Karl stepped back into the church, and what he saw gave him a whole new feeling.
In plain terms, the place was a mess.
The pulpit was wrecked, the surroundings trashed by the panicked crowd that had fled, and a few corpses—already taken care of by V and the others—lay scattered on the floor. Still, compared to the earlier scene where someone chanted ominous incantations while a doped-up crowd followed in fear, like zombified worshippers, this was a huge improvement.
Zombis—one of the most infamous and terrifying symbols of voodoo culture. Rumor has it that classic zombie horror films drew inspiration from these voodoo legends.
Their origin? Curses.
If someone offended another and that person wanted brutal revenge, they'd go to a voodoo priest.
The priest would give them a cursed potion—often made with pufferfish toxin.
Once ingested, it would disrupt the victim's nervous and cardiovascular systems, inducing a deathlike state. Declared dead and buried, they'd later be dug up by the priest—still technically alive but brain-damaged and reduced to a husk. These husks, stripped of will and awareness but capable of following basic commands, would become slaves: the zombis.
Karl knew the lore well. To him, the earlier crowd praying out of fear—however conscious—had been no different from zombis.
It was always unsettling to be among people like that. Compared to them, this chaotic, scrambling group—restored to their survival instincts—was a welcome sight.
"Almost feels like those sleepy school afternoons in the fall," Karl murmured, stepping toward a side door. "Everyone nodding off like zombis while the teacher drones on."
Whether it was a fond memory or not, he didn't say. He passed through the open door and descended into a newly revealed tunnel.
The deeper he went, the stronger the sense of déjà vu.
The surroundings... Why did this look more and more like a metro tunnel?
"Could this be one of the old Taiping District subway lines? Didn't expect the Voodoo Boys' base to be hidden down here. Actually, this setup's smart—if something goes wrong, they could just follow the track and bolt."
"That's not just a subway tunnel," T-BUG's voice chimed in over comms. "That's part of the old intercontinental maglev line. Back before the war, this thing ran under the ocean to different parts of the world. Abandoned after everything fell apart. If the Voodoo Boys hadn't opened a link today, no one would've guessed this was their hideout."
"Which war? The Unification?"
"Earlier. Fourth Corporate War—kicked off between Oceanic Technologies and EuroMaritime. Then Militech and Arasaka joined in, and the rest of the corps followed. Whole world picked sides."
"Huh. That was a while back."
Karl made his way through the dark tunnel and came across a wide-bodied railcar positioned directly across the tracks.
An intercontinental maglev train.
It looked surprisingly luxurious.
At the same time, he heard the distinct sounds of combat—gunfire, footsteps, and the unmistakable hum of a thermal katana slicing through the air.
'Thought I'd pick up the pace, but I still ended up dawdling. Oliver's definitely gonna give me shit about slacking off.'
Still, Karl didn't hurry. His pace remained casual.
The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear screams and energy blades. And then, amid the chaos, a shrill woman's voice rang out:
"KK Squad?! Why are you doing this? We've never crossed you! Stop—there's still time! Who hired you? We'll pay double—no, triple!"
Karl passed through the maglev train's stylish interior and emerged on the far side. There, in the dimly lit tunnel, he spotted the source of the voice.
A middle-aged Black woman stood there, thick-lipped, short-haired, wrapped in a heavy coat. Her cybernetic eyes glowed in the shadows.
Karl recognized her immediately.
Mamàn Brigitte.
Leader of the Voodoo Boys. One of the most feared netrunners in Night City.
Under her command, the gang had executed countless digital assaults on corps and rival gangs, landing her on numerous wanted lists. In the public eye, she was a legend—an avatar of cyberterror.
But here she was, crumbling under pressure in the real world. Panicked. Fragile. Even more so than Placide, the man she had always mocked and belittled as a brute.
Not that it was unusual.
In the Net, hackers can obliterate tanks like Placide. But in meatspace? The beasts reign.
Someone like Placide could tear through a dozen Brigitte-type hackers without breaking a sweat. And if KK Squad made short work of Placide, Brigitte didn't stand a chance.
Backed by a few remaining guards, Brigitte stumbled backward, pleading for peace while her hands feverishly worked to breach one of the KK Squad's cyber defenses—hoping to flip the table with a last-second hack.
That's when she saw Karl.
Calm. Unhurried. Walking casually toward her.
She chose her mark without hesitation.
Take down KK, and the rest would fall like dominoes.
She raised a compact deck, trying to penetrate his ICE and establish a connection.
Karl instantly noticed.
Quickhack attempt?
Instinctively, he raised his gun—just in time to witness something unexpected.
Brigitte's device exploded in her hands.
The blast engulfed her head in an instant.
Without lifting a finger, one of the Net's most wanted was dead—killed by her own gear.
What...?
Karl stood there, utterly confused.
He hadn't felt even the slightest breach.
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