"Good friends, huh?"
Hearing Karl's words, Saul gave a grunt and shifted his gaze away from V, focusing on Karl with a noticeably friendlier tone. "How's she been doing in the city? Still throwing tantrums?"
That question confird what Karl had already suspected.
So Panam really had left the clan because of so spat. Totally different from V's case—he'd been booted like a pitiful stray dog.
"Karl, could you maybe not post your inner thoughts out loud in the group chat? Ever heard of filters?"
"I thought you were just being unusually quiet today, V."
Karl grinned, then answered Saul's question.
"She seed fine last ti I saw her. Actually, she was in the middle of a shouting match with Rogue."
"With Rogue, huh..."
Saul shook his head. "Still the sa fiery temper."
"Well, that's just how she is."
Thinking back to their encounters, Karl could only picture Panam as always hotheaded and impulsive. Then he steered the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"So, are we good to move forward now?"
"You must've spent quite a bit of ti with her to know her temperant so well. If this deal ca through her, then sure, let's move forward."
Saul sighed. "Looks like she didn't agree with my way of doing things, said she'd figure sothing out in the city—and damn if she didn't pull it off."
Didn't agree? Found a way?
Karl couldn't help but shoot another glance at V.
"We should get Panam to join us for dinner soti. Oliver and the others ought to et her."
" and Panam…"
"Panam's a friend of mine too. What are you trying to say? That you two have nothing going on?"
V remained completely silent.
Jack and Oliver gave him side-eyes. It was clear that once they got back, V was going to face a full squad mock trial—four votes in favor, one abstention. Fair punishnt for hogging all the food at the last Arasaka Tower party.
But for now, the business took priority.
"So, how do we want to split this?" Karl looked at Saul, whose face was clearly struggling to contain his excitent. "We going by city rules or nomad clan rules?"
"Which rules, huh…"
Saul paused, clearly weighing the pros and cons. Karl, having no clue about either, simply called Mr. Johnson.
"Mr. Johnson, rember that deal we talked about? Based on your vast experience with embezzlent, how much of a cut would you usually take in a deal like this?"
"I embezzle, not negotiate. I don't even pay at food trucks. Why are you asking ?"
"Useless NCPD."
Click.
In his office, buried in paperwork and ntally drained, Johnson stared at the phone before muttering and typing back:
"I'm a cop. You get that? A cop. And you're asking a cop how to split up smuggling profits?!"
"Oh, so the Deputy Commissioner of Night City doesn't understand smuggling economics? Maybe it's ti Andy took your spot."
"I JUST started!"
"But you are the deputy commissioner, right?"
That shut him up. A mont later, he contacted his niece, asked around, and finally replied:
"We'll take 35%. If the route runs smoothly down the line, we can lower it to 30%."
Thirty-five percent?
Given they were guaranteeing open checkpoints and blind eyes within the city, that seed… fair.
Lacking middleman experience, Karl had Oliver call his dad.
"Dad, NCPD wants 35%. How much do you want?"
"It's up to you. We'll handle transport and distribution in Santo Domingo and within the city. I've run the numbers—30% should be enough for 6th Street to drop protection rackets and maintain stability. If the route scales up, we can boost manpower and gear later."
"Just 30%?"
As Oliver forwarded the ssage to Karl, he asked, "Is 30% enough? You just took over. Won't your people push back?"
"Give so credit. You think being out on the streets makes you tougher than your old man? And 6th Street is 6th Street. You guys are sothing else. This deal? You pulled it together yourselves. Don't take less than you deserve. 30% is plenty."
We pulled it together...?
Oliver paused, unsure how to admit that the whole operation started as a random idea that spiraled into this ss. In the end, he just replied:
"Got it."
"So that's 65% total."
Karl nodded. "The nomads are taking the roughest part—Badlands transport. They'll probably ask for 30% too. We'll talk them down to 25. We keep the remaining 10% for brokering the whole thing."
"Ten percent sounds kinda high…" Jack chid in. "We just connected the dots."
"Hey, that's a skill."
Still, Karl didn't feel like they'd done all that much. Maybe V was rubbing off on him—he was starting to catch that nomad modesty bug. Always undercutting yourself.
Worst-case scenario, they'd knock it down to 5%. With five people in the team, that was still 1% each.
What Karl hadn't expected was—
He was dealing with nomads.
After so internal deliberation, Saul cautiously offered what he considered a ridiculously greedy number:
"Well… by our standards, 20% for us should be fair, right?"
Even as he said it, Saul felt a cold sweat. He was nervous Panam might storm in later and yell at him for screwing it up. He knew damn well this route was a jackpot. Even 10% could keep their clan stable. Fifteen would fund half their gear upgrades. Twenty? That was borderline theft.
"Twenty percent?" Karl repeated, skeptical.
Seeing Karl's reaction, Saul panicked and was about to backpedal—maybe try to lock in at 10% minimum.
What he didn't expect—
Was Karl's delighted reply.
"Sounds good. Let's go with 20."
Should've asked for more!
That thought hit Saul like a sledgehamr, completely wiping out his earlier worries.
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