Noon.
Heywood, Vista del Rey.
Corporate community, Megabuilding 17 Unit.
Ding.
At the tower entrance, the automatic door with a columned porch slid open. Three armored peace officers wearing Arasaka-style winged bulletproof helmets stepped inside.
"Welcome back, Mr. David Martinez. Welcome, Mr. Katsuo Tanaka, Mr. Suneo Kawakami."
The low-intelligence front desk AI's synthesized female voice spoke after scanning their identities.
Tap, tap.
"Oh? Renovated?"
Katsuo looked around with some leisure. The last time he came here to meet David, the walls of this old mid-range apartment building were still covered in messy graffiti. Now they had been freshly painted, the old tiles replaced, and scanners and light gun turrets installed.
Though still cheap and low-end, it was better than nothing for those edge-runners of the underground mercenary world, like those from Afterlife. At least it could keep out petty street thugs and the homeless wandering around.
"Mm."
Carrying a shopping bag with the Danger Gal logo, the tallest and most heavily armored David nodded.
"Before last August, the property developer responded to the city government and our Arasaka company's policy call to renovate the lobby and public facilities of the apartment. Even the tower's curtain wall facade was cleaned and refurbished."
"City image, huh."
Carrying a food box, Suneo shrugged.
"At least it's part of Weldon Holt's achievements for his bid to become mayor of Night City this year. Say what you will, but those shrewd investors won't let go of a juicy area like Vista del Rey. Renovation's all to sell it for a higher price. I bet your property's gone up in value, right, David?"
"Almost doubled. Katsuo, thanks to your reminder, I convinced my mom to buy instead of rent. Got it at the old price when 6th Street ruled Vista del Rey."
David smiled as he said this.
Buying at rock bottom, watching the price soar—whoever tried it knew how satisfying it was!
With Arasaka as his backing, the contract chip was legitimate and binding. The developer wouldn't dare breach the agreement, nor dare to cut corners when renovating the Martinez home.
The others exchanged silent smiles.
Beep. Waiting for the elevator.
Katsuo patted David's shoulder—no words needed.
David Martinez was someone worth befriending. No doubt about it.
No need to act distant anymore.
After nearly a year working together in the Arasaka Security Division—carrying rifles, standing guard, splitting loot, bleeding together—and before that, as classmates at Arasaka Academy, their bond was solid. They'd trusted each other with their backs in fights, a brotherhood forged through life and death.
The only thing they hadn't done together was hit Jig-Jig Street and call for the same tech… ahem.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened.
"1919 was a pivotal year in our company's history. The beginning of Prohibition in the U.S., the end of World War I, and the birth of Lord Saburo Arasaka…"
Inside the elevator, a documentary about Saburo Arasaka looped continuously.
Sensing his companions' glances, David pressed the button for the 18th floor. As he checked his firearm's safety, he said, "That came after the renovation. You know, a lot of company employees live in this building."
"Damn, David," said Suneo, nudging him with his elbow. "This place feels more corporate than my neighborhood in Japantown. Feels like I'm inside Arasaka Tower, makes me itchy."
"Looks like you've really adapted to Arasaka life, David. Once you've got your footing, it's time to aim for a better life," Katsuo teased from the side.
The three shared a laugh.
Perhaps their friendship wasn't pure, but in Night City—where trust was a fool's luxury, where corporate politics, scheming, and backstabbing ruled—even within Arasaka's most elite and deadly divisions, a friendship close enough for home visits and teasing banter was rare indeed.
They all knew it.
After the Frankfurt Incident, the internal power struggle within Arasaka Tower in Night City had grown increasingly intense. Even in the Security Division, Katsuo could sense the escalating tension between Arthur Jenkins, Director of Counter-Intelligence, and Susan Abernathy, Director of Special Operations.
Two months earlier, Director Vela, while in Night City, had faced tremendous pressure from above. In order to keep her position and avoid being completely ousted, the two directors had reluctantly cooperated to suppress news of the massacre at the European Space Assembly (ESA).
Unfortunately, as the strategic offensive under Director Vela's leadership expanded in full force:
The newly established North American Free States Alliance, headquartered in Sacramento, immediately clashed politically and diplomatically with Washington's New United States.
