Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by
The Architect
Chapter 01: Counter-Intel
Arriving on floor 33, I exit the elevator and ignore the various other suits scattered around as I make my way to my office. Well, 'office' is a generous term for the small cubicle encased in glass, but it's better than most have as I connect to the door and transmit the access codes.
There's a buzz around the office at the moment, but until someone makes it my problem, I'm not getting involved. If it hasn't been assigned to me, it's not my problem. Connecting to the glass panes, I turn them dark as I take my seat at my desk. I have no delusions of privacy, not in the heart of Arasaka's Counter-Intelligence operations in North America, but I could do without the gawking and snooping from my co-workers.
I'm good at what I do, and in this viper pit, that success breeds adversary. Too many of my co-workers are looking at me and wondering how they can kick the ladder out from under me and climb over my corpse.
I frown to myself as I find an email waiting for me from Susan Abernathy. The last thing I need is to get dragged into the shit-smearing contest between Abernathy and Jenkins. Abernathy made sure to completely fuck over any hope Jenkins had of becoming the Director of Special Operations so she could take the job, and he's not taking it well. As the head of Counter-Intelligence in America, he's high-ranking himself, but he was counting on that promotion.
The email is generic enough, looking innocent at first glance, but I know Abernathy too well for the hint that we should get coffee to do anything but alarm me. She's a paranoid psychopath, and she's trying to recruit me to her side so she can use me against Jenkins. She is officially my superior, but I'm not in her direct chain of command and making it a direct order would leave a paper trail she doesn't want. She also doesn't want to use any of her people, because that's too obvious.
I don't know if she plans to kill Jenkins, but it wouldn't surprise me. Jenkins is almost certainly going to try to kill her. He's the type to use a butcher's knife where you need a scalpel. His success comes from the skill of his pet project, V, not his own talent. He lucked into finding someone in one of the academies who had the skill but not the connections and brought her up, all while putting her on a leash.
Stock reports, quarterly reports for Arasaka (and leaked reports from Militech and Biotechnica). Just more of the same, for the most part. I'm not assigned to any particular project at the moment, so my job primarily consists of analysing the actions of other corporations and preparing countermeasures, recruiting moles in other corps and weeding out the spies in Arasaka.
I also need to manage our gang assets. One of the new Tyger Claws' bosses seems to be forgetting who holds his leash. It's a common story when a lower-ranked member rises up to a high-ranking position in the gang. They go on a bit of an ego trip and forget that they exist because they're useful to Arasaka. Sixth Street has been pushing on the Tyger's turf, funded and supplied by Militech, despite Sixth Street's anti-corpo message. Just another proxy war in the endless fights between the Megacorps.
Going over my messages and assets, I authorise a hit on the Valentinos, using assets disguised as Sixth Street members. The Valentinos might be a poser gang, but they're big, dumb and easily agitated.
The Sixth Street's turf of Santa Domingo borders Westbrook, which is primarily under the control of the Claws, with the exception of the disputed Charter Hill, which is what the Sixth are trying to take. Unfortunately for Sixth Street, Santa Domingo also borders Heywood, which the Valentinos call home. Setting off the Valentinos will give the Claws some breathing room, while I consider how to remind our unruly asset who owns his ass.
Almost every gang war in Night City is usually a proxy war being waged by corporate assets. This is no different. This is essentially my job. I'm good at pulling the strings that keep the gang scene moving in our benefit. Counter-Intelligence can be a little misleading, because at Arasaka, we firmly believe that the best defence is a strong offence. Strike first, strike hard, and then kick them while they're down for good measure.
A large part of counter-intel is crippling the oppositions ability to perform their own intelligence operations. We are quite good at it. Militech didn't sponsor this latest war on our street-level assets for fun, so it's my job to defang their latest attempt at testing our defences.
As for the ambitious little ganger who thinks his new position gives him more slack? Sending an order, I cut him off from his penthouse and primary bank accounts. Sometimes, all it takes is a gentle tug to remind him who is holding the leash. No need for the nuclear option just yet. If he doesn't take the hint and fall in line, I'll deal with him myself.
As a new message pops up, I pause for a moment as I open what by all appearances looks like some scam. Something about being chosen for a special program, but the corporation, Wonderland Incorporated, and the sender, one Kei Hayashi, are unknown to me.
And I know every corp worth knowing.
