Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first feeling that greeted me from unconsciousness was constant prodding. Likely one of the security robots that had additional programming to make sure I didn't sleep in too late. Naturally, I ignored it. I turned around in bed, curled into my blankets further like a human burrito, and shunned the nuisance even as the prodding continued and with greater force and frequency.

"Wake up Yuto." The voice was more effective in pulling me out of my half-asleep state more effectively than poking had. Especially when my blankets were sharply pulled away almost dragging me with them.

I groggily opened my eyes and turned back around to look at the very unamused expression of my Mom. She was dressed up in her grey suit, office slacks, and dress-shoes with an air of haste that indicated that she was about to leave.

"It's Saturday Mom!" I flopped back down. "You said I can sleep in on the weekends!"

"Oh, are you done shunning the nuisance?" She raised an eyebrow and while her expression remained neutral, it still didn't fail to convey her sass. Apparently, I had said the unspoken rambling of my barely awakened mind out loud. "I'll let it pass this once, since it is your special day. Happy birthday Yuto."

Wait, what? I used my optics to look at the date and there it was. July 7th​, 2070. I was 14 years old. Again.

Well, technically I would be once it was past 10:00 pm but that was semantics.

"Thanks Mom!" I got out of bed and gave her a hug. She stiffened at first, before slowly relaxing into it and returning the act. "Sorry about the nuisance thing. I thought you were one of the-"

"There is hardly a need to apologize." Mom shook her head, slowly extracting herself from the hug. "It was a mistake. Simply do not repeat it next time and that will be more than enough as an apology. I'd love to take the day off, but the Caliburn's release coming so soon and the market is-"

"Hardly a need to apologize." I parroted back to her. "I'll be fine by myself! I can tinker a bit and stuff."

Mom was the head of Rayfield's returning push into the NUSA/Free-States market now that the Metal Wars had come to an end with 'Treaty of Unification'. Not to mention Arasaka making its grand return to the North American continent and most importantly, Night City. Topping it off by building their shiny new Arasaka Tower right over where the old one had stood before getting Blackhand's good old double nuke tactic back in 2023.

Say what you want about the 'Emperor of the 21st​ Century', but Saburo Arasaka knows how to make an entrance. At least we were removed from that whole mess. Rayfield's American base was set up outside of Seattle, which was mostly untouched by the warfare and had rather low Corp presence outside of Biotechnica and Rayfield itself.

Mom smiled, though it seemed almost sad in a way. She took her hand and patted me on the head. I thought about shaking it off, but the look on her face convinced me to let her indulge the instinct. She was usually a reserved woman, so I should take the demonstrations of affection when I can.

"Thank you for understanding." She sighed. "There is something we need to talk about later. I…had somewhat hoped to avoid it, but recent events have made that an impossibility."

"Mom, I know what sex is." I blanched. The Talk had been bad enough once, with my original parents kind of just avoiding it and me learning via SexEd and popular culture. Which in hindsight, probably meant my knowledge was spotty at best. Maybe I did need the Talk after all?

Mom looked frazzled as she processed my words.

"It has nothing to do with that!" She rubbed her temples with both hands as she closed her eyes and calmed herself down. "Well, mostly not. Let's not open that can of worms, alright?"

"Mostly not?" In that case, I had lost the plot entirely. "What do you mean by 'mostly not'?"

"We'll talk more tonight." She promised before speed-walking out the door. "There is food for you in the fridge! Real meat and cake! I'll be back by 7:00 at the latest. I might be late by thirty minutes, if I am, go ahead and eat before me. Take care."

"Love you too!"

I looked out the window and eventually saw the unreleased Rayfield supercar drive off towards the Rayfield facility.

Mostly not? So not the Talk, but technically something that might be involved with it. I was getting an idea of what she might mean now. She had mentioned off-handedly about discussing my father when I was older before.

I had spent time considering how my father was after all. Single mothers were common in the general population, but not nearly so amongst corpos. The Japanese lessons she had requested I take and my own first name, Yuto, were glaring clues I can't ignore.

With the Arvin Accords, the stipulations following the Fourth Corporate War had been removed and Arasaka was returning to the continent, though limited mostly to Night City. This was another clue in favor of a likely theory.

Most likely, my father is some middle to upper management in Arasaka. This was somewhat important. Corporations were weird about family at the best of times, but Arasaka took it to the extremes.

According to rumors and credible sources alike, Sabura Arasaka really valued the traditional family standards of Japan and that had infected the culture of the Corp as well. High level officials were almost expected to have a wife and at least one child. Even if they mostly ignored their kids afterwards, it mattered more that they had one. And that they stayed in line with Arasaka's goals. Very ironic stuff, considering that of the four main family members, half of them were anti-Arasaka either covertly or overtly.

But the executives of Arasaka took their culture very seriously.

There were rumors about a high-ranking member of Arasaka in Warsaw whose career had ended up completely stalling after his daughter ran away and since then Arasaka executives had kept a distant but close eye on their direct families.

If my father was among those being brought to Night City, he might try to be at least somewhat involved if only for the sake of career advancement. Or at least to make sure I didn't accidentally get in the way.

"If you have any sense Nameless-Father-san, please continue to search for the mythical milk and pack of cigarettes, forever." I sighed. Getting involved with Arasaka on any level beyond plain business was asking for trouble but if my suspicions were right, then it was probably unavoidable. Soon enough, Arasaka would be a dominant force on the West Coast and Rayfield catered almost exclusively to that sort of clientele.

Naturally, I employed one of the best skills of humanity after thinking these things through. Ignoring the impending doom and focusing on something more imminent and in my control.

"Fourteen years old…" Since I passed away at the ripe age of twenty. Since I had been born again in the world of a video game whose intricate lore, I was only passably familiar with at the time of my demise. Which meant I was now thirty-four, but not really?

I had been lucky. My memories had not come in upon my birth nor had they simply snapped into place at some random point and drowned me in two decades worth of experiences. Instead, they had slowly trickled into me as they became relevant until about two years ago when I finally remembered everything. I also avoided being reborn into nearly irreparable hellholes like Warhammer or Worm.

All the while, I went through the motions: brushed my teeth, changed into more durable clothing, and ate some toast and sausage, saving the steak for last. Even for Corpos real meat was a delicacy. It was only the absurd amount of revenue that the Caliburn had made already with pre-orders following the Expo just after the Alvin Accords that let us afford any.

Real food was king in this world. It was a sign of wealth that rivalled even fancy cars like the Caliburn and luxury flying vehicles like the future Rayfield Excalibur.

My brief and hopefully final experience with Cyberpunk's cheap 'normal food' had been a microwave burrito. It had tasted like the idea of my original world's worst burrito had been translated poorly across five different languages and then to an alien from a different plane of existence that then shat out some garbage and wrapped it a nice sauce of raw sewage before packing it up for sale. And it had been one of the better brands as well.

"Well, with my stomach filled for the time being…time to get to work." I washed my plate quickly before heading back to my room and accessing my personal Workshop/Range/DataFort.

Or rather, it would be so eventually. Currently it was just a bench and some decent tools, a few miscellaneous shooting targets, and most impressively an actual well-equipped NetRunning chair. Not the usual, tub of ice and pray for the best that many other fledgling NetRunners depended on.

While I wish I had a proper armory, it appears that civilization has degenerated completely outside of Night City so my hopes at high power weaponry would remain just that. Hopes. The only good thing was that the threat of President Myers 'Unification War', or Metal War to everyone else, and the increasing tensions had gotten Mom to get a Militech Training shard.

From it, I learned the basics of combat. Like the very basics. The rest would be up to me, though hopefully I could avoid that kind of thing.

As for NetRunning, post-DataKrash even learning how to NetRun has basically been monopolized by the corporations. I think I have done an admirable job with the resources available. Time will tell if it is folly or not.

"Bartmoss I curse the name." I said aloud. I still respected the hell out of the bastard's skill level since decades later he is still THE NetRunner. Even if he destroyed that world where NetRunners might as well have ruled the Net with his carelessness and lack of foresight.

I looked at my workbench, where some machinery lay disassembled. My mind automatically whispering the inner mechanisms, how to rebuild them not just as they were but better.

I had decided to dabble in being a Techie for this very reason.

The advantage I had beyond simply my birth status and questionable foreknowledge was this strange ability. An intuitive desire to understand. I initially wrote it off as just innate curiosity, but eventually the signs presented themselves. By examining some complex machinery, I could understand the fundamentals that allowed them to function.

The most interesting lead in this regard was that as my knowledge of technology and the science behind it increased, so too did my ideas.

I turned towards the gun that I had been practicing with recently. A Unity. The 'technically a weapon you can use' of Cyberpunk. I had no intention of using this in the long run, but it was the default weapon even in the Militech Training Shard for a reason.

It was the jack of all trades. It had recoil, but not overtly so. The shots had some spread, but if you aimed relatively center mass then you could be pretty sure the target was getting hit somewhere near the center. Attack speed was mediocre but not slow. The only terrible thing was the damage output of a modified Unity was basically adjacent to a nerf-gun against any decently chromed up adversary.

I began with simple practice. Large targets at close range. Once I could get center mass consistently enough, I'd move the targets further back and repeat until it was at about the edge of optimal range. After that, I'd start back close but with smaller targets and repeat.

"I really need to get better at this." Just like the last few times, I had gotten to the smallest targets, supporting my theory on the nature of my power at least, but I'd stalled since then. I was beginning to think it might not actually be my lack of skill.

The Unity's spread was too unpredictable at that point. I'd tried to see if raw accuracy could compensate but likely I would either need to modify the gun myself, add a muzzle that would compensate for it, or switch to a better gun for reliable headshots.

Smart weapons are an option, but depending on them solely seems like a bad idea. There is a reason that Corps and every militaristic organization preferred combatants with some personal expertise instead of giving them Smart weapons and some shards.

Tech can be hacked; pure skill remains. It also opens the field to the usage of Power and Tech weapons which tend to have higher firepower in compensation for no auto-aim.

I decided to take my mind from shooting. As a Corpo, shootouts were unlikely. Skill-wise, my Techie and NetRunning endeavors were more likely to come into play before having to depend on lead to do the talking.

My eyes turned to the NetRunning chair. This was my biggest victory in terms of parental bargaining. Mom had finally realized that either she caved, or I tried to DIY my way into the Net. Thus, the compromise was made, when I was fourteen, I could officially try my hand and NetRunning.

The age which I now was. Technically.

While my 'power' would let Technical Ability show dividends as time and resources progressed, NetRunning offered a specialty for me to blaze away immediately. Breaking down and building on code was far more intuitive and straightforward compared to blazing the technological trail of progress by my lonesome.

"I am finally going to use this cyberdeck for its intended purpose." I had already received some implants, but they were very rather low level, mostly. A personal link, some basic health maintenance bioware, and a subdermal hand implant that let me interact with Smart technology was basically the Corpo kid starter pack. On top of that, I had a decent Cyberdeck, what I suspected to be a klepped Arasaka Shadow, installed as well as top of the line Kiroshi optics due to Rayfield's partnership with the company.

NetRunning and its adjacent fields were far more interesting than in the game.

There were thousands of different paths to reach the same result. Literally in the case of Ping. Some were more efficient than others, using less RAM or being more covert. Others were stronger and had added functions in return for their negatives. It was why multiple versions of even the same program had value to NetRunners. There was always the chance of learning and being able to improve your own program, even if the copies are technically worse.

It was fascinating. It was easy to see how an entire culture surrounding and revering NetRunners had emerged, with and without the Corps pulling strings. Then Arasaka and Militech had taken the biggest bites out of the NetRunning scene, with the other Corps scavenging the remains.

What was left behind of that punk NetRunner cyber culture? An empty shell made up of self-made hacks and corporate shills running around like headless chickens.

"Shitty corporations and their cock-blocking." While you could purchase QuickHacks, that was hardly the NetRunner way. Most purchasable hacks were flawed in some fundamental way from what I had garnered. Some even had traps built in that would activate if used against certain Corp ICE.

Naturally, I had purchased some of the basics and broke down their fundamentals and then built my own versions from the ground up.

But at the end of the day, it was just mostly copying another hack and giving it my own coat of paint. Hardly original.

Chimera was my current work on an original hack.

It combined Ping, Contagion, and any final QuickHack into an Ultimate QuickHack of my own making. Ping would trace all devices connected to a target identified by my scanner and from Contagion I scrapped everything but the ability to propagate to other targets. Together, they'd allow the third QuickHack to propagate through all connected devices.

Turn a camera off? All the cameras linked to it would turn off.

Overheat an unaware criminal? The entire gang they were connected to would be found extra-crispy.

Theoretically. Remaking the hacks myself had been simple, but they were still crude. They hadn't been tried, tested, or modified after field experience so I was just trying to make a basic framework for Chimera to grow into later.

There were some side-effects that might just be unavoidable based on my extrapolations. Once Chimera was launched, it would end up using all the available RAM and then even tank RAM regeneration rates.

For a pure NetRunner, it might end up being an all or nothing tactic. If corps wised up and had multiple small systems instead of having all devices interconnected, it would be much less effective.

Furthermore, I wasn't sure if someone had already made something like that before. I had not heard of anything like it, but most of the real shit about NetRunning was kept away from the public. It would suck if I was just redoing something someone else did a long time ago.

Another circumstance for future me to deal with.

Right now?

It was time to properly enter the Net.

I am in a more controlled environment now. While Cyberspace was still dangerous, the mortality rate was quite skewed since a good deal of NetRunners are basically digital edgerunners and keep diving directly into jobs with Black ICE, Daemons, and other risks until they inevitable bite the dust. Since I was sticking to some of the 'public' shared servers instead, I should be fine.

"Is this a good idea?" I said it out loud. To hear it. Process it. Consider it.

I could wait.

There wasn't any rush now.

I could apply to NetWatch and learn from them. Danger in that case would be basically non-existent rather than 'minimal'.

Nah.

Caution was good, but if I had to bid my time and twiddle my thumbs for several more years? I would go insane.

"Fuck it." I went over to the side of the room. "Reward over consequence."

