Chapter 142: Tanaka's Temptation
Night City, as it always had, inhaled and exhaled life amidst neon and sin.
The rumors concerning the Badlands bastion and Maine's crew circulated only within specific, small circles.
To the vast majority of people struggling to survive in this city, Maine's crew was just a street merc team with decent luck and skill, one that had successfully survived a corporate conflict and established a foothold.
Their story was a footnote in street legend, far from shaking the foundations of the city.
In the eyes of the high-level corporate executives who actually knew some of the details, this squad and the existence behind them were more of an unstable variable requiring cautious observation rather than direct confrontation.
However, corporations are massive, multi-headed beasts. The caution of one department does not mean other departments will follow the same logic.
There is always someone driven by profit, or blinded by arrogance, who attempts to touch dangers they believe they can control.
Arasaka Night City Branch, Technical Division.
The atmosphere in this sector was starkly different from Counter-Intelligence.
There was less of the air of cloak-and-dagger conspiracy, and more of the unique smell of laboratories—a mix of disinfectant, coolant, and ozone.
Here, data, performance, and breakthroughs were the only standards for measuring value.
Tanaka, the director of the Technical Division, stood before a heavily shielded observation window, his face grim as he looked down at the wreckage in the testing grounds below.
In the center of the arena, a twisted test subject, smoke rising from overloaded implants, had just been subdued by high-voltage shock rifles. He lay collapsed on the ground, twitching uncontrollably, emitting meaningless guttural roars.
"Another waste product." Beside Tanaka, the project lead reported in a low voice, unable to hide his frustration. "Subject K-7. Neural load exceeded threshold by 230%. Limbic system total collapse. Exhibiting extreme aggression...
"Confirmed transition to irreversible Cyberpsychosis. Recommend... disposal."
Tanaka did not respond immediately.
He wore an immaculate dark corporate suit, his hair combed perfectly, but the dark circles under his eyes and the tight line of his mouth betrayed his stress.
The "Cyberskeleton" project he was responsible for was one of the key initiatives the Technical Division had poured the most resources into recently.
The design philosophy of this prototype implant was extremely radical, aiming to create a single-soldier combat platform that surpassed existing power armor.
Its core technology was derived from the "DaiOni" heavy dragoon power armor piloted by Adam Smasher during the Corporate Wars, but it applied brand-new, immature gravity-control technology, attempting to miniaturize it and integrate it into a personal cybernetic frame.
Theoretically, the wearer would gain output comparable to heavy artillery and mobility beyond imagination.
However, a massive chasm existed between theory and reality.
The load the Cyberskeleton placed on the user's nervous system was devastating.
To date, every volunteer or "conscripted" test subject had, without exception, suffered mental collapse during testing. The best outcome was a vegetative state; the worst was like the one just now—becoming a Cyberpsycho that had to be put down.
The massive investment showed no returns, and the inquiries from HQ were becoming increasingly impolite.
Tanaka felt like he was sitting on a powder keg about to explode.
"What about Adam Smasher? He is the most perfect tester!" Tanaka almost gritted his teeth as he spoke.
The project lead gave a bitter smile. "Director, you know the situation. Mr. Smasher is currently Young Master Yorinobu's personal bodyguard. His schedule is full, and... Security will not agree to let the company's 'symbol' take such a risk. Especially since the project success rate... is currently zero."
Tanaka fell silent. He knew this all too well.
Use Adam Smasher? Not unless he wanted to be fired from Arasaka—or worse.
That cold killing machine was a significant corporate asset in his own right, not a lab rat a Technical Division director could commandeer at will.
He needed a new, suitable test subject.
The requirements were extremely harsh: extremely high cyberware adaptability, a sufficiently resilient nervous system, and... preferably someone desperate and easy to control.
Just then, his personal terminal vibrated slightly. A routine report from the Arasaka Academy internal system caught his attention.