The Barghest mercenary group and the Lazarus mercenary group, too, were locked in frequent small-scale skirmishes along the borders between the western and eastern states—especially in New Mexico, Oklahoma, and the Republic of Texas. These proxy mercenary wars, though limited in scope, occurred at an extremely high frequency.
Katsuo and David's Special Assault Unit had been deployed multiple times in disguise to provide covert support.
Baka!
Those rookie bastards never had good intentions—the Federal Intelligence Agency's agents were constantly infiltrating both sides. They'd run into each other more than once.
Life-and-death situations were nothing new; he'd saved David's life before, and David had returned the favor. They'd long lost count.
The 2076 graduating class of Arasaka Academy had already suffered significant casualties.
Overall, Arasaka held the advantage—and that advantage was steadily growing. The New United States and Militech were on the defensive.
Even the pro-American Channel 54 News had acknowledged this in their reports.
Yet fortune and misfortune walked hand in hand. The stronger Arasaka became, the more obvious the shift in attitude from its so-called corporate 'partners'—they began dragging their feet.
Or rather, the balance of power across North America meant this: whoever was weaker, they'd help; whoever was stronger, they'd oppose.
This had nothing to do with combat capability or cyberware compatibility. Because Katsuo's father—a board member of Arasaka Academy, a senior mid-level supervisor in the R&D division, and the man in charge of a weapons program personally overseen by the top boss—his insights into the company's internal undercurrents were far deeper than David's.
To cope with changes in Arasaka's external situation, Director Vela now focused more of her energy on military affairs—the First Strategic Front against the New United States, Militech, and their allies.
Since the Frankfurt Incident had been suppressed, her trips between Sacramento, Seattle, Los Angeles, and San Francisco had visibly increased.
Allies in Sacramento, the persistent drought in Seattle… all required her continued attention.
Meanwhile, within Arasaka itself, the problems she'd spent two months suppressing had begun to resurface—the long-standing tensions between the Counter-Intelligence Division and the Special Operations Office were about to explode once more.
Predatory competition and social Darwinism—these were the principles Arasaka revered.
According to a certain speculation his father had shared at home: both intelligence directors were likely to be 'optimized' out—perhaps one, perhaps both.
The company's attitude toward such internal conflicts was delicate: as long as the line wasn't crossed, it would not interfere.
Deputy Security Director James Thomas was even fanning the flames of their office politics.
Director Vela likely planned to replace them with her own people—to completely seize control over Arasaka North America's military, intelligence, and internal security systems.
At the thought of this, Katsuo's eyes narrowed beneath his visor.
This wasn't something to speak of lightly. It absolutely couldn't be leaked outside.
For now, he needed to keep his head down.
Ding.
Soon, they reached the 18th floor.
As David called out, Katsuo snapped back to attention and stepped out of the elevator.
The corridor was adorned with shimenawa ropes and kadomatsu decorations—the latter made of plastic.
Unit H913.
From the moment the three entered the building, Mrs. Martinez—having already received the notification from the AI that her son was home—had been waiting by the door.
"Mom."
Seeing his mother finally out of her yellow Night City Medical Center jacket and dressed in proper new clothes, David's tone carried a touch of lightness and warmth. Click—he removed his helmet, revealing a face still youthful, yet much firmer and colder than before.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Martinez. I'm Katsuo Tanaka—David's classmate and comrade-in-arms."
Removing his helmet, the short-haired young man with light-blue bangs bowed politely to Gloria Martinez. His manners were impeccable.
"Auntie, just call me Suneo. This is our New Year's gift—please accept it."
Suneo also removed his helmet, revealing his gel-slicked blond hair.
As he spoke, Suneo handed over a food box filled with soba noodles and rice cakes.
"You're too kind. Welcome to our humble home… Mr. Tanaka, and… Suneo," Gloria said with a slightly nervous smile, returning the greeting with a practiced Japanese-style bow.
"Please, come in. You must be hungry. The food's ready."
Taking the box with a warm smile, Gloria stepped aside and gestured for the three to enter.
Inside.
"Wow, it smells amazing!"
Setting his helmet and Danger Gal supplements on the entrance counter, David sniffed the air and immediately spotted the New Year's feast on the table.
Andalusian gazpacho, Spanish paella, potato omelet, Mexican tacos, Spanish fish soup.
