CYBERPUNK: Travel to 2075

Since they were about to take on the Uzu Gang, preparations were essential. The first priority: getting Jack some body armor.

"I thought you'd at least have bulletproof inserts in your jacket," Oliver said as they walked into the weapons shop. "You could just zip it up when needed. But you're telling me you don't even own body armor?"

Even inside the weapons shop, Oliver couldn't wrap his head around Jack's recklessness. Victor, the shopkeeper, had probably reminded Jack countless times about this in the past. It was baffling for someone like Jack—an experienced mercenary—to ignore basic safety precautions.

"Don't be ridiculous," Karl chimed in, equally annoyed. "If this were a game, sure, maybe you'd go for style over protection. But this is real life, Jack. No one's impressed, and you're just asking for trouble."

Jack shrugged, unfazed. If this were a game, he might have understood the appeal of prioritizing appearance. But this wasn't a game, and Jack wasn't exactly sporting the kind of armor Karl or Oliver expected.

Still, Karl decided not to lecture further. Even basic body armor could make the difference between life and death, especially against kinetic weapons. With the Uzumaki Gang using standard-grade firearms, armor would give Jack a fighting chance if something went wrong.

Jack finally caved. "Alright, alright, that's why I'm here with you, isn't it?"

His plan had been to save up for subdermal armor and skip the intermediate step of buying body armor. But every time he had enough money, he spent it on other things—bike parts, books, or gadgets. As a result, the subdermal armor plan had remained on hold.

"Fine, I'll get body armor," Jack grumbled. "But, KK, don't you think you should upgrade your gun too?"

Jack gestured at the pistol holstered on Karl's hip. "That Lexington is the standard issue for low-ranking cops. It won't even scratch subdermal armor."

"A low-grade pistol for low-grade mercenaries—sounds perfect for us," Karl said with a smirk.

Jack wasn't amused. "Come on, even the Constitution Military Industry pistols you picked up from those dead gangsters are better than that."

Karl didn't see the point in upgrading. His Lexington pistol served its purpose: portability and close-range firepower. If he needed more punch, he'd switch to his Copperhead assault rifle. Gang fights rarely called for full armor coverage, so a well-placed shot would get the job done.

The trio stocked up on ammunition and equipment at the weapons shop before piling into Oliver's car. They headed toward the Uzumaki Gang's base, located in an industrial area in northern Watson.

This area, once bustling with activity, had turned into a grim residential district for factory workers. These workers labored long hours for meager wages, grateful for any job that could keep their families alive. The factories cared more about maintenance costs than human lives, treating their workforce as expendable.

"It's all so messed up," Karl muttered as he stared out the window. "These people are grateful for scraps, while their bosses treat them like dirt. But what can you do?"

He shook his head. If a job required him to kill a factory boss, Karl would do it without hesitation. But mercenary work wasn't about fixing the system—it was about survival.

The industrial zone's harsh conditions explained why so many locals joined gangs like the Uzumaki Gang. As brutal as gang life could be, it offered more opportunities than factory work ever would.

"It's ironic," Karl mused. "Gangs probably offer better promotions than these factories."

Oliver nodded. "You're not wrong. The Sixth Street Gang was originally formed to fight corporate oppression after the war. But now? They're just another gang collecting protection fees. When I was a kid, I never imagined it'd end up like this."

"It's hilarious how gangs that fought corporations end up acting just like them," Jack said with a laugh. Then he paused, realizing something. "Wait a minute. Oliver, you used to be with the Sixth Street Gang?"

"Until yesterday. I got kicked out this morning," Oliver replied, smirking.

"That's wild," Jack said. "I used to run with the Valentinos before going solo. Now look at us—two ex-gangsters teaming up."

"Wait, you were with the Valentinos?" Oliver looked surprised. Then it clicked. Jack's family was in the Valentino territory, so it made sense.

"After this job, we'll have a drink to celebrate leaving the gangs behind," Jack suggested.

Karl shook his head. "You're making it sound like we're planning a heist or something."

Just then, the car's navigation system announced, "The target is 50 meters away."

"Showtime," Karl said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's gear up."

As the industrial zone came into view, Karl's eyes focused on the rundown factory that housed the Uzumaki Gang. He tightened his grip on his weapon, feeling a rush of anticipation.

"Ready for this?" Oliver asked.

Karl smirked. "Let's get to work."