Chapter 17: The Arasaka Trap - Part 1
POV: Tom
The braindance editing job seemed too good to be true—which should have been the first warning sign in a city where legitimate opportunities were rarer than authentic coffee beans. Judy received the contract through encrypted channels that promised anonymity and payment rates that exceeded her usual earnings by three hundred percent.
"Upscale client," she explained while reviewing the technical specifications on her editing equipment. "Wants custom BD sequence for private entertainment. Simple enough work, but they're insisting on penthouse location for security reasons."
Tom's enhanced tactical analysis immediately flagged the arrangement as potentially compromised. Anonymous clients with excessive payment offers conducting business in isolated locations represented classic threat patterns that every mercenary learned to recognize.
"Bad feeling about this," Tom said, watching chrome patterns pulse beneath his skin in response to stress. "Payment's too high, location's too isolated, client's too secretive. Smells like setup."
"Everything in Night City smells like setup," Judy replied, though her tone carried acknowledgment of his concerns. "But this job pays enough to fund our survival for two months. In our current situation, financial security outweighs paranoid speculation."
Tom wanted to argue further, but Judy was right about their financial situation. Going underground after the Arasaka encounter had meant abandoning most of their regular income sources, forcing them to rely on Regina's protection and increasingly dangerous assignments that paid premium rates.
She's right about the money. And I'm probably being paranoid because everything feels like a threat lately. Can't let corporate attention make me jump at every shadow.
"Take backup," Tom suggested as compromise. "Cipher for digital security, Regina for extraction coordination. If this goes sideways, I want multiple support vectors."
Judy agreed to basic precautions while maintaining that Tom's fears were probably unfounded. They synchronized their communication equipment and confirmed emergency protocols, standard operating procedure for any job that required separation.
Tom watched from their safe house window as Judy drove Betty to the penthouse location, maintaining their connection through his Techno-Sovereignty while monitoring police frequencies and corporate communication channels. Everything appeared normal for the first hour of her assignment.
Then his communication device activated with Judy's voice carried by panic and urgency: "It's a trap—Arasaka everywhere—"
The line went dead.
Tom's enhanced senses immediately detected the electronic void where Judy's location should have been—signal jammers had activated with military precision, creating digital silence that suggested sophisticated preparation rather than improvised response.
They used her to draw me out. Anonymous client, excessive payment, isolated location. Classic bait and trap. Arasaka Counter-Intelligence has been planning this for weeks.
Tom's chrome augmentations flared with combat readiness as rage flooded his nervous system with chemical intensity. His Techno-Sovereignty reached out to every electronic system within range, mapping corporate security networks, communication protocols, and surveillance apparatus.
Regina's voice came through emergency channels with confirmation of his fears: "Tom, it's confirmed. Arasaka operation, multiple teams, full corporate resources deployed. They've been tracking you since the Biotechnica job, building profiles, planning extraction."
"How many operators?"
"At least thirty. Military-grade augmentation, corporate black ops training, equipped for capturing rather than terminating enhanced targets." Regina's tone carried the particular gravity of someone delivering terminal diagnoses. "They want you alive, which means they view you as valuable asset rather than simple threat."
Tom called Viktor and Cipher for backup support, though he suspected there wouldn't be time for coordinated response. Judy was in immediate danger, and every minute of delay increased the probability of her being used as leverage against him.
No time for careful planning. No time for subtle approach. They have Judy, and they're counting on my predictable response. Fine. Let's give them something to study.
The penthouse building rose thirty-seven floors above Watson's commercial district, its glass facade reflecting corporate advertisements that promised prosperity through technological integration. Tom approached with enhanced senses cataloguing security measures, electronic signatures, and human presence indicators.
Forty-three guards, military-grade chrome augmentation. Automated turrets on floors twelve, eighteen, and twenty-five. Surveillance network covering all approaches. Signal jamming equipment on the roof. Professional operation with extensive preparation.
Tom's Techno-Sovereignty reached out to the building's electronic infrastructure and began systematic infiltration of its security systems. Cameras began looping footage from earlier time periods, showing empty corridors while Tom moved through their actual fields of view. Access controls opened before his approach, convinced that he possessed appropriate authorization. Alarm systems remained silent despite detecting intrusions they were programmed to report.
The first guards encountered Tom on the fifteenth floor—Arasaka operatives with military bearing and chrome modifications that suggested special forces background. Their smart weapons targeted him automatically, but their ammunition failed to fire as Tom's control of their technology overrode manufacturer programming.