I've lived a privileged life so far, but one lacking in any action at all. I had to do something other than going to school, tinkering, and practicing shooting without any solid plans.

If I looked back on this and regretted my recklessness, I would just blame it on my re-emerged adolescent brain.

I slipped into the NetRunning suit Mom had bought. Simple, but effective. Settling in, I allowed the chair to lock in and jacked into so that I could finally traverse the Net.

I do not believe that mere words can convey the wonder of the Net, even defunct as it is, but I still feel tempted to give it a try. It is worth the effort.

To preface, nothing can really prepare you for the feeling of entering Cyberspace for the first time. It is alien and unique.

Whatever experiences you have with coding, computer interface, or even with QuickHacks are nothing but chump changes and cheap tricks compared to Cyberspace in its raw, unfiltered glory.

The experience is probably closest to diving in the ocean. But instead of water, you dove into an ocean of code. And there were no brilliant coral reefs in this digital ocean, but ruins built and burned by the hands of man.

And this is what being in just the Net felt like, I couldn't help but wonder what the Old Net in its prime was like.

This is what I thought as I felt myself floating through the streams of code, which began to twist and contort into something less alien and more familiar

The Ihara Grubb Transformation Algorithms were shaping the net into a more tangible location. Default was more than preem for a first run, so it went for a realistic rendition of the apartment. Not my Workshop due to the DIY ICE I employed but instead the living room. An archaic design by the standards of the technocratic elites, it appealed to that old timey sensibility of antiquity.

IG Algorithms basically scaled the Net into something resembling the real world, making transversing it simpler and less like navigating some eldritch horror.

I glanced at myself and noticed that currently I was a twisting, writhing stream of code rather than a person.

My mind was still on the fritz was it began to unpack everything it was experiencing, the raw data readily feeding my 'ability' as I allowed myself to reach out and shape my code form into something more interfaceable.

"This is so nova!" I laughed as I shifted into a traditional digital outfit with an obscured face. It wouldn't do shit against an experienced Runner trying to trace me, but it was better than walking around the Net with my real face without even the attempt at hiding.

Now I just had to use the modem to connect to some of the larger 'islands' of Net to interact with the local NetRunning community. This was Seattle, not Night City, so it shouldn't be balls to the walls crazy.

"I'd…still be better keeping an open mind about this." Best laid plans of mice and men, and all that. I made sure my Quickhacks were ready to be thrown out quickly to make an even quicker exit if Night City's shittery turned out to be a universal constant.

My caution turned out, so far, to be unnecessary.

Others in this local public server were rare. It was eerie. The design of a bustling marketplace but devoid of any other characteristics of it.

"Excuse me?" I greeted what appeared to be a vendor of some sort. Basic NetRunner outfit with a punk sort of jacket and a mask covering her face and a hood covering atop of it to cover up her hair. Quite a bit older than me if I had to make a guess but not ancient.

She was talking with another woman, most of whose features were distorted.

"No means no Sasha." The vendor growled. "This isn't Night City you gonk. There, the corpos have to watch their backs with so many different factions in play. But here? You fuck with them, you disappear. Don't pick a fight you can't win."

"I wouldn't be picking it if we couldn't win." The other woman, Sasha, replied. "The stuff Biotechnica is doing…"

"It's the stuff that all corps do." The vendor cut her off. "People already know that corps do shady shit. Even if you got a bunch of dirt on them, you'd cut a couple percentages off their stock prices for a month or so at best. And death would be the only reward for your trouble, if you're lucky."

Sasha seemed ready to continue their argument before she finally noticed my presence.

"Eh, a noob!" Sasha laughed. "Don't see those much around these parts. See ya later. At least think about it."

"I really wish you would think about it." The vendor muttered before waving goodbye.

"Noob?" I muttered.

"Like newbie." The vendor explained. I realized then that I still didn't know her name

I quickly glanced at her ID. The true identification was hidden by some ICE, but her handle was apparently SlICEr0x. I wasn't in any position to say shit about her title though when mine was Cav3rnK1ng. Fuck whoever took the original handle!

"I know that." My face clenched up. "Just a bit unflattering. Like being called kiddo."

"Sure, thing kiddo." SlICEr0x rolled her eyes before glancing at me. "So, buying or selling?"

I paused.

"Buying." I had eddies. And Runners were the mercurial sort, from what I heard. Just straight up asking questions while not being a paying customer seemed like a bad idea.

"Nova." It was incredible how she could that so deadpan yet still convey sincerity. "I've got some of the better stuff up North. Though if you are looking for real preem shit, then you better pack your bags and head down to Night City."

"That place isn't really on my itinerary." I'd rather avoid the city where getting nuked twice is just another statistic on what a hellhole it is.

"That makes you smarter than most gonk-headed noobs." She tapped her fingers on the table in front of her. "Let me give you some advice for free kiddo. Sometimes knowing less is more, you get it? Eavesdropping is dangerous enough outside the Net but here there are times that ignorance isn't just bliss, it's life itself. So, all that stuff you heard that rando talking about earlier?"

"I don't know what you are talking about." I replied. "I didn't hear anything."

I am a squishy teenager! I am not ready to take on a big corp like Biotechnica. Keep fighting the good fight Sasha! I'll cheer on from the sidelines!

"Good." She straightened up, more focused now that she had a proper customer. "As for my stock, I have some basic components but also a few fully functional Hacks."

Components weren't that useful most of the time, unless you had a bunch of them to compare and build something up and my quick glance confirmed that there wasn't anything particularly interesting.

Still, I decided to buy some. I could think of some uses. Maybe a Quickhack that dumped useless information and wasted an enemies RAM

"What kind of Hacks?" More versions of Ping and Contagion to modify my own wouldn't be bad.

"The usual shit." She shrugged. "Ping, Vehicular control, Breaching Techniques, Reboot Optics, and some other less interesting stuff."

"Contagion?" Unlikely, but it didn't hurt to at least check.

"No way." The vendor laughed. "What do you think this is? Night City? Corpos would be on my ass in no time if I sold that crap, that is Netwatch didn't flatline me in my sleep. Guess I had you pegged right though, noob."

I was glad that in the Net we had control over our avatars because I would have blushed at the light mockery otherwise.

"Different versions?" More important than a specific hack was how that hack functioned.

"A few." The vendor, whose name I realized I still didn't know, admitted. "If you are willing to sell me a copy of any version you may have I'll give you a discount."

Ah yes, the 'give me a discount before telling me the price' technique. I haven't seen that one since my previous life.

"It's fine, I'll take all the versions of Ping that you have and some components."

"Meh, fine." I guess it was not too big of a loss to her. I was obviously new to the Net, so my hacks were unlikely to be anything ridiculous. Though, thinking deeper there was a chance she might think I don't even have other hacks. Well, I wouldn't correct that misconception if it were the case.

"Right, that'll be 10,000 eddies."

10,000 eddies! Bitch please, that wasn't highway robbery; it was grand larceny!

"What the hell?"

"Kidding, I meant 8,567 eddies. Way more reasonable right?" I blinked. "I can even bring it down to 8,566.99 eddies if you want."

Her face was covered, but you don't always need to see something to know. This psycho was smirking.

And so began…the haggling. Emphasis on hag!

Leaving the Net was jarring, more so than entering. Entering Cyberspace is like an expansion of self. Everything just feels so much more. Like you've spent your entire life with this useless weight called the 'body' on you and you were finally free of it.

Leaving the net felt like someone had dumped that weight back on you.

"I really need to sit down."

My body felt like it should be running hotter, but the chair and suit had done their job keeping me cool. I hadn't done anything particularly taxing RAM-wise, so I wasn't overheating or straining the computers.

I had spent quite a bit of time haggling down to a more realistic price. 500 eddies. Expensive considering it was mainly low tier Hacks and some components, but it was better than what I thought I could manage.

Outside of that encounter, I met some of the local NetRunners and got a feel for the climate of the playing field. Seattle was mostly a place of refuge. With Texas turning away refugees, it had become a shining beacon to those who fled the devastation of the Metal Wars. Many Runners staying here was amongst them. Professionally? There were only Biotechnica Netrunners around since they had all but monopolized the region.

While high tier code, QuickHack info, and Breaching strategies were a rarity up here, they were obtainable due to the occasional traffic from Night City. And for all that it was a greedy Corp, Biotechnica didn't care what happened in their backyard if it didn't damage the environment (and thus their prestige) or take too large a cut from their profits.

It was currently 6:23 pm. Mom would be back anytime. While I felt hungry, I could wait for her before chowing down.

Thus, I sat on the couch, turned on the TV for some ambiance, and then used my laptop to work a bit on schoolwork.

School in Cyberpunk was interesting. Math was mostly untouched, though they tried to keep it modern by relating it to coding and the fact that it served as a gateway to NetRunning as a way to bolster grades and their own paychecks as a result.

Science was basically on steroids, with cybernetics and the future of technology already being invested in by Corps. They were always on the lookout for the new path striders of innovation, the next Bartmoss (hopefully less chaotic) or the next Alt Cunningham.

History was the real loaded gun. The masses have all but thrown out anything before the 20th​ century from relevance and Arasaka backed institutions apparently push 21st​ century curriculums Stateside. NUSA, on the other hand, loved harking back to the great Presidents and days of unity with tales of Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, and especially emphasis on how America held together during the Cold War and just how great the old days were.

Thus, which curriculum was pushed was a political landmine. Suffice to say, the History department's budget cuts were the thing of legend. At some point, the less affluent school were just taught by simple AI rather than a poor schmuck they conned into the dead-end position.

I glanced at the TV.

"Watson Whore?" An over-the-top drama. Mom's guilty pleasure. When confronted, she claimed she watched just to ridicule it, but I had my doubts. "Guess I can watch a bit."

To my surprise, it was an engaging show. Slop, no doubt, but still a fun experience. Before I knew it, I was in three episodes deep. The trainwreck that was these moron's lives was entertaining! Too entertaining!

"Net addiction is way easier to fall into in this life." And that was saying something. I glanced at the time. 8:10 pm. Still no Mom. She had been late returning home before her scheduled times before, but always with some notice or warning. Mom was a being of discipline.

At this point, I should probably call. Radio silence this long either means she fell asleep at work or something is wrong.

I was startled by a loud chime. The doorbell. Not Mom then, she had a key and would just enter. Hopefully there was a reasonable explanation. Hopefully it wouldn't be the police coming to inform…deep breaths. Panic won't help anyone. Deep, steady breaths.

I waited for a moment before the second chime echoed. Ignoring the problem probably wouldn't make it go away. It wouldn't change reality if the worst had happened. It wouldn't be right? This was sleepy Seattle. Mom had no reason to make an enemy of Biotechnica and there weren't just gang members or scavs loitering around every corner like in Night City.

Walking up to the door, gun in hand, I readied myself for the worst. If they were bothering to ring, it would likely be safe. But I wasn't going to gamble with my life on 'likely'.

"Hello?"

"Ridiculous translator." A man's voice cursed in Japanese. My concerns about the origin of this threat suddenly skyrocketed.

"Please open the door, Yuto-san." A familiar accented Japanese voice requested. I opened the door, praying that I was dead wrong, because nothing good could come of that man coming here now. Alas, I was not shocked at all to see the still very chromed up visage of Goro Takemura. "We must speak."

"How did you get up here?" I asked, out of a demented sense of curiosity. "I thought you had to be allowed in by someone who lives in the complex."

"Your mother has already given permission." Takemura replied. Not polite, not blunt. Curt. Uncomfortable perhaps? And wow, it really was him. A name character. An important one too. Why the fuck was he here?

The Emperor's Head of Security glanced down at my clothes. Tinkering around had gotten some grime on my old clothes, and I had changed out of my NetRunning suit back into them. "I will give you five minutes. Please…get changed, formal wear please."

I figured that despite being phrased like a request, it was in fact an order. And coming from the Emperor's personal blade, I had a feeling refusing was never in fact an option.

"Alright, I'll be back in a jiffy." Takemura frowned. "By formal, do you mean business-man formal? Like suit and tie? Or Japanese tea-party formal?"

"Do you have a tea-party outfit?" Was that curiosity or irritation I detected?

"No, but I didn't want to show up to one in a suit and tie."

Takemura gave me a look. I wasn't even being snarky here! Arasaka's higher ups were known for being sticklers for tradition, outside of Yorinobu's faction if I was remembering things correctly.

"A suit and tie will be enough." He eventually settled. "Do you have a translator installed?"

"No." This was true. I did not mention that I was fluent in Japanese. He didn't ask, after all.

"Tsk, what a pain." Takemura groaned in Japanese. He said the thing, yare yare daze. "It matters little, hurry and change. We have wasted enough time."

I nodded and went to my room. Cooperation would be better than pointless resistance. Especially since Mom not coming home might have something to do with this. Scratch that, it has something to do with this.

I quickly slipped into the new suit Mom had bought for when we had gone for the Rayfield Expo. It fit snugly though I suspected I might not look all that impressive, being practically fourteen and all.

Once I came out of my room, Takemura quickly got up and directed me outside. A few people peeked out of their doors to see what the commotion was, before swiftly closing their doors at the sight of the Arasaka insignia.

Upon reaching the parking lot, I was greeted by the sight of an AV. If the Rayfield Excalibur released in 2075 was the Caliburn of the airways, than the giant brutish AV in front of me was surely the Hellhound of the skies.

Crashing into a building might harm the building more than the vehicle, a joking thought that was almost immediately confirmed by my intuition.

When the doors opened, I was surprised by the interior. Comfortable leather seats, a refreshment bar, and even a large TV. An armed to the teeth AV with a prestigious interior. Definitely not the default, the sheer incongruence was almost baffling.

"Whose AV is this?" Frankly, I had already suspected since seeing Takemura, but confirmation would be nice.

"You should feel honored." Takemura replied, as we both climbed into our respective seats and the doors closed. "This is Saburo-sama's personal transport. It was offered for use; time is of the essence."

"Would you mind answering a few follow-up questions?" I had a pretty good picture of what was going on, but I needed confirmation. I was being thrown into the deep end of the pool right now and salvaging what little I could was essential.

