10:35 AM.
Karl sat inside an NCPD patrol car.
The model?
"Skyline Hera EC-H I860 NCPD Enforcer."
[Skyline Hera EC-H I860 NCPD Enforcer]
A custom-modified Hera, specially commissioned by NCPD from Skyline Motors.
Unlike the standard Hera, which was notorious for its cheap plastic body panels and flimsy bumper, this law enforcent variant was built to endure.
Its fra had been reinforced with fireproof, bullet-resistant materials, and even the bumpers had been replaced with thick steel plating.
Few vehicles in Night City could match its durability.
Hell, even if a reckless officer plowed it straight into a concrete wall, the car would probably take barely a scratch.
Seated in one of NCPD's few truly well-equipped rides, Karl absentmindedly tapped his temple with a finger, processing the clues so far.
"Let's go over this again.
The victim was a delivery driver, right?
Which ans—before he died—he was regularly handling shipnts of goods.
And he was from Santo Domingo.
Which also happens to be Night City's closest district to the Badlands—and the biggest hub for smuggling operations."
"So," Johnson said, still watching Karl from the driver's seat, "you think this pig bone has sothing to do with his deliveries?"
Ignoring Ken'ichiro, who sat completely silent in the passenger seat, Johnson continued:
"Are you saying he was involved in real at smuggling?"
"If you think in that direction, it's easy to co up with several possibilities," Karl said.
"But right now, none of those really matter.
Because the only thing we actually need—is to find the key person behind this supply chain.
Once we track them down, we'll get our answers—
Whether that's for your murder investigation, or for my missing detective."
"So instead of playing detective, you're suggesting we just find the right guy and make him talk?"
Johnson smirked.
"Not gonna lie. That's more my style these days."
His hand rested on the steering wheel, foot ready to hit the gas.
"Alright. What's our destination?"
"Santo Domingo. Arroyo District. Logistics Hub."
"Arroyo, huh…"
Johnson clicked his tongue.
"NCPD barely patrols that place."
Most of NCPD's manpower was focused on City Center—the district that paid the most in bribes and donations.
Even Watson and Heywood, which were right next door, didn't get much attention.
And Santo Domingo?
It was practically ignored entirely.
Hell, that's why the 6th Street Gang exists.
If NCPD had done its job, 6th Street never would've been ford in the first place…
Though, to be fair—the corps were behind that one, too.
"Yeah, we don't go there often," Johnson admitted.
"But you still see a few rookie officers patrolling the streets, don't you?"
"Yeah. That's just the usual mix of dumbasses with hero complexes and fresh recruits with idealistic dreams.
Give them so ti.
After a few lessons, they'll figure it out.
Saving a city?
Yeah… it's not that simple."
"...Is that so."
Karl listened, but his mind was elsewhere.
Data stread into his cyberware.
His Arasaka-issue S4 Cyberdeck ran a quick hack, pulling up Johnson's personnel file from NCPD's internal records.
JOHNSON
Rank: Lieutenant
Age: 45
Background: Santo Domingo, Arroyo District, Night City. Experience: Served as a patrol officer in Santo Domingo for 16 years. Achievents: Solved three major cases, intervened in 14 gang conflicts, and earned 17 third-class rits along with five second-class rits.
Karl recalled NCPD's rit system:
Taking down a violent offender or capturing a wanted criminal was worth a third-class rit. Leading a squad to neutralize an entire gang operation, or making an equivalent contribution, granted a second-class rit.
So when Johnson said:
"Saving a place isn't that easy."
Was that the resignation of a once decorated officer—soone who had genuinely tried to save his ho, only to fail?
Karl shook his head slightly.
There was nothing to say in response to that.
Because for soone who had actually tried, words from outsiders didn't matter.
If a few encouraging words could change anything, then people like Johnson wouldn't have held on for years—only to finally let go.
The lone patrol car drove through the streets of Santo Domingo, drawing curious glances from locals.
A single NCPD vehicle, entering Santo Domingo alone?
Now that was rare.
Had these cops suddenly grown a pair?
Or…
Was this so kind of deal?
A few 6th Street Gang mbers, spotting the patrol car, imdiately forwarded the info up the chain.
It wasn't major intelligence, but in the streets, even small details mattered.
Arroyo Logistics Hub
Despite playing a crucial role in Night City's supply chain, this logistics hub was tiny.
Compared to the massive corporate towers in City Center, this place barely covered five or six football fields.
And yet, it handled at least one-fifth of Night City's logistics and transportation needs.
One-fifth of a city with seven million people…
All running through this small-ass facility.
Karl stepped out of the car, taking in the cramped facility.
"Looking at this logistics hub, I finally get why so many Badlands runners operate in the city.
If people relied only on official transport, getting outside goods quickly would be damn near impossible."
He glanced at Johnson.
"With all the trouble getting external shipnts in, doesn't that bother the corps?"
"They don't care," Johnson replied, stepping out.
"Every corp has their own specialized supply routes.
Even Arasaka has Arasaka Waterfront for mariti shipnts.
You think the other corps don't have sothing similar?"
Saying this, Johnson turned toward Ken'ichiro, still standing beside them.
His gaze lingered, then—
"I ntioned Arasaka—that didn't offend you, did it?"
"I am not employed by Arasaka."
Ken'ichiro responded with calm indifference.
Like Johnson's probing question ant nothing at all.
Trying to dig into my background?
You'll have to try harder than that.
'This guy's just putting on a show,' Johnson thought.
Why the hell is Karl even working with him?
Years of experience told Johnson that Ken'ichiro was dangerous.
But no matter how many tis he tested him, the man's reaction was always the sa—calm and unshaken.
Even if Johnson wanted to warn Karl about him, he couldn't find any evidence to back it up.
Karl ignored the exchange.
Instead, standing at the logistics hub entrance, he dialed a number.
It was a contact Oliver had given him—
A number specifically for ordering real at.
The pig bones at the cri scene had been fresh.
Even analyzing the marrow, there were no signs of freezing.
aning the pig had been recently butchered.
And given how difficult it was to smuggle real at into Night City, shipnts were rare—maybe once a month, if that.
In other words—
The pig bones from the cri scene...
And the pigs Karl had access to...
Were probably from the sa batch.
.
.
.
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