After confirming the death of Jeremiah Grayson, Karl waited until Andy was busy with other tasks and asked Iron Chunk to take him to the location where Grayson's belongings had been stored.
Karl was genuinely curious about what a subordinate of Adam Smasher had left behind. He wanted to take a look for himself.
If it really was Adam Smasher's car, he was especially interested in seeing what kind of vehicle the guy drove.
Perhaps for the same reason, Johnny Silverhand had tagged along.
According to him, he and Adam Smasher were "sworn enemies," "rivals fated to clash." He wanted to see what kind of taste that bastard had—but Karl found Johnny's phrasing a bit theatrical.
Johnny Silverhand clearly overestimated himself. While Karl wasn't exactly close to Adam Smasher, the two had crossed paths enough times. And Karl knew: to Smasher, there was only one true rival—Morgan Blackhand.
Even when Smasher had gone after Karl, after a few clashes, he hadn't shown the same obsessive determination he did toward Morgan. Karl hated to say it, but in Smasher's eyes, Johnny Silverhand was probably nothing more than an annoying fly—one he'd swatted aside without a second thought.
Karl recalled watching archival footage of the Arasaka Tower incident. If he had to rank the three: Morgan Blackhand versus Adam Smasher was the real peak of that storm. Johnny? At best, a loud-mouthed troublemaker trying desperately to get noticed by Smasher.
Of course, Karl wasn't about to say that to Johnny's face.
Johnny still had his pride. Sure, the records show that Smasher steamrolled over him like he was nothing, but since Johnny insisted he was Smasher's "archnemesis," well… so be it. Let him have that.
Karl could respect the ego.
For someone who valued pride, the shame of being defeated might be tolerable—but the humiliation of being ignored? That kind of contempt burns deep. Perhaps it was Smasher's utter disregard that had left Johnny stewing for over fifty years.
With Johnny nagging him, Karl followed Iron Chunk to the port's gantry area. Rusted metal containers were stacked like toy blocks, reeking of salt and sea. Iron Chunk led them through the steel maze until they stopped before a sealed container.
"This one."
Iron Chunk glanced at Karl, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. He wanted to call KK something respectful, but no matter how hard he searched his vocabulary, he couldn't come up with the right word.
Street thugs didn't exactly major in etiquette. Iron Chunk had never seriously addressed anyone with honorifics—aside from his boss in Maelstrom. Not even Brick got that kind of courtesy. So now, to grovel like a corporate bootlicker and call someone "Master KK"? Over his dead body.
"'Sir'?" He didn't look like no civilized suit.
"'Your Excellency'?" What is this, the goddamn Middle Ages?
Sweating bullets, Iron Chunk ended up just staring at Karl like a glitched-out old terminal.
Karl didn't care about any of that. His attention was already on the container that supposedly held Jeremiah Grayson's belongings.
The container wasn't that large—more than enough to fit a regular vehicle, but a bit tight for the kind of heavy-duty ride it'd take to haul Adam Smasher's massive frame.
'Maybe it's just parts?'
With that in mind, Karl rapped his knuckles against the container wall. The echo inside told him it wasn't packed tight.
Some folks, paranoid about their belongings being tampered with during storage, would rig the containers with bombs set to detonate if tampered with. Karl wasn't afraid of such traps, but he still took precautions.
He knocked again, this time with more focus. The metallic echo revealed a slight anomaly near the container door—an odd distortion, like the sound was bouncing off something solid too early.
The sound was faint, but Karl's enhanced senses caught it.
He didn't have high-end echolocation like those ultra-specialized cyberware freaks who could "see" in the dark using sonar, but with a bit of neural processing support, he could still detect subtle changes.
Whatever security Grayson had installed inside...
"You should be glad none of you ever got curious about Jeremiah Grayson's stuff," Karl said, rolling his wrist. "Otherwise, you might be short one gang member."
Iron Chunk didn't fully understand, but Karl wasn't about to wait.
Whatever was inside, this iron coffin was opening today.
Monomolecular blade, deployed.
Iron Chunk barely caught the glint of cold light before Karl completed the cut. The container split in two like paper under a razor, the doors peeling outward.
—Shnk!
He couldn't even process Karl's motion before something flew out of the container—straight into the sea.
BOOM!!!
Two seconds later, a ten-meter-high water column erupted. The shockwave rattled the steel frames of the dock.
"Delayed fuse explosive," Karl muttered, shaking out his hand. "Pretty decent quality."
"The hell..."
Iron Chunk's four cyber-eyes bulged. "That asshole Grayson told me he was just storing a few personal items!"
"Well, apparently, that bomb counted as a personal item too."
Karl tossed out the line like it was nothing, then looked into the container.
Sitting there was a somewhat old-fashioned car.
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🔥 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS
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🔥 THE STORY DOESN'T STOP HERE. NEITHER DOES HE.
Night City breaks people every day.
Some crawl away.
Some disappear.
And some simply refuse to stop.
Cyberpunk: The Relentless has 500+ chapters ahead available for readers who want to keep going.
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⚡ NO BRAKES. NO MERCY. NO TURNING BACK.
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⚔️ One relentless road forward
Every victory creates another enemy.
Every enemy leads to something bigger.
And Night City always wants another body.
🔥 500+ CHAPTERS AHEAD.
👉 Why stop now?
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