Karl's first impression of Hansen was… honestly, not bad. When people meet for the first time, appearance and clothing usually shape that in
Karl's first impression of Hansen was… honestly, not bad.
When people meet for the first time, appearance and clothing usually shape that initial impression. With his close-cropped hair, plain black tank top, and utility pants, Kurt Hansen reminded Karl of the kind of guys you used to see just hanging around the block. Compared to the colorful chaos of Night City fashion, Karl kind of preferred this minimalist, almost military style.
At least the guy's outfit didn't have any blinding sequins.
Seated now were only Karl and Kenichi Hoya. V and the rest stood nearby like Hansen's own guards, observing the negotiation. Once everyone was in place—seated or standing—Hansen finally spoke.
"Earlier this week, I heard my men say that Arasaka wanted to talk business with me. Been ready for a meeting since then. But I didn't expect that my little corner of the world would host two big names from the city in one go. Gotta say—it's quite the honor."
Mandarin?
Hansen was speaking in Chinese.
With Arasaka involved, Japanese would've been the logical choice—but he chose Chinese. That made it clear.
He was directing his attention at Karl.
Karl picked up on this immediately and responded in kind. "I wouldn't call myself famous. I just happened to be hired for a small-time merc job—nowhere near as comfortable and in control as you are, Mr. Hansen, ruling over Dogtown."
It was polite banter, the sort that always kicked off business talks.
Hansen's eyes flickered, and he replied, "Comfort is relative. I'm just trying to run some business in a tight corner. Like today—sitting here, waiting for you. Business only works when both parties sit down to understand each other, right?"
With the courtesies out of the way, Hansen didn't launch straight into business. Instead, looking to ease into rapport, he added, "I heard you came to Night City around the start of '75. Funny—we're both outsiders. I got here in '70 myself."
Trying to bond over shared outsider status?
Karl saw the play but chose to correct him calmly. "Beginning of the year's a bit early—I arrived closer to the end of '75, just before New Year. So about a six-year difference between us."
Hansen gave a subtle nod, acknowledging the correction, and continued. "This city's a hard one to get used to, huh? I remember thinking how strange and unique it was when I first arrived. Back when I was still loyal… I used to wonder how such a disgrace to the New United States could keep existing. Now I realize—for people like us, this city might be the perfect place to belong."
"A place to belong? Yeah… I'd call Night City my home now—at least in the Americas," Karl nodded. "Still can't get used to the food though. But coming to Dogtown? Gotta say, it's opened my eyes. You've got a ton of stuff here that's banned in the city. I stocked up real good."
"Oh, then I have to recommend the caviar my Siberian friends sent over," Hansen said. "Not sure if you managed to grab some yesterday—it's been hard to come by lately. If you didn't, I'll make sure you get a crate, personally."
Karl thought back to yesterday. "Picked up two small tins, nothing fancy. But if you're offering a crate, Mr. Hansen, I'd be happy to accept."
Hansen's cybernetic eye flickered for a second—likely checking some data—and a pleased smile spread across his face.
"Well then, let's leave the small talk there. I doubt you and Mr. Kenichi came all the way here to hear me ramble. Let's get down to business."
As he spoke, Hansen gestured toward one of the Phantom Dogs nearby. The soldier quickly stepped forward and handed him a small case.
To show goodwill, Hansen opened the case immediately and placed it on the glass table in front of them so everyone could see what was inside.
"Here it is. You know what you want. I trust you've brought what I asked for."
Inside the box was a small cylindrical device, about four centimeters long and one centimeter in diameter—compact and clearly high-end. As soon as Karl laid eyes on it, he noticed that Kenichi Hoya, who had remained silent until now, had suddenly grown more attentive.
So that's the product they're here to negotiate.
Hansen's explanation clarified everything.
"This is a prototype software module from Kang Tao, modified specifically to resist electromagnetic interference. With it, systems can quickly reboot after EMP attacks and even self-scan for internal breaches. Helps plug vulnerabilities in smart control systems."
He smiled gently. "It's a fine piece of tech. If I had the know-how to use it myself, I wouldn't be so eager to give it up. My guys risked a lot to get it."
"Actually, we just happened to intercept a Kang Tao smart-hover transport. They were sneaking this module through in a regular shipment—thought they'd be clever about it."
Kenichi wasn't interested in pleasantries. He cut straight to business: "We can give you what you've always wanted—the Hawaii shipping route. You'd get a foothold there too."
"A shipping route to Hawaii? That's one hell of a deal," Hansen said, clearly intrigued.
"But…"
His expression shifted.
"I've got another client who's very interested in this tech too. She's made a solid offer. I thought, why not let her join the conversation?"
Before Kenichi could respond, Hansen had already turned to signal someone. Kenichi followed his gaze—and sure enough, there she was.
The exact person he'd expected.
But that didn't make it any less unpleasant to see her face.
"Militech."
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