With an engine scream like a banshee's wail, the heavy armored Arasaka "Zetatech Surveyor" AV lowered altitude. Blue flame exhaust whipped up whirlwinds across the wreckage-strewn ground, sending dust and rubble crashing into scaffolding and car debris with a clang clang.
"Commander Russell... All terrorist intruders in the industrial park have been neutralized. A few escaped, we are in pursuit. However, the bio-experiment facility and manufacturing buildings sustained severe damage."
A dozen Arasaka heavy troops jumped down from the AV, taking over the battlefield and beginning corpse disposal and cyberware recovery. Among them, the squad leader—marked with a horizontal stripe insignia on his neck guard—scanned the scene of brutal carnage. He took a deep breath and climbed twisted scaffolding to approach Vela, reporting in a subdued voice.
"Expected bad news. For someone to casually deploy this level of armed personnel and restricted weapons in Africa, there are only a handful of powers worldwide that could manage it. The timing was too precise. They're after my Sonnentreppe Flower. The intel leaked... heh."
With a cold snort—BOOM!
The already damaged roof of the van flew off in a spinning arc, slamming into a building wall thirty meters away. Concrete fragments and smoke burst out in a blast that made the nearby Arasaka soldiers instinctively duck.
Like venting, Vela kicked the van compartment to pieces, then dropped from the roof, her expression thoughtful as she stared at the zombie still strapped into its seat, gnawing on a teammate's corpse and growling lowly at her.
She spoke evenly: "Secure and contain it. Do not let it die. Watch for fluid and flesh contact—precaution protocols have been sent to you. Safely extract all metal containers in the vehicle."
"Also, alert the Johannesburg branch and SAPS[1]. Lock down the city's main roads and exits. Full sweep. Put the garrisons on alert. Seal the border walls. Enforce airspace control. Immediately."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Stepping through a hellscape of mangled flesh and ruined metal, Vela approached a large black cyborg with a katana still pinned through its skull. She pulled the blade free, wiping off the viscous gore using the man's coiled dreadlocks. As she cleaned the blade, she activated her comms.
Beep—Beep—
"This is Vela Adelheid Russell. Yes, from Night City. Requesting Tokyo HQ dispatch dedicated personnel and aircraft. The Sonnentreppe Project has been hit with a targeted assault by an external hostile force. I suspect internal leaks. Request Counter-Intelligence Division intervention. Also requesting temporary cross-theater military authority. I need emergency response teams deployed from Cape Town, Pretoria, and Bloemfontein branches—immediately."
THUD!
Before the sentence ended, Vela's figure blurred, accelerating as she darted toward the breach in the industrial park's wall.
"Whew... looks like Commander Russell is furious. With the research output bombed... yeah, we're in for it."
The squad leader who had just reported in let out a long breath as Vela vanished into the distance.
Damn... terrifying.
Look at this place—what, two or three minutes? Thirty bodies, maybe more. Seven or eight vans flipped. The ground's covered in meat chunks and bodies with exploded heads. Scattered guns, torn armor, and cyberware implants everywhere. From what they could ID: mantis blades, gorilla arms, power fists, launcher systems...
Cyber-enhanced elites. Not local punks or gang thugs.
"But seriously, what the hell is this thing?"
He looked into the van compartment marked by Commander Russell. Inside, that 'person' kept growling, biting, coughing blood, spraying bile.
Too disgusting. Not even the freaks in the company are this gross.
"Tie him up! F*ck—dislocate his jaw! Anyone got a muzzle? Shove it on!"
He barked orders, and his subordinates roughly hauled the crazed man out of the van. They were all heavy infantry soldiers—maybe not as elite or efficient as the units in Tokyo or Night City, but still fully equipped: full-body protective suits, gas masks, air filtration-enhanced lungs, the works.
As they began restraining and securing the madman—
Beep beep beep—
[Notification!]
A high-level company alert tone.
[Arasaka Global Headquarters, Tokyo – Information Division]: "To all South African sectors and Cape Town branch jurisdictions: Pretoria, Bloemfontein, Johannesburg… All corporate security personnel, by decision of the Tokyo Operational Oversight Committee, the emergency military authorization request by Supervisor Vela Adelheid Russell (Night City) has been approved."
