.
"Good morning, Night City! This is your buddy Stan—"
That all-too-familiar voice jolted Karl awake.
He checked the time.
November 3rd, 2076.
"Good morning, Night City."
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