"That is already one." Was that humor? "You may."

"Arasaka Saburo-sama is my grandfather, right?" There was no other explanation I could think of. I had almost immediately crossed out considering high officials and members of the Arasaka family from potential sperm donors long ago. I couldn't think of any reason to involve the son of an official of an automobile company in this direct of a manner. "Specifically, is Arasaka Yorinobu-sama my father?"

Referencing my elders respectfully was important to Goro's type.

It wasn't that I had never entertained the thought of my father being someone important in the Arasaka hierarchy, it was just that it simply hadn't made sense intellectually. Family, legacy, and power were the things that mattered most to Saburo. Considering how his granddaughter and living son had turned out, there was no way that he would allow another member of his family to grow up outside of his influence. Two rebellious potential heirs were more than enough for him.

"I…" Takemura took a moment, thinking over his words. "Am not sure. Likely so."

"Likely so?" I was a bit stumped there. "You aren't sure?"

This guy was basically welded to Saburo's side. How did he not know?

"A blade does not need to know details to be swung in service of its lord." Takemura returned to that trademark frown of his. "Rest and calm your nerves. We will arrive in Night City soon enough. Excuse me, I must answer a call."

I turned to look out at the screen that had been activated to show outside the AV, likely the predecessor to the Crystal Dome tech that Rayfield was introducing. All the while, I made sure to pay attention to what Takemura said.

"My lord, I have picked up the boy." From the corner of my eye, I could see how the man visibly straightened his posture further once talking. No wonder Saburo trusted the guy so much, this was an obscene level of indoctrination. "We are enroute to the Kujira. No? The construction site? My lord, is such a place appropriate for one such as you? No, I do not doubt your instructions. I will correct our course as you instruct."

There was a pause, I noted while watching how the clouds seemed to blur past us. For such a hulking AV, it was incredibly fast. I wouldn't be surprised if we reached Night City in under an hour.

"Lord Saburo, is the boy…no, I did not speak to him of it." He glanced at me before turning his attention back to the other side of the vehicle. "He put it together himself. Insolent though. Yes, I, it is as you say. I will have a translator picked up for the boy, I know that…as you command."

There was no further noise, meaning that their call was over.

"Yuto-sama." The change in honorifics was all the confirmation I really needed at this point. "I have a question of my own."

Great. Just great. Now my fate was intertwined with the family who made their squabbles everyone else's problem.

I turned to look at the man, who was staring at me intently. What was he going to ask?

"Uh, go ahead." I tapped the side of my chair absentmindedly. "Ask away."

"What does 'jiffy' mean."

I blinked.

"The language of this nation changes so often and so strangely, I struggle to keep up at times." Takemura leaned back into his seat, his stance not quite so tense anymore. "From…the context, I believe it means 'quickly' but I have learned not to be certain with these…new American phrases."

"Actually, its not a new word." Jiffy was a weird word. "Its from the 18th​ century. Colloquially, it was slang for lightning. But I think it had some official, scientific uses too. Some unit of speed based on lightning."

"Ah, a patron of antiquity?" It seemed like Takemura was pleased. "History has fallen out of favor. It is good to see an interest in the traditional roots of your language."

Soon we began to chat about language, me English and he about Japanese and the difficulties of becoming bilingual (something I was aware of). He even provided a few tips on Japanese etiquette.

It was enough to calm my nerves, for a time. I wasn't completely out of control in this situation. Just mostly.

"It is time to wake up." As I woke up from my power nap, I realized that it was rather amusing that the beginning of my birthday and the end was lining up similarly. "We have arrived."

In the outside display, the city was visible beneath us. Glittering and viscerally alive in a way that Seattle simply could not compare to.

Night City. The City of Dreams. Where Legends were born. Where Legends died.

"It really is…something."

"Some advice, do not try the food." Takemura's face scrunched up. "It is revolting."

It only took moments for the City Center to come into view. The Militech building stood proud and affirmed by age. Across the plaza, stood a large construction site. The rebuilding of Arasaka Tower.

"Any advice?" I asked. I was fucked no matter what I did, so at the very least I could make a good impression. I had spent some time accessing the Net for info, but Takemura was a more reliable resource on Saburo Arasaka.

"Listen." Goro replied. "Be respectful and talk when prompted. You are…family. There is no need to fear."

Lies. There was more reason to fear than ever. I was a male descendant and for all I know the guy was pulling an Orochimaru for my body if they ever got the Relic to work.

"Domo arigato." Takemura turned to me surprised, a question almost on his lips. "It is a very famous phrase. Like gesundheit or sayonara."

Technically correct. The best kind of correct.

"I see." The bodyguard nodded, before looking to his side. "We have landed."

Opening the door for me, I was greeted with the top floor of the still under construction Arasaka Tower. Equipment was left alone and sheets covered where the building construction was still progressing.

But my attention was on the slightly slumped figure standing near the edge overlooking the plaza, wearing tradition Japanese robes. There was shockingly little in the way of cybernetics on him.

Saburo Arasaka.

"Leave us Takemura."

"Lord Saburo!" The man in question hissed. "I have been away long enough. I have not even assessed the safety of-"

"Must I fear for my life even in one of the centers of my own power?" All the while, his gaze remained outward. "It was not a request, Takemura. Stretch your legs outside, out of range. I wish to talk with my newfound grandson."

With reluctance, Takemura turned and walked back towards the AV, entering it and taking off almost immediately after.

I walked slightly closer and performed a traditional Japanese bow, based on my Net surfing while in the AV.

"Come closer." I almost reflexively did so until I realize the man was speaking in Japanese. Which meant he likely knew about my knowledge of Japanese already. Fooling Takemura was already a miracle, I suppose. "You did well in wielding information to learn more. But unlike Takemura, I have already read the file we have amassed on you. Please come closer, I am an old man. I wouldn't like to strain my throat."

I walked up to his side, standing straight.

"Your mother is fine." He answered before I even asked. "She is with my daughter. A good woman, that one. A surprise, certainly. My son tends to have poor taste and poor impulse control. This time, it was merely the latter. You are a credit to her parenting; I was expecting a gaijin in all but blood but receive a grandson who still has roots to his ancestors."

"Ojiisan, what future do you intend for me?" This man was not Takemura. I didn't have a chance at winning a verbal joust with him. Better to just cut straight to the point.

"I wield great power, but not even I can decide for certain what your future will be." Saburo turned, smiling. "But if you mean in terms of what I intend, I will be bringing you to Tokyo with me. Fortune smiled upon us in not corrupting you with NUSA's nonsense, but I will not give them more opportunities than they have already received."

"But what of my Okaasan?"

"Worry not, she may still visit you and you her." My grandfather said, calmly. "We have already made a deal with her employers. She will be busy for quite some time. That said, I do not intend to keep you in the homeland forever. A diamond is not made in comfort and safety, but under pressure and heat. And what greater forge is there than this accursed city."

All roads led to Night City.

"You are clever boy, but do not think you can hide from me." The Emperor turned, looking me in the eye. He was a relatively small man, but somehow even though he was slightly shorter than I was, it seemed like he was gazing down at me. Judging. "You bend your head now, but the flames of ambition burn brightly in your eyes."

I felt my mouth dry.

"This is a good thing." The old man laughed. "Compliance is for subordinates. If you wish to not merely survive in this family, ambition is a necessity. Tempered with caution and wisdom, of course. I will not lie. You will be granted unmatched privilege and power as an Arasaka, but the chains of duty that come with it are just as great. If you seek the freedom to choose your course, then rise to the top."

I understood. It was as I feared. This was no fair game from the get-go. I had started in checkmate.

"The obstacles are great." I said, softly. "Aunt Hanako, Cousin Michiko, and of course…father."

"Anything worth having will present obstacles." Saburo scoffed. "Any who say differently are liars, cheats, or fools."

"It as you say." This guy was something else, but I didn't think he was wrong.

"You listen well, if only your father could do the same." He sighed. "Is your cunning from your mother? Or did it simply skip a generation in your father?"

"Both, perhaps?" I ventured. My reward was a barking laugh.

"You have met my expectations and surpassed them, for the moment." Saburo turned back to look out toward the skyline. The last bit of sun having already set and revealing Night City in its truest form. A blazing light in the darkness of the Badlands. "I hope you will continue to do so in the future. Two of my blood have already disappointed me so much, I do not think I could take a third. Make your mother proud."

He didn't spell the threat out.

"What do you think of the view?" He asked, after letting his words sink in. I looked at the towering buildings of the City Plaza.

The most glaring thing was the towering Militech building.

"Unsightly."

Grandfather did not say anything. But his grin spoke for him. We stood and watched the bustle of the city in silence.

Almost absent mindedly, I noticed that it was already passed 10:00 pm. There was no 'practically' about it anymore. I was now fourteen years old.

"Happy birthday, Arasaka Yuto."

Chapter Text

The Devil's Own

Interlude: Ripples

Yorinobu Arasaka / Arasaka Tower (Tokyo)

The word 'rage' could not even begin to describe the fury that coursed through his veins.

Yorinobu Arasaka was no stranger to failure. Grimly reflecting on his career, it was arguable that his entire life story was just a continuous series of them after all.

But this time? A line had been crossed.

He picked up a laptop and threw as hard as he could into the wall, cracking it though the laptop itself seemed untouched.

"Is this a bad time?" A soft voice asked, in Japanese.

"Hanako." Tsk, he needed to control his emotions. His sister was innocent in their Father's schemes. "No, of course not sister. I was just…venting. Sit down. Do you want some tea?"

"I will pass." She sat down, as gracefully as ever. The only descendant that their accursed father viewed with true affection. But the jealousy at always being lesser in his father's eyes had long since faded away. Now? It only solidified his resolve. "Melissa is a nice woman. Though not your usual type."

"No need to beat around the bush sister." Yorinobu snorted, taking a seat himself. "My usual company are whores."

"Which she is not." As diplomatic as ever, his sister. If she had more of a ruthless streak, perhaps Father would hand the company over to her instead of clinging to life even harder.

"The circumstances with Melissa were…more unique. It was a night of passion a while back. Neither of us thought much of it." It had been the biggest surprise of his life. He had never considered having children. He was far too much of a fuck up and he had worried than future reprisal from his Father wouldn't target him, but any child or wife he took.

Joytoys, geisha, and the myriad whores were far safer. They also furthered the idea that Yorinobu had grown to enjoy the depravities that corpos were known for.

"Is she still here?" Father had invited them all together for a 'family' meal along with his new grandson. His mockery knew no limits. To protect his son, his Yuto, he had cut off any chance of contact, and connection between him and the boy and even him and Melissa had been severed.

For nothing now.

Father's contempt had never been clearer, taking his son under his shriveled wing. Spitting on the years of secrecy and sacrifice that had been needed to keep Yuto safe.

Worse yet, that parasite had time to poison his mind against him. Nothing was more like Saburo Arasaka then turning a grandson against his father. The man was poison.

"Yes, Father invited her to dine with us today." Hanako looked at his expression, but at this point Yorinobu felt his emotions come back under control. Giving into rage would only play into his Father's schemes. "It will be his 'going away' party. She is nervous, perhaps go and see her? A familiar face might do some good."

He had wanted to check in with Melissa, but he was worried. Would she even tolerate his presence? He had promised when Yuto was born that he would do everything he could to keep him out of Saburo Arasaka's eyes and yet here they were. Watching powerlessly as their boy walked into the viper's pit.

"What do I say?" Yorinobu asked, despondently. "What words can alleviate the pain she will feel as Father rips her son away from her."

"Brother, it isn't like that." Hanako frowned. Ever Father's steadfast defender. Even Kei had known that their Father was an evil man while Hanako remained willfully oblivious. "They will still communicate and even visit one another. This is a great opportunity for them both. Yuto-kun will be an official part of the family, and Arasaka is making a generous offer to Rayfield to supply executives with high-end modified Caliburns."

"It shocks me sister, how after all these years you still don't understand how Father operates." Yorinobu shook his head. "He gives with one hand and takes with the other. You see what he grants but not what he takes. I fear that his leniency now is merely to build credibility for a heavy burden."

Hanako's frown deepened but she did not continue to argue. Not because she agreed, but because they had similar conversations over the last few decades. Neither of them was willing to change their views, Yorinobu found it poetic in a sad sort of way. Two children who loved one another but were too stubborn to change themselves.

"I should talk with Melissa before dinner." Yorinobu acknowledged Hanako's earlier suggestion. A subtle request to avoid their age-old argument. "Do you know where I can find her?"

"I can do better than that, brother." Hanako got up and gestured towards the door. "I will lead the way. We rarely meet up face to face anymore. Not just us, but the whole family."

"When was the last time the entire family has come together?" Yorinobu asked, pondering the thought as they walked down the busy hallways. The sea of workers parted ways when they came near, despite the bustle. They were Arasakas, and their employees all knew it.

"Not since Kei died." Yorinobu and Kei had a tumultuous history, but his brother's death had been unfortunate. They had both said things to one another that they would never make up for and that had always been a regret of Yorinobu's.

He and Hanako had both tried to do right by Michiko, but their niece had inherited all the stubbornness she possible could from both her family lines.

"Then no matter what, this will be a night to remember." Yorinobu said, making Hanako turn around to look at him. Their bond as siblings remained strong, but they kept drifting apart. No longer could he tell in a moment what and why she was thinking something. Perhaps it was the same for her.

"Indeed, it will, brother." He barely caught her whispered response. "Here. Her room is adjacent to mine. Be delicate brother. It has been a stressful day for her."

"I am not so oblivious so as to be blind to that fact sister." Yorinobu rolled his eyes and knocked on the door.

"Melissa." He called, pausing as he tried to think of what to say. "It is me. I wish to talk."

There was silence and for a moment Yorinobu feared she would not even tolerate his presence.

"It is open."

He let out a sigh of relief and entered. The room was a mirror of Hanako's, a true suite like his own favored one in Konpeki.

Melissa sat on the bed, staring out the window. Even after all these years, she still looked…no, now was not the time for that.