The entire email is painfully vague, and after skimming it to try to work out why my filter didn't trash it instantly, I shrug and delete it myself. I go to continue my work, only to have the same message pop up in my emails again, frowning with confusion.
Annoying.
Seeing that it's changed slightly, I read through it as I run a trace on the sender. It was resent the instant I deleted it, which implies my private mail account is compromised. Some Netrunner playing games? Wouldn't be the first cocky young Netrunner deciding to mess with a corpo to prove their skill. Wouldn't be the first I either forcibly enlisted or put down.
The message remains annoyingly vague about this 'program', but as I go to delete it again, I feel my own terminal connect to my systems and forcibly begin a transfer. My augments are damn good, my ICE handcrafted to repel Netrunners from other corps, and yet it doesn't do a damn thing as an influx of data that is far too big for my memory forcibly downloads into my mind.
Phantom code flashes in my vision, white noise flooding my ears despite my attempt to disable my cybernetic ears and shut out the deafening sound.
At the risk of sounding arrogant, I'm a fucking preem Netrunner. Whoever is currently bypassing my defences makes me look like a bumbling amateur with a shitty cyberdeck they bought off a scav. Every attempt to stop the transfer is ignored, like I'm facing fucking Rache Bartmoss himself. Even the Voodoo Boys best aren't this good.
They're not hiding themself, basically broadcasting their presence as Zero slices into my systems with ease. The attack ends as fast as it began, leaving me clutching my head with a pained groan that has me grasping for the painkillers in my top drawer.
Tinker 2.0 System Online.
Have fun :)
The message doesn't clear up a damn thing as I run a self-diagnosis on my cyberware, reinforcing my ICE and trying to isolate the massive datapacket that just got pushed into my mind.
Cautiously activating the new program, I watch as what I am almost certain is some kind of character sheet shows up in my vision. There I am, dressed exactly as I am now in my black suit and red tie. I always wear the Arasaka colours to work, it's an easy way to show loyalty without doing much. Under my name, Moriyama Seiji, are my 'credits' with a note that I was given a bunch to start with. Careful prodding finds… a store to spend them in, with all manner of weird bullshit on offer. It doesn't take me long to realise that everything I find is related to tech in some way with wild claims of being able to give me the knowledge to build stuff that sounds like some sci-fi shit even to me.
Did someone just install a fucking video game in my brain? Who does that? Who can do that? Zero, apparently. Never heard of them, but they sure as fuck aren't new to this. Trying to search for Zero, Kei Hayashi and Wonderland on the Net provides a grand total of fuck all, beyond Wonderland bringing up a Posergang called the Yellow Brick Road Gang, who I am 99% sure aren't involved.
Corp protocol says I need to report this. I'm officially compromised. I won't be doing that. Getting so badly beaten, in my own office? That's a career killing fuck up. Whoever sent this did it from within our systems, bypassing Arasaka's ICE without setting off a single alarm. Sure, reporting it might help the corp patch their holes, but it would be the end of my career, and by extension, my life.
My car, apartment, cyberware, trauma team membership and bank account. It's all tied to my job. I'm living cushy, right up until I'm not. If I lose my job, I lose everything else right alongside it. They wouldn't just fire me, they'd strip me for parts to give to whoever took my place. I'd be lucky to survive long enough to beg for eddies on the streets of Kabuki.
I clawed my way up this far, I'm not letting some lunatic ruin years of work in seconds. As my terminal turns off from inactivity, I catch a glimpse of myself in the screen. Knowing this isn't a place to show weakness, I take several deep breaths and have my cyberware regulate my hormones and get my panic under control.
The panic fades from my red cyberoptics, and I quickly fix my hair and wipe the sweat from my brow. My deliberately wild, windswept, jet-black hair is a mess from the thrashing I didn't realise I was doing. I even picked my eye colour to match the corp, though the hair is natural. It takes me a moment to fix my clothes, returning my appearance to the immaculate look I have cultivated.
Checking my appearance again, I nod, seeing the cold stare, the way my lips are set in a thin, neutral and almost disdainful line. I cannot show panic in the middle of Arasaka HQ. Opening up my terminal, I get back to work with practised ease as I read a report on strange activities from Biotechnica, my concern hidden.
A knock on my door makes me briefly wonder if someone saw my moment of weakness, even as I open it and watch V walk in.
