Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 947, Section 157: Now, let's talk.

"Hahahaha! Did you hear that? These little punks, they recognize my gun!" Johnny's voice, filled with undisguised smugness, blared through the channel. "Just a hair's breadth away, just a hair's breadth away, they almost touched it!"

"Got Johnny."

V listened to Johnny's voice and teased, "You were just complaining about Jack showing off, now it's your turn, huh?"

"How can you compare? They might glance at Jack's belt a few times, but judging from their expressions, they really wanted to touch my gun; they almost grabbed it."

"So, you're having a competition to see whose collection is more attractive to thieves?"

T-BUG was speechless at her teammates who were not young but had the mentality of teenagers. Just then, she saw Karl push the door open and enter on the monitor.

“Karl? I thought you’d watch a little longer.”

“That was the plan,” Carl said, sounding somewhat helpless. “But the room they’re in now is a bit unusual. I’m worried that if they happen to touch the trigger grenades I modified, things will get complicated.”

He paused for a moment: "The items are all kept in specially made protective cabinets, but that hacker girl is quite capable. I'm afraid she might actually be able to crack the cabinet's security protocol as well."

"Surely not?" T-BUG raised an eyebrow. "They seem to follow the 'rules of the game' quite well."

"Rules are rules, but you can't joke about those things."

Carl was well aware of the limitations of his modified grenades. When Oliver used one, he was caught off guard and injured because he didn't realize it was his own grenade. And that was Oliver; if these kids messed around with it, they might actually send the entire hidden arsenal to their deaths.

"Looks like you'll have to talk to these petty thieves."

Oliver watched Carl walk in, but noticed that Carl turned in a different direction. Instead of blocking the door to the hidden armory, Carl went to the living room first. This puzzled Oliver, who called out Carl's name: "Carl?"

"Someone has arrived, so we should at least entertain them."

According to Carl, the sound of his footsteps walking through the house did not attract the attention of the four.

Inside the hidden armory, the four were still intently searching through those 'unremarkable' little gadgets.

Just as Dre was stuffing several high-purity energy storage magazines into his backpack, he suddenly paused and took a deep sniff.

"Hey, can you smell anything?"

The skinny man also looked up, his nostrils flaring: "It smells...like a fragrance?"

Qi stopped operating the data interface and carefully discerned the faint, warm, and mellow fragrance in the air.

That was not the monotonous, strange smell of synthetic food that they were familiar with after heating; it was a complex, smoky, and spiced aroma of real food.

"It smells so good," she murmured unconsciously.

As soon as the words were spoken, all four of them froze.

Why do I smell food here?
A chill instantly ran up his spine to the back of his head. Amu abruptly raised his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet.

They held their breath and listened intently—besides the faint hum of the ventilation system inside the armory, there seemed to be some kind of regular, slight sound coming from outside.

Is that the sound of cooking?
Am and his companions quickly recognized it—the rhythmic sizzling sound, mixed with the distinctive smell of oil, was the familiar sound of cooking food on the streets.

The sound came from a floor where they should have been the only people there, and the aroma of steak wafted out.

This was practically the same as seeing a ghost, at least for the four of them. Amu gestured for everyone to put down what they were holding; at this moment, any 'spoils of war' had become a hot potato.

The four carefully placed the items they had obtained on the ground, gripped their simple weapons tightly, and tiptoed toward the entrance to the hidden armory like startled cats.

They cautiously peeked out, looking towards the living room. Through the crack in the door, they witnessed a scene that made their hearts stop—

The open kitchen was warmly lit, and a young man in casual clothes was calmly flipping ingredients in a frying pan with his back to them.

Several exquisite porcelain plates were placed on the stove, and next to them was a pot of freshly squeezed juice. The enticing aroma wafted from the pot and traveled all the way to their hidden armory.

The young man moved with practiced ease and relaxed demeanor, as if he were simply cooking an ordinary meal, completely ignoring the four uninvited guests behind him.

Am’s breathing almost stopped.

He recognized that figure from behind, or rather, no one would fail to recognize him when the other person wasn't pretending. That figure belonged to Carl, to KK, and the other person was none other than the owner of this apartment.

The four of them froze.

The worst premonition came true.

Dre's lips moved silently, as if asking, "What do we do?"

The skinny guy was already trembling with tension, while Qi stared intently at Carl's figure moving between the kitchen counters, trying to find any possible escape route.

Am gritted her teeth, about to say something, when Carl turned off the stove and placed the perfectly cooked, generously portioned steaks into a plate.

He didn't turn around, but calmly spoke, his voice echoing clearly in the empty living room: "Sit down first, I need a while."

Karl didn't turn his head, his voice drifting over as if he were talking about something trivial that had nothing to do with him, but the four people who heard his words became even more stiff.

'What should we do?' Dre mouthed to Am. He had been so excited just moments before, but now he was completely flustered and had to rely on Am, the leader, to make the decision.

Beside him, the skinny guy was almost in tears, and even Qi couldn't help but grab Amu's clothes.

But at this moment, Am became unusually calm.

He took a deep breath, put down the crude weapon he was holding, nodded to his companions, and took the lead.

Without any hesitation or delay, he went straight to the dining table, pulled out a chair and sat down naturally, then gestured to his companion with his eyes.

Under Amu's gaze, the others also came over. They sat stiffly at the table like prisoners about to be executed, their backs ramrod straight, their hands on their knees, not daring to move an inch.

After they sat down and maintained this eerie silence for a few minutes, Carl finished the meal.

Before the four could react, a steak, a few halved potatoes, and a glass of freshly squeezed juice were placed in front of each of them.

Carl, who had somehow ended up sitting at the head of the table, had nothing in front of him; he simply sat there quietly watching them.

"Now, let's talk about it."

Carl said.

(End of this chapter)