"How are you feeling?" A stupid question. Perhaps Hanako was right to worry about his ability to communicate with her in this delicate state.

"Like shit." She turned to face him, a small grin on her face that didn't reach her eyes. "Honestly, we should have seen this coming."

"Do not blame yourself Melissa." Yorinobu kneeled in front of her, taking her hands. "This is not your fault. It is mine. I promised to keep him out of my Father's gaze, and it was I who failed to do so. Blame me."

"It isn't your fault either Yorinobu." She shook her head. "It was luck that we managed to hide it for this long in the first place. It just ran out. I got complacent and thought we were in the clear."

"As did I." The change following the Metal Wars had reignited Saburo's interest in the American continent which likely had led him to finding their son. "What is he like? Yuto?"

Melissa's smile returned and this time it shone even in her eyes.

"Well, he is a cyberpunk just like his father." Yorinobu raised an eyebrow. "While he doesn't dabble in song and riding with Nomads, he loves dabbling in Techie stuff and his birthday was his first dive as a NetRunner. Though he has played with the low-level stuff since he was nine."

Fourteen was a relatively early age to start NetRunning, barring some of the inhumane black site projects that Arasaka ran. Pre-adolescent minds were exceptionally vulnerable to backlash in the Net, even if they were more sensitive to certain dangers.

"Do you think he will…" Yorinobu trailed off. Want to know him? Despise him?

"I don't think he'll hate you, that boy has always been mature." Melissa looked thoughtful. "Though maybe let me explain first."

"Naturally." He agreed. "You must be eager to see him. It has been…a stressful time, hasn't it? My Father did not give you grief, did he?"

"Surprisingly?" She chuckled. "No, he did not. He mostly asked for details on Yuto. He was happy that our son has learned Japanese and that I wasn't 'your usual type'."

Our son. The words made his nerves start to act up. He had truly considered it but he would be meeting the boy for the first time since his delivery, since Yorinobu had bequeathed his name to him.

"Regardless of everything else…it was nice seeing you again." Melissa got up and gave him a pat on the back. "Yuto and your father will be arriving soon. You should prepare yourself. For both of them. I am going to go take a walk, clear my head a little bit."

Yorinobu nodded, though he just sat on the bed and stared at the wall in thought.

He would have to be far more careful, lest his ambitions cast danger on Melissa and his son.

In Arasaka's secured French landing strip, a green light overcame a camera. The quarterly ICE update had not been implemented yet allowing Lucy to easily take control of the surveillance network.

The guard had been strengthened yet. She hoped that this meant the false trail she planted leading to Germany or even the paper trail to Lisbon had worked. She couldn't count on it though, meaning she would have to move swiftly and decisively once the opening revealed itself.

She used her scanner to mark the guards and also note their rotations, the placement of other cameras, and any gaps in their defenses.

As the only survivor to escape that accursed Arasaka black site, she had been on the run ever since. Initially, the tail on her had been light and easily avoidable. Things had changed quickly once a team of NetRunners had assigned themselves to her case.

Worse yet, the leader of that team was the Polish NetRunner, Shimmer. Her own mother. Typical Lucy Luck.

"This is risky." She muttered under her breath. She had set up in an abandoned shack just outside the perimeter. Lucy was a realist. So, she knew when to face facts. Europe was not safe for her. The Metal Wars were now over and while there was no definitive winner, the closest thing to one would be Arasaka. "Stupidly risky."

With the war itself over, Shimmer and her team would be freed of larger responsibility and the brief reprieve she had gotten would be over. They would search in every crevice, pothole, and outhouse on the continent for her.

Australia, Antarctica, and Asia were immediately removed as possible options.

Australia was far too restrictive. Combat cyberware, most weapons, and other options were heavily regulated. If Arasaka found her there or requested extradition? She was fucked.

Antarctica was basically Corpo Land. They didn't even pretend at having the pretense of a democratic government or regulation.

Asia had been under Arasaka's sphere of influence for over a century. There might be places where Lucy could hide, but her Father's reach in the area would no doubt be strong.

That left Africa and the Americas.

Africa was tempting. New Africa was known for Orbital Air and offered opportunities to get off planet. But she lacked the opportunities to earn enough wealth there to stabilize herself there. And it seemed unlikely that it would be easy to sneak onto the continent with Orbital Air itself being the local powerhouse.

North America suffered from Arasaka's growing influence the most, but at least they would face strong opposition in their mortal rival, Militech. Even when the true face of NUSA had retreated, licking its wound after failing at the Unification of the American continent, it remained a powerful force on the global stage.

South America seemed like the safest option but the current political unease due to some tension between the Brazilian government and SovOil. And Arasaka did have a presence there still, even if it was rather minimal.

"NUSA it is." It wasn't perfect, but that was fine. In the end, it was just a pit stop. Saying Europe was too dangerous was not hyperbole. In fact, she would even venture that the entire damn planet was too dangerous for her. She wanted to escape, utterly. Even if it was just for a moment.

So she had thought about going off planet. Mars would have been ideal but seemed beyond feasibility with how Kang Tao was monopolizing it, and even then, the price for a single trip alone was beyond her let alone a return. So, there was only one place the offered her the freedom and rest she desired. Her dream.

"The moon." Perhaps not to stay. But to visit, at least once and experience the glory. To her, the moon was more than a hunk of rock orbiting their planet. It was freedom made manifest. From its place in the observable horizon to the history of how people in space had shaken off the shackles of oppression and made a place for themselves.

DOWNLOAD COMPLETE. The message appeared on her optics, shaking her out from her own thoughts. Her handheld cyberdeck's residual heat warmed her fingers as it completed the assigned task.

She was in Arasaka's mainframe now. This was the most dangerous part. If she pushed too far, she could catch the onsite NetRunner's attention, and that meant Shimmer would be on her ass sooner rather than later. Lucy could not afford that.

"Flight log." This French airstrip was an important relay center for Arasaka flights in Europe. Most of the large trips from Japan to Europe and vice versa passed through here in some fashion. But Japan was not her goal. "Jackpot."

There were also cargo flights to Russia, South America, and even Antarctica. But what had her smiling at something finally going right was the log for several flights that were inbound for territories in North America, adjacent to NUSA.

Of course, Arasaka would capitalize on their 'win' to expand into their hated enemy's turf. She would have cursed it at any other time, but now? It was an opportunity. She even identified the plane heading there next in the hangar.

Take control of the cameras once more, she deactivated the other cameras, turrets, and even opened a few out of the way doors to make her break in go smoother.

After this, she might finally get a chance to relax.

With careful footing and caution learned during her time on the run, Lucy snuck up towards the fence, evading the sentries and drones alike. Destroying the latter was possible, but it would cause too much noise and possibly attract attention to any possible stowaways or sabotage. The fence itself didn't have a hole in the wiring or any easy elevation to jump over, but a larger building just off the side allowed her to catch her monowires onto an outcropping.

Monowire wasn't built to be used in such a manner, but in a pinch it could do so. She was light enough and as long as she moved quickly, it would hold. And hold it did as she flung herself over, using the noise of a passing truck to cover her tracks as much as possible.

Landing near behind a pile of supplies, she surveyed her position. The hangar wasn't too far, but there was a large section of the facility that was just open so that flights and AVs could land. It wasn't hopeless though.

Lucy accessed the exploit she found in the communications network and began to listen in.

"What is all the commotion about?" A gruff voice. "I thought HQ was shifting focus to the Americas for the foreseeable future. Why are we getting so much attention now?" While Lucy's intentions had been to identify a truck carrying cargo towards her target flight, this information made her stop. Of course she couldn't have good luck.

"You didn't hear?" Another voice, female, responded. "Sabura Arasaka is returning to Japan from Night City, fast. There wasn't much of a heads up, so he is stopping here briefly."

Her breath stopped. Fucking shit. Saburo Arasaka. Here? Tonight? When?!

"Shit." The first guard echoed her own thoughts. "When?"

"That should be his AV, landing just now." A third voice interjected. Masculine, but younger than the first. "Look alive people. If you do well, getting a promotion off this dead-end facility might be possible."

"And if we do badly?" The woman's voice asked, teasingly.

"We'll send flowers to your funeral." The first guard said.

Lucy leapt into a box to her side after looking around to make sure no one was watching. She had to hope that the pitstop for Saburo really would be short otherwise she'd have to wait for another flight.

She lifted the lid slightly, just enough to get a sliver of a view. From there, she accessed a camera. Camera Three had visuals on everything going on. Just to be safe, she hurriedly reactivated the other cameras and turrets. A massive, bulky thing. Armed to the teeth, painted red and black with the Arasaka logo styled on the doors.

The on-site troops, including some older mechs, had all lined up in front. Stepping out from the open doors was a chromed Japanese man, followed by an old man and a kid her age.

The stiff chromed man was probably a bodyguard. That meant the old man must be the Emperor himself. The most shocking thing about him, Lucy decided, was the decisive lack of chrome. Less obvious chrome and bioware were the way of the elites in the Corpo world, but a brief glance said more than that for Saburo Arasaka. The man truly had limited implants. Only the briefest sense of some incredibly dense ICE that she didn't even dare touch showed that he had a personal link of sorts.

As for the boy? She was drawing a blank. His presence indicated importance, but there was no one that age that would be near the Emperor, let alone getting a ride in his AV and not being a prisoner for spectacle.

All other Arasakas were much older unless Yorinobu had somehow stumbled onto reverse aging and decided to rub it in his father's face.

"Greetings Saburo-sama." A man in heavier chrome and wearing the Arasaka French Division's insignia greeted with a bow. Lucy almost rolled her eyes. Her father was Japanese, so she was aware of customs. That bow had been crude. A show. Pure bootlicking and not particularly good either, as seen by the faint look of scorn the bodyguard sent the oblivious man. "We humbly greet you at this facility."

She was beginning to see why this place was a 'dead-end' now. Hopefully, it would be a literal one for her.

"Saburo-sama, allow me to do a sweep of the facility." It seemed that as far as first impressions went, the bodyguard was not impressed. A quick scan revealed him to be Goro Takemura. The Emperor's blade, or dog as he was usually called in company. "This gaijin is a known fool. I will be quick. Something is off here."

"Steady yourself, Takemura." The head of the Arasaka family chided him

Fuck. She was fucked. The security on the facility might be lax, but Goro Takemura's? It could only be worse if it was Adam Smasher who discovered her and turned her into a smear on the wall.

"Grandfather, when can we take off?" The boy asked. His voice was somewhat audible to her even inside the container, and from his position he was walking in the general direction of her hiding place. This was bad. "Everyone is waiting for us in Tokyo. How long will this take?"

"Soon enough." Saburo Arasaka replied in that old droning voice of his. "Stretch your legs while you can, child. A long flight still awaits us to reach Tokyo. First we must visit Russia. We must pick up another guest."

"Who?" The boy stopped a few meters away from her position.

"Your cousin, Michiko." Lucy blinked. The head of Danger Gal and known opponent to Arasaka interests. What was going on?

"Were you not on...bad terms?" The kid Arasaka had figured it out too, no surprise there.

"Yes, but she is interested in meeting her new cousin." The Emperor seemed thoughtful. "For all her flaws, at least she understands the significance of family. Even if she spits on our legacy."

"I must ask that you allow me to case the perimeter!" Takemura protested, apparently no longer able to hold in his words. Lucy knew his type. Arasaka's dogs. Trained to the point where they shook hands on command or rolled over for a treat. The same type that would shoot children without hesitation if ordered. "Your safety is not something we can risk."

"There is no need Goro." Lucy couldn't believe it. "These workers shall do their maintenance and then we shall be off. Your security inspections are impeccable but let us not insult the work of these men anymore. Besides, our entourage will be meeting up with us soon after we take off, it would be impolite to delay any longer than necessary."

"…As you command, Saburo-sama." She'd laugh if it wouldn't give her away. Death had stared her in the eyes and looked away.

"Will you be re-entering the AV, Yuto-sama?" The guard asked, calmly.

"I'll stay here for now." The boy, Yuto, replied. "I'll be back by the time maintenance is finished."

There was no noise suggesting movement. Had Takemura remained still or was he using some high-grade Lynx Paws?

"This fucking sucks." The so-called Yuto Arasaka spoke, seemingly to himself. Not loud enough to attract the attention of the troops moving around the area to fuel and examine the AV, his grandfather, or the bodyguard. But in English. Just loud enough for her to hear. She wondered if he knew she was there, but after a moment all she heard was mumbling to himself. "Mom must be worried sick."

And then there was silence.

The beating noise that Lucy realized was her heart rate finally dropping down as the ever-present specter of imminent death retreated.

Arasaka Yuto. Another one. Just what the world needed, apparently.

The information was valuable, for the moment. Either he had just been found, or the 'Emperor' was playing this particular card close to his chest.

But Lucy wasn't stupid. If she was lucky, she'd get out of this with no clear link to this incident. It was asking for a lot. She had scrubbed as much of her presence as she could from the site's systems, but her education on NetRunning was still crude. She was certain to have missed things.

If she sold that information, it was even more likely to be linked back to her. Worse, it would mean that she would be on Saburo Arasaka's radar. This information would not be worth anything to her if she was dead.

And Lucy was in the game to survive.

She remained in the container, watching the Arasaka AV eventually take off and fly into the distance, joined by a retinue of smaller AVs for protection.

From within, she flipped them two middle fingers.

Fuck Arasaka.

Hanako Arasaka / Arasaka Tower (Tokyo)

The tension in the room was palpable. In a private wing of the Tower, the dining hall had been modeled after a traditional Japanese home.

Hanako herself had brewed the tea and poured it for everyone. Father had provided the kimonos even if some, mainly Michiko, looked out of place despite the fact.

At least Father had decided to let his pet monster rampage in Brazil. Out of the way. The last thing that was needed was that angry, spiteful creature.

She had hoped that the night would mend some old tears in the family, but she suspected that all this night would do was ignite old hurts. Yorinobu sat glaring at Father like he wished from him to combust from the sheer vitriol in his eyes. Michiko seemed incapable of caring less about the dinner. And Father reveled in it, despite his claims that everything was for the family. Sadly, it was too late to back out at this point.