"V," I greet, my tone professional as I make eye contact with Jenkins' lapdog. Like me, she's in red and black, though she went for a primary red suit with black accents instead of the black with red that I chose. It's too flashy, too noisy, for my tastes. Similarly, she has dark eyes and red hair, side-parted and shaved on the left side to expose the subtle cyberware she has.
I suppose we share that, at least. My own cyberware is well hidden.
"Seiji. Jenkins wants to see you in his office," V says, making me raise an eyebrow as I turn in my seat to face her.
"Is the system down for maintenance? Last I checked, the messaging system, the phone, and the intercom all worked," I say simply, making her expression narrow slightly. She's always been too hot-headed for this line of work, in my opinion. She's damn good at her job, but her temper has cost her more times than I can count. She's not some unpaid intern who should be running around playing messenger, that's for sure.
Jenkins has been pulling these tiny displays of power since Abernathy took the position of Director of Special Ops. Sending people around on errands to remind them that he's still the head of counter-intel. He's grasping onto whatever power he can reach as tightly as he can, but he's squeezing so tight it's starting to slip through his fingers.
Alternatively, he wants to make it look like I'm on his side by sending his minion to my office and calling me up to his. This mess with Abernathy isn't going away as long as both of them are alive and in the Night City branch.
"Don't get cute, Seiji. It doesn't suit you," V replies, her tone testy. She's felt the leash being yanked the most on Jenkins' power trip, and it shows. He raised her up to her current position, and if he goes down, he'll drag her down with him. It's not a nice position to be in. It's the kind of position where you could lose everything over things that are utterly out of your control. "Just get moving."
With her message delivered, she leaves my office without a goodbye. V's been getting increasingly stressed as this grudge match between Jenkins and Abernathy heats up. I don't blame her, but since she's the second most efficient member of our department, I also feel zero shame in making her life more difficult to make sure she doesn't take my position.
Locking my terminal and placing a databomb to catch anyone trying to hack into it, I double-check my appearance and regulate my hormones again. If there is one person I need to avoid showing weakness to, it's Jenkins himself.
As I approach the corridor to his office, I can't help but worry about the scan. Nobody gets into his office without passing it, and it's a deep one. Will my new… addition trigger anything? It doesn't show on my face as the scan begins, and I'm already working on my excuses as it goes over my biometrics and cyberware.
My prep is wasted as I get a pass, the doors opening to Jenkins' large office. The place is almost entirely unlit, my cyberoptics adjusting to the low-light conditions, and Jenkins is behind his overly large desk. He's over-compensating, the office is poorly decorated, and most of the space is wasted. It's a facade of wealth and power, but it comes off as desperate.
He's catering to our Japanese overlords with the decor, red and black with clear Japanese influence, but it's also clearly designed by someone who doesn't understand the culture they're trying to copy. He's too much of a control freak to let someone else do it, but doesn't have the knowledge to properly represent it, so it just comes off as tacky. Yorinobu and Michiko Arasaka are both in Night City, he's hoping to bypass Abernathy and kiss their asses to get her job.
"You called for me, sir?" I ask, hands behind my back. I grew up in one of the many Arasaka Academies, and they do teach a certain militaristic discipline.
"Moriyama. I have your next assignment," Arthur says, putting me on edge. He doesn't give out assignments in person. He places a shard on the desk, pushing it over so I can reach it. Suspicions aside, I'm not in a position to refuse as I chip it in and download the data. Thankfully, it isn't spiked, and the data seems normal for an assignment.
"Biotechnica?" I ask, looking over the plans to a Biotechnica research facility in the Southern Badlands. "I thought we were playing nice with them."
"We were," Arthur agrees. "But the Japan research branch has created a new fuel type. They want to use America as the testing grounds for us entering the fuel industry."
And Biotechnica rules that industry with their CHOOH2. If Arasaka is considering challenging them, they must have something damn good. CHOOH2 is what made Biotechnica go from a small firm with one office to a near-Megacorp themselves. We used to have good relations with them, but as they've grown bigger and bigger, dominating the food, fuel and animal market, we've started to clash.
"That's not your concern, however. You saw the target?" Arthur asks.
"Sasha Yakovleva, netrunner for some minor merc group," I confirm.
"The mercs, under the leadership of a man called Maine, raided a Biotechnica office three months ago for their financial records on CHOOH2 and information on a new immunosuppressant prototype. We were the client, and the job was a success, but Yakovleva remained behind after extracting the data we wanted," Arthur explains, making me frown.
