Corporate Plaza, Arasaka Tower.
2076/1/24 | 11:18
Floor 108, one of the executive levels reserved for Arasaka's top leadership. Vela sat quietly by the window in the grand living room occupying the entire southern side of the floor, gazing out at the sparse clouds beyond the intricately crafted mock-mortise lattice windows, and at the diverse, majestic city skyline.
A strong wind, forecasted by the weather bureau, had blown away the haze from days of light rain. With the inversion smoke and acid mist cleared, Night City—a beauty by nature but always disheveled and grimy—rarely and briefly revealed a refreshing clarity.
"To ascend the summit and view all beneath."
No wonder it was said so.
Except—for the Militech Offices, looming just within sight...
"An eyesore," Vela said coldly.
The fortress-like Militech Offices stood directly south of Arasaka Tower, obstructing its view just as Militech obstructed Arasaka's ambitions. The building was a blight, blocking the tower's commanding view over Heywood, Santo Domingo, and Pacifica.
It also blocked Vela's desire to overlook all of southern Night City.
The Arasaka Tower had 130 floors above ground and stood 660 meters tall, making it the tallest building in Night City. But still not tall enough—at least not from where Vela sat on the 108th floor. It wasn't enough to trample the Militech Offices beneath her feet, to look past them and see across all of Heywood and the gang wars raging in Arroyo.
"Jimmy, do you think I can step on it one day?"
Vela shifted her gaze slightly downward, locking onto the 'Militech' logo across the way.
"Uh..." Jimmy looked awkward.
How was he supposed to answer that?
The Acting Supervisor of Special Assault Unit wore a bitter expression as he stared out the window, his mind racing. He was trying to figure out how to reply without sounding too sycophantic, while still saving face for his superior—and keeping an escape route open if things went south later.
"I..."
"Enough," Vela interrupted Jimmy's hesitant words with a light smile. "I won't make it hard on you."
"I've already reviewed the full report on the Arroyo conflict. You're dismissed. Send city marshals to assist NCPD in sweeping through the Heywood again. Also, inform Marketing and Engineering to approach the Barghest through official channels. Bring in SovOil and Petrochem. We want a piece of the reconstruction contracts in Arroyo."
"Understood."
Nodding, Jimmy accepted the order and quickly left—a floor like this should've been far beyond his current clearance level.
Snap.
Vela raised her hand and snapped her fingers, gesturing upward.
Buzz! The AI managing the living room recognized her intent. The central holographic screen expanded, and the previously muted audio resumed.
While gently brushing her fingers against the lush indoor potted plant, Vela turned her attention to surveillance footage streaming in from Arasaka-owned factories in Arroyo:
Smoke and fire had blackened the crumbling streets. The graffiti-covered walls, already peeling, were riddled with bullet holes. Shell casings, burned-out vehicles, and mangled corpses lay scattered across the roads. Gang outposts in half-finished buildings were now heaps of collapsed concrete, with jagged wall gaps that looked like they'd been gnawed on by wild dogs...
Thinking back to the fierce fighting in Santo Domingo in the early hours, Vela figured she was probably at the Konpeki Building back then, attending her welcome banquet hosted by Night City Arasaka departments.
She couldn't help but shake her head.
What a disjointed world.
While she was eating, drinking, and exchanging pleasantries with corporate drones, then sleeping soundly till dawn—the gang war between the Barghest and the 6th Street Gang had already ended.
The outcome was obvious: a paramilitary group had crushed a militia gang.
Overnight, all major 6th Street outposts in Arroyo had been wiped out.
Vela knew full well that Arasaka hadn't gone so far as to deliberately funnel the 6th Street's troops into the Barghest's jaws.
Clearly, the Barghest had already done their homework on the 6th Street Gang.
NCPD and the Night City government issued nothing more than a strongly worded condemnation.
In other words, the Barghest had shown restraint—they hadn't deployed their cache of "excessive" heavy war machines.
[Analysis Report: Based on current intel, it is estimated that this conflict has cost the 6th Street Gang between 630 and 750 members.] Vela glanced at the file sent by the Intelligence Department.
6th Street was finished.
According to background checks, in 2076, the 6th Street Gang had an estimated total of around 2,300 members.
Not long ago, during a skirmish with the Valentinos in Heywood, Vela had subtly hinted to Jimmy to seize the opportunity—resulting in several dozen elite 6th Street enforcers being taken out. Now, with a surprise assault by the Barghest, they'd lost Arroyo overnight. Many of their members died amid chaotic SOS calls and confusion.