"What the—" one guard began before Tom's Sandevistan activated.
Time dilated around him like honey-thick suspension while his consciousness accelerated beyond normal human perception. The guards moved with glacial slowness, their enhanced reflexes reduced to baseline human response times by temporal differential.
Tom moved between them like liquid chrome, his Adaptive Cyberware providing protection while his chrome-enhanced strength eliminated obstacles with mechanical precision. The guards collapsed unconscious rather than dead—professional incapacitation rather than lethal force.
Still choosing non-lethal options despite situation urgency. Still fighting to maintain moral boundaries that might get me killed. Habit or humanity?
More guards converged on his position as building-wide alerts activated. Tom's Techno-Sovereignty responded by seizing control of their communications equipment, filling their channels with contradictory orders that sent response teams to empty floors while he advanced toward the penthouse.
Elevator systems carried him upward with mechanical cooperation while his chrome spread visibly across his body in response to sustained combat stress. By the time he reached the thirty-seventh floor, metallic tracery covered sixty percent of his visible skin, creating geometric patterns that pulsed with blue light.
The penthouse floor opened before him like a corporate shrine—luxury furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and technology that radiated wealth and sophistication. At its center stood a man whose presence commanded immediate attention despite his unassuming physical appearance.
Goro Takemura. Tom recognized him from transplanted game memories—Arasaka corporate security, former bodyguard to Saburo Arasaka, professional whose competence was exceeded only by his loyalty to corporate hierarchy.
"Thomas Adler," Takemura said calmly, his augmented eyes focusing on Tom's chrome patterns with professional interest. "Your chrome signature is... fascinating. Arasaka-sama would very much like to meet you."
Through reinforced glass, Tom could see Judy restrained in an adjacent room—unharmed but clearly captive. Arasaka operatives maintained weapons trained on her position, their message clear without requiring verbal articulation.
"Impressive display," Takemura continued, gesturing at the building's compromised security systems. "Twenty-seven guards incapacitated, security network completely subverted, electronic infrastructure under your control. You've demonstrated capabilities that exceed our most optimistic projections."
Tom's chrome flared with aggressive energy as his augmented nervous system processed the tactical situation. Hostage scenario with professional operators, superior numbers, corporate resources backing the opposition. Every mercenary's nightmare scenario.
"Let her go. Now."
"Surrender peacefully, and she remains safe. Resist, and..." Takemura allowed the implication to remain unspoken while his operators maintained targeting discipline on Judy's position.
"Classical hostage negotiation. They're counting on my emotional attachment to override tactical judgment. Probably accurate assessment—I will sacrifice strategic advantage to protect her."
Tom's Techno-Sovereignty mapped every electronic system in the building while his tactical analysis calculated attack vectors, escape routes, and probability matrices for various response scenarios. The mathematical certainty was discouraging—direct assault would result in Judy's death regardless of his abilities.
But surrender would result in corporate captivity that meant laboratory dissection for him and elimination for witnesses.
"Surrender to what?" Tom asked, buying time while his augmented consciousness explored technological options. "Research specimen status? Medical experimentation? Arasaka doesn't negotiate with assets—it acquires them."
"Employment," Takemura replied with what might have been genuine sincerity. "Arasaka recognizes exceptional talent and compensates accordingly. Your abilities would be valuable to corporate interests, and loyalty is always rewarded."
Tom's chrome systems hummed with contained energy as he processed Takemura's offer against the reality of corporate employment practices. Arasaka didn't hire people with his capabilities—it owned them.
Takemura raised his hand in subtle signal, and twenty Arasaka soldiers emerged from concealed positions throughout the penthouse. Military-grade augmentation, corporate black ops training, weapons designed for capturing rather than killing enhanced targets.
"Last chance, Mr. Adler. Arasaka offers employment, not execution. Choose wisely."
Tom looked at Judy through the reinforced glass, seeing fear mixed with absolute trust in his ability to extract them from this situation. Her faith in him was simultaneously inspiring and terrifying—she believed he could overcome impossible odds through technological superiority.
Maybe she's right. Maybe it's time to stop holding back, stop trying to remain human, stop pretending I'm anything other than what Night City has made me.
"Wrong answer," Tom said quietly, his chrome beginning to glow with increasing intensity.
The war was about to begin.
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