"She stabbed them in the back?" I ask, making him shake his head.
"Unlikely. Our plants in Biotechnica claim she dug far deeper than she was supposed to, and downloaded data that triggered a far stronger response from Biotechnica. The office she was in was blown up, presumably by her, and she was presumed dead. Recent intel suggests that was incorrect, and that Biotechnica took her prisoner," Arthur explains.
"We want whatever she downloaded," I say, making him nod. Either she stumbled into something far bigger than she expected, or she found exactly what she was looking for.
"She attempted to upload it to a tipline, but the transfer was blocked. We believe she instead hid it on the net, which is why they took her alive to try and track down their lost data. We don't know what she took, only that Biotechnica went into damage control over it. Either it's useful data, in which case you're to bring it back to us, or it's damaging to Biotechnica, in which case you are to prepare to release it at the best time to hurt Biotechnica in preparation for us pushing into their market," Arthur explains.
So far, this is all normal enough for Counter-Intel. That's what has me worried.
"It's been months. Are we sure she's still alive?" I ask, making him nod. Even I'd struggle to track down a Netrunner's hidden databanks without something to go off.
"Executions aren't Biotechnica's style. The facility is a research base hidden beneath the Biotechnica Farms. Our source believes she's being used as a research subject. If she is dead, acquire the research they're trying to hide instead. Preferably, get your hands on both," Arthur says, making me nod.
Just a regular corporate espionage job. And so far, everything said here could have been in one of the messages on my terminal, where I usually get my jobs from.
"Assets?" I ask, watching him place a stack of notes on the desk.
"To be procured yourself. Don't use Arasaka assets or any other corporate affiliations. As always, if you're captured, you'll be disavowed and disposed of," Arthur says, as I take the notes. Less traceable than credchit transactions. "Any questions?"
"I thought V was handling our Biotechnica assets. Why am I being sent on this when I was told to manage the gangs?" I ask, making him frown.
"V is needed elsewhere, and your record for this kind of infiltration is better than hers. The Tyger Claws will be handled; they don't need your direct influence," Arthur finally says.
"Very well. Time limit?" I ask, making him shrug.
"We have around a month before the head office wants to push this new fuel. We want Biotechnica hurting before then," Arthur explains, making me nod. Three weeks, max. That's more than doable.
"I'll handle it before then," I say, relaxing slightly. He wants me out of the way. He doesn't know where my loyalties lie, so he's taking me off the board for whatever power play he has in mind. Hopefully just for a short time, but he might be planning to expose me on the job and use it to dispose of me if he thinks I'm on Abernathy's side.
Does Tokyo even know what Jenkins is doing? He could be going off the books to try and impress them. Would explain why he didn't use the messaging system, since his superiors would be able to see whatever he assigned. I'm tempted to try accessing the cameras in his office to see if he's disabled them, but I can't take that risk.
Tokyo doesn't like it when the… lesser branches get involved in their business. If we're moving into fuel, Tokyo is already preparing to hit Biotechnica. If Jenkins interferes in that, they won't take it kindly. And obviously, he'll throw me under the bus to save his own skin. That said, if I refuse the job, I'm dead anyway. I have fourteen years left on my contract at Arasaka, and you don't get to choose your assignments.
So, I get to dig my own grave and hope someone else gets kicked into it before Jenkins buries me.
Just another day in Arasaka.
– Later –
Arriving at Megabuilding H8, I head up to my apartment, 8602. It's on the top floor, and while it's the smallest of the penthouses in this building, it is still a penthouse. Entering my home, I remove my jacket and look around.
I have done very well for myself. Sure, I might not live on Corpo Plaza, but moving out of the poorer and far more crime-ridden Kabuki and into Japantown was a clear sign of how far I've climbed up the corporate ladder. The place is sparsely but tastefully decorated, and I'm proud of how it looks.
Funnily enough, the Tyger Claws boss I had locked out of his home is my floor neighbour in Apartment 8610. Not that he knows that, we've never met in person.
As soon as I got my assignment, I left Arasaka Tower. Frankly, I'm grateful for the excuse to leave early. I need to work out what the hell is in my head, and due to the clandestine nature of my assignment, I won't be expected to report back until it's finished.