The gang was crippled. Their territory had shrunk to just Vista del Rey in Heywood and Coronado Ranch in Santo Domingo—and even that was now split in two by Barghest-controlled Arroyo.
And Vela had no intention of letting 6th Street keep Vista del Rey.
"This is Vela Adelheid," she said, her cybernetic eye flickering with data streams. "I need an analysis report on the Valentinos and Moxes' presence in Vista del Rey... include the Tyger Claws too. ASAP."
She was assessing the feasibility of backing another gang to take over Vista del Rey.
So long as they weren't affiliated with Militech and were friendly toward Arasaka, that was enough. The streets had their own rules and methods. Even EuroBank had no real way to clean up Paris' gang-infested neighborhoods.
Or perhaps, if the gangs proved unsuitable, hand it over to NCPD? Using Arasaka's public safety contract with the Night City City Council as a foundation, co-manage Vista del Rey, and build a model district of law and order...
Speaking of security services.
An old specialty—Arasaka's most well-known signature skill.
With that thought, Vela opened an internal cross-department Arasaka comms line.
[To Security Services Liaison Department: Our marshals will be conducting goodwill patrols in the streets soon. Use this period of unrest to market a sense of security. Shift the focus of your security services campaign to Vista del Rey and Arroyo. Launch tiered, budget-friendly packages for families, neighborhoods, and community groups.]
[Yes, include Arroyo... I've already sent someone to talk with the Barghest. They just beat Washington's "side piece" to a pulp. If they want to quickly solidify their foothold in Arroyo, they won't reject the olive branch we extend.]
[Intelligence Department, I need a complete dossier on Kurt Hansen—everything before and after his defection from the NUSA military, a detailed event timeline, and a personality profile.]
No matter who claimed Vista del Rey, expanding business, making money, and sticking it to Militech couldn't be neglected.
One of her current titles was Councilor of the North American Operations Council.
That word "operations"—beyond the baseline of security and military authority—gave her the legitimate right to draw in and command people from other departments.
Knock knock.
"Come in."
Click—
The door opened. A cyber-ninja from the Arasaka Family Compound stepped in.
"Councilor, it's First Deputy Director James Thomas."
"Please, bring him in."
Soon, a middle-aged man entered, dressed in a black suit with red Arasaka trim. His temples and beard had begun to gray.
Vela rose immediately to greet him.
"Uncle Thomas."
"Seems that year in Tokyo surrounded by books hasn't dulled your edge," James Thomas said with a smile. "My little princess, Fred and Mia would be proud of you."
Hearing the compliment, Vela practically beamed. She skipped over lightly to place a freshly brewed cup of coffee in front of him.
"Just Saburo-sama's recognition and the help you and others gave me in the early days," she said, calming herself again as she noticed Thomas' satisfied expression. Then she gently asked, "Is Lady Michiko coming to Night City?"
"You're as sharp as ever."
Thomas nodded, choosing his words carefully.
"Kei Arasaka's legacy isn't so easily inherited, Vela. Even though you have the support of us old-timers from the North American Security Division, Michiko Arasaka also has her own..."
Vela responded with a slight smile, shifting her posture. She leaned back, crossed her legs, clasped her hands over her abdomen, and tapped her right index finger repeatedly against the back of her left hand.
James Thomas was the First Deputy Director of the Security Division, senior in both rank and experience. He also held a seat on the council.
The reason Vela's floor in Arasaka Tower was higher than his was due to special treatment granted by Saburo Arasaka. She had been formally presented before the "national-level board members" of Arasaka Global at the Arasaka Family Compound.
"Gifts are never given out for free. Only those who fight tooth and nail to seize them are worthy of receiving them."
Vela turned her gaze to a certain spot in the room.
Thomas followed her eyes—
And was startled.
Behind the parted curtain of a partition stood a portrait of Kei Arasaka.
Vela didn't respond to his earlier remark directly. Instead, she began explaining the mission she carried back to Night City, and shared anecdotes from Tokyo—her encounters with Saburo, Shintaro Takayama, and Hanako.
Then, she looked at Thomas with calm resolve and smiled.
"I will avenge Kei Arasaka."
That sentence was enough. Thomas understood.
Vengeance meant restoring honor. And if she succeeded, she would become the rightful heir.
"It won't be easy, Vela..."
"But it is something Arasaka must inevitably face."
She uncrossed her legs and placed her high heels flat on the carpet, adjusting her posture.
"The view from the top of Arasaka Tower is beautiful. It's worth seeing. Why not reach for it?"