"Thank you, Aunt Hanako." Yuto bowed slightly. He sat next to his mother. While there was a valiant attempt to hide his nerves, there was a clear hesitation to his movements. Words and gestures were calculated. It was a shame that his first experience with their family was so fraught with tension.

"I hope you enjoy the tea Nephew." The boy knew Japanese but seemed more fluent in English so she would try to be as welcoming as possible. No doubt Father refused to use English if Japanese was an option. His pride was so overbearing, at times. Even at his own expense.

"There is no need to coddle the boy, Hanako." Her Father frowned, ears twitching at the hint of English in his sanctuary. "Japanese is his true tongue. He should embrace it."

"But it is not the tongue of his mother." Hanako said, pointedly. Melissa sat beside her son, eyes flickering between Father, Yorinobu, and Yuto. Father scoffed but said no more on the matter. This was likely the closest she would get to acknowledgement of her point.

"Speaking of politeness and etiquette yet not upholding such standards himself." Her brother sneered. This was bound to happen at some point, Yorinobu's anger was too strong to remain contained the entire time. "Classic of you, Father."

"After decades of walking with your tail between your legs, crawling back to the company, you finally find some courage to speak?" Father laughed, the contempt dripping from his voice.

"And you wonder why we don't do this more often." Michiko said, snidely giving her aunt a look. "Sorry you have to deal with this crap kid. I'd have liked to meet you under better terms."

"You had no right!" Yorinobu and Father continued their argument, ignoring everything else. Had she known they wouldn't even play at civility, she would have sat them together. At least that way the rest of the table could try and connect somewhat. "No right whatsoever!"

"I have every right." Father snapped. "I suspected you were hiding something. But a son? Does the importance of family not matter to you? The hardest part about finding out about the boy was wondering in which way you had disappointed me. I wondered if you even knew you had a child. Or if it was a willingly concealment of the boy. That is your greatest skill, Yorinobu! I can never predict in which manner you fail to live up to my expectations."

"ENOUGH!" Hanako slammed a hand on the table. Everyone turned towards her, their attentions firmly held. "There will be no more childish tantrums nor screaming matches. Not at this table. If you wish to, do so on your own time. This is a celebration of family. Not a continuation of your decades old grudges."

Neither Father nor Yorinobu said anything, but their silence was enough for Hanako.

"My apologies for the…unflattering beginning to this dinner." She bowed apologetically to Melissa and her son. "Our family has not been all together for some time now, as Michiko mentioned."

"It's fine." Yuto smiled, his eyes darting around the table. "I've not been to a big family get-together before, but I've heard its somewhat like this."

A polite lie, but one that Hanako was glad for.

"What kind of hobbies do you have?" Michiko, for once, played along and moved the conversation along. Her nephew seemed more comfortable talking with her niece than the other members of their family. Michiko had always been personable, when she wasn't being needlessly petulant. She had already made a good impression on the journey from Russia.

"Yuto loves to tinker around." Melissa answered, nudging her son playfully. Or perhaps as a reminder to keep on his toes. "With machines and with code. NetRunning has been an old passion of his."

"Perhaps we can talk later?" Hanako smiled. "I am somewhat fluent in the art of NetRunning."

While her high tier equipment helped, Hanako was not a slouch in terms of skill either. The data remaining from Alt Cunningham and many other NetRunners who had been caught by Soulkiller provided her with an excellent foundation.

"Hanako is the pride of the family." Father mentioned. "You can learn much from her."

While Father spoke, continuing to discuss Yuto's future, Hanako watched Yorinobu. He looked to his son, fury abating to reveal confusion, hesitation, and fear.

Their entire family suffered from communication issues and stubbornness, and it seemed that such things would rear themselves even in later generations.

"You shouldn't separate the boy from his mother, Father." Yorinobu eventually spoke out. She admired the sentiment, but it was both unrealistic and poorly timed. What Father wanted, he would get.

"She has had fourteen years with the boy." Father turned back to his only remaining son. "I ask for a mere fraction of that. Do you not want to spend time with your own child?"

A simple statement, but the tone said more than words could. 'Do you detest the sight of your own son?' and Yorinobu understood, if the sneer on his face was any indicator.

"How much of that time will be 'familial bonding' and not you turning him into another weapon in your arsenal."

"You did your best Hanako." Michiko leaned over and patted her shoulder. "But some wounds don't heal. This family? Everything scarred up into a hideous mess years ago. It was great meeting you Yuto, and you too Melissa! If you ever need anything, Danger Gal is always there to help."

She considered stopping her niece from leaving but the girl had a point. This was a disaster. Yorinobu and her Father were incapable of letting past grudges lie unopened for even a single meal.

"Goodbye Michiko." She would try and reconnect with her niece on her own then. If Father and her brother had no interest in keeping the family together, than she would take up that burden herself. Her Father had taught her family above all else, and she would do so even if he forgot. "Safe travels."

He niece paused, turning to her. Eventually she gave a small smile.

"You too, Aunt Hanako."

All the while Father and Brother continued to argue, having at some point both gotten up, excused themselves, and continued their screaming match in the next room, Takemura having gone with them ostensibly to keep tensions down but realistic to stop Yorinobu from snapping and strangling his Father.

"Quite the family." Melissa said, taking a bite of sushi.

"We can't choose our relatives, only how we deal with them." Hanako admitted. As the hostess, responsibility fell to her even if everything that went wrong was out of her control. "I suppose yours is different?"

"Only child." Melissa shrugged. "More of a statement of family values for executives than a family, but I have nothing to complain about."

It was a common practice, more so in Arasaka, but Hanako understood the sentiment. Family that wasn't really family. Perhaps that was why the boy was so close to his mother? An attempt to raise her child differently from how she was.

"I see." For all the headaches that her brother had caused her, she still wouldn't wish for a world without him. "My apologies for the evening. We weren't always like this."

Or perhaps they were and one day, the crack simply made themselves more visible.

"Will he be okay?" The woman asked, surprising Hanako for a moment. "My son, while he is here."

She hesitated. Truth be told, she believed her Father intended to put the boy through a trial by fire. Throwing him straight into the rat-race that was the Arasaka corporation. While his name brought great advantages, the enemies it brought were even greater.

"He will be safe." Hanako eventually decided to say. It didn't sound convincing, even to her, but she believed it. Having an Arasaka die was a sign of weakness and for that fact alone, his safety was almost guaranteed. They had learned since the incident with Kei. "You will be able to call everyday and even visit on occasion."

"Your father has a reputation, so perhaps you can understand why I am afraid of having my son around him."

Any further reassurances Hanako could provide were interrupted as the door opened and Yorinobu stormed out, Father trailing behind him slightly.

"I have had enough with your nonsense!" Yorinobu shouted. "Counterintelligence? You want my son to be part of that death trap?"

Hanako blinked.

Counterintelligence was a department that could be most easily summarized as 'high-risk, high reward'. Most other divisions and branches were limited by familial connections and sheer personal wealth. The best a common worker could ever be is middle management, barring the occasional exceptional agent who was brought alongside more traditional rising stars in the company.

Counterintelligence, on the other hand, had no such limitation. Regardless of who you were, you could make the climb all the way up to the head of the department and even further, fortune be willing.

The issue was that Counterintelligence was, indeed, a death trap. There was no department more despised, period.

Other divisions distrusted them as they were tasked with rooting out 'traitors' and making difficulties for the company 'disappear'.

Even inside the department there was a cut-throat business. Subordinates would betray their superiors to take their position, prevent being disposed of themselves, or curry favor to another. Superiors would 'remove' promising subordinates that might endanger their own position. Colleagues would sell their long-time friends up the river if it meant getting even just a raise.

Yes, you could go far in Counterintelligence with the right skills and connections. Assuming you survived long enough to do so.

"You exaggerate." Father huffed. "I merely believe that they can teach many things. The boy is interested in NetRunning and Technology. Counterintelligence touches on almost every other division. It provides the best opportunity for growth."

"He is a child!"

"I will not send him as he is now, you fool!"

"Have some decency you shriveled fool!" Yorinobu screamed. "When something goes wrong, what will you have but regret?"

"I only have one regret." Father glared. "That it was Kei who died and not you."

Her breath hitched as the room went dead silent, even Takemura turned to gaze at his master with sheer confusion.

Even Father opened his mouth and closed it again as he processed what he said. But he did not apologize. He simply looked away.

Yorinobu did not say anything more either and walked out.

"Can we talk later Melissa?" She asked, the woman nodded before reaching out to take her son's hand and walk out of the room as well. Hanako was ahead of them, chasing after her brother.

This damn family. Can't anything go right?

Goro Takemura

"Perhaps I went too far tonight." A sword did as it was wielded to do. It did not judge. It did not comment. But in the recesses of his mind, Goro Takemura agreed. Some words were not meant to be spoken, even if they were the truth. Others, especially if they were the truth.

Takemura was not a social creature. For all his loyalty to the Arasaka company and the family at its head, he did not know how to fix the wounds that ran deep in his Lord's family.

So, he had merely stood silently as words were wielded like bullets and blades, cutting deep and slow to heal.

The rebellious son had left, far quieter than before with Hanako-sama following closely behind. The newest Arasaka, Yuto-sama, and his mother had also left, with Michiko-sama also having escaped at the earliest convenience.

"Lord Saburo, I have news." He had not wanted to bring up his personal failure, fearing it would intrude on the family gathering, but perhaps now it would alleviate some of the tension and give his Lord and outlet to express his frustration. "It is in regard to the airfield."

"Yes?"

Takemura swallowed his shame and knelt down. His back was parallel to the floor as he entered dogeza. He sought forgiveness for a failure that, if circumstances were different, may have cost Saburo-sama his life.

"The NetRunners who came after us found traces of an intruder coinciding with our presence on site." Small mercies. A true assassin or even a more opportunistic fantatic could have brought destruction to the Arasaka family. "I failed in my role as your protector Saburo-sama. A threat was there, and I failed to notice."

Punishment was expected, Takemura had already prepared himself for the worst.

"Do not blame yourself Takemura." Sabur-sama waved away his mistake, his compassion showcasing itself once more. This was the man that had saved him from a life as nothing. "It was my own request that we abstain from securing the premises. What do we know about the intruder?"

"Little." He did not like this. If he had failed, at least providing information after the fact would help settle his worries but even that solace was denied to him. "The digital footprint was faint. Only the crudeness of the intrusion into the surveillance system allowed detection. Whoever it was, they are in the wind.

"That is disappointing." Saburo turned to gaze at Takemura, who still remained in dogeza. "There are some ways this can go. The first is that this intruder knows of my grandson and sells the info, leaking it outside of our control.

"My Lord?"

"If the information finds its way to the public in such a manner, it will be more 'exciting'." Saburo-sama explained patiently. "Americans love their spectacle. In the context of our resurgence, it will be another sign of strength to the public. Not only have we returned to Night City and the continent, but our family has grown since the loss of my heir. The wounds inflicted on us have faded and we rise stronger than ever."

"The second, they threaten us that they will sell. In which case, they shall suffer." Saburo laughed, his eyes filled to brim with amusement. The kind that made Takemura shift nervously before such weakness had been trained out of him. "The final option is that they possess some modicum of wisdom and decide to keep the info to themselves. For now, keep an eye on the Net for any leaks."

"As you command." Takemura said, getting up from the floor. "Shall we continue the investigation into the NetRunner?"

"No, we have more important things to focus on." The old man said after a moment's thought. "With our return to Night City, we will have to use all our resources to chip away at Militech. Chasing a slighted pride…is not something we can afford. Have the Runners log anything they can from the digital footprint. In the future, whoever they were will not be so lucky if they decide to plays game with Arasaka. If they have the wisdom to keep things to themselves, my gift shall be their life."

How merciful.

"It is as you say, Saburo-sama."

"Takemura, we all mistakes." He paused. "Just be sure not to make this one a second time."

He nodded. If such a thing happened, Takemura would avenge his lord and then take his own life rather than live with such disgrace.

Chapter Text

"Walker-sama, your vehicle arrived at the Glenn Private Storage facility two days ago." My old assistant in Tokyo said, bowing. "It is ready for pickup whenever you are ready! I'm so sorry we couldn't get it sent to the Arasaka Storage facility."

"You did the best you could." The Arasaka Storage facility had been hit recently by some no-name edgerunner group. They had all died, but not before fucking up the facility for the next week or so. "I'll miss your bentos here. I've heard nothing good about Night City food."

"Maybe Takemura-sama was exaggerating?" He probably wasn't.

"Thank you, Yuriko, and wish your sisters luck on their exams from me." I hung up the holo after saying goodbye and took a deep breath.

I looked out from the window of the AV, the seemingly endless expanse of desert stretching into the horizon. The Badlands were a gigantic stretch of territory ruled over by different factions of Nomads, from the Wraiths to the Aldecaldos.

At long last, I found myself on the way to Night City.

It had been four years since that fateful day when my new life had veered completely off any possible path I could have imagined.

Four years during which I had grown under the watchful, nearly stalkerish, gaze of my grandfather, Saburo Arasaka.

"First day in the city and I already have so much to do." I'd have to call Mom and reassure her that everything was fine. Setting up a weekend to go up to Seattle to visit should do wonders in calming her worries. But there were some more urgent issues on my agenda.

Officially, I was acting as a Counterintelligence agent meant to examine operations in Night City. Director of Special Operations, Susan Abernathy, and the Commander of Counterintelligence's Night City department, Arthur Jenkins, have been rivals since almost the beginning of their career. Previously, their conflict was within the acceptable parameters of the company.

Recently?

There had been whispers of intentional mission sabotage.

The bottom line of internal conflict in Arasaka was that it should never cut into the company's bottom line. Excessive profit loss, reputation damage, and even intellectual breaches were all unacceptable to the Tokyo division.

Counterintelligence HQ in Tokyo was deployed to sort out the issue before it got further out of hand.

Night City was the frontline against Militech, and when, not if, the Fifth Corporate War launched, it would be one of the most strategically important locations in the world for Arasaka.

