Night had fallen.
After completing the day's inspection of the Arasaka Research Center's new development site, Vela returned home to her residence in Westbrook.
Vmm…
The vector engine, spewing blue tail flames, shifted from propulsion to vertical mode. The massive dark vehicle slowly descended onto the private helipad within the corporate community's inner ring.
Inside the cabin, Vela raised her head, the glowing orange-red data shimmer in her cybernetic eyes dimming.
"Make sure the old veterans return 'home' safely."
[Jimmy: Understood, Director.]
Call ended.
"Time to make a move, huh..."
Setting down the PDA terminal, Vela stretched lazily, then gave a playful pat to the magazine on the table, its headline screaming: "Shocking! Barghest—Terrorists Whitewashed!" published by News 54. She then picked up the corrugated paper cup of hot coffee beside her and stepped down the side ramp.
As she passed the wide-sweeping landscaped terrace, she gazed down at the courtyards and corridors of the villas below, where Arasaka cyberninja squads and heavily armored Special Assault Unit soldiers patrolled back and forth.
Vela looked at them, then lifted her gaze—beyond the Westbrook corporate enclave, toward the north—
As Night City's acknowledged top entertainment hub, Japantown was, as always, bustling with crowds after dark. It made the desolation, decay, and bloodshed earlier seen in Watson and the badlands feel like mere illusions.
Bathed in neon lights and holographic billboard projections, the world looked beautifully cruel. Every building shimmered in a multicolored haze, dazzling the eyes, mesmerizing the mind.
Just a wall, a district, a single street apart—heaven and hell coexisted. The disparity made it hard to believe this was still the same city.
Sipping her hot coffee and letting the gentle evening breeze brush her face, Vela stared at the skyline of the city center, deep in thought about the meeting that had just ended.
Not Kurt Hansen.
But guests from underground weapons labs, secret agent societies, intelligence outposts—dating back before the 2023 nuclear incident at the old Arasaka Tower.
"Those old relics sure are demanding," Vela muttered softly under her breath.
Multitasking had always been Vela's style.
In addition to her site visit to Watson North and chatting with Hansen and Weldon Holt, she also used the dinner banquet and fundraising conference for the new district's development as an excuse to meet with the old veterans Jimmy had recently reconnected with—those operating in Washington State, Oregon, and Idaho.
She didn't reveal her identity.
These were the former subordinates of the late 'Crown Prince' Kei Arasaka—heads of the remnants left in North America after his sudden death.
Dispatched overseas before 2023, those old Arasaka elites were now all at least in their seventies or eighties.
Vela's interest in them wasn't sentimentality—it was their potential.
Once activated at the right time, these seemingly idle pieces could deal severe damage to Washington and its Militech backers. That alone was worth any price for Vela, who sought to expand her reach across the West Coast.
Though the talks between Vela and the old Arasaka veterans didn't last long, they found common ground on one major goal—revenge. The shared desire to strike a decisive blow against Militech created a highly amicable atmosphere.
With Saburo Arasaka's endorsement, Michiko Arasaka's recommendation, Vela's own stellar track record, and a selectively shared, highly feasible PPT proposal for "Making Arasaka Great Again," the tentative probing turned swiftly into agreement.
As for the fine print—that wasn't Vela's concern.
A ruler chooses their ministers, and ministers choose their ruler.
This meeting was essentially a job interview.
I observe you. You evaluate me.
And Vela's image, style, and policy leanings clearly suited these old-school hawks just fine.
With the overall direction firmly set, the details of the cooperation would now be handled by loyal elites from the post-era Arasaka Tower. They had plenty of time to meticulously vet the agreements with these 'old relics,' assessing feasibility and evaluating loyalties.
"Loyalty... such a sweet word," Vela murmured inwardly.
Whether it was genuine or not didn't matter. What mattered was that they had a common enemy and aligned interests.
Clack.
Finishing her coffee, Vela turned and tossed the corrugated cup into a trash bin that was cleaned and replaced daily on the landscaped platform, then headed for her duplex apartment.
Still the same one.
Some had suggested she move to North Oak, but Vela declined.
Her reason? Sentimental attachment.
The corporate community here was more than adequate—centrally located in Westbrook, just a district away from the City Center with only Japantown in between. It was also situated between Charter Hill and North Oak, providing a relatively elevated view with excellent greenery, overlooking all of Night City.
