Night City — Arasaka Tower.
Present time.
...
Special Operations Division — Director's Office.
Beep.
[Encrypted Channel]
"Director Abernathy."
"I've read the attachment. Explain what's going on."
"Flattery and posturing, ma'am. According to informants secretly cultivated within the Counter-Intelligence Division, Jenkins' lackeys have been unusually active lately. Jenkins himself has been cozying up to Director Vela, and this time he's made his choice clear—he's picked a side. Their goal's simple: to kick us out and attack you, Director, for your promotion in Osaka, while questioning why Jenkins wasn't given one…"
Her trusted aide, speaking through an encrypted voice line, summarized the situation inside Counter-Intelligence with ruthless brevity.
"Before 2075," he added, emphasizing the timeline.
The PDA terminal on Abernathy's desk lit up with a flickering blue glow. Dressed sharply in her Arasaka suit and skirt, Susan Abernathy sat behind her sleek black marble desk, thoughtful.
"Damn it."
A moment later, realization struck—and she cursed under her breath.
"That rat Jenkins really knows how to play dirty."
No one rose to a high position in a megacorporation like Arasaka by being useless. Those who failed simply couldn't keep up. Abernathy immediately grasped Jenkins' counterattack strategy—raise the stakes and drag more factions into the fight.
It was obvious. Before 2075, Director Vela had not yet surfaced; Saburo Arasaka had been old and rarely appeared in public. Though Hanako held her post at Arasaka Global Headquarters in Tokyo, true power then lay in the hands of Yorinobu Arasaka.
Back then, Abernathy and Jenkins had been equals, both handling a case in Osaka. To climb higher—and to dig a hole for her rival—she had shamelessly courted the favor of Arasaka's mainstream hawkish faction, namely Yorinobu himself. Flattering Saburo was something every Arasaka employee did—it didn't count.
After all, who could've imagined that the old man would not only survive but grow younger with age? Successfully rejuvenated, then choosing Vela Adelheid Russell as his protégé—a prodigy practically blessed by heaven.
And now, after more than a year of political struggle between Vela and Yorinobu—an invisible war of prestige and competence—Abernathy could only sigh. Jenkins had guts. To elevate the feud between the Counter-Intelligence and Special Operations Divisions into a full-blown factional clash between Vela and Yorinobu…
That was just like him.
Always picking the path of least resistance. Crude but effective. Never caring about details or consequences.
"This is troublesome…"
Her once composed expression cracked. Rising from her chair, Abernathy began pacing before the floor-to-ceiling window.
If Vela were to perceive her as Yorinobu's ally—or worse, even if just Vela's supporters believed so—things would turn grim. The Security Division, R&D, Administration, Manufacturing, the military sector, and those old bastards led by Executive VP James Thomas—all of them could make her life a living hell.
Being Director of Special Operations came with prestige—commanding agents, intelligence, and internal security. Most Arasaka employees would step aside in fear, bowing before her board-granted authority.
But it also made her an easy target. The job looked powerful—but in reality, she was little more than a disposable mop.
Her clearance level might be high, but its application depended entirely on who she was targeting.
When dealing with executives who could attend the Corporate Strategy Council, the Special Operations Division's hands were tied. All they could do was observe, report, and request authorization from the regional board, the CEO, or Tokyo HQ before acting.
And times had changed—Arasaka's internal landscape was now perilously delicate…
The thought of her rival exploiting her past failures to stage a comeback made Abernathy's blood boil. She stomped her heel against the floor.
"Jenkins, you filthy—! You're no better than me! The only difference is that you lost!"
"…Jenkins' lackeys remain active outside the Tower. The company's system ledgers show no discrepancies—they're likely using the Counter-Intelligence Division's own black funds. The full scope of their operation is still unclear, but based on current intel, we suspect their target is the Federal Intelligence Agency, cooperating with Barghest to conduct spy purges around Dogtown. Of course, we can't rule out the possibility that they're laying a trap for us."
Sensing her superior's irritation, the aide hesitated a moment before carefully continuing.
"'Should be'? 'Unclear'? 'Suspected'? 'Not ruled out'?"
Abernathy gave a cold snort. "That's your report?"
"Director, you know how Jenkins is—efficient, competent, and just like all madmen, a bit unstable. Lately, though, he's been really off the rails. Infiltrating his network is proving difficult. And… the Board's recent actions complicate things. Jenkins received a reward too—not just you. We're not sure if this is their way of hinting that the infighting shouldn't cross a certain line…"
Abernathy sighed inwardly. She couldn't really blame her subordinate for that. It was a delicate situation—too delicate.
Even she couldn't fully read Director Vela's intentions.
Was the gift of pet dinosaurs a gesture of recognition—for their service and loyalty?
An unspoken reminder that North America was still one team, that internal conflict must not break the unity?
Or perhaps simply a whimsical gift, a celebration of Vela's success in reviving extinct creatures—a clever PR stunt for the [Jurassic Park Project]?
Or maybe… all of the above?
Either way, Abernathy wasn't about to gamble on it.
Ask directly? That would be suicidal.
Damn it! Enough with the riddles, woman. Stop playing the oracle of Night City.
Cursing silently, Abernathy turned toward the lowered guest area on one side of her office.
"Rawr?"