For a moment, I'm tempted to send a request down to Clouds to send a Doll up to my apartment. I could use the distraction right now, but I shake my head. Clouds is under the control of the Tyger Claws, and in the same megabuilding as my apartment. It's run by a high-ranking Claw named Hiromi Sato who knows his place, and I've used that connection more than a few times.
Not yet. My implants might be warning me of elevated stress levels, but I can't afford rest and relaxation right now.
Moving to my couch, I slump down on the faux-leather and let out a sigh. My implants stop regulating my hormones, and the rush is always… unpleasant, but it's dangerous to have them controlling my body at all times, and I need to reset.
It takes me a few minutes to let everything settle, and a few minutes more before I finally access the program that has been so kindly forced into my head. I take every precaution, of course, isolating it and reinforcing my ICE around the foreign program before I'm willing to touch it.
Something tells me all that precaution is worthless given how fast Zero got into my head to begin with, but that doesn't excuse me from being sloppy.
Once more, the… character sheet pops up in my vision. It almost looks cartoony, clashing with my sleek, Arasaka HUD. It feels mocking.
Your starter build was chosen by Admin: Zero.
Playing message from Admin: Zero.
'Congrats, Seiji. You were the least annoying corpo I could find in Night City. Well, I say 'I' could find, but really, Oracle did all the work, and you were her favourite. I wanted a Street Kid or Nomad, but Oracle prefers Corpos and I prefer what she prefers. Happy wife, happy life, right?'
The voice in my head sounds tired, bored and far too young. I'd say they're a teenage boy.
'Anyway, blah, blah, welcome to the family or whatever. Short version: You're testing out my recreation of the system I was given. Since you're in Night City, home of megacorps galore, I decided it'd be funny to give you the Vault-Tec Corporation starter kit, along with a little RobCo and Institute to go with it.'
As the voice speaks, I feel a massive influx of data from the program. It doesn't feel like a download, but rather that the data is being decrypted, allowing me to access it. Countless designs and blueprints flashing through my mind before they automatically sort themself. It's too much to fake. Designs, systems, materials I've never even heard of, all filed away in perfect order, ready for use.
'Now, I was going to give you a pocket dimension for a base. Pocket dimensions are great, but Oracle says that would make things too easy for you since your world doesn't really have interdimensional tech. She's mean like that. But every Tinker needs a base, right?'
As he speaks, I blink as my vision glitches, and something appears on my coffee table. A small figure of a blond man in a bright blue jumpsuit with yellow outlines, giving me a cheesy thumbs up.
'And if you're using Vault Tec, you should have a Vault, right? Makes sense to me. Anyway, find somewhere safe to plop down Vault Boy, and he'll do the rest. Try not to die, Oracle will pout if she picked poorly. Adois.'
The message ends with that lazy goodbye; my mind rushes as I tentatively explore the databanks that have been implanted in my mind. This isn't some con, but that just leaves me with more questions than I started with.
The beaming Vault Boy stares at me as I pick him up, I pick up the Vault Boy. The little fucker is beaming, plastic, and unmistakably real. I press the edges, test the seams. If it's a hallucination, it's a damn good one. It feels real, and while I suppose Zero could have hacked my senses to fake it, I don't think that's what is happening.
Interdimensional tech? That's beyond the realm of possibility even for the megacorps. It's sci-fi bullshit, nothing more… right?
Arasaka protocol for discovering or creating new tech or blueprints is to turn it over to our superiors. It's in my contract that anything I make is property of Arasaka Corporation, even as a Counter-Intel agent.
For a moment, I visualise the outcome of doing so. They'd have me create the designs in my mind to test their accuracy and effectiveness. If some of the stuff in my head is as useful as I think it is, I'd likely be transferred to Tokyo and kept under wraps as they used this database in my head to turn every schematic in my mind into an Arasaka asset. I am an Arasaka asset, so whatever I make or discover belongs to them.
Assuming they didn't just try to forcibly extract the entire thing, potentially killing me in the process. Either way, I vanish from the face of the earth into some Arasaka R&D blacksite. Maybe I get a gilded cage for my loyalty, but only as long as I keep producing golden eggs.
I look around my penthouse one more time, taking in the luxury that my service to Arasaka has provided me with. By Night City standards, I'm likely in the top 1%. Of course, the difference between the 1% and the 0.1% cannot be overstated, and my position in the 1% speaks more about the sheer amount of poverty-ridden fools barely surviving paycheck to paycheck than it does my actual wealth.
