On Christmas Day in Night City, if you asked Karl whether things felt different—he'd admit, yeah, there were a few noticeable changes.
Like the elevator screens—now bombarding you with nonstop ads pushing holiday-thed products. Or the people in Santa costus on the streets, asking if you wanted to "take a ride" on their "reindeer" and experience the thrill of "soaring through the sky like Santa."
His eyes briefly swept over one of the so-called "reindeer." Those strategically placed pom-poms? Yeah, no way that wasn't professionally designed for maximum visual impact.
"Business might actually be decent today."
"Karl, you're actually checking them out?"
Oliver, back from the Badlands, followed Karl's gaze and spotted the sa girl. He gave her a quick once-over and turned to Karl, a little surprised.
"I thought that wasn't your thing."
"I'm a perfectly normal straight man."
Karl shot back, unimpressed.
"Why wouldn't I look at a well-dressed, good-looking woman passing by?"
He only glanced. He wasn't a creep about it.
"I an, I've just never seen you show special attention to won. Like yesterday—I thought you were going on a date with Blanca, but halfway through you were like, 'Mission complete.' That's when I was like, 'Yep, that's Karl for you.' You know what I an?"
"That doesn't conflict."
Karl couldn't be bothered to argue. He turned to V, walking alongside them—invited into the city for the holiday.
"So, V. How's the city looking to you today?"
"All I'll say is—city folks love their flashy bullshit."
V's gaze passed over a woman in a Santa outfit with bright red fishnets. He nodded slightly.
"But hey, it's a feast for the eyes. Out in the Badlands, wear sothing like that and it's filled with sand in five minutes. Only in the city, man."
"Alright, you pervs."
Jack turned back from the front of the group.
"You'll have all night to chat about girls. Let's get to work first."
It was Christmas Eve. Mama Welles wasn't one for traditional decorations—no tree, no turkey—but there was one holiday tradition she insisted on: a Christmas cake.
A large, expensive cake made with real eggs and butter. The real deal.
It had been ordered from a specialty shop in Watson. The kind of place where you needed a password just to enter. Karl, Oliver, and V were on their way to pick it up.
The pickup ti was near. If they delayed any longer, the sellers might get suspicious and cancel or relocate. And given how much this thing cost—easily a few thousand eddies—these bakeries took their security more seriously than most black-market arms dealers.
"Every year, the number of firefights over Christmas cakes never drops below double digits," Jack muttered.
"Keep it tight. Misty's expecting a nice slice."
Misty would be at El Coyote Cojo tonight for the gathering. Ever since that first eting, things had llowed between her and Mama Welles. Sotis Mama even invited her over just the two of them, since Jack was always running around. According to him, Misty was starting to feel more like Mama Welles' kid than he was.
"Misty wants cake?" Oliver, usually relaxed, turned serious.
"Then we're not letting her down."
He didn't have many friends. But the ones he had? He never let them down. Misty wanted cake—so that cake was making it ho in one piece.
Beep-beep.
Karl checked a ssage.
"T-Bug's already at El Coyote Cojo. Having a drink. Vik says he's got surgeries but he'll make it on ti."
He scrolled through a few more updates.
Jade—Oliver's detective friend—sent her apologies. She was busy with inventory but had already shipped a crate of corn to the bar as a gift.
And Mr. Johnson...
Yeah, Christmas for Karl's crew was downti. For the NCPD? It was hell.
With cake heists hitting double digits in one night—plus everything else—Johnson said he'd be working all night. Still, he'd sent over a box of seized and cleared liquor to El Coyote Cojo, telling them to drink like kings.
Crooked cop, huh.
Karl smirked. He'd have to save so leftovers and send them with a delivery drone once the guy was free.
Oliver asked as Karl put his agent away:
"Did Johnson send anything—oh wait, yeah, he's probably slamd tonight."
He scratched his head.
"None of my other friends are free either. You guys know anyone else?"
"I know a few."
Jack shrugged.
"But most of them are from the Valentinos. They hang around El Coyote sotis—Mom knows them all. But they passed on tonight's invite. Said we rcs should enjoy the night off."
"Probably because they know you, but not the rest of us."
Karl had t a few of Jack's gang contacts before, but only in passing. Not enough to get cozy. Probably didn't want to crash a party full of unfamiliar rcs.
"Besides, they're helping keep an eye on things."
"Helping how?"
Karl raised an eyebrow.
Jack shrugged again.
"Sa deal as Oliver's 6th Street boys. The Valentinos aren't exactly one big happy family. There are a few guys in the gang who've never liked . It's all business—drinks are fine, but when money gets involved, things get cutthroat."
"Guess assholes are universal."
Karl shook his head.
And with that—the shop ca into view.
.
.
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