"The baton has power, the kicks are precise... you know, Andy's combat data actually feels professional. Even if it's just virtual training, it really gives off the vibe of him enforcing the law."
Watching the footage being projected, Jack clicked his tongue in amazement. "But man, Seisen getting his ass kicked is kinda pitiful."
As they all watched Arasaka Seisen stumbling around a virtual factory, getting chased by Andy's stun baton and unable to even draw his Kongou pistol, Oliver couldn't help but think of his own early days.
"So… is this what it looked like when you guys used to laugh at me?"
"Nah, Seisen's way more embarrassing than you. Even back then, when you were getting beaten up, at least you weren't running around like a headless chicken."
Oliver squinted at Jack with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Is there a chance that the rest of us were using simulations with the 'lethal' option turned on, while Seisen's running a nerfed version with 30% pain and no death? Maybe I didn't even get the chance to run—I just died on the spot?"
"Wait, is that true?"
Jack tried to make his face look innocent, but in front of his brothers, that kind of expression didn't fool anyone.
"I seem to remember you bastards only told me about disabling the lethal setting afterward."
"Heh…"
Under Oliver's glare, all Jack could say was that he'd eaten too much that day and forgot to mention it.
"But honestly," Karl added thoughtfully, "part of the reason Seisen's getting beaten so badly might be his combat style."
He offered a serious critique of their client's performance.
"That Kongou he's using is a modified Liberty from the early 21st century. Even with the upgrades, it's an old-school design—no smart targeting, no auto-aim, completely manual. And it's clear he hasn't been in a real fight for years. His dodges are clumsy as hell… Ah, there's another hit."
Watching Seisen twitching on the screen as the electric baton zapped him again, Karl couldn't help but feel a bit of respect.
At least the guy hadn't tapped out.
Even with pain dampened to 30%, getting hit with a modified baton like Andy's was no joke. The smoke coming off his virtual body made it look like he was getting roasted alive—and still, he kept getting up, running, trying to fight.
That took guts.
Seisen knew the lethal option was off, which meant the only way out was to quit manually. But he didn't. He kept going. That kind of willpower? That was real.
This was actual training.
Karl recalled stories he'd heard—how Arasaka Seisen had once rebelled against Saburo Arasaka, running resistance ops in the streets. Karl had assumed that after all these years back inside the corporation, all that remained was a polished suit with street smarts and a palate for street food.
But no—his will was still there.
Watching Seisen gradually dodge more smoothly, occasionally draw his weapon and fight back, Karl noticed something interesting.
Seisen was regaining his edge.
To be honest, Karl hadn't expected him to take the training seriously. Handing him the chip was just a test, to see if the rebellious Arasaka heir still had that streetfire. Turned out, he did.
Or maybe… he was finding it again.
For a street fighter, the pursuit of strength never stops. The moment you stop moving, you're done. Seisen had spent years in the corpo world—but now he was running again, burning again.
His moves grew sharper. His instincts returned. And the passion—the fire—was undeniable.
"Come on, one more round!"
Right after shouting that, the virtual Andy closed in and floored him with another zap. Karl chuckled, rubbing his ear.
Well damn.
Guess he really did ignite that flame again.
And somehow, those crude, unfiltered shouts felt way more fitting coming from Seisen than all that calm corpo speech he usually used.
"Huff… huff…"
After two hours, dripping sweat, Seisen finally removed the chip.
"It's been a while since I've moved like that. Feels good to try again. Real intense."
"Virtual training doesn't really count as 'moving.'"
"Back in my day, we warmed up by picking fights with real gangs."
Seisen replied casually as he reached for the Kongou on the table. With a flick of his wrist, he spun it smoothly and caught it in a firm grip.
"Still, simulation isn't the same. I'm a little too slow."
Then he looked Karl in the eye.
"I want to train with live rounds. In the real world."
"In the real world, huh?"
Karl didn't say anything like "you shouldn't be on the frontlines" or "someone of your status shouldn't be fighting."
His job was to keep Seisen safe. But if the client was capable of defending himself—or better, if he was someone who could become a friend—that was even better.
"My squad usually splits the loot evenly with newcomers... but this run's off the books. No official contract. We're just looting bodies."
"Then what should I call you?" Seisen didn't seem surprised Karl accepted his request. It was like, as he rediscovered his past self, he instantly understood what kind of person Karl was.
Karl wasn't one to hide behind a mask. Anyone who spent even a little time with him could see his personality and values clearly.
Just like the old Arasaka Seisen had been.
Whether it was their charisma, their refusal to stagnate, or the light they gave off as they charged forward—who could say what made them alike?
But right then, Seisen saw Karl for who he truly was.
From the perspective of a corpo executive, Karl might be incomprehensible. But from the perspective of who Seisen used to be—he saw it in a heartbeat.
Karl was fire.
A different kind of fire than Seisen's maybe, but burning just as fiercely.
And fire recognizes fire. That kind of heat and brilliance? You can't fake it—not in this age.
So, what should I call you?
In response, Karl smiled casually and answered:
"Just call me Karl. Same as before."
Then added, with a grin:
"That's what all my other friends call me."
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