"As for Lady Michiko... To be honest, Uncle Thomas, once I've gotten a clear picture of things here in Night City, my next step is to meet with her..."
Before she could finish, her cybernetic eye's HUD flashed—a highest-priority comm request broke through the grid overlay, projecting a chic, fashionable silhouette across her vision.
A woman—with no visible signs of cybernetic implants.
...
At the same time, in Watson District, near the Afterlife nightclub.
A Chevillon Emperor 620 Ragnar cruised down the street, carefully avoiding vagrants in the corners. It circled once before diving into a sealed underground parking lot.
Moments later, several cyber-mercs in jackets and sunglasses appeared. The burly Black man in the middle made a hand signal.
Clack. The headlights turned on.
The "Militech" logo lit up on the side of the 620 Ragnar.
From the shadow of a nearby load-bearing wall, a man in a red suit stepped forward slowly.
Tall and lean, with short white hair. His right eye socket had been hollowed out and replaced with three horizontally aligned cyber-eyes, all blinking in sync with a red glow.
Any merc who operated around Santo Domingo would immediately recognize him—Faraday, the top fixer in that region.
Skrrt.
The Militech vehicle rolled to a stop beside him.
"Faraday, you'd better have an explanation. Delay after delay—we're starting to question your competence."
A grim voice came from the half-lowered car window.
Faraday, one hand in his pocket, shot back coldly: "That's because Arasaka's defenses are tight. Everyone I've sent has been killed. That alone shows how valuable the Prototype Cyberskeleton is to them. You didn't know that?"
"That's exactly why we invested so much. Bring results soon. No more funds. No final payment either."
"Are you kidding me?"
Faraday's tone turned hostile. "Results? And how am I supposed to..."
"Because you're losing ground in your fight with Arasaka. The Night City government has already signed a City Marshal agreement with them. Even your enforcers holed up in Santo Domingo got wiped out—and the ones who did it were the very dogs you abandoned. The city is on lockdown. My people and assets in Santo Domingo took heavy losses."
Lies don't hurt—truth is the blade that cuts.
The Militech liaison fell silent.
After a moment, he spoke again: "Fine. Half the final payment now. The bonus agreement still stands, but the new assignment isn't optional. Do you know that Vela Adelheid is back in Night City?"
Faraday: "Naturally. Last night, Arasaka reserved the entire Amethyst Banquet Hall in the Konpeki Plaza. What, don't tell me you want me to go after her. Sorry, I have no death wish. Come back when Militech has the upper hand."
"Hmph. If we had the upper hand, we wouldn't need you. Relax, we're not sending you to die—this is about her project."
The liaison sneered.
"The [Sonnentreppe Project] aimed at restoring Saburo Arasaka's youth—you should know it well. Vela Adelheid is the project director. According to reliable intel, Arasaka plans to build a new research facility for her in Night City. Their reinforcements haven't fully arrived yet. Exploit the gap. Port shipments, transport convoys—cargo from Japan is incoming. Steal it, intercept it, your choice. Even a single undiluted ampoule of the R-618 'Rebirth' Compound is worth one million eurodollars."
At those words, Faraday's fourth cyber-eye narrowed slightly.
"Arasaka is pressing on all fronts, you're getting hammered on the global markets, the 6th Street Gang is nearly wiped out, Santo Domingo is a mess—even I have to re-establish connections. And now you're taking on extra assignments instead of dealing with Dogtown's threat and provocations?"
"It's called hiding in plain sight," the liaison said. "Whether it's the Cyberskeleton, the [Sonnentreppe Project] lab products, or any of Vela Adelheid's latest results—if you get us even one of them, we'll grant you immunity."
"Stay out of other matters, Faraday. You're a smart man. That's all I'll say."
Whirr.
The 620 Ragnar's engine fired up and the car rolled out of the underground lot.
"Tch!"
Clenching his fist, Faraday turned his head in frustration and brushed imaginary dust from his sleeve.
"Corporate dogs, bootlicking both ways... One day... Hmph. Let's go to Afterlife... hmm?"
He paused. All four cyber-eyes focused.
Beep beep.
[Incoming call: Maine]
The tanned, sunglasses-wearing bruiser appeared on Faraday's video call.
Connected.
[Maine: Yo, it's me, Faraday. Got any gigs?]
[Faraday: Maine? Didn't you already take a job?]
[Maine: Thanks to those stupid corp bastards, a few clients backed out. Damn, total waste...]
Faraday's eyes gleamed.
Maine and his crew—a team of cyber-mercs he'd worked with many times before.
Just what he needed: expendable muscle.
[Faraday: I got a job.]
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