Unofficially? This was Grandfather saying, I've taught you what I can, now scram and make something of yourself.

Had I become a masochist? Because I almost feel eager. Anticipating the power struggle that is to come my way makes me giddy.

Neither Abernathy nor Jenkins was the type to just roll over because they were being watched by the Board.

I would have to claw a way into the city's scene one way or another. My mind wandered, thinking just how I could go about it. First, I would see what the political landscape was like at Arasaka Tower with my own two eyes. Then I would start making my moves.

For now, I turned my head from the window and allowed the most relevant files to come up on my optical implants.

I had looked over Abernathy's and Jenkins' to the point where my eyes would glaze over the words, so I instead turned to the more interesting file.

Valerie 'V' Kingsley. Jenkins' right-hand woman. The woman who, in another life, would have become THE Night City Legend.

The picture on her profile depicted a stern-faced, beautiful woman with short white hair in a well-measured Arasaka suit. An imposing figure.

She and Jenkins made an interesting duo. Jenkins had the reputation and background required to climb the corporate ladder, yet could go no further. V had the opposite circumstances. She was beyond capable, with an extensive and impressive log of missions. Official and unofficial. However, her lack of particular prestigious origins and strong backers meant that she couldn't rise high without a powerful ally.

Arthur Jenkins, in her case. One who would end up being a poisoned apple, dragging her down with him. That much was obvious even without the context of 2077.

"What a waste." Jenkins was a sinking ship. The man was too blunt for any true position of power, let alone their intelligence and reconnaissance department. He had no respect for subtlety. He further paired this with arrogance and ambition, seeking to gain a position he was neither qualified nor capable enough for.

He might surprise me, but I doubted it. It wasn't just Abernathy's words that had screwed him. The future European Space Council debacle was just another mess in a long line.

Swiping Valerie for my faction was optimal, but first, I would have to establish myself as not only a reasonable, stable force in Night City, but a superior option. If nothing else, Jenkins had done an almost admirable job of tying V's rising star to his success.

I'd also have to get a gauge of her personality. This was real life, not a game. While the information from Cyberpunk 2077 could serve as a good reference point, depending on it solely was a fool's bet. Especially since the events may very well have been completely butterflied away.

"Now arriving at: Arasaka Tower, Night City." The automated voice caught my attention as the AV slowed down and began to descend towards the landing pad. And how adorable, I already had a meet and greet waiting.

As the doors to the AV opened, I looked around. It wasn't the same place where Corpo V had left from, but instead on a terrace of sorts. Based on the more intense Japanese aesthetic, probably suited for VIPs from the mainland.

The guards were armored and rather heavily chromed, standing still, though the intensity of their gaze suggested they were as much for intimidation as they were as an actual security force. If the excessive number hadn't already given it away.

They were spread out in a way that surrounded the landing pad but also left a clear path to the entrance of the building, like I was some sort of farm animal that needed corralling.

Standing close to the AV and in the path was a young woman, brunette, with high-end administrative cyberware.

Optical implants are already activated. Transmitting information to unknown sources.

Administrative cyberware was designed specifically to reduce stress and give an almost doll-like professionalism to secretaries and assistants alike. It also made them ideal agents to use as intermediaries.

Was there anyone in this little powwow that wasn't spying on me or intimidating me? Night City's branch was a shithole.

"Welcome to Night City, Walker-sama." The woman bowed deeply. "My name is Marianne, your guide for the day, and I shall be introducing you to our facilities here."

Now for the million-eddy question, whose creature was this woman?

Abernathy's or Jenkins'?

"Please, Mrs. Marianne, just call me Walker." I smiled disarmingly. Fear was useful, but I had learned it was difficult to inspire reliably and reasonably with my youthful features. For now, amicability would be a better armor than terror. "Mr. Walker, if you are feeling particularly formal."

"Of course, Mr. Walker."

Japanese honorifics and bowing were often used even amongst the non-Japanese staff to suck up to officials from the Tokyo Branch or simply higher-level executives. It did work to some degree, making some marginally more receptive due to that traditionalist mindset that had gripped half the board and Grandfather himself.

To me, it was bothersome. There should at least be an attempt to pretend at subtlety when sucking up to someone.

"Director Abernathy would love to show you our operations herself." Mrs. Marianne explained, leading me through the terrace area with the security detail following shortly behind. "She is busy for the next hour or so, but she has an appointment booked for you as soon as possible in her office."

It seemed like Abernathy was trying to make a show of power. It seemed like too much effort, risk, and time with too little reward for Jenkins to be slandering her. It also involved a startling degree of subtlety that was in direct contradiction to his file.

Of course, files can always be wrong.

"I appreciate the sentiment." I waved the offer aside. "But as an investigator, I must reduce bias as much as possible. It would be unseemly to allow a Director to convey information on Night City operations herself. Why bother sending me at that point? You can inform the good Director that I respectfully decline. She has much better uses of her time than having to tolerate me."

Her hands tensed slightly, cybernetic implants optimized for data transfer in conjunction with neuralware that functioned to allow advanced multitasking. Facial muscles tensed minutely. Increased overall tension. Heartbeat elevated, quickly returned to sinus rhythm by cardiac implant. Abnormal cortisol levels returned to homeostatic balance by adrenal implant. Holo link active. Abernathy or Jenkins on the other line.

To her credit, Marianne didn't make any obvious signs of tension. Though the guards themselves tense slightly.

"I need to meet with Mr. Jenkins as well. Perhaps working my way up the chain of command would provide a more novel perspective?"

Heart rate, cortisol production, and breathing rate increased upon hearing of identifier 'Jenkins'. Quick action by cybernetic implants returns signals to baseline status.

Ah, so she was Abernathy's creature then. How disappointingly straightforward.

These secretarial spies were still very fascinating, at least in this setting. It was commonplace around the time of the Fourth Corporate War, but now a mostly obsolete form of spy network. It is interesting to see here in Night City, considering the culture of the region.

The agent in question had to not only have a high enough cyberware capacity to function properly as an agent, but they also had to devote the entirety of that capacity to a gauntlet of cyberware that made them blend in perfectly.

Neural implants like Kerenzikov for fast thinking and reaction without being as overt as a Sandevistan. Brain stem implants that kept breathing and heart rate alike maintained at baseline, favored for making the vaunted Yamato Nadeshiko archetypes back in Japan. And many other implants that fine-tuned these individuals into perfect information-gathering receptacles. Not to mention altogether too common doll modifications done.

Worse yet, the agent would be basically devoting their existence to information gathering at the expense of many more personally useful cyberware.

An unforgiving job that had produced a disproportionately high number of cyberpsychos, with the bonus of them possessing confidential and often critical information for and against Arasaka.

"I'll message the Director," Marianne answered calmly as we continued walking. Any breaks in her performance were imperceptible at a glance. Over time, the platoon around us broke off until I was left with just the secretary as we moved from the exterior terrace to the interior of the Tower. Oriental slowly shifted in the post-modern steel design that described a good chunk of the city.

"I have to ask, Mr. Walker, how does the Night City location compare to Tokyo's?" She was good. That was a surprisingly loaded question. Tokyo's Arasaka Tower was far more socially stratified. Lower and even most middle-ranking members may not even ever see into the main tower itself, since they worked in a sort of outer layer that was practically a separate building.

"Tokyo's Tower interior is more like Konpeki." I thought for a moment. "No, rather it would be more accurate to say that Konpeki's interior is like the Tokyo Tower's. No cubicles, large offices, beautiful mantle pieces, and decadent artifacts of bygone eras all about."

"That seems like a security risk," Marianne remarked, to which I laughed.

"It is in a way, but I pity the fool who decides to steal from that Tower." Night City's Arasaka Tower defenses were paper mâché compared to Tokyo's. "You can pick things up, but the minute they leave the area…well, the security restrictions on high-level weaponry don't apply in Japan to Arasaka. The hardest part of the aftermath would probably be identifying the smear on the ground that is left. Even if by some miracle they could escape, many subtle identifiers make you marked for death for the rest of your days."

"Erm, that sounds quite secure." Her expression seemed queasy—a good facade. I wonder how Abernathy had found such a devoted agent. "Is it fine to speak of that?"

"Yes, it is fine."

Shockingly, it was.

Tokyo employed a very different perspective on security. Rather than keep the details of what defenses were in place obscured, they all but bragged about it in Japan. As long as you weren't selling literal passcodes and confidential information, you could get away with talking about the security measures in detail. Though such information spread quickly enough that making a profit was difficult.

"Japan sounds like an entirely different place from Night City," Marianne muttered as we reached a section of the tower with large offices.

"Different situation." Japan was a subsidiary of Arasaka, like NUSA was to Militech. "There are no true challengers to Arasaka in Japan. The title of the 'Emperor' there is more than just a Legend, it is a reality."

It was no wonder that Goro Takemura had turned out as he did. Night City was unique in that so many different powers were involved, making it a city of chaos. Anything and anyone could emerge. Places like the heart of NUSA and Japan had long since been made into the image of their respective corporations, baring a few outliers.

"Welcome to your office, Mr. Walker." My new office was the largest on the floor, by the look of it. Comfortable and luxurious. Also, I'd likely find it filled to the brim with espionage devices, which I'd have to take the time to either dismantle or manipulate.

Marianne paused.

Twitch of brow, aborted by subdermal implant. Eye dilation. Epinephrine stimulating a sympathetic nervous system response. Surprise. Irritation.

"I'll leave you to acclimatize yourself, Mr. Walker." She smiled demurely. "It appears you have a guest eager to make your acquaintance."

Wasn't I Mr. Popular today?

"Thank you for your assistance today, Marianne." I stepped inside. The office was as lavish as I'd imagined. It was more like an apartment than an office. A lounge area with stylish couches and a large flat screen off to the side, the walls to the side and back of the room were entirely made of thick bulletproof glass, and the desk that acted as the centerpiece was large, luxurious, and appeared to be made of real wood.

I would have taken in the sight better if not for the guest seated in front of my desk, poised straight and silent.

Miss Valerie herself.

Jenkins had been hoping to strike before Abernathy, and while he technically failed, it was a respectable effort.

"Since you've been in here longer than I have, what do you think about the office, Miss Kingsley?"

The woman turned her head, clearly thinking and not reacting strongly to my presence.

Unlike Marianne, it seemed her composure wasn't the result of cyberware, by instead training and self-discipline. My scanner indicated most of her chrome was mostly of the physical enhancement variety: high defense, great speed, and strength. Nothing flashy, but useful for a field agent. Her operating system was most likely a cyberdeck, which a flash of Intuition quickly confirmed.

I wondered how many of the recording devices I would find in this room were set up by her. I'd be disappointed by anything less than six.

"Certainly better than Jenkins' office." The woman smirked. "I'm Valerie. Valerie Kingsley. I guess you already know that, though."

"I did just get here." I smiled, walking over and sitting down in my new chair. It was comfortable. Was it real leather? It seemed like it. "But I am glad you seem to think so highly of me."

"You don't have much of a file." Valerie smiled, though her attention was elsewhere. My Intuition noted that her cyberdeck was active, but I had felt no attack on my defenses yet, so I watched curiously. I had an idea of what she was doing, but I wanted to see how well she could manage it. "Which can only mean two things. Either you're the biggest nobody to have ever joined Counterintelligence, or you're damn good. I'll work off the assumption of the latter."

"Miss Kingsley, I love being flattered as much as the next person, but is there a point to your visit?" I asked. "Because if not, I would love to continue this conversation at another time. I'd like to get settled."

"Just breaking the ICE." Her posture relaxed, and she was now fully focused on me. "The intruding eyes and ears are down. We can talk a bit more freely. You already know who I represent."

"I would be a terrible agent not to recognize Jenkins' best operative," I said plainly. "That was a beautiful series of QuickHacks. Are you sure you aren't a NetRunner?"

I was being honest. None of the recording devices were sharing a system, but she had still managed to shut them all off without damaging them via overload or triggering the ICE. It wasn't difficult for an experienced NetRunner, but doing so via a cyberdeck was impressive for someone who didn't specialize in the skill.

I was also pretty certain she waited until I was in the room to remove the surveillance devices. Probably both to keep my observers under the impression they were in control and also to make a strong impression.

She had managed both.

"You pick up a few things in Counterintel, you know how it is," Valerie said, matter-of-factly. Though her body language expressed a subtle hint of pride. It was well-earned. "Let's get back to business before she realizes what's wrong with the system. The Director is not fond of Mr. Jenkins, and she won't be exactly pleased to see you here either."

"Funny, I would almost think I was talking to Mr. Jenkins himself with how you preach his cause." I chuckled. "You are capable, that much I am certain of. But what use is Jenkins to me?"

"You share a common enemy."

"Oh, certainly." I had already been threatened before even setting foot on the ground. "But the enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my friend. Your boss has quite the reputation. Abernathy might be prickly, but she is a koala compared to Jenkins. No one seems inclined to see him rise any higher, and this is quite telling."

"Slander." A weak defense, we both knew it.

"Partly, but his nature does nothing to absolve him of the reputation." I pointed out. "He certainly makes sure tasks are completed, but many times at the expense of the greater good of the company."

"Mr. Jenkins is a good corporate employee." Valerie shrugged, though her words sounded apologetic. A good corporate employee went above and beyond the call of duty. "Unlike Director Abernathy, he can make the tough choices. The greater good of the company isn't always so clear. He is someone you want on your side during your visit here in Night City."

Was it true loyalty or the understanding of how precarious her situation was that had her so earnestly supporting that lout of a man?

"I am not a visitor, Miss Kingsley." I smiled. "This little investigation into the feud between your boss and his boss is just my introduction to this branch of the company. I will be here for a long time. That should speak volumes to the level of trust the Board has in Night City's personnel."

"All the more important for you to make friends here." Valerie pointed out, rightfully so. It was just that Jenkins was not one of them. Making him my friend made me too many enemies for basically no benefit.