"Effective immediately, Supervisor Vela Adelheid Russell is appointed as the Special Plenipotentiary Action Commissioner for the Johannesburg 6.7 Terror Incident."
"June 7th, 2075. 2:56:55 AM, South Africa Standard Time. Effective now."
"Authorization term: June 7th through June 9th—valid until the Special Assault Unit from Tokyo Arasaka Tower arrives in Johannesburg. Temporary authority ends upon their arrival."
...
"Holy sh*t."
The soldiers nearly all raised their heads at once, exchanging stunned glances.
Tokyo HQ's speed... that was practically instant.
"This... might be way more important than we realized."
The squad leader looked down at the 'madman'—still struggling even after being muzzled and pinned to the ground.
"Wrap him tighter. Get the sealed containment bag—double-layer him."
He also pulled out the metal containers from the van—outer casing damaged, but still intact—then signaled for the AV to land.
"Get this stuff out of here first. It has to be secure."
"Keep searching! Every vehicle, every person, every crate, every suitcase—anything that can hold something, take it all!"
...
Inside the industrial park's lab building, the once pristine corridors were now chaos.
Floor-to-ceiling steel-reinforced windows shattered. Concrete columns pitted with web-like cracks. Scattered across the floor—still-warm shell casings, bent desks, destroyed defenses… and bodies.
Amid the noise, alongside the Arasaka soldiers searching the site and medics rescuing their wounded, a squad of fully armed medtechs in white-green suits were hauling stretchers—Trauma Team, the cyber era's guardian angels.
There might not have been any platinum members here, but some low-level security managers and department heads were silver or gold members.
Though not worthy of a seven-minute response AV with high-end medgear like platinum clients, ground units were still deployed for rescue and treatment, with some prescription perks as well.
Thump thump…
"Commander Russell!"
Spotting her approach, the Arasaka guard at the door froze, snapped to attention, and saluted. Not a twitch out of place.
"Mm."
Vela nodded slightly. The Trauma Team members jumped in surprise as she casually tossed a half-headless "terrorist" at their feet.
"Recover the biometric recorder if possible. At the very least, extract a clean enough braindance."
"Y-yes, understood!"
From the breach in the wall to the lab building, she'd intercepted a few remaining intruders based on target tracking data, chopped down a couple more stragglers, and roasted two hacker brains on the way. Now, carrying the bloodied recovered briefcase, Vela strode along a trail of red footprints toward the bomb-blasted lab.
"Damn. They really cleaned this place out."
Upon reaching the lab, all she could say was—Militech, you sure blew this place up good.
Overhead, the fire-suppression pipes were blown open and drained of all disinfectant. Only a weak warning tone remained, echoing through the ruins.
The lab was riddled with bullet holes and shrapnel marks—clearly rigged with explosives from within. Though hastily done due to a rushed retreat, the blasts had been chaotic.
Destruction was uneven: some areas were blown completely through, others merely had the PVC antimicrobial flooring peeled away.
Still, Vela's precious little lab rats were now ash. Thoroughly dead.
The cultivation tanks used for extracting Progenitor Virus from the Sonnentreppe Flower were overturned and shattered. The specialized DNA synthesizer that fused leech DNA with the virus was torn to pieces.
Half of the control console was blown apart, exposing the internal mechanical structure.
On the floor, dried colored fluids mixed with human blood, scorched flesh grease, sterilization chemicals typical of the cyberpunk world, and explosive residues like thermite compound. Vela couldn't even tell if there was anything left worth salvaging.
In a way, it simplified things.
The thermite burn, disinfectant fluid, and explosive shockwaves would've annihilated any exposed RNA virus. No chance of survival in such a hostile environment.
Vela understood the limitations and edge cases of the Progenitor Virus and T-virus derivatives very well.
She wasn't reckless enough to trap herself with her own creations.
The current versions of the Progenitor and first-generation T-virus she was refining had extremely low transmission rates. Unless directly injected, consumed via infected Sonnentreppe petals, through cannibalism, or intense bodily fluid exchange—it was nearly impossible to transmit.