Behind the sofa, in a transparent temperature-controlled terrarium, a small creature shaped like a lizard—with a long, flexible neck, thin hind legs, and an elegant tail—was gnawing on a chew stick. The enclosure was scattered with shredded cloth and toys.
A Coelophysis. About the size of a medium dog.
At least I got one too, Abernathy thought.
Taking that little thing out in public definitely turned heads—far more impressive than walking a cat, a dog, or even a pet iguana. She enjoyed the stunned looks at upper-class banquets and salons when her "pet dinosaur" appeared on a leash.
If you're going to resurrect something, make it a dinosaur—not another cloned mountain lion or cyber-horse. She had no doubt Arasaka's [Jurassic Project] would eventually lead to cyber-dinosaurs.
To be fair, her feelings toward Vela were a complicated mix—jealousy, resentment, and a grudging respect for the young woman who had climbed above her.
"Anything else?"
Composed again, Abernathy walked forward and stroked the small raptor's slender neck. Picking up a bag of mixed-protein feed from the table, she unsealed it, pulled out a meat stick, and fed it piece by piece as she asked.
"Yes. We've just turned a new informant—a useless nobody working under Jenkins. Name's Carter Smith."
The aide continued his report.
"He overheard that Jenkins plans to travel to Los Angeles' Channel Islands under the pretext of inspecting Counter-Intelligence operations there. The day after tomorrow, he'll stop by Westbrook to pick up a 'package'—which he intends to deliver personally to Lady Michiko."
"The day after tomorrow? A package?" Abernathy asked, scratching the little Coelophysis under its chin.
"It's said to be Lady Michiko's dinosaur—a custom-made gift commissioned by Director Vela. What are your orders, ma'am?"
Abernathy's eyes narrowed.
So, Jenkins was not only courting Vela but also trying to win Michiko's favor.
"Well, that's interesting. Whatever Jenkins is planning, I'll make sure to help him—personally." Her voice dripped with mockery. "Good work. Valuable intel. Your bonus has been transferred to your third-party account. Keep surveillance steady. I want continuous updates on Counter-Intelligence's movements. As for this Carter Smith—give him some incentives, keep him on a leash, and find me his weaknesses."
"Yes, Director."
Beep.
The line disconnected.
As the glowing data streams in her eyes faded, Abernathy finished feeding the small dinosaur and returned to her desk. Folding her arms, she stared out the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the glittering sprawl of the Corporate Plaza.
Pressing close to the glass, she gazed almost straight down—a perfect ninety-degree view over the lower floors that housed the Counter-Intelligence Division and its staff.
"Jenkins," she murmured, "I beat you once. I can do it again. You'll never win against me."
Her voice carried a quiet, venomous certainty.
Activating her personal holographic interface, she called up the [Jurassic Park Project] files. With the recent distribution of the pet dinosaurs, she already knew part of the plan.
The Channel Islands near Los Angeles—one of the proposed sites for the park.
As head of the Counter-Intelligence Division, Jenkins could travel to Los Angeles under the guise of inspection work.
As Director of Special Operations—so could she.
Yes, Susan Abernathy had decided to steal Jenkins' thunder.
It wasn't as though he was the only one who knew how to play politics. Getting in now wasn't too late.
Judging by Director Vela's attitude, it was clear she disapproved of any open internal conflict—but without solid evidence, Abernathy couldn't eliminate Jenkins outright. Still, that didn't stop her from provoking him. A little friction never hurt—as long as it didn't turn into full-blown war.
She opened her internal Arasaka Tower contact directory and tapped the pinned entry at the very top.
Beep-beep…
Click.
The moment the call connected, Abernathy straightened instantly.
"Good day, Director Russell. This is Susan Abernathy. Forgive the sudden call, but I'd like to report next week's Special Operations Division deployment plan. The location—Los Angeles. I have reason to believe the Federal Intelligence Agency may be…"
...
The next day.
Internal Arasaka news spread quietly.
Jenkins had exploded in his office at the Counter-Intelligence Division—his anger echoing through the halls.
Meanwhile, the Special Operations Division was calmly arranging bodyguards and travel logistics for their Director. The vehicle was ready.
From the shooting range of the Russell estate in Westbrook, a faint rumble sounded. A transport hovercar rolled out grandly, transferring a certain "package" to Arasaka Tower's Special Operations Division. Sharp-eyed observers took note of the exchange.
Beyond the Tower—
Field agent V, disguised and prepared, once again made her way to Afterlife.
On Bradbury and Bran Streets, middleman Jackie Welles gathered with Maine and Panam—they, too, were headed to Afterlife.
In North Arasaka's Research District, part of the Aldecaldo Nomad convoy—previously contracted for civil works—split off and began heading south toward Night City.
Meanwhile, in Dogtown—
The long-silent Federal Intelligence Agency network flickered back to life.
An old, encrypted comm line crackled to life.
[Source Encrypted: Sleeping agents, awaken.]
[Alex: Tch. Guess the country hasn't squeezed us dry enough yet. Always sending missions when the heat's at its peak. What, afraid we haven't died properly?]
[Solomon Reed: Enough. Arasaka's asset is useful to our homeland. That's all that matters. I've got contacts—and we're not the only ones after it. We can use the chaos to our advantage.]
...