Besides, after her promotion to Executive Director of Operations, even while she was still stationed in Tokyo, the eager beavers of Night City's Arasaka Tower had gone out of their way to curry favor—expanding the Russell family estate's courtyard. The security and residency levels of this corporate community had also been elevated several tiers because of her.
Click.
The automatic door opened. Vela stepped into her home with a contented sigh, and the ever-present Arasaka cyberninjas faded from view.
Inside, she slipped off her office heels and changed into slippers. Leaning lazily against the plush sofa back, she stretched, picked up her PDA from the coffee table, and with a few beeps and biometric scans, issued a late-night snack order to the kitchen's household robot. Then she swiped across the screen.
"Well then, time to report to that old... ahem, to Arasaka-sama."
Blue light flickered in her teal-blue pupils, reflecting countless data overlays and analytical projections.
[Recipient: Arasaka Family Compound, Tokyo]
[Proposal: Proxy War – "Barghest Mercenary Group"]
—Attachment One, expand—
[To:
Arasaka-sama, here are some of my humble thoughts.
Regarding the Fourth Corporate War, the Lazarus Group has long been Militech's most loyal ally…
Their strategic use of temporary support contracts with retired soldiers and freelance mercenaries across multiple nations and regions allows them to mobilize a force over five times their company's actual staff—exceeding one million troops within a month…
This is something we must take seriously. Like the story of "Tian Ji's Horse Racing"—which you once told me in the Arasaka family library—pitting Arasaka's elite trained operatives against the unevenly qualified forces of Lazarus is both irrational and economically wasteful.
We must learn from this. Plan ahead. Prepare ample numbers of 'lower horses' that require neither exorbitant salaries nor years of training.
Due to our company's nature and geographical ties to Night City, the western states, nomads, and the cyber-underworld's lone wolves, direct recruitment or temporary contracts are neither viable nor trustworthy.
We need proxies. Even if everyone knows it's a façade.
We need to produce—and package—a hero.
A patriotic soldier, who rose against all odds in war, only to be betrayed and disillusioned, ultimately choosing redemption through rebellion.
Colonel Kurt Hansen.
He has the ability, the manpower, the territory, and a track record. He has the potential to rise meteorically. What he lacks is the opportunity to break free, the time to develop, and the momentum of the era itself. All of which Arasaka can provide.
Most importantly, his betrayal by Myers is indisputable. No matter how it's spun or softened, this will always be Washington's Achilles heel. His existence is a mockery of Rosalind Myers' ideological narrative—a crack in the facade of the New American Dream that cannot be reimagined away.
His and the Barghest Mercenary Group's existence serve as a bold banner of West Coast resistance against the oppression from Washington and the Eastern States—one that will draw countless likeminded individuals to their cause. We must raise this banner high, let it grow brighter through Militech and Washington's efforts to suppress it.
Donald Lundee (CEO of Militech during the Fourth Corporate War) had Colonel Emile Lazarus and his Lazarus Group. Arasaka should have its own North American mercenary force, headquartered on the West Coast, to compete with Lazarus. The era where Lazarus monopolized the spotlight must come to an end…
Herein, I wholeheartedly believe that it is precisely because of your steadfast presence, Arasaka-sama, that this chess move on the West Coast is even possible. Your existence and continued health are the very pillars that inspire external confidence in the Arasaka Corporation.
Of course, should you have any directives, I will reassess the current arrangements concerning this "Proxy War."
Sincerely,
Vela Adelheid]
...
Clapping her hands softly, Vela couldn't help but chuckle.
Ha, not all of that was flattery and bootlicking.
Thanks to Saburo Arasaka's return to public view and repeated appearances at external meetings, Arasaka's once-stable stock had surged upward again.
To most, Saburo was the unshakable pillar of Arasaka.
Beep.
[Sent.]
Beep.
[Received.]
Setting down the tablet, Vela took the greasy American-style hot dog—wrapped in waxed paper—from the household robot. Taking a bite, she chewed slowly, gazing at the holographic TV now playing news coverage of Barghest's departure from Dogtown.
Her follow-up strategy had been submitted to Saburo.
Tanaka's "Cyber Kong 2.0" was advancing rapidly under her pressure and support.
New Tyrant-type base models were maturing quickly, being outfitted and adapted for Cyber Kong integration. Under Adam Smasher's leadership, the cybernetic Tyrant unit was fast becoming a scalable combat force.
