Was it sufficient?
It should be.
...
[Cyberpunk]
Pondering, Vela lowered her hand from her cheek. Her expression softened as her indigo eyes lifted, reflecting the faint figure shimmering across the wax-polished desk.
Her own reflection—and the subtle details only she could see:
A light-gold patterned suit; decorative indentations of flowing gold and platinum filigree cybernetics at her temple; the MILITECH insignia pin on her left lapel; and a neatly folded, star-spangled pocket square resting in her breast pocket.
Tsk.
What had once been a fleeting thought had now taken tangible form, blooming into reality.
Rosalind Myers—yes, she intended to destroy her here. But that didn't stop her from learning from that Myers, or even from Myers' predecessor, Elizabeth Kress—their advanced methods were worth studying.
As for her counterpart in [Resident Evil]?
If not her, who else should be used as a warehouse?
Her selves in [Call of Duty] and [Tokyo Ghoul] were powerful and influential, but not the ultimate authority. Their ability to act was limited. When danger came, their main role was to supply the Vela Collective with the unique resources they controlled.
Her versions in [Ghost in the Shell] and [Jurassic Park + World]? Still workhorses—the former a special forces operative and agent, the latter a civilian geneticist, more scientist than soldier. Their role was focused on learning, researching, and discovering new technologies.
At least for now.
Her [Code Geass] version—technically another warehouse—but not nearly as unrestricted as [Resident Evil] Militech. Too many concerns, too little freedom. Few safe zones existed where "within reach" and "secure for access" could coexist.
Some items were too dangerous. If noticed, stolen, or compromised—it would end poorly.
For instance, if a certain "relative" of hers were to appear uninvited, eyes glowing with eerie red light—would her security forces stop them? And what if, right after that visit, a professional table-flipping team arrived—experts at bypassing every defense?
It wasn't paranoia. It was prevention.
That world could only serve as a secondary warehouse for the Vela Collective.
As for her selves in [Fallout] and [Jormungand + Black Lagoon]... best left unmentioned.
In short—those were the "shut your brain off and enjoy the ride" worlds.
The latter, admittedly, had warehouse potential—but that world lacked unique resources. Anything valuable could already be sourced elsewhere. So investment there was minimal, its influence small but refined.
In Cyberpunk terms, it was like a small Malorian-type weapons manufacturer doubling as an international arms broker.
And its Vela—the moodmaker of the Collective—wandered the world freely, providing emotional support and "therapy" for her sisters, diffusing their stress and negative emotions.
So, her designation? A Tier-3 warehouse for modern weaponry.
Vela smiled faintly.
That was enough.
For now.
"Bring me a cup of floral tea—something to refresh the mind."
Stretching slightly, Vela turned and ordered softly.
The Arasaka shinobi servant bowed. "At once."
Moments later, a porcelain cup of tea was placed before her.
She took a sip, exquisite legs crossed gracefully. With official duties done for the day, she finally indulged in casual conversation—with her "Head of Logistics" self from the Resident Evil world.
"Militech's 2004 security recruitment drive... I'd say it's the USA military's final Cold War afterglow. After the CCCP collapsed, they've been declining ever since. As the old guard fades, it won't be long before the Pentagon's rot turns into total collapse."
"Recruiting internationally? Forget it. With the CCCP[1] gone, the USA's the tallest dwarf in the room. Seems it's time for Militech to drastically expand its own independent soldier training programs."
"The security division's KGB-style authoritarian legacy—the last bit of the Cold War spirit left in the U.S. Army—if it gets contaminated by wannabe soldiers, junkies, and politically correct ideology, what a shame that'd be. Better short-handed than tainted. Maybe you should start implementing your intelligent robotics tech over there."
"A clean net—no rogue AIs or Bartmoss viruses contaminating it."
"Speaking of building Militech's New America and entering politics—during the 2004 election on November 2nd, did you really propose those policies to Simmons in private? Acquiring Greenland from Denmark, annexing Canada into America, organizing a Panama referendum following Hawaii's precedent...?"
"If those ideas ever got out, you'd be branded both an ultra-American imperialist and a xenophobe."
"But... in 2004, the U.S. was still stable, its power intact. If handled well, it might've actually worked."
...
Leisure never lasts long. Once the floral tea was finished, the airship arrived.
Bzzz...
East Bay, Oakland — Arasaka Tower rooftop, private aerocar hangar.
The gate opened. As the plasma engines of the airship's stern dimmed, the vector thrusters below flared bright blue, guiding the massive black-and-red craft slowly into the building.
Under the AI's direction, the airship's landing struts extended, locking into place.
Vela disembarked.
Tap, tap.
The Oakland branch director, who had been waiting for some time, approached with quick, measured steps.
"Is everyone here?" Vela asked casually.
"All present and accounted for."
Nodding slightly, Vela brushed the front of her dark formal suit, fastening the unbuttoned jacket she had loosened aboard the ship. Then she strode toward the express elevator.
Ding.
Unimpeded passage.
Passing through multiple layers of security—biometric scans, encrypted gates, and automated defenses—she finally reached the entrance of the Central War Command Chamber.
Two security officers standing guard at the doors straightened the moment they saw her approach. In synchronized motion, they operated the consoles beside them, and the massive four-part reinforced doors opened outward.
Vela did not slow her pace.
Inside, executives from Arasaka Tower's Night City (Regional HQ) Manufacturing Division and high-ranking Arasaka military officers turned toward the sound. At once—some swiftly, others more composed—they all rose to their feet.
Even those unable to attend in person appeared as holo-projections—intelligence officers, division heads, and frontline commanders.
Passing the gilded lattice screen that shimmered like drifting clouds, Vela's sharp gaze swept across the room as she walked.
"Everyone, please be seated."
When she spoke, her tone left no room for hesitation. She took the vacant central seat at the head of the luxurious stone conference table.
"The topic of this meeting is simple—the Central Offensive."
No preamble. No wasted words.
Vela clasped her hands together atop the table, voice steady and direct.
"The long-awaited stage of direct confrontation has arrived."
"The Alliance forces stationed in Sacramento are now under my command—and by extension, under Arasaka's unified direction. That's an advantage we didn't have during our previous conflict with Militech."
"The southern front remains locked in stalemate. The central fortress assaults have begun, and the northern outposts are already engaged. Fresh reinforcements are landing across North America by the hour."
"To learn from the past and avenge our losses—our time has come."
Leaning forward, her indigo eyes burned with fierce determination.
"Comrades, let us unite our strength—treat it with care, use it with caution, and wield it with courage."
...
The central battlefront stretched for over a thousand kilometers—a jagged, interlocked line of war.
On that scarred, weathered land, countless brutal engagements erupted—close-quarters carnage, siege battles, infiltration ops, ambushes, and sudden skirmishes. In just three days, thousands of soldiers had already fallen.
Most fights involved only a few hundred combatants, but the bloodshed was unrelenting.
By the fourth day—April 26, 2077—an even larger-scale clash ignited.
Arasaka's military forces and the Free States' frontier garrisons collided head-on with Militech's armies and the New American Expeditionary troops after both sides had annihilated several supporting cities and Nomad settlements.
The second major battle of the Fifth Corporate War had begun—erupting across the Grand Island–Norfolk–Omaha urban belt in central Nebraska.
[1] Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik