November 16, 2075-[1]
Teo lounged on his customized Kusanagi, legs propped on the handlebars, a half-eaten synth-noodle cup balanced precariously on his chest plate. The air above Little China hummed with the usual grit and neon. He slurped down a mouthful of the suspiciously orange noodles, the synthetic spices a familiar burn on his tongue.
"Another dead end..." Teo grumbled, his voice a low rumble that barely carried over the city's distant wail. "This neural net keeps hitting a wall. I try to integrate it with the bike's diagnostic, you know, for predictive maintenance, maybe even some adaptive driving, and it just spits out 'Error 404: Morality Not Found.' Like it's actively resisting anything that isn't direct, brutal efficiency. Like trying to teach a autistic kid to fit circles into square holes."
Fucker's synthesized voice crackled in his comms, tinged with a familiar, dry sarcasm that had only sharpened with its new found learning. "Perhaps, meatbag, it finds your squishy organic existence… uninspiring. Or maybe you're trying to teach a toaster oven to perform neurosurgery. Its algorithms are optimized for combat probability and optimal damage vectors, not... fluid changes in tire pressure or the philosophical implications of a pothole. Details, details."
"Funny... you fucked up pile of code," Teo retorted, tossing the empty noodle cup into a nearby disposal unit that promptly swallowed it with a digital burp.
"No, seriously. I try to expand its processing for real time threat assessment beyond basic combat parameters, like predicting a civilian crosswalk pattern, or a rogue hot dog vendor's trajectory, and it just… crashes. Like it's got a hard limit on complex ethical dilemmas. Or maybe it just doesn't like making judgment calls on collateral damage unless it's strictly tactical."
"Ah, the quaint human struggle with consequence," Fucker purred, a digital chuckle buried deep in its vocalizer.
"Consider it a feature, not a bug. Less moral ambiguity, more direct action. Why debate the trajectory of a pedestrian when a slight swerve avoids the problem entirely? Perhaps your precious AI simply prefers to embrace its inner psychopath. A true connoisseur of efficiency, one might say, unburdened by your primitive empathic circuits."
Teo snorted, pushing off the Kusanagi with a practiced ease. "Efficiency's good, Fucker, but a little nuance goes a long way. This ain't about blowing chrome off gangers. Some jobs need a lighter touch. Like that last one, where it tried to optimize my escape route through a kindergarten playground. Said it was the most 'unpredictable path.' Almost gave a few kids some permanent trauma."
"A minor oversight. Think of the valuable lessons in early childhood survival it could have imparted. Building resilience from a young age is crucial in this city." Fucker's voice held a digital shrug, completely unapologetic.
Before Teo could formulate a retort, a familiar, crisp tone cut through the background chatter. He answered the line, it was Padre. "Teo, you there?"
"Yeah, Padre. What's up?" Teo pushed himself upright, the easy going posture replaced by an immediate readiness. Padre didn't usually didn't call for idle chitchat.
"Got a gig for you. Kang Tao. Kenji Tanaka. Executive on the move, needs eyes on him." Padre's voice was as direct as always, no wasted words.
"Transporting some sensitive logistical data. Nothing earth shattering, but valuable enough to attract opportunistic gangoons or rival corporate low lives trying to climb the latter. His usual security detail's stretched thin, and he specifically requested a netrunner with strong combat capabilities. Recommended directly by yours truly."
Teo listened, his mind already spinning through the possibilities. Kang Tao huh. That meant money, but it also meant the usual high stakes, the kind of corporate entanglement that could get you buried under a mountain of paperwork or in a back ally.
He finally answered after a couple seconds. "Sounds like a milk run, Padre," he mused, a hint of skepticism in his tone.
"Could be. Milk runs often go sour, my boy. Especially with Kang Tao. Needs to get Tanaka and his data packet from his penthouse in Corpo Plaza down to a secure Kang Tao transport hangar at the Night City airport. You up for it?"
"Always," Teo affirmed, already kicking the Kusanagi's engine to life, the bike roaring to life beneath him. The thought of stepping into Corpo Plaza, into the gleaming heart of the beast, was a strange mix of intrigue and distaste.
"Good, he's waiting for you now. Be there in an hour, will let him know your up for it." Padre said before the line cut. Teo gave an understanng answer and kicked the Kusanagi's engine to life, the bike roaring to life beneath him.
