"A members-only club that only accepts invited guests—The Red Queen's Race."
After obtaining the intel from Wilton Holt about the club that Mayor Lucius Rhyne frequently visited, Karl's crew began discussing how to gain access to the establishment.
Holt, perhaps worried about a potential leak, didn't stay long after handing over the information. Now only Karl's squad remained in the private room of the restaurant, so they could speak freely.
"Alright, let's start by summarizing what we need to do," Oliver said, kicking off the discussion by recapping Holt's proposal.
"In simple terms, according to Holt, Lucius Rhyne often visits this place, The Red Queen's Race, usually after he accomplishes something—or when he's been rattled and needs comforting. That sound about right?"
"You got it," Jackie nodded. The kind of intel that can't be written down has to be memorized, but that was never a problem for them.
"Okay, continuing then," Oliver said after a short pause. "Holt's plan is to sponsor a homeless guy—ideally someone who's lost everything because of Rhyne's policies and holds a grudge. Then, they'll outfit him with enough illegal, unregistered cyberware to push him into a cyberpsycho state and send him to attack the mayor during a press conference. That about sums it up, right?"
"Exactly," V confirmed. "And to clear himself of any involvement—and ensure a clean investigation—Holt plans to 'report' the cyberpsycho's assassination attempt to Rhyne ahead of time. It'll be a staged failure."
"That part's entirely Holt's job. We're not involved."
Oliver had no issue with the current setup. As long as Holt wasn't planning to use them as scapegoats, and their hands stayed clean, they had no reason to interfere.
Even though things had been tense earlier, they were still here to assist. If their client didn't make trouble, there was no need to turn it personal.
"Then comes our part," Karl said, flipping a braindance chip between his fingers. "Once Holt clears himself, and—according to his expectations—Rhyne goes to The Red Queen's Race to decompress, Holt will excuse himself from the club like he usually does. That's when we move."
"We just need to infiltrate the club, plant this BD loaded with a lethal virus in his usual suite, and wait for him to pick it up and slot it like always."
"A fake assassination attempt and a solid alibi," Oliver chuckled.
"No wonder he made it to Deputy Mayor. Pretty impressive. He's probably been planning this for ages. A cyberpsycho who can't be interrogated, a discreet, members-only club where discretion is everything—if he came up with this recently, I'd actually be impressed."
"The plan's solid overall," V said, "but there are two issues we need to consider. What if Rhyne doesn't go to the club after the staged attack? And what if he does, but doesn't pick up the braindance?"
"Some things don't need to be spelled out," Karl said, shaking his head. "When Holt laid out the plan, he clearly established who's responsible for what. If Rhyne doesn't go to the club, that's on Holt. He'll take the fall. But if Rhyne does go…"
"Then whether or not he slots the BD is on us," Jackie finished. "It's just like any job. He proposed the plan, we agreed to it. So the first half is his to execute, the second half is ours. If something goes wrong at the press conference—that's his mess. But if something goes wrong at the club, that's on us. Looks like Karl's warning got through to him."
Hearing that, V nodded.
In smuggling terms: once the goods are handed over, you're no longer responsible.
If the package is lost before delivery, that's on the courier. But once it's handed off properly, anything that happens after isn't their problem. It's about drawing clear lines of responsibility.
"He really went out of his way to define the limits with us mercs, huh?" V said, glancing at Karl. "Must've been scared we'd come after him if the job failed."
"I'd say it was less about my warning and more about the power of Arasaka looming behind us," Karl said, flipping the BD chip one last time before pocketing it. "This way, even if it fails, he can report back to Arasaka and say it was on us. Smart. But he really underestimated us."
"He's prepping for our failure in advance? Huh. That actually raises my opinion of the fat bastard," Oliver said, tapping the table. "Maybe he really could be the next mayor."
"Wouldn't surprise me," Karl said with a yawn, stretching lazily.
Just then, the restaurant's back door clicked open, and two figures crept in, heading straight toward their private room.
"Babe, come on. Trust me. I've been casing this restaurant all day. It's closed tonight—totally empty. These high-end places don't even have cameras in the suites for privacy. We sneak in, grab some fancy silverware, and bounce. These pieces go for hundreds of eddies each. We're gonna make bank."
The voice belonged to a mohawked guy whispering to the woman beside him. It was clear these two were just a couple of street rats trying to score some quick cash.
"You sure it's safe?"
Compared to her reckless boyfriend, the girl seemed more hesitant.
"Of course it's safe. I've been running this game on the streets forever. Back before KK even got famous, I was already Night City's best thief. Tonight, I'll show you what I can really do."
Grinning confidently, he cracked open the door to a private suite.
"Whew."
Seeing the empty room, he thought he heard a gust of wind rush by and glanced around.
Nothing.
"Must be nerves," he muttered, smiling at the pristine silverware.
Outside the door, Karl also smiled.
"Guess someone opened the door for us. Saves me the trouble."
"You'll even cut corners for that?" Oliver sighed. "Your laziness really knows no bounds."
Still, he turned back to glance at the restaurant.
Petty thieves, huh? Been a while since we ran into any of those.
As Karl's team exited and the bumbling pair of burglars got to work, the quiet night passed uneventfully.
And as the next day's dawn broke—
Hanako: ο(=ω＜=)ρ⌒☆
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