I have a life that many of the streetscum would kill or sell their very souls for. Even from my balcony, I can see Kabuki across the river. I remember the shitty apartment that got broken into every other week. The slop I ate to save up as I was working my way through Arasaka Academy and the lower ranks of the Corp.
I live well, eat well, and have the time and resources for recreation. Arasaka gave me this.
And yet, I'm one mistake from ending up on the streets with the homeless bums begging for eddies. I've seen people in my positions similar to mine losing it all, becoming the same trash they would cross the road to avoid having to go near. Fuck, I've kicked some of them down myself, and put down more than a few corpos who forgot their place. I've made people like me disappear.
This is a lose-lose situation. I turn in the data, I become more of a slave than ever, losing whatever freedom I'm enjoying and disappearing into a black site. I don't turn it in, I'm a single fuck up from the full weight of Arasaka crushing me into the dirt. Jenkins would hand me over with a smile, trading me for a promotion. V would pull the trigger without batting an eye.
The fact that we've got two Arasakas in Night City has only made things worse. The entire company is shaping up and running a tighter ship than ever. Nobody knows who is going to be Saburo Arasaka's heir, and nobody wants to piss off the future ruler of Arasaka, and everyone wants to get on their good side. This is the worst time for something like this to happen.
I could go to one of the Arasakas. Not Yorinobu, he's too unpredictable, but maybe Michiko? She's the dark horse for becoming the next heir, but with this databank, maybe she could pull it off. Again, best case, she turns me into a secret golden goose and I never see the light of day again. Maybe I'd live in luxury, but I'd be on a leash.
No. Arasaka has been good to me, but the best-case scenario of revealing this… tinker system is worse than I am willing to accept. This puts me in an incredibly dangerous situation, because I just became a rogue Arasaka asset with that thought alone.
This leaves me with several options.
First, I forget about the Tinker system and continue as planned. Not ideal, because if Zero could get into my systems that easily, they could flatline me if I disappoint them and don't play their game. Who are they? So far, the best theory I have is that they're an insane Rogue AI. Not someone or something I want after me.
Second, I defect and sell the blueprints I have to another corporation under the guise of Arasaka tech. The truth will out eventually, but I could buy my way out of Night City and change my identity. Not ideal either. Arasaka has a long reach. I've personally flown to places like Oslo and Sydney to deal with fleeing assets. I know the Arasaka playbook and could stay low, but that just leaves me in a worse position than I started.
Third, I try to sell the creations myself as a new corporation. Surprise, surprise… also not ideal. New corps have a less than 5% survival rate in Night City. The megacorps don't like competition and would try to absorb or erase me before I can threaten their market shares. Of the 5% that survive, most are chained to a bigger corporation. If it ever comes out that I'm the mastermind, a supposedly loyal Arasaka asset? Well, traitors don't die easily.
All in all, three choices that are best described as elaborate suicide plots. Calling them choices at all is an overly generous statement.
Which leads to choice number four. I play along with this new system and learn just how useful this tech in my head. I can't ignore Zero, but I can't go rogue and bring Arasaka down on my head. I need to keep up appearances, play my part, and treat this development as a side gig. If it's powerful enough for me to slip the leash, then I can make that decision later with more information, allowing me to judge the risks more accurately. If I get caught, I can try and bullshit my way into claiming that I was testing the data before bringing it to my superiors. If Jenkins is still in charge of Counter-Intelligence, I can claim to have been working around him, not Arasaka as a whole.
Maintaining my job in Counter-Intel will help me keep track of any investigations into my actions. Jenkins is a butcher, not a surgeon; he doesn't do subtle, especially not when he's so desperate to impress our overlords. His reaction is as predictable as it is violent.
So, where to put… Vault-Boy?
It takes me moments to figure that out, from the knowledge I have in my head about Vaults. The Badlands are the only logical choice. The Nomads might not call themselves gangs, but they fall under the same designation in Arasaka, which means they end up on my desk, and I have a decent idea of what the Nomad scene looks like.
The Aldecaldos, Red Ocher and the Wraiths are the main three packs nearby. The Aldecaldos are in the Eastern Badlands, mostly keeping to themselves and taking on odd jobs. The Red Ocher are South, but they're small and far weaker compared to the others, and I could erase them if it became a necessity. If nothing else, I could use NCPD contacts to drive them out.