The report mentioned the follow-up processing of a student conflict. The content was brief, but he saw a familiar name—his son had been hit at school by a former student named David Martinez.
Such a minor matter wouldn't normally catch his eye, but perhaps out of irritation, or perhaps guided by some ghostly impulse, he casually opened David Martinez's file.
The record was ordinary: single-parent household, mother was an EMT at the Night City Medical Center, poor background, admitted on a scholarship based on grades.
But what piqued Tanaka's interest was a nearly overlooked implant adaptability assessment tucked in the corner of the file.
The data indicated that this David Martinez possessed an extremely high affinity for neural implants. His potential assessment far exceeded the norm, approaching the baseline of certain military-grade augmented soldiers.
A sharp glint suddenly flashed in Tanaka's weary eyes.
He stared fixedly at the unassuming name on the screen—David Martinez.
Moments ago, this was just a symbol in a report about his son's schoolyard fight. Now, the attached adaptability data was like a piercing light, cutting through the gloom of his recent days.
Extremely high cyberware adaptability, neural tolerance potential far beyond the average human—this was the foundation the Cyberskeleton project had been dreaming of.
A student forced to drop out of Arasaka Academy due to family tragedy; a bottom-feeder boy whose mother was bedridden with heavy injuries, in urgent need of astronomical medical fees; a street kid with no powerful backing other than a tenuous connection to that Maine crew...
This was practically a test subject custom-made for him by fate!
The skeleton of a plan instantly coalesced in his mind.
Use force to capture him? Too high risk.
Maine's crew had just clashed with the Corp and walked away intact. Jenkins in Counter-Intel seemed wary of the power backing them. Using hard power might trigger unnecessary trouble, or even alert the prey, ruining his chance to acquire the perfect specimen.
But what if the target walked into the cage himself?
Exploit his urgent needs and desperate situation to induce him to "voluntarily" sign an agreement, dedicating himself to the company's scientific endeavors.
This was undoubtedly the cleanest, safest method.
Having thought this through, Tanaka acted immediately.
Using his authority as Technical Director, he quietly bypassed standard protocols and restored David Martinez's active status within the Arasaka Academy student system.
Immediately after, he meticulously crafted an email. Sent in his personal capacity—or rather, under the banner of "a deeply guilt-ridden father of a classmate"—he directed it to David's registered address.
In this carefully worded email, Tanaka first expressed deep unease and apology for his son's past bullying behavior at school, in a tone that was solemn and sincere. He attributed this to his own dereliction of duty as a father in failing to discipline his child.
Then, he shifted the topic, claiming to have learned through channels about the difficult situation David faced due to his mother's severe injury and his subsequent forced dropout, expressing high sympathy and regret.
To make amends for his son's past wrongs, and to give this highly potential young man a chance, he claimed to have used some of his connections to arduously help David restore his student status at Arasaka Academy.
Only at the end of the email did he reveal the dagger, throwing out the true bait.
He enthusiastically introduced a little-known "Youth Talent Sponsorship Program" within the Arasaka Technical Division. He claimed the program aimed to discover and cultivate talented young people, offering benefits including but not limited to full scholarships, access to Arasaka's top-tier medical resource network, and even the chance to participate in early research and testing of frontier technologies.
He went to great lengths to paint this opportunity as precious and bright, and sincerely invited David to come to Arasaka Tower for a face-to-face, in-depth discussion to explore this possibility that could change the fate of both David and his mother.
As the "Sent Successfully" notification lit up, Tanaka leaned back in his comfortable office chair, the corner of his mouth unable to suppress a cold, upward curl.
He could almost see the desperate boy, dazzled by this "opportunity" that seemed like coal in winter, walking step by step into the trap he had so carefully laid.
He believed that for a boy in a desperate dead end, such conditions were impossible to refuse.
As long as David stepped into Arasaka Tower and signed that carefully designed "Volunteer Agreement," what happened next would no longer be up to him.
(End of Chapter)