According to the Arvin Peace Accord and the International Convention on City-Scale Excessive Firepower Prohibition, power armor like Smasher's DaiOni was not permitted within urban areas. Truth be told, Smasher's own frame—which rivaled a main battle tank—was already skating the edge of those regulations.
Tyrants were loophole-born entities.
Near-invincible in typical urban skirmishes, they would still be insufficient once the proxy war she envisioned truly broke out. She would need more firepower…
Including her own safety.
Given the operations she was about to initiate against Militech's most vulnerable points, what if Militech decided to go all-in and take her out like they did Kei Arasaka? A decapitation strike was not off the table.
When her own life was on the line, caution was mandatory.
Regardless of anything else—she had to hold an ace.
Lost in thought, Vela stood and ascended to her research workshop.
The space was flooded with data projections in a soft blue hue.
Vela stared at the glowing displays, faintly reflected within them was her own image.
Yet that reflection—was somehow different.
Somewhere, it showed her in a lab clattering around with prosthetics and mecha modules. In another, she stood at a harbor directing military cargo. In yet another, she was speaking at a USA·CCG congressional hearing. And then—she stood before a cylindrical containment unit, tapping on its console.
At this moment, her fingertip hovered over the blue-lit display.
As her thoughts flowed—
The 'her' standing before that cylindrical unit turned around.
Revealing the woman submerged in the container behind her—completely nude, with long blond hair.
Alexia Ashford.
More precisely, T-Veronica.
Brain-dead. Now repurposed by Vela as a mindless viral extraction vessel.
"Faster progress than expected. Looks like it's ready for application… but trials are still needed. A social structure like that of ants... quite suitable for my purposes... candidates... hmm, the results obtained by the other 'mes' also need to be implemented quickly… one step at a time, safety first. A direct clash with Militech is still a ways off..."
Vela already had her answer.
...
One week later.
The Badlands outside Night City.
David Martinez, a new recruit in Arasaka's Security Division field operations team, stared curiously out the observation window at the barren wasteland.
The world outside lived up to its name—bleak and desolate. All that met the eye was endless desert, low hills, dried-out oil fields, and piles of discarded scrap.
Old asphalt roads crisscrossed the wasteland, many partially buried in sand.
The only signs of life were a few intact and isolated buildings and the slow-turning, broken wind turbines. Then there were the 'mole rats'—individuals bent over digging in sand marked with 'minefield' signs.
Surrounded by armed guards and worn-down modded vehicles, they were nomads.
This was David's first time outside the city. His first time seeing live nomads.
Oh, and that dark-skinned woman sitting on the rugged muscle car seemed to be glaring at them with disdain—just about to flip them the bird before the hooded companion beside her quickly pushed her hand down.
"Heh... just a bunch of stray dogs gnawing at the scraps companies throw them," sneered Katsuo Tanaka.
Seated across from David, clad in black tactical gear with lightweight armor and a winged helmet, Katsuo removed his mask with disdain.
He glanced at David. "They act like fleeing to the wild makes them superior to us urban natives. Their souls are 'free,' and we're 'prisoners.'"
"But if they really cut ties with the corps, where do their cars, weapons, power, and supplies come from? What, they built them by hand?"
"Stay sharp, David. We're in a good window—rapid promotion chances are about to explode." Katsuo pointed to the screen inside the transport cabin. "But only if you survive."
David looked.
It was WNS international news.
A report on an ongoing summit.
On-screen, Arasaka—representing the North American Western States and regional parties—and Militech—representing the Eastern States and the NUSA ruling party in Washington—were engaged in multilateral dialogue over the rising tensions on the West Coast, and whether these violated the spirit of the "Arvin Peace Accord."
Major international powerhouses such as SovOil, Biotechnica, EuroBank, Orbital Air, Petrochem, Zetatech, Kang Tao, Kiroshi, and NetWatch were all in attendance as third-party observers and mediators—some established giants, others rising stars or sector leaders, all with substantial business in North America.
A summit to revise the Accord didn't mean it was being revised.
The speaker now was Vela Adelheid Russell, Executive Director of Operations at Arasaka's North American Headquarters.
From the podium, the blonde, blue-eyed beauty held up a split chip.
"…In line with the gravity of this moment, we have reason to believe that the NUSA's continued development and planned deployment of weapons of mass destruction along the borders of the Free States is a grave threat to Night City and to local parties that value autonomy. It is clear that President Myers and the Washington regime have both the intent and strategy to eventually tear up the Arvin Peace Accord."
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