"Of course, perhaps Jenkins, Abernathy, and I can all get together and have some tea." I chuckled. This line of conversation was going nowhere. "There is a particular brand that Lord Saburo likes to gift to particularly successful operatives back in Tokyo. After you take a sip, everything else tastes like liquid shit."

"Am I not invited?" Valerie asked. This woman was good. She was a Corpo to the bone, but she knew how to leverage her humanity properly. I shifted the flow of the conversation at a whim, yet she was following along anyway. No doubt trying to bring things back to allying with Jenkins. "I think I am somewhat of a tea connoisseur myself."

"Tea bags or leaves?"

"Leaves."

"Sugar?"

"Two spoons, but I prefer using honey."

"A woman with expensive taste." I could hardly judge. Most of my spare time had been devoted to creating the most ridiculous set of wheels to exist in this damned world.

"Money is one of the few perks of our profession."

Currently, Valerie's status was maintained solely as Jenkins' primary enforcer. This made her hesitant to scheme against him or reach out to other powerful players. That was fine. Jenkins' days were numbered, and when he was cast aside and she was soon to follow, I could make my offer.

I was feeling in control, which was when I received a notification.

Taking a look, my face fell.

Seriously?! I knew something would go wrong eventually, but already? And in this way of all ways?

"Is something wrong?" Valerie asked. Looking at the mirror to my side, it appeared as if my face had contorted into a visage of absolute fury.

"Someone stole my fucking car!" That thing had been my pet project for the last four years! I had learned so much about my power and implemented so many novel innovations in the car. Hell, I sold some of the ideas back to Rayfield just to get some certifications pushed that would let me get away with some crazy shit!

"Welcome to Night City, Mr. Walker." She gave me a look of pity. "You really can't have good shit here."

This was not an ideal start to my fresh start.

If my first order of business was cementing my position, my second was now finding out who the fuck stole my damn car!

Lucy brought the hood of her jacket up as she walked down the street. Currently, she was travelling through the outskirts of Tyger Claw territory in Japantown. It was an open secret that the Tyger Claws were in bed with Arasaka. While the chances of being recognized as an Arasaka fugitive were low, the sense of danger remained.

North America had proved a reprieve from Arasaka, but it had its dangers. NUSA was hardly subtle in 'talent-acquisition'. Up and coming techies, NetRunners, and even promising solos were 'recruited' left and right. Only the wary eyes of the world following the Arvin Accords kept even more overt measures from being implemented.

The American Dream had long since died, as Lucy struggled to survive, let alone build up a nest egg for a ticket to the Moon. The work was dangerous, and she had to avoid Militech's attention, partly for her NetRunning ability and partly due to the high-level Arasaka chrome she was sporting.

The incident back in France had only added to her worries. The fact that there weren't even rumors of another Arasaka beyond the normal gossip of the Net was telling of how dangerous the info she knew was. Some nights she couldn't sleep, just waiting for Saburo Arasaka's elite squad of NetRunners and take her in.

Eventually, she had to face facts and turn her attention to her only real shot.

Night City.

Arasaka's stronghold in North America decades ago and now once again.

The only place where a girl with an unknown background, suspicious chrome, and disproportionate NetRunning skills could make enough eddies for a trip to the Moon and back.

Lucy was not the trusting type, not after her Father. But she knew when to face facts. And the facts were that as a solo NetRunner, there was a limit to what she could manage outside of Night City and inside. A crew was necessary.

So, when the blonde woman, Kiwi, had come up to her and offered her a chance to join a crew and also fine-tune her NetRunning talent?

It hadn't been an offer she could refuse. So, she trailed behind the woman, far enough back to quickly defend herself with QuickHacks and her monowire, but close enough to keep an eye on her and follow her through the city.

"I don't bite, you know." The woman, Kiwi, said with no little amount of exasperation as she vaulted over some rubble from the previous week's gang war. Because those just happened all the time in Night City. "Can't even if I wanted to."

Lucy did not give that comment any acknowledgement.

"You mentioned a crew, but you haven't told me much about them."

"I didn't join that long ago either, but they seem decent enough." The blonde woman turned back towards her, not quite patronizingly but almost parentally. Somehow, that felt worse. "Mostly a bunch of straight shooters, like I said when you first asked. Maine's the boss. Ex-NUSA. Chrome-head to the bone, but his heart is in the right place. Dorio's is the glue, keeps him sane and everyone working together."

They kept close together as they reached a busier part of the street, traveling in the crowds made it harder for criminals to try anything stupid.

"The siblings are the ones you have got to keep an eye on. Pilar's a good techie, but he's a massive perv, and you're a pretty little thing. Keep him at an arm's distance and you'll be golden. His sister, Rebecca, is a gun-obsessed gonk. Stealth isn't a word she knows, part of the reason most of our gigs with her are 'unstealthy as fuck'. There's another guy, damn good driver named Falco, but he's more of an occasional hire than a real crew member, so far."

"They seem…interesting." Not as professional as she dreamed, but a hyper-competent team was not only well-supplied with new members, but they would also require a more in-depth background to be allowed in. This crew's no-questions-asked policy was more her speed. "When you first talked to me, you said I was helping to replace a NetRunner from before."

"Sasha." Kiwi turned her head. "Job went bad a while back, before I joined. It got personal for her. Free advice. Don't ever let a job get personal. Personal means emotional. Emotions are not rational. Not rational means you fuck up. You fuck up? You get flatlined."

"Noted." She didn't need to be told that. "How is she?"

"Alive, which makes her luckier than most."

Lucy blinked. Kiwi kept talking before she could inquire about specifics.

"Not lucky enough to get out unscathed, she is crippled." She shook her head, pityingly. "Injuries messed with her nervous system, and now NetRunning is a thing of the past for her. You'll be meeting her soon. Maine and Dorio are here as well. Pilar, Rebecca, and our go-to driver, Falco, are on a job."

They reached a garage in a rundown part of the district. No Tyger Claws in sight, just vagrants and possibly a few scavs in the distance. A decent spot. Out of the way. And with Kiwi slowing down, it was probably the crew's hiding spot for the moment.

"So, the irresponsible ones went with someone only sort of on the team?"

"Yeah, but Maine seemed certain even Pilar and Rebecca can't fuck this one up." Kiwi shrugged as if she could not care less. "And he's the boss, so it is what it is. Even if they screw up, you can count on Falco to follow through on his part of the job. As long as I get paid, it isn't my problem."

The woman knocked on the garage door, and it was pulled up moments after. A heavily chromed man revealed himself, letting his shades fall enough for her to see the optical implants scanning over both of them.

"This is our new NetRunner?" Maine, she surmised, asked. "She seems a little young, Kiwi."

"She's good," Kiwi answered, unbothered. "And she'll get even better. That's all that matters. Besides, Rebecca's on the team."

"That girl is more like some kind of Shotgun AI that possesses a human body." A person to avoid, by all indications. Maine gestured towards her. "And she filled a need for firepower when we needed it and couldn't afford to be picky. She's what?"

"She is someone who can speak for herself." Lucy cut in. She had decided to play along with Kiwi, but she didn't need her dictating her introduction completely. "The name's Lucy. You pay well?"

NUSA soldiers, outside of FIA bastards, were the type who liked blunt honesty. Lucy was willing to oblige that sentiment. The blunt type was easier to work with than the schemers, at least.

"Good cuts are for good work." He looked deeply at her. "You've got some good chrome, but do you do good work?"

"Yes." Her knowledge of some of the basics of NetRunning was still laughable, but when it came to the advanced applications? She was damn good. And she would only get better.

"You certainly know how to talk the talk." Maine waved them over. "Come on in. I'd offer snacks, but all we've got is shit right now. Maybe we'll go out for something once the rest of the crew is back. They're bringing something with some ICE. We'll see firsthand if you can back up those words of yours."

"Trial by fire?" Lucy asked.

"No other trial is worth a damn in Night City." Maine patted her on the shoulder, to which she frowned. "Come on in, grumpy."

She was cautious, not grumpy, but saying as such would only make things worse.

The inside was more spacious than she had thought. They had torn down some of the adjacent walls to the abandoned factory behind the initial garage. A table with scraps for a techie was in the corner, and next to it was a literal weapons cache filled to the brim with gaudily colored high-level artillery.

Towards the back were several computers and two tubs, ostensibly for NetRunning. Most curious were the numerous slopes that seemed to have been recently implemented.

"I told you, Dorio, this is overkill!" A woman's voice groaned. Young-sounding. She turned her head to see a girl with short, cropped black hair sitting in a wheelchair in front of a far larger woman who knelt, hammering something on the floor. "You already did more than enough."

Sasha was the one in the wheelchair, Lucy presumed. Making the other Dorio.

"I have nothing else to do and don't lie, Sasha." The woman, Dorio, replied. She was focused on the slope while she spoke. "The other day, you got stuck at the computers for hours because the wheels kept catching on the floor, and you were too proud to call for help."

The garage did seem to have a daunting issue with how random sections were unwieldily elevated. An annoyance for most and a nightmare for someone who was wheelchair bound.

"Look alive, ladies, Kiwi's brought a fresh catch."

Both women turned to look towards Lucy.

"Huh, you must be the new NetRunner!" The so-called Sasha waved at her. "My name is Sasha. I used to be the team's second Runner, but some stuff happened. Now I just coordinate the jobs we do and deal with the fixers since Maine is, well, Maine."

"You just insulted my entire being." Despite saying so, his shaking was exaggerated. Humor?

"I'm Dorio." The bulky woman introduced herself before continuing to work on the floor.

"Lucy." Acceptable teammates so far, but she hadn't met the worrisome ones yet. "Should I showcase my abilities on a gig?"

"You worried you'll fail?" Maine asked.

"No, but shouldn't you be?" The best of plans could go completely off the rails because of a single lapse. "Things can always go wrong. And if it does, then your client won't be happy."

"If you are the real deal, it will be fine." The ex-NUSA soldier sat down on a chair, examining his cyberware thoroughly. "If not, Kiwi can step in."

"Let's not be hasty; we don't know what we are dealing with." Kiwi rolled her eyes. "First, we'll see what kind of ICE it is and then decide if you want to give it a try or just show us your picksocketing skills later. Knowing when to bow out is important for a NetRunner."

Pushing those limits tended to be what brought their demise. NetRunners had been some of the first edgerunners for a reason.

"What's the gig?" Lucy asked. "Or is it something I can't know until I'm officially your choom? Is there some initiation? Blood pact?"

"Nothing like that." Sasha shook her head, laughing. For someone who had completely lost her way of life, she seemed alright. "Honestly, we don't know much about it either. Kiwi can send the gig info to you and give you our contacts as well!"

Moments later, the data had been transferred to Lucy as well, so she glanced over it.

Data retrieval mission. An old Militech Data Shard that had been left in a private storage facility for decades now. Forgotten by almost everyone. The gig was to go in and retrieve the shard, stealth specifically not requested.

"Pilar and Rebecca are running point for this mission, I'm not sure if you know-"

"Kiwi mentioned them."

"Well, as much as I'd like to say she is exaggerating…she probably wasn't." Sasha scratched the back of her head. "Since stealth isn't what the client wants, the loud ones can handle the messy part. Rebecca needed to stretch her legs, and frankly, I need a break from Pilar."

"We all need a break from Pilar." Kiwi snorted. "I know I have since I met the bastard."

"Where does NetRunning come into the gig?" It seemed to be a simple enough data collection question. The only strange thing was that it specifically requested no stealth.

"The client sent some info." Maine moved his cyberware fingers experimentally, checking their reaction time. "The shard has some old defenses in place. According to the client's specifications, we must not break the ICE completely. Just peel it back enough to verify it is what it needs to be. Nothing too tough, just a bit weird."

"Weird?" Kiwi arched an eyebrow. "You didn't mention that before. It seems straightforward. Klep a shard, delta, make sure it's legit, and then we make a bunch of eddies. Maybe sip on some drinks at Afterlife after."

"Just some stuff doesn't completely add up," Maine explained. "Militech doesn't let data just sit around; everything is squeezed for maximum value and profit. And they certainly don't use private storage facilities to hold anything; they have a lot of privately controlled facilities, both secretly and in the public eye. Also, the fixer said the client doesn't want stealth. Stealth being optional is one thing, but it's usually like sugar sprinkled on your dessert. Rare, but always welcome if you can."

"There are the gigs about sending a message to some of the gangs." Sasha pointed out.

"You know this isn't that." Maine rolled his eyes. "The sooner we get this over with and get our paycheck, the happier I will be."

"Why accept the job if you have reservations?" Lucy asked, leaning against the wall.

"Only two things have value in the world of the Edgerunner, the first is eddies." The crew's leader raised his right pointer finger as he spoke and then brought up his next finger. "Second is reputation. Better cred on the street, the better jobs and rates. Our crew has been making waves recently. Bigger jobs. We succeed; we get even better ones and so on. You following?"

Lucy nodded, thoughtful.

"But there isn't such a thing as a free lunch." He sighed. "That cycle of reputation is a hungry one. You keep getting riskier jobs until, at some point, you've got to consider the risk versus the reward. Blow off too many or stall at the same sort of difficulty, and eventually you aren't the first name on a fixer's list and just like that, you're Mr. Nobody."

"He's exaggerating a little bit, but the gist is right." Dorio punched the man's arm, who shot her a betrayed look.

"It's emphasis!"

"So, the request being a bit weird just isn't enough to run the reputation risk of refusing a seemingly simple job?" Lucy understood now. Refusing a gig without damaging your rep probably required some obvious error notifications. A slightly weird job probably didn't cut that.

It was probably even fine most of the time for teams. But all it took was one bad mission for everything to go down the drain. No wonder Edgerunning teams were seasonal. Most died off, and the smart ones fucked off once they got whatever it was they needed.

"Besides, I might just be overthinking it." Maine laughed, almost as if he were trying to convince himself of it. "Militech protocol and what people do are two different things. Some gonk might have left it behind by accident."

"Any word from those morons and Falco?" Kiwi asked Sasha, who had rolled in front of the computers once again.

"Rolled in guns blazing a while back." Sasha tapped a finger on the table. "They said they were on their way back, and I haven't heard anything on the NCPD scanners. So, either they got their asses wasted by some private security guards before they could take a city block with them and make the news, or they are just about back."

