"Beep—Beep—Beep—Beep—"
The morning after accepting the Militech contract, Carl sent out a call to Maine.
"Beep."
Maine: Carl, what's up?
Carl: Got a job—might need extra hands. You interested in tagging along?
Maine: Damn, you running fixer gigs now?
Carl: Just a direct contract from a corpo dog. Because of... identity issues, I can't handle certain parts of it myself. Need outside help.
Carl: Already hit up Brown and his crew, but they're still on leave—figured I'd see if you were free.
Maine: I actually wrapped up my break right after we t up at Afterlife. Picked up a gig, but I should have it done by tonight. How urgent is yours?
Carl: Militech gave a pretty open tiline—so no rush. Payout's 500K eddies. If you and your crew join in, I'll split it 50/50.
Maine: Half a million?!
Carl watched the screen, noting Maine's delayed response—
Dude was definitely thinking this one through.
For rcs, not every job required full disclosure upfront.
Actually—
When corpos hand out gigs, they almost never share details in advance.
Not because they're paranoid—but because if a rc knew too much, they might back out or, worse, sell the info elsewhere.
But with 250K eddies on the table—
That was the kind of payout where you didn't ask too many questions.
After a minute, Maine finally responded—
His tone calr this ti.
Maine: A direct corpo job without a fixer skimming off the top...
Maine: Shit. Didn't realize corpos actually paid this much.
Maine: But without a fixer running things—
Maine: That ans no safety net. You sure that's not a problem?
Maine had a point.
Fixers were bloodsuckers, yeah—
But they also set up safe routes, provided intel, and ensured proper backup.
Without one, Maine was understandably hesitant—
Since it ant his chances of surviving relied solely on Carl's word.
Carl: Militech's fine with hiring outside contractors.
Carl: But the rule is—
Carl: No details until you're officially in.
Carl: That said, I can give you a rough comparison—
Carl: Worst-case scenario? This'll be about as bad as that first ambush we dealt with.
Maine read that—
Then sighed through text.
Maine: That was already pretty fucked up, man.
Maine: But yeah, the ACPA bullshit was way beyond what rcs usually handle.
Maine: Still—
Maine: Good payout. And it's your job.
Maine: That alone makes trust it more.
Maine: I'm in. My team's in.
Maine: But you're really giving us half?
Carl chuckled to himself.
Look at that.
Dude had been so conditioned by fixers ripping him off—
That he didn't even feel comfortable taking his fair share.
Carl: Of course.
Carl: Honestly?
Carl: You guys are handling most of it.
Carl sent Maine an encrypted Militech comm channel, allowing him to verify through their system.
Then—
He transferred the relevant files.
If that data got intercepted?
That was Militech's problem—not theirs.
If anything went wrong—
They'd have to ask themselves whether they had a mole in their own ranks.
After reading the full mission details, Maine sent another ssage.
Maine: So, basically, we're doing Militech's dirty work and going after an Arasaka corpo?
Carl: More or less. I just need you guys to gather intel on Tanaka. Once you've got everything, hand it over to us. We'll handle the rest. That cool?
Maine: That's... ridiculously easy. I feel like I'm taking too much. How about we split it 60/40? You guys take more—it'll be easier to divide that way.
Carl: Nah, just take your share. You've worked with , Jack, and Oliver before—you know our style. We don't have the patience for slow intel gathering. You're leading a crew, right? No way you'd shortchange them.
Carl: If you really feel bad about it, just help us grab Tanaka when the ti cos.
Maine: Fair enough. I'll go over the details with my crew. Our netrunner will reach out to you later—figured it'd be better for a specialist to handle the tech side of things.
A netrunner?
That was a rare find in a street-level crew.
If Carl had access to a trustworthy netrunner, he wouldn't have needed to teach himself hacking in the first place.
Carl: Got it. I'll send your deposit now.
The Militech down paynt was 100K eddies.
Carl split it evenly—
50K went to Maine, and the rest was split between Carl, Oliver, and Jack.
Personal Funds Update:
900K → 915K (Amounts rounded for simplicity.)
Each of them got 15K eddies, with 5K set aside as team funds—
For future als and expenses.
Sa old rule—
If there's extra, Carl keeps it. If they overspend, Carl covers it.
"Savings keep piling up."
Carl stared at the ever-growing number in his account.
Honestly?
It didn't feel real—
Money only seed tangible when it was in front of you.
On a screen, it was just so digits changing colors.
"So, what's the plan for today?"
They'd outsourced the recon, and Carl would handle the hacker talks.
aning—
Oliver and Jack had absolutely nothing to do.
Jack: I'm gonna hang out with Misty.
Oliver: I'm grabbing lunch with my sister.
Carl: "Cool—great—aweso."
So they had plans.
And guess who didn't?
That's right.
You, Carl.
Carl flipped them both off as a parting gift—
Before leaving the gabuilding.
His next stop?
A braindance shop.
Oliver kept hyping up those so-called "authentic ninja BDs."
Carl wanted to see for himself—
Were they real ninjas...
Or just so dude throwing lightning and giant spinning balls?
With Oliver gone, Carl wasn't about to drive himself.
In fact—
He hadn't driven even once since arriving in 2075.
Why?
Simple.
He was lazy.
If he could lay back instead of steering—why the hell wouldn't he?
Just as Carl was about to call the taxi driver from yesterday—
An unknown number ssaged him.
"Hey. I'm Sasha, the netrunner from Maine's crew."
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