"I want to, I want to, I want to, I want"
"I funk you, I funk you, I funk you, I funk..."
Turning off the wildly popular Body Heat Radio hit, "Black Hole Sun," inside the car, Berry dialed the number for Militech executive Meredith Stott.
The number was obtained from V, who got it from Dexter DeShawn, making it two steps before reaching Berry.
"This is Stott. First, tell me how you got this number."
In Arno's field of view, the cold and capable businesswoman Stott, dressed in a corporate uniform, appeared. Besides the executive's impatient voice, clearly audible screams mixed in the background.
It seemed things were busy on her end.
Berry pondered for a moment, then controlled Arno to speak. "I know many numbers. I heard your convoy ran into trouble."
"Go, shut his mouth." Screams came through the video feed. Stott, smoking a lady's cigarette, turned her head and ordered someone to perform physical silencing.
Following that, there was the muffled sound of flesh being struck and the victim's intermittent groans of pain.
"What do you know? I don't have time to waste on you." Stott turned back to the video feed, her eyes filled with impatience.
"No. Talking on the phone is inconvenient. Let's meet in person." Arno's expression remained cold, like a robot, although he was indeed a robot.
"Business... fine." Stott squinted, holding her cigarette, observing Arno for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Get off the Sky Rail and head toward the NCD. The Drainage Channel under the overpass. I'll wait for you there."
The call ended.
Berry took a deep breath. Good. Now it was time to see her operation.
The car was already on the way—Arno's beast-like Thunderclap Mackinaw off-road vehicle. Berry and Arno were fully armed, just waiting to meet the old aunt Stott.
Berry mounted the calibrated Tsunami Defense Scope onto the Kinetic Sniper Rifle that was nearly as tall as she was.
The spt32 ice storm was thick and dark, its barrel as large as Berry's forearm. Produced by the Russian Federation High-Tech Military Industry Company, this powerful sniper rifle was a product of a specific era.
Around the turn of the 21st century, the arms industry faced severe challenges.
Many sniper rifles of the time became increasingly ineffective against targets equipped with extensive cyberware.
A bullet that could kill an ordinary person now only left a dent. A new generation of sniper rifles was imminent.
The Russian Federation's spt32 ice storm was the first generation product of this new wave, and many considered it the most powerful sniper rifle on the market.
Although it paid less attention to detail compared to similar products from Arasaka or Militech, well-trained marksmen didn't need to rely on weapon assistance for wind judgment, and in their hands, the Ice Storm could unleash terrifying power.
No wall could stop it from hitting its target.
Rather than calling it a sniper rifle, it was more like a sniper cannon.
With it, you no longer had to worry about hitting non-lethal parts of the target, because even a grazing shot could blow the target and the floor beneath them to smithereens.
Coupled with the night-vision capable Tsunami Defense Scope, it allowed you to blast people into fragments even in the middle of the night—truly an essential item for travel and home leisure.
This was the confidence Berry had when negotiating with Executive Stott.
In the game, V successfully negotiated with Stott, but this was reality. Who knew what might happen? Berry preferred to seek peace of mind using her own methods.
Watson, Northside Industrial District.
The gray off-road vehicle turned into a tunnel, took a few bends, and entered the narrow Drainage Channel, where a black armored SUV was already waiting.
Opening the car door, Arno walked up alone.
Stott, wearing an iron-gray corporate uniform, stood by the SUV, followed by two fully armed corporate Mercenaries.
"Stay alert." Seeing the large man in black, Arno, approaching, Stott frowned and warned her subordinates.
"I am Meredith Stott. Did you call me..." Stott's tone softened as she watched Arno approach.
But Berry, watching from a distance, knew the main event was about to begin.
In the game, this bastard forced V to cooperate by putting a gun to V's head. But Berry didn't plan to go down that old path. Not even Arno could be subjected to that, because repairing a robot's head was troublesome, and Berry disliked trouble.
"It's me."
