The sixth shot used a ricochet to kill an enemy hiding behind cover, and it worked exactly as he expected. Watching heads burst under his gun, Carl felt no discomfort. If anything, he had already decided that anyone who ruined his breakfast deserved a straight trip to hell.
He adapted faster than he thought. Not many people could cross over and start killing within half an hour, and kill five in one go at that. Even demons in hell would have trouble finding souls and might end up worshipping him instead.
Crouched behind a dumpster, he listened as bullets thudded into the trash-filled metal beside him. For some reason, he felt a strange connection to garbage, no matter what kind. The recoil of a kinetic weapon was strong, and even with a two-handed grip, his hands were numb, though his memory adjustments made sure it did not affect his shooting.
He told himself he would need to learn proper shooting stances and movement sooner or later. There was little cover where Maelstrom and 6th Street clashed, and facing two directions at once left Maelstrom exposed like naked people on the street. When Carl's gun finally fell silent, more than thirty members of Maelstrom lay on the ground, and only Oliver was left standing from 6th Street.
The bit of anger inside Carl had already faded. The fight was over, and the matter was settled.
Oliver panted as he stared at the bodies scattered across the ground, unable to believe he had survived a firefight like this. More than once, bullets had skimmed past his head, and each time his head just happened to not be in the wrong place. The luck was unreal, almost enough to make him dizzy.
Of course, that luck existed only because someone had stepped in halfway through. If not for the sudden arrival of another person, he would have been cut down by the Maelstrom trash that kept pushing forward.
"There's still one alive."
As Oliver slumped weakly against the cover, he heard a fairly young voice. He followed the sound and saw an Eastern-looking face that matched the voice perfectly.
Only one person, and that age. Eighteen, or maybe nineteen at most. At that age, even students trained to be corporate dogs at Arasaka Academy would not have graduated yet.
Even on the streets of Night City, that was early. There were sayings with similar meaning, and in groups like 6th Street, they absolutely did not accept anyone under twenty. Veterans hated rookies who slowed them down.
Oliver studied Carl's face and thought about his background. Chinese, or maybe Japanese, and if Japanese then possibly Tyger Claws. That area of Watson District Kabuki was Tyger Claws turf, so maybe he had stepped in because of their conflict with Maelstrom.
While Oliver was thinking, Carl had already walked up to him and raised the Militech Lexington at his head.
"Name."
After seeing the other man's firing speed and accuracy, Oliver did not even consider resisting. "Oliver."
"Age?"
"Twenty-four. Gang member."
"Affiliation?"
"6th Street."
"Purpose?"
"Maelstrom might have hijacked our shipment. We came to ask around, and it turned into a fight with those modded lunatics."
"I see."
Carl said something Oliver did not quite understand, then held out his hand.
"Hand it over."
"What?"
"Your gun."
Was he planning to take him hostage as leverage with Tyger Claws, or maybe he wanted to cooperate after attacking Maelstrom as well. Unsure but obedient, Oliver handed over his weapon.
After that, the man clearly lost interest in him. Carl wandered among the corpses, crouching from time to time to pick things up from the ground.
"Fourteen," he muttered to himself.
Using a bag he had grabbed earlier, Carl stuffed pistols and Eurodollar into it while counting. Killing first and looting after felt natural to him, but watching this made Oliver uneasy.
Looking at the way he scavenged, Oliver wondered if this guy was not Tyger Claws at all, but some kind of organ-harvesting scavenger. In Night City, scavengers were known as cold-blooded trash who treated people as goods to sell, targeting civilians and isolated gang members for money, organs, and cyberware.
That worry eased a bit when Oliver noticed Carl had no interest in cyberware and made no move to cut up the bodies. Someone with aim that fast and clean probably did not need to be that kind of lowlife. Still, the looting was careful to an unsettling degree.
When Carl even flipped through a corpse's hair to check for hidden cash, Oliver could not help standing up and walking over. As expected, the moment he got close, a gun was pointed at his head.
"What is it?"
Without turning around, Carl kept working. The take was decent, not rich, but all the scraps added up to over three thousand Eurodollar, though he would need to count properly later.
"If we do not leave soon, the NCPD cleanup crews will be here. If we are still on the scene, it will not look good."
"We?"
Carl paused and turned to look at the blond 6th Street member with a thin mustache. "I am not a gang member. I was just a civilian dragged into this mess, someone who cannot even eat in peace. I do not need to worry about the NCPD."
Civilian was the last thing Oliver believed. No civilian used a common Militech Lexington to blow open the heads of over a dozen Maelstrom members. Those maniacs loved cramming cyberware into their skulls, leaving very little flesh, and threading a bullet through metal and meat like that was not something a normal person could do.
In Oliver's mind, the answer was clear. This guy had to be a mercenary, a solo.
The sound of sirens drew closer. After thinking for a moment, Oliver spoke again. "Then take it as thanks for saving my life. You were interrupted while eating, right. How about I treat you to a meal nearby, and you can wash your face too."
His gaze settled on the blood beginning to dry on Carl's face.
"Food is fine."
The bag was full enough, and Carl did not mind being treated to a meal.
"But it has to be vegetarian."
A man who killed without blinking and ate vegetarian food. Oliver twitched at the corner of his mouth but responded quickly.
"Sure. I saw a Chinese restaurant on the way here. They should have some vegetarian dishes."
As he spoke, Oliver looked at the bodies of his fallen 6th Street companions and let out a sigh. He would have to explain everything to his father later, with everyone dead except him, and also talk about what Maelstrom had been doing.
Those lunatics had gone too far. 6th Street did not like invading other gangs' turf, but that did not mean they were weak. A gang built mostly from retired soldiers did not have much patience, and Maelstrom would pay for this.
But before all that, Oliver intended to properly host the solo who had saved his life. A life-saving favor was something he would remember.
"What, you do not have any chip receiver or operating system installed, and you do not even have a phone?"
Inside the restaurant, hearing Carl say this, Oliver stared wide-eyed at him. He looked at Carl the way someone would look at a freak, unable to hide his disbelief.