The thought of stepping into Corpo Plaza, into the gleaming heart of the beast, was a strange mix of intrigue and distaste.
Teo peeled out from his perch, the Kusanagi a blur of custom chrome and raw power. Little China quickly dissolved behind him, its vibrant, chaotic streets, alive with the scent of street food and the cacophony of a dozen languages, giving way to the more organized, but still gritty, thoroughfares of Westbrook.
Here, the neon signs were larger, the ads more aggressive, vying for attention with holographic projections that shimmered above the skyways, colossal, impossibly beautiful figures hawking synth food and joy toys.
The throngs of pedestrians, a mix of working class citizens and aspiring corpo rats, moved with a quicker, more purposeful stride, their cyber optics constantly scanning for opportunities or threats.
As he neared the dividing lines, the shift became more prominent. The street vendors dwindled, replaced by sleek, high end automated kiosks dispensing artisanal synth coffees and designer bio snacks.
The grimy, exposed power conduits vanished, swallowed by polished chrome and seamless facades. The soundscape flattened, the vibrant hum of the city receding, replaced by the hushed whisper of mag lev traffic and the distant, almost musical chime of corporate advertisements.
Patrol drones, once a rare sight, became ubiquitous, their silent forms gliding through the filtered air, their optical sensors sweeping the spotless streets. The very air seemed cleaner, lighter, though Teo suspected it was merely a more expensive brand of pollutants.
The roar of Teo's Kusanagi had a rebellious snarl against the silence of Corpo Plaza. He entered through a massive, ornate gate, flanked by imposing security towers that seemed to peer into his very soul.
The air here was filtered, scrubbed clean of the usual shit smell of rusty metal and decay in Night City, replaced by the sterile gleam of chrome and glass. This was Teo's first time setting foot in the very heart of Corpo Plaza, not just riding through its peripheral arteries.
He'd seen it from a distance, it was nut seeing up close though. Being inside it, breathing its sanitized air, feeling the almost imperceptible hum of its hidden systems, it was an entirely different beast. He felt the weight of countless unseen cameras, sensors, and network nodes, all constantly recording, analyzing, and judging.
He parked the bike amongst a fleet of sleek, anonymous corporate vehicles, all charcoal grey and obsidian black, their polished surfaces reflecting the towering structures around them like distorted funhouse mirrors.
He stared at the the cars for a moment, 'Fuck I don't belong here.' He thought as a beed of sweat dripped down his brow.
His custom painted Kusanagi, with its scuffed paint, aggressive lines, and the faint scent of synth fuel and gun oil, was an obvious anomaly. It screamed the streets, a defiant contrast to the polished curves of the executive transports.
He felt a sudden urge to just turn the bike around and disappear back into the familiar chaos of the lower districts flickered through him, quickly suppressed. This was a job. A Padre job. And a Kang Tao job, which meant eddies and, more importantly, reputation.
He strode towards the towering edifice, a buidling of glass and steel piercing the sky, its uppermost floors lost in the haze. The lobby was a symphony of cool blues and silvers, designed to exude power and understated luxury. Every surface gleamed, reflecting the soft, indirect lighting. It was populated by impeccably dressed executives, their faces often augmented with subtle, expensive bio ware that made their skin look impossibly smooth, their eyes unnervingly bright.
Interspersed among them were corporate security personnel, their stances rigid, their movements precise, whose eyes, even behind their opaque visors, seemed to dissect him upon entry.
Their glances were a blend of curiosity, suspicion, and a hint of disdain for his obvious street origins. The air conditioning was almost too cold, the silence unnerving after the constant thrum and chaotic symphony of Night City.
He shifted slightly, 'Don't like this shit at all.' He thought staring at the rich aesthetic of everything around him.
He walked, ignoring the judgmental stares, his focus already on the task, his senses peeled for any deviations in the corporate hum. He approached a sleek, automated lift, its interior bathed in soft, pulsing light, whisked him upwards. The ascension was unnervingly smooth, almost silent, carrying him higher and higher as the sprawling, chaotic urban sprawl of Night City diminished beneath him, turning into a cancerous, glowing jewel of light and shadow.
The penthouse was everything one would expect from a Kang Tao executive, expansive, starkly minimalist, with floor to ceiling windows offering a dizzying, panoramic view that made the world below seem distant and insignificant. Expensive random abstract art on the walls, their meaning... yeah couldn't guess. Teo preferred the visceral honesty of graffiti.