James Marcus and William Birkin's T-virus gained stability and transmissibility only after years of breeding, refining, optimizing through iteration.
That came at the cost of diminishing the ceiling for enhancement.
Vela wasn't arrogant enough to think her two-day starter batch could match a decade of their results.
Plus, she only had a tiny quantity. No viral cloud, no airborne transmission variant. And given the cyber-modification levels of those Militech operatives, they couldn't be infected unless they jabbed it directly into their neck's major artery—bypassing internal filtration implants and letting it hit the brain first.
"Seal the lab. No one enters. Get Hazmat Division to conduct a full decon sweep."
Taking full responsibility, Vela issued sanitation orders. While Arasaka soldiers cordoned the area, she found a mostly intact reception desk. Sweeping aside dust, bullet casings, and debris, she placed the recovered briefcase on top.
From a nearby security officer, she received a tactical terminal. She also requested disinfectant and a cloth, wiping the blood and gore from the case.
Click—hacked in. Unlocked. She flipped the latch.
Inside was a single compact transparent glass container, nestled in foam cushioning—not even full. Clearly packed in a hurry…
"Commander Russell, this was recovered from the terrorists' van," said the squad leader, approaching with other Arasaka troops carrying additional metal cases.
"Stack them here," Vela said, pointing to a spot nearby.
"Clean the blood and grime. Disinfect. All of you make sure to go through full-body decon."
"Ah—yes, ma'am!" The officer nodded and saluted. Before leaving, he pointed to a tall portable cooling cabinet being carried in by two soldiers.
Thud thud! Something inside kept banging.
"That crazy bastard—do we store him here too?"
"Yes."
Vela glanced away from the terminal at the rattling cold chamber.
"Wedge in some padding. Keep him secured."
With that, she continued working on the portable tactical terminal. Accessing internal permissions—thankfully, the building's systems hadn't been entirely fried—Vela pulled up footage from hidden lab cameras and surveillance around the industrial park during the incident.
First came violent tremors from the explosions—lab cameras shuddered slightly.
Then, in a cascade of gunfire and detonations, she spotted the panicked lab mice in glass containment pods. Fast-forward: explosions, fire, ceiling collapse, dust clouds, a crack spreading across the lens as reinforced doors were instantly melted.
Vela's eyes narrowed.
That level of firepower... a tactical missile strike. One direct hit and she'd be dead—she wasn't Adam Smasher.
Personal power armor—her next research investment.
She fast-forwarded again. An Arasaka agent, badly injured and marked with the tri-leaf emblem, crawled into the lab—half his face gone. He came into contact with viral fluid leaking from the damaged DNA synthesizer.
He then touched his face with the contaminated hand—his skin torn, protective armor breached.
Then came the Militech infiltrators. The one-armed white brute shot the infected agent. Moments later, the Arasaka operative mutated and attacked the Militech technician, tearing into his neck—the very same "zombie" Vela had found.
So that's how it happened.
They then looted the lab, planted explosives, and destroyed the hidden cameras. Vela paused the feed.
Downloaded and backed up. She then purged the surveillance logs using her clearance.
Exhaling, she leaned forward, fingers drumming on the scorched reception desk.
At the same time, her terminal displayed live updates from Johannesburg's branch: roadblocks, citywide sweeps, new suspects intercepted, gunfire in locations, even hackers found with scorched brains in buildings.
Though still issuing commands and putting on a furious front—acting like she was hell-bent on avenging her research—her mind had already drifted elsewhere.
Truthfully, Johannesburg and South Africa no longer concerned her.
The fury, the direct combat, the dramatic retaliation—it was all theater.
Her request for emergency authority had been a test. Tokyo HQ's response had given her the answer she wanted.
Heh, better than expected.
Vela didn't care for much, but this? This was prime promotion material. Special Plenipotentiary Action Commissioner—even if just for two days—meant she'd effectively commanded the entire security force of a major region.
Looks like Saburo's attention was now firmly fixed on her.
So then.
Vela glanced toward the cold storage unit in the corner.
"One of ours, one of theirs—two perfect advertisements."
[1] South African Police Service