The Wraiths are Raffen Shiv, nomads amongst nomads, exiled from their original pack. They're the ones closest to an actual gang, leaning far heavier into illegal actions. It takes a lot for a nomad to be kicked out, so these are scum even by nomad standards.
There are a lot of them, congregating from different packs and winding up in Night City, as so many do. They're a genuine threat to anyone hoping to survive out in the Badlands, but they're also a disorganised rabble with no backers or real support.
Plus, I can excuse myself for disappearing into the Badlands when my current mission has me going out there. Any Arasaka observers would be unlikely to actually follow me out of the city. It is not easy to tail people out in the desert where you can see for miles, and so few people are around. It's easy to notice if the only other people in a ten-mile radius are following you.
Bringing up the data I have, I comb through the Eastern Badlands, my best option. The Southern Badlands are where Biotechnia is located, and it has a far larger corporate presence. I can risk pissing off the Nomads, I don't want to bring the corporations down on me until I am sure I can handle it.
The Badlands aren't my usual territory, and it takes me a while to pick what seems like an ideal location. A small cave system, a good distance from the city, is believed to be used by a small group of Raffens as a hideout. I can deal with them and try out this Vault Boy in the depths of the cave system, which will give it extra protection from most scans. The area is frequently subjected to sandstorms, combined with the constant drought, making it an unpleasant place to live. All the things that make it unpleasant will also provide a layer of natural security.
My new home, a dirty hole in the earth. I'd laugh if I could.
Making a call to Clouds, I order a Doll to be sent up as I put away Vault-Boy. I could die tomorrow, so I intend to live tonight. Plus, keeping up appearances is important. Pouring myself a drink, I take a drink as I stand on the balcony and watch the city below for a moment.
The message that someone is at my door makes me hum, briefly connecting to the camera to check before I unlock the door and let Maiko in. Somehow, I'm not surprised she was the one sent up.
Maiko is the textbook example of a wannabe Corpo. A doll who worked her way up to management and is still trying to climb that ladder. She stopped taking most jobs to focus on the management side of things, but she knows I'm a well-paid corpo with Arasaka, so here she is. She knows Hiromi Sato is scared of me, and she wants his job. She has a lover, some Braindance technician. They've argued multiple times over Maiko continuing to take my contracts instead of sending someone else. I marked Judy Álvarez as a threat, but realised she's just some deluded dreamer. The pattern is the same as always: Maiko will claim she's doing it for them, Judy will try to convince Maiko to leave Clouds with her. They'll argue tomorrow morning, Judy will give Maiko the silent treatment as she pouts, then go back to dancing for Maiko's strings. Judy won't come after me, it's not her style.
Dressed in a tight black dress with red lipstick, I give her credit for how well she plays the game… for an amateur. Her hair, usually tied in a ponytail, is let loose around her shoulders.
"You're home early today, Seiji," Maiko says with more familiarity than most would permit, making me chuckle. I'm sure she's got access to the elevator camera, watching who is coming and going.
"I've got a new assignment out of the city, for a week or two," I explain, taking a seat. "I thought I'd make the most of the luxuries of the city before I'm away from home."
Her smile says everything, and I let her think I buy her enthusiasm. She can play her game all she wants, she's still twenty moves behind the real players. Just another pawn who thinks she's a player.
– Next Day –
Raffens are dangerous because of their cruelty, not their skill. They are similar to Scavs in that regard. They have numbers and a willingness to use extreme violence, but beyond that, they're barely better than rabid dogs.
My mantis blade slices the throat of the Raffen, who dies without a scream. Before he's hit the ground, my Optical Camo is active again and I'm on the move, mentally pathing the best route to the next Raffen. It's a good warm-up for Biotechnica, if nothing else.
As the isolated Raffen strolls casually, I get to work. Same story as his friend, disable his voice box, paralyse his limbs, close the distance and silence him forever before they were off. From the first quick hack, the man is dead before he's even had time to work out what is going on. Amateurs. Their lookouts didn'teven have Cyberoptics capable of sensing cloaked threats.
Nomads rarely make for worthy opponents. I worked up more of a sweat with Maiko.
AN
Author's Note: Slight AU to nudge around the dates for Edgerunners and keep Sasha alive, since she died before Lucy or Kiwi even joined up with Maine.
Written: 01/05/2025