Stott's expression was normal. She extended her hand for a handshake, and Arno also reached out.
Suddenly, a malicious gust of wind attacked from the side. Arno's peripheral vision caught sight of a fist flying towards him.
Bang!
The thick fist hit Arno squarely on the head.
But in an instant, the attacking Mercenary grimaced in pain, staring in disbelief at Arno, who had only slightly tilted his head.
He had clearly intended to knock the large man in leather clothes down immediately, but he hadn't expected one punch to only make the other party tilt his head.
More importantly, was this guy's head made of iron? It was so hard.
The Mercenary felt his knuckles were broken. He was trembling with pain and couldn't exert any force.
It all happened in an instant. After the surprise attack, Arno, whose expression was hidden behind sunglasses, slowly straightened his head and looked at the astonished Mercenary.
Just as the opponent was about to shout a warning, Arno tilted his head back and delivered a headbutt that shot forward like a cannonball.
A dull, sickening crunch sounded. The Mercenary closed his eyes in pain, clutching his bleeding nose, and collapsed to the ground.
"Shit!" Stott's other corporate Mercenary was startled and quickly pulled a pistol from his waist, aiming it.
But Arno, who hadn't even turned his head yet, was just as fast. He pulled a pitch-black pistol from his black leather jacket, aiming the dark muzzle directly at Stott's head.
"Stop!" Stott shouted loudly, calling a halt to both of them.
"Looks like you have some skill, huh?" Stott squinted, her painted angular eyelashes furrowed. Despite having Arno's gun pointed at her, she showed no fear.
But she knew in her heart that things had gone slightly sideways.
She had originally intended to restrain this guy who knew her number and then interrogate him about what he knew concerning the convoy. But she hadn't expected this guy to have skills, taking down her security and creating the current standoff.
However, as a corporate executive, she had seen this kind of situation many times; it wouldn't stump her.
"Hiss, exhale~" Stott calmly took a drag from her cigarette while being held at gunpoint, then spoke again. "Do you really think your little squirt gun of a pistol can penetrate the Subcutaneous Armor specially provided to corporate employees?"
"I'm telling you, the instant you fire, your head will definitely blossom first. So, you'd better honestly put down the gun and let's discuss the transaction we mentioned."
Stott was a typical corporate executive employee: she looked down on all weaklings. She would only sit down and talk honestly when someone was useful to her or when their strength posed a threat—just like now.
"Oh, is that right?" But Arno didn't look threatened.
"Look toward the nine o'clock direction." Arno said coldly, staring at Stott.
Stott frowned at Arno's fearless demeanor, and her eyes subconsciously looked in the direction he indicated.
In the nine o'clock direction, there was only the gray iron wall beside the Drainage Channel, and some scaffolding painted with yellow lacquer.
There was nothing.
Frowning, she glanced at Arno, deciding that this large Mercenary wouldn't joke around at a time like this. Stott continued looking.
Not far outside the Drainage Channel stood a steel power pylon. Thick cables ran through it, connecting to the next distant pylon, supplying electricity to all the factories in the Northside Industrial District.
And on that pylon, under the sunlight, faint, fragmented reflections shimmered.
"Sniper?" Stott's pupils contracted slightly, her brows furrowed deeper, and she glared at Arno through clenched teeth.
"spt32 ice storm. It can blast you from head to toe into a puddle of flesh." Arno spoke not like he was threatening, but merely introducing, yet this tone sent chills down the spines of the two people present, because they knew he wasn't joking.
"Alright, I'll admit defeat this time." Stott's mind raced, thinking of possible solutions, but she eventually gave up due to the low success rate. Finally, she sighed helplessly, looked directly at Arno, and said, "So, what exactly do you want? Speak."
"I told you on the phone. I want to finalize a *transaction* with you."
Arno's voice remained deep and stiff, carrying a strong Austrian Accent.
Hearing this, Stott narrowed her eyes, oblivious that the cherry of the cigarette in her hand had burned down to the end.