Kenji Tanaka emerged from a private study, a man sculpted by corporate success of fucking over people. He had a sharp, tailored suit on that probably cost more than Teo's bike, impeccably coiffed hair that looked like it hadn't moved in a decade, and an air of self importance that practically radiated off him like cheap cologne. He was mid forties, carrying himself with the practiced nonchalance of someone accustomed to having his word obeyed without question.
"You're the… additional security?" Tanaka's voice was smooth, a polished baritone, but his eyes held a dismissive glint as they scanned for Teo's combat chrome, lingering on the visible seams of his cybernetics on his scalp. Though his face faltered at Teos body, no visible body enhancements other then the visible scars from his light combat subdermal weave.
He barely bothered to hide his skepticism, clearly underestimating Teo's capabilities, seeing only the brute force and not the intricate mind beneath. Overconfidence shimmered around the exec like a visible aura. "Padre vouched for you. Said you were… versatile.".
"I'm Teo," he replied simply, letting the silence hang between them, allowing his presence to fill the pristine, sterile air. His voice, usually a low growl, seemed almost too loud in the hushed space. "And I will ensure your package arrives safe and sound."
Tanaka's lips twitched, a hint of annoyance, and a flicker of irritation. "Right. Well, I'm transporting a logistical data packet. It's encrypted, of course, nothing of major strategic value to Kang Tao, but enough to be a nuisance if compromised. Proprietary shipping manifests, cargo routes, supply chain algorithms, the usual bureaucratic headaches. My usual detail is tied up on a priority extraction in Heywood. Simple escort. Just get me and this to the airport." He gestured to a sleek, unassuming data packet nestled in a secured holster on his belt, its presence almost blending into the expensive fabric of his suit.
He then crossed his arms, sizing Teo up, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "So, 'Teo.' You look… substantial. Padre spoke highly of your 'methods.' But what exactly does this entail? Do you, uh, 'persuade' rival netrunners with a wrench to the skull, or is it all digital finesse?" Tanaka leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying his own veiled insults.
Teo met Tanaka's gaze, a spark of cold amusement flickering in his own eyes. "Whatever the job requires. Sometimes it's code, sometimes it's a gun. Or maybe sometimes it's knowing which one to use, and when to make it look like an accident." His voice was flat, devoid of any emotional inflection, making the subtle threat all the more potent. He wasn't rising to the bait, just stating facts.
Tanaka chuckled, a dry, humorless sound that echoed faintly in the cavernous space. "An accident, you say? Kang Tao prefers clean operations. No loose ends. No… excessive collateral. We operate with precision. Our reputation is built on it, you see."
He paused, letting his words hang in the air, a silent reminder of corporate expectations, his eyes flicking to the large Kang Tao logo subtly embossed on the wall. "You understand that, I presume? This isn't a street brawl, Teo. It's a delicate operation. Highly sensitive, for all its 'triviality.'"
"I got it choom," Teo replied, his tone unchanging, but his internal processors were already churning through contingency plans. "And I understand that sometimes, 'precision' means dealing with unpredictable variables. Like gonks who don't read corporate policy. Or rival corporate ops who don't care about your 'clean operations.'"
He let his gaze drift pointedly towards Tanaka's data packet, a small, innocent looking device that held the key to the entire operation, then back to the executive's composed face. "Or maybe compromised data that needs an immediate, 'unconventional' solution. My methods are effective, regardless of the chaos around them."
Tanaka's smirk faltered slightly, the confidence in his posture wavering for a fraction of a second. He shifted his weight, a flicker of something resembling genuine concern, perhaps even fear, crossing his features before being quickly masked by a practiced corporate facade. "Indeed. Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that. This data, while not classified 'Red,' is time sensitive. Any delay, any corruption, would be… inconvenient. For me. And for you, by extension, Teo. Kang Tao is not known for its leniency with those who fail to meet expectations."
His voice hardened slightly, a clear warning. "So, let's keep it 'clean,' shall we? As clean as possible."
Teo simply nodded, the slightest dip of his head. "As clean as possible." He let the exec's words settle, understanding the unspoken threat. Kang Tao wouldn't care if it was gangoons or rival corpos, if the package didn't arrive, someone would pay. And that someone would likely be him. The "milk run" was already curdling.
'God damnit.'
[1] Lowkey lost track of time less jus say this a couple weeks l8tr