And for dessert—grapes, a traditional Spanish New Year's must-have.
Ordinary, yet luxurious.
Whether the ingredients were authentic didn't matter. Clearly, in Night City, such a meal was a rare luxury—even for a mid-tier corporate worker. Most wouldn't splurge like this more than once or twice a year.
"You've gone to a lot of trouble," Katsuo said to Gloria.
"It's nothing," Gloria replied with a gentle shake of her head. "The conditions are simple—I only hope you don't mind."
Then, with a motherly smile, she pulled out a chair and patted the backrest. "Come, sit down quickly. Food should be eaten while hot. You boys must be busy—your lunch break probably isn't long."
Before Gloria even finished, David cheerfully pushed the still-bowing Katsuo and Suneo into their seats. "Hold on, I'll grab something from my stash… We can't drink on duty, but two bottles of beer should be fine."
He rummaged through the fridge, and when he returned with a crate of chilled beers, Gloria had already set out bowls, chopsticks, forks, and knives.
Mother and son exchanged a brief, knowing glance.
[Gloria: Don't forget Maine's meds. He's already paid.]
[David: Got it.]
Soon after—
Dinner began.
"Too bad Fat Tiger couldn't come. Bodyguard duty, right?"
With a hint of regret, Katsuo shook his head, then raised the beer David handed him. Standing up, he said solemnly, "Let's raise a toast—to David Martinez and Mrs. Gloria Martinez, whose lives are finally back on track. May this be the first step toward greater success. To victory, to Director Vela, to Arasaka!"
"To victory, to Director Vela, to Arasaka! Cheers!" ×3.
Today, on New Year's Day 2077, the Martinez home was unusually lively.
Even if it was just the four of them.
...
Some rejoiced, some despaired.
Elsewhere in Night City.
Watson District, Little China.
A noisy street.
Inside Misty's Esoterica, the fortune-telling shop, Jackie Welles—the local fixer still chasing his big dream—had barely started a cozy holiday afternoon with his girlfriend when a call from his hermana, V, pulled him into the alley out back.
"Hey, V, what's up? Por favor, chica, you nearly ruined my fun. First day of the new year—don't tell me Arasaka doesn't give holidays? Damn, Maine's working Arasaka gigs too, but how come you're always this exhausted?"
[V: Damn it! You think it's the same? He's with Security, under Vela Adelheid Russell—the North American board candidate herself! You get that? Their boss just got promoted! As for me—after that Frankfurt mess last October, you know what happened. My higher-ups… tch, they're tearing each other apart.]
The red-haired corporate woman with one side of her head shaved appeared in Jackie's retinal comm window.
She looked worn out—clearly drained by endless arguments and scheming.
[Jackie: I get it. Office politics, hermana. Anything I can do to help?]
[V: I need your help, Jackie. There's something that needs doing.]
[Jackie: Oh? Sounds like you've got yourself into some serious trouble.]
[V: Not yet. I just need someone I can trust.]
[Jackie: Which means you're already in trouble. Name the time and place. Now, or later?]
[V: Tonight. The place… you're always bragging about how legendary Afterlife is, right? Let's meet there. They won't turn away a corpo, will they?]
[Jackie: Afterlife? Hard to say.]
[V: Enough joking. See you tonight.]
Beep-beep.
With a weary smile and a small nod, V hung up.
Clunk. Dropping onto the worn-out sofa, Jackie rubbed his eyes, a bad feeling gnawing at him. Thinking of how tense V had been for the past two months, he muttered to himself, "Un Pacto Con El Diablo." (A deal with the devil.)
V had sold her soul to those Arasaka bastards—and wasn't he the same?
In Night City, who hadn't?
Unless you were someone like Vela—who'd become a true Arasaka insider.
Jackie had ridden V's connections to avoid trouble, living off the scraps Arasaka dropped—and built himself into a small-time fixer with a name in the local scene.
He knew his place.
But wasn't that the very path to legend he'd always dreamed of?
Just last year, he'd screwed over Faraday—the washed-up middleman from Santo Domingo—with a sucker punch. That was exactly the kind of move he lived for!
"Looks like this one's a tough job. Another corporate witch war, huh?"
Cracking open a beer and draining it in one go, Jackie crushed the can in his hand.
"How big's the fight this time?"
—
—
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