Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 797.7. I'm here to teach you the rules.

"KK is here."

When Carl and his group appeared outside the municipal criminal justice complex, their whereabouts were almost instantly detected by the surveillance system. Data streams flooded into the tactical terminals of the Terrorist Mobile Unit, informing every member of the unit of the news.

Although the faces of some of the people around KK were blurred and distorted due to the interference of the Kirito Tsukasa Optical Prosthetic Eye, it didn't matter—as long as the man's face could be clearly recognized by the system, that was enough.

The Terrorist Mobile Unit is an organization that believes in the supremacy of strength. While there are indeed members who hold higher positions due to their long service, those who can quickly rise to the level of captain are all ruthless characters who can silence all opponents with their fists.

After all, the original purpose of the Violent Terrorist Mobile Unit was to use violence to combat violence, and this iron law, written in blood, is equally effective within the organization.

So, who is the current peak of individual combat power in Night City?
Perhaps it's Adam Hammer, who has been fully cybernetically enhanced; perhaps it's Morgan Blackhand, whose name is only known but whose presence is rumored to still be active; or perhaps it's the legendary assassin Aguilar, who is said to have infiltrated the city.

Everyone has their own answers, their own guesses and thoughts. No matter how this list changes, one name will always be on it—

KK.

Many members of the Terrorist Mobile Squad have seen him, and some have even faced this monster directly. No member would question his power, and no one dares to be unafraid of his existence.

A madman is not the same as a fool.

Even if some team members have gone crazy to the point of having a short circuit in their brains, they still know what it means to be in awe when faced with an absolute difference in strength. Otherwise, how could the strong climb up so quickly in this dog-eat-dog system?

The moment the members of the Terrorist Mobile Unit saw KK, everyone understood the purpose of his trip.

In this political storm sweeping through the city council, the Terrorist SWAT team is indeed a beneficiary.

The special envoy who had once controlled their nerve inhibitors was now a corpse, and the shackles that bound them had finally broken—they were free, utterly free.

But they knew better than anyone that this freedom was destined to be short-lived.

Tools may occasionally slip out of control, but if they lose even their most basic function, all that awaits them is a furnace in a junkyard.

Every member of the Terrorist Mobile Squad is a demon who crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood. The induction ceremony is simple and brutal: either you have to beat down an active member to be selected for recruitment, or you have to be beaten half to death before obediently putting on the collar. To say they don't want to live? That's bullshit.

But these lunatics, whose medical records are all labeled 'cyber psychosis,' never wanted more than just to live.

They were satisfied with the right to legally kill, top-of-the-line military cybernetic bodies, and enviable allowances.

But greed is an instinct ingrained in their bones; they want more. More
They wanted a new special envoy, a puppet who could give them greater freedom and better treatment.

They desperately wanted another complete overhaul of their arsenal—the NCPD's rapidly evolving equipment was almost catching up to theirs, which was simply intolerable.

The city council’s stance is becoming increasingly clear: funding is shifting, support is weakening, and the choice between the rational and controllable special operations team and the mad dogs that could go berserk at any moment is crystal clear.

Every time the members of the Terrorist Mobile Unit see a briefing about the Special Operations Team acquiring new equipment, they invariably feel a sense of humiliation.

They had long been accustomed to privilege: the thrill of pulling the trigger at will without having to worry about anyone's expression, the fear and apprehension in the eyes of ordinary people, and the heavy weight of the city's finest equipment in their hands.

They were the first Terrorist Mobile Unit (TMU) to stand up and rebuild order with ruthless methods after the Night City nuclear bombing! From 2023 to 2077, fifty-four years have passed, and they should always be the most elite and feared force. So what if the first leader of the TMU was from the NCPD? Old America was once a British colony; they are now far superior to the NCPD.

The unspoken plan was clear: use chaos as leverage to coerce Parliament into restoring its former privileges, and ideally, make the new envoys fear them so they would not dare to interfere.

But the special envoy has already arrived.

Not a puppet of parliamentary compromise, not the collaborator they expected, but the special operations team leader they hated so much, Andy, the one who led the special operations team and constantly oppressed their living environment.

KK and Andy. This combination put everyone on edge.

When Carl and his group stepped into the municipal criminal justice complex, the lobby on the first floor was already filled with a sea of ​​people.

The fully armed terrorist mobile team members stood like statues, their eyes behind riot masks fixed on Carl, Andy, and V and the others who entered the room.

The air in the entire hall seemed to freeze. Heavy breathing could be heard from beneath the riot masks. The knuckles of each terrorist mobile team member were white from excessive force, and the weapons with their safety off gleamed deadly under the cold lights—such a sight would be enough to make even the most arrogant gang leader's legs go weak.

Karl didn't even bother to lift his eyelids.

He strode forward as if walking through his own backyard, the sound of his boots striking the marble floor particularly jarring in the deathly silence. The formation of the terrorist mobile unit rippled slightly with his movement, like an invisible force pushing open a crack in the Iron Curtain.

After Carl, Andy, and the others reached the center of the Terrorist Mobile Squad's encirclement, Carl spoke.

"I want you to know who I am."

This was the first thing Karl said. Then, he looked around as if he wanted to memorize the location of every member of the Terrorist Mobile Squad. Then he continued, "You all know why I'm here."

Karl's words made the atmosphere even more silent and solemn. Not a single member of the Terrorist Mobile Squad spoke; they simply stared at Karl, and this gesture earned him a slight nod.

"It seems you all know how to remain quiet when others are speaking."

Carl's voice was like a dull knife, slowly scraping across the hall. His tone carried a hint of appreciation, as if he were genuinely praising the Terrorist Mobile Team for being "sensible"—but his eyes were cold as if he were making an assessment.

The members of the Terrorist Mobile Unit remained motionless, but their breathing under their masks seemed heavier. No one moved or spoke; they were like nails driven into place.

A dangerous balance hung in the air, as if a single more word would snap the taut string.

"In that case, I don't need to say anything more."

Karl withdrew his gaze from the surroundings.

He said.

"I'm here to teach you the rules."

(End of this chapter)