HONK!

They were saved from waiting to find out by a large noise.

A large noise is coming from right outside the garage.

"That is either them, or Militech is a lot more competent than Mr. Hands seems to think they were." Sasha smiled nervously. "Oh, Hands is the fixer for this job."

"That doesn't sound like Falco's rig." Maine got up and went to the garage door, not even bothering with the electronics. He pulled it up, tensed, and was ready to attack. Dorio, behind him, also readied herself while Sasha moved behind cover, a small pistol in hand. Kiwi positioned herself in the corner, near the side entrance. Either to cover it or ditch.

A modified Chevallion Emperor, which was probably Falco's rig since Maine relaxed upon seeing it, was outside. Right next to it? A giant-ass cargo truck, which instantly made the ex-military man tense up again. Lucy didn't blame him; it looked like a high-tech corpo truck.

In the driver's seat was a wiry guy with massive hands, and next to him was the faintest hint of green and what looked like shoes being placed on the dashboard.

"That's the biggest data shard I've ever seen." It was hard to properly gauge Kiwi's facial expressions with her mask, but that was probably a smug grin.

"What the fuck, Pilar?" Maine roared.

"Chooms, it ain't my fault!" The wiry guy, Pilar, got out of the vehicle. "We tracked the signal, but it was stuck underneath a bunch of stuff. Falco was losing a tail, so we figured, why not just steal the whole truck and find the shard after? The locator says it is still in there and we can klep the rest on our own."

"You aren't paid to think for a good reason, Pilar." Dorio groaned. "That place was a fancy storage yard. The data shard was forgotten, and no one would even notice it was gone. The rest of this stuff? Who knows!"

"How did NCPD not catch you stealing this hunk of slow-ass metal!" Maine asked, angry but almost genuinely curious.

"I did my best in that regard." An older man stepped out of the rig beside the truck. Falco, based on context. "Once I saw how things were going down, I made a commotion and grounded the few officers that arrived. There weren't many dispatched, and no reinforcements came, thankfully."

"Turf war between Tyger Claws and the Mox again." Sasha was the one who answered, having managed to wheel herself to the entrance. "Real bad shoot out on their borders. All uniforms were dispatched. They sent out a call to subcontractors, but you lost them before people responded."

"What's the fuss!" A new voice, feminine, cut in. Lucy turned and saw a child-like figure with green hair step out of the passenger door and leapt to the ground. A modified shotgun in hand. And there was Rebecca. "We did what we went out to do! Shard is here. Bang! Fixer's happy, client's happy, and most importantly, we are happy. Extra stuff? More eddies for us. And then we are even happier! Simple logic."

"It is simple." Though calling it logic was a bit of a stretch.

"Whose this bitch?" Rebecca pointed her gun at her. "Don't think I can't tell when you're mocking me."

"Our new NetRunner." Maine scratched the back of his head. "Tentatively."

"I, for one, eagerly embrace our new member." Pilar opened up his arms. "Both figuratively, emotionally, and of course-"

"Not with the newbie you pervert." Dorio grabbed his arm. "We'll find the shard first and then contact the client. After that, we can deal with the rest of the stuff. Can this thing fit in the garage?"

"If we move some stuff, it should work." Falco seized up the truck. "It will be a tight fit, though."

"Ain't it always?" Pilar smiled, though Dorio's grip tightening made it fade away. "Aw, come on! That was a golden opportunity, I couldn't give it away!"

"It would be better to move out the stuff inside and scrap the truck," Falco suggested. "The materials inside might be valuable, but they aren't as recognizable as the stolen cargo truck.

Falco, Maine, and Dorio began to discuss what to do while Rebecca glared at her, and Pilar just stared, winking. It made her skin crawl as she frowned at him.

"I'll grab the shard, come on, Lucy." What? She just said she'd grab it. Grabbing a shard from a stationary vehicle was a one-person job. The alternative was staying with the pervert and the loud-mouth sister, so Lucy complied.

"How do you feel about the team?" Kiwi paused as she pulled open the back of the truck and leapt up, with Lucy right behind. "I know they aren't the most…professional. But they do good work and can help wrack up enough eddies for your goal. Trips to Luna are expensive. Especially with return tickets. We can all help each other out."

The cargo truck's hold was large, filled with crates and even a large black shipping container towards the back. What kind of stuff did rich corpo-rats like to keep away in their storage facilities instead of their company holdings?

She'd probably find out later.

"I know that." Lucy had all but memorized the prices and constantly checked to account for market trends impacting value. She would likely need to overshoot the current amount since the prices were increasing steadily as time went on. "They are fine. I'll stick around. No promises for how long."

"Funny, I said the same thing a while back." Kiwi moved a crate and dusted off the one below it. "I think this is the one. Militech logo, lot older than the rest. Everything else is new. Wonder why they put these things together?"

"Moved things around to fit better, and new stuff got mixed in with the old?"

"Anyone's guess." The older NetRunner shook her head. "Well, we can sort out the rest of this later. Getting this stuff to market without getting too much attention is going to be a gig and a half of work."

"You find the shard?" Maine's voice called out from outside.

"Yeah, plus some other shit." Kiwi shrugged. "Couple crats and a large container, not sure what's in them, but probably some high-quality weapons to distract Rebecca for a couple hours and maybe even some Techie shit for Pilar."

"I heard that stuff about distracting me!" Rebecca growled. "But you are right, it will distract me! See ya losers later."

The ex-NetRunner had pulled up the info to check from their client.

"I'll send this over to you, Lucy, and you can start your decryption whenever." Sasha clicked send and turned around. "Take your time. A good, slow job is better than a crap fast one, most of the time. And don't worry, Pilar went out for God knows what reason, and Rebecca was occupied. Show us your skills!"

"I'd argue that being able to work while being exposed to those two is the most important skill you can have on this team, but I assume I'll be ignored," Maine grumbled.

"Yes." Kiwi, Sasha, and Dorio all echoed.

Lucy took a deep breath and scanned over the shard first. Slamming it immediately was a rookie mistake. Everything seemed in order. No hidden Blackwall AI or hidden suicide programs ready to pounce, seemingly. Seemingly being the keyword.

But it was just one risky step in a long line to cross that tightrope over the abyss, blocking the way to her dream.

So, she slotted it in.

The ICE was old, no surprise there. Military grade, though. High level too. That was when the strange features made themselves known. It was like two styles of coding blending together had gone into whatever hectic data was inside. Worse, it seemed like only a fragment of a greater whole.

While the protections were strong, there was a reason that old ICE was considered no ICE. Kiwi watched to the side, giving small tips, but even without them, she was confident she could have broken through on her own. While some aspects of the field of NetRunning were still unknown to her, especially the basics, cracking through high-level defenses was her specialty.

"I'm in." Lucy eventually said, looking around.

"Is it legit?" Maine asked.

"Yes, but I have no clue what it is I am looking at." The code was advanced, but its functionality escaped her.

"It doesn't matter." Maine shook his head. "It is what the client wants, and maybe it's something we are better off not knowing about. We can contact Hands now and set up a drop-off point."

"Already ahead of you, Maine." Sasha waited off to the side as an icon of a man in the dark, hands clasped, appeared on the large computer's screen.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite firecrackers." Mr. Hands greeted them. "You know, when I gave you that fun little gig mentioning 'no stealth', I thought it would be a classic Maine crew misadventure. Messy, but efficient. Imagine my surprise when the NCPD desperately sent out a call to all subcontractors to chase down a cargo truck barreling through the city. You one-upped yourself this time, but thankfully, it is all within the parameters given by the client. So I'm willing to say the gig closed if the verification was successful."

"It was," Lucy said, looking at the screen directly. "Data is being sent directly to you first to look over."

Mr. Hands was quiet for a moment.

"Well, this is the real deal, alright." He chuckled. "Nicely done, and no sarcasm this time. And you, it was nice to meet another member of the infamous Maine's crew. I've got more gigs for you lot in the future. Probably nothing stealth-related, though, I am sure you can understand why. Drop-off coordinates have been sent, and I even added a little extra reward. Congrats on the recruit, by the way, and see you later."

"Ugh, that guy pushes my buttons," Sasha complained. "He sounds like a used car salesman!"

"It takes a special sort of someone to decide to start building their influence in Pacifica of all places." Maine shook his head. "Only worse location is Dogtown itself."

"That's the ex-NUSA soldier's district, right?" Lucy had heard that Dogtown was walled off into basically its isolated province from the rest of Night City, all under the control of the now infamous Kurt Hansen.

"Yeah, real piece of work that place." Maine winced. "I have an old friend staying there, and he has nothing good to say about it, last time we spoke. Rock bottom for him."

"GUYS!" Rebecca's voice called out. "YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE ASAP! THERE IS SOME PREEM SHIT!"

"This should be interesting." Kiwi walked out first, with the rest of them following behind.

Crates had already been moved out, and the truck itself was now mostly empty, barring the large black shipping container, in front of which stood Falco.

Without the other crates blocking the way, the insignia on the side was visible.

The Arasaka logo.

"Any chance it isn't something they'll miss?"

Rebecca pointed. The door was open, and Falco was looking inside with sheer awe in his eyes. The others crowded around him, blocking Lucy's vision for the most part. But even she noticed it was a sleek black car of sorts.

Maybe a Rayfield? Caliburns were pretty expensive, right?

"What is it?"

"A Rayfield," Pilar answered her question. "Weird looking one though. Modified Caliburn? Maybe some rich 'Saka brat's modded ride they didn't want taking up space in daddy dearest's garage?"

"Not exactly," Falco replied, examining the car curiously. "The insignia is the only resemblance to the Caliburn. Everything else, the design, the hardware, the OS system, is all completely different. This is effectively a new model."

"Has Rayfield launched another car since the Caliburn?" Maine asked. "I'm not much of a car junkie, but I am pretty sure even I'd hear of a new Rayfield model."

"No, just a rerelease of the Aerondight coming in 2076." Falco shook his head, the look of wonder still on his face. "I can't see all the details of this car; the shard didn't come with it. It's like it's taunting me. It is a damn fine car, and I'd love to see how it handles. Then I could see if it is just the most souped-up Caliburn to drive the Badlands."

"No way," Kiwi stated. "This thing is way too dangerous to hold onto."

"What, we get a preem new ride and we don't even get to take it for a spin 'cause some gonks want to flatline us for it?" Rebecca groaned. "That's fucking stupid, man."

"It is what it is," Kiwi said, blandly. It was true. Lucy also agreed that this thing was way too hot to be holding onto.

"It was in personal storage, so it isn't Arasaka's so much as the personal property of someone in the company." Dorio thought out loud. "Would they hold as much of a grudge?"

"They'd hold more of a grudge." Lucy shook her head. "Losing company assets is dangerous for a corpo, but as long as they get things back and a scapegoat, everything is fine. Losing a personal asset? Especially this sort of rare car that they were keeping safe in a private facility. This is a grudge for whoever it is, so no telling how they will react."

"We can scrap it?" Pilar suggested. "Might get some good material from it. Sell the rest for some better equipment. Maybe new cyberware?"

Falco looked appalled at the suggestion while Maine seemed tempted. Oh, right, chrome junkie.

"Bad idea, we already stole the car." Kiwi vetoed it immediately. "If they find out we tore it apart, they'll probably actively hunt us down and make us regret it."

"If we leave it somewhere near the City Center, hopefully the owner will find it on their own and not kick up too much of a fuss," Dorio suggested. It was rather a hopeful thing to expect from a cold-blooded Corpo rat, but it was better than any other plan the others could suggest.

"For now, let's just keep it locked up and hidden in the garage." Maine eventually decided, looking around for any other ideas or objections. "We'll deal with it once we get the other stuff and the truck sorted out. Dorio and I will head to Afterlife and ask around to see how we can get out of this situation. Kiwi, you can handle the drop off. The rest of you can relax. You did your part of the gig great today."

"Hell yeah, we did!" Rebecca cheered, pumping her fist up.

Dorio and Maine were walking off towards a rundown car on the road while Kiwi went back inside, getting the shard, and walking off at her usual pace.

Rebecca and Pilar both went inside the garage, the former going to her weapons rack and adding some new ones to it from their haul, while the brother went to the couch in the back and started to watch TV.

Lucy took a look at the car, with the small crowd covering it removed.

It was sleek and luxurious, vaguely like the Caliburn's advertisement, but that was where the similarities ended. It was bulkier, armored by the look of it, and some sort of automated weapons system.

Curiously enough, there seemed to be some high-level ICE on it. Nothing absurd, but a cut above the usual 'Saka defenses. Not the type of thing you'd see on some regular modded-out car.

"Why would some Arasaka agent have an original Rayfield supercar?" Lucy muttered.

"They signed a deal a few years ago." Falco shrugged his shoulders, surprising her as he walked up to her side, continuing to admire the vehicle. "Arasaka purchased a great deal of Caliburns on release back in 2070. It was already going to be the car of the year, but the large investment spurred Militech to match the offer, followed by several other purchases by other high-level corpos and the rich. Since then, they've offered 'Saka considerable discounts on purchases."

He blinked.

"My apologies, I haven't introduced myself." He smiled. "The name is Falco. Off again and on-again driver for this unruly crew."

"Lucy." She nodded to him. "NetRunner. Do you think this is some kind of modded car, or is it some kind of experimental model?"

"I was taking a closer look, and I did find something. Take a look." He gestured to the side of the car. The Crystal Coat blurred, and wording appeared on the side. Rayfield: Vortigern. "A shame we'll have to get rid of it. I have a pretty good sense for cars, and this thing seems like a real beauty."

An ugly emotion reared itself in Lucy's heart. The years on the run from Arasaka, always on the back foot, always taking hits instead of giving them. She had been denied even the gratification of petty vengeance outside of taking out the occasional Arasaka guard. She'd never hit the company anywhere where it would hurt.

And right now?

She was looking at a gigantic weak spot.

Lucy closed her eyes, lost in her memories.

Yeah.

Fuck Arasaka.