In the end, I burned about an hour on them. It wasn't revolutionary, nothing that would make the corps quake in their ivory towers. I just swapped out their limbs for newer models, overhauled the implant cooling systems to handle sustained combat, and ran them through a virtual sim to calibrate the new hardware.
The killer on their tail wasn't some back-alley thug. She was top-tier, the kind of ghost you only hear about after the cleanup crew has mopped the blood off the pavement. The hardware I'd installed for them back in the day? Obsolete. Not trash, mind you – it was still solid tech, better than most off-the-shelf mods – but it was built for quick, clean kills, not for holding the line in a prolonged firefight.
So, yeah. I rebuilt them from stealth ops to frontline bruisers. Think of it as an upgrade to Nomad gear, but a version that makes my old work look like a kid's toy. I also had to give their armor and auxiliary systems a serious tune-up.
"Feels… lighter," Marco said, rolling his shoulders as he ran through a warm-up routine.
"I used implants geared for extended combat," I explained. "They blow your old ones out of the water in terms of raw power and durability. The trade-off is stealth. I sacrificed that for strength and mobility."
"So no more ghosting through the shadows, huh?" came Jeremy's voice from behind me.
"I left the basic cloaking intact," I said without looking up. "It's good enough for low-light ops, but in broad daylight, you'll be about as subtle as a tank. And don't even think about bumping into anything while you're cloaked – your silhouette will shimmer and give you away instantly."
"Doesn't matter," Jeremy said with a shrug, pulling his shirt back on. "Any merc worth their salt these days has enough chrome in their skull to spot advanced stealth anyway. How much do we owe you?"
"Nothing." Martinez arched a brow, his silence demanding an explanation.
"Save your eddies," I said. "This one's on the house."
"That's a damn expensive house call." Martinez crossed his arms, glaring like he could intimidate me into sending him a bill.
"It's simple," I replied. "Someone high up in the corpo world put a target on your backs. Whoever you pissed off, they have the resources to make your lives hell. When things go sideways, you're going to need every last eddie more than I do."
Truth be told, there was another reason. An old debt. Years ago, Jeremy had helped my family escape a burning city, taking a hell of a beating in the process. This was me paying him back, with interest.
"I see," Martinez murmured, his eyes narrowing before a slow grin spread across his face. "Mikhail's boy turned out alright after all."
The name hit me like a neural spike. I froze, my eyes going wide as the pieces finally clicked into place.
"Zorge?" I asked, my voice low, cautious.
Martinez's grin widened.
"It started with a contract hit on a Biotechnica exec – your parents' old boss. That, plus the family resemblance… and the Russian that slips out when you're under pressure. You just confirmed the rest for me."
"Let's drop it. I'm not talking about this right now." It might have come out harsher than I intended, but I wasn't in the mood to dredge up ghosts.
"Fine," Martinez said, giving a faint nod as he closed his eyes.
"So… we heading to Wakako's?" Jeremy half-turned to Marco, a subtle but clear question in the gesture. You in?
"Bad idea. Walking into Japantown right now is asking for trouble," Marco replied, shaking his head. Looked like he'd had more than enough action for one day.
"Want to try calling her instead?" Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"If you need a secure line, I can set one up," I offered casually. It was no big deal for me, but it was for them. Sure, these guys knew their way around a basic terminal, enough to cover their tracks on a local hack, but anything more complex? Forget it. That's where I came in.
"That'd be great, amigo." Marco's grin widened, clearly relieved he wouldn't have to handle the tech side of things.
"You've already done too much," Jeremy cut in, his voice tight. "Don't stick your neck any deeper into our mess."
"My neck's been in it for a long time. This changes nothing."
"Fine. Have it your way." The merc closed his eyes again, his posture screaming what he really thought about me getting involved.
"In that case," I said, already pulling up my interface, "I'll patch in to Wakako and see where things stand."
***
Establishing Secure Channel…
Outgoing Call – Wakako Okada
Call Accepted – Connection Established
"Alex, darling. Do you need work, or are you looking to hire?" The silver-haired woman's tone was all business.
"I need information," I said flatly, skipping the pleasantries we both knew were a waste of time.
"It's not often you ask me for that kind of favor." Her voice sharpened, taking on a weight that I was glad to hear – I preferred her when she was serious. "What, exactly, do you need to know?"
"You've got your finger on the pulse of the Triads in this city. My friends were attacked, and I need to know who might be responsible."
I sent her the symbols I'd pulled from the cyberarm. For a moment, there was nothing but charged silence on the line. Either Wakako didn't know anything… or she knew far too much. I was betting on the latter.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Alex," she said at last, her voice smooth but with an undercurrent of steel, "but your friends have a real talent for making the wrong kind of enemies."
"Elaborate," I said, nudging her toward the point.
"Well… if you're dead set on sticking your head in the tiger's mouth, who am I to stop you?" She let out a long sigh. "I don't have a complete picture of these killers. Hell, I doubt anyone does. They're notoriously secretive. But I've picked up some details over the years. The Chinese Assassin's Guild was founded over two centuries ago, and even now, they're still the deadliest organization under heaven. Hiring one of their 'Harbingers' costs a fortune – and I do mean a fortune. But one thing is certain: their assassins never leave a job unfinished. For them, completing a contract is a matter of honor."
"Anything else?"
"I'm not sure how much truth there is to this, but rumor has it every target goes through an evaluation. They're studied, analyzed, and then methodically cornered before the kill."
"Sounds like a wolf hunt," I murmured.
Wakako let out a quiet, amused hum. It seemed she agreed.
"Either way, thank you. Now, what's this information going to cost me?"
"Consider it a professional courtesy for all the fine work you've done for me."
"Is that right?" I said. "In that case, I won't take up any more of your time."
"Take care of yourself, Alex. I'd hate to lose an asset like you."
Connection Terminated – Call Ended
The call left a bad taste in my mouth. Classic Okada. She'd played her part perfectly – the initial probing, the reluctant sharing of dangerous knowledge, and the final act of generosity. Calling the info "free" was a power move, plain and simple. I knew damn well that a favor from Wakako Okada always came with a price, payable later.
The call didn't take long, but somewhere along the way, I'd signed up for a lot more than I'd planned. I'd gone from being a simple middleman to something closer to an accomplice. And yeah, I was already knee-deep in this mess, but until a few minutes ago, I could still pretend I was on the sidelines. There had been an invisible line that let me shove their problems back onto their own shoulders. I have enough of my own baggage to deal with, most of it self-inflicted.
"I've got news," I said, turning to the mercs slumped on the couch. Their attention shifted to me. "Two kinds."
"Good and bad?" Marco asked, a hint of his usual humor in his tone.
"More like bad and worse." I shot back a humorless grin, and his own died on his face.
"Hit us with the worse one first," Jeremy muttered, steepling his fingers in front of his face and letting out a heavy breath.
"I know who came after you." I let the words hang in the air. "It's a Chinese assassin's guild. Been around for centuries. Long story short: these guys live by a code. When they take a job, the target always dies. No exceptions. Doesn't matter what it takes or how messy it gets. So… you're screwed."
"And the bad news?" Ramirez asked, his voice suddenly stripped of its usual lightness.
"The assassins probably already know everything they need to about you. They didn't retreat – they were gathering intel. Maybe they're planning round two. Or maybe…" I let the word stretch out, "…you were never the main target to begin with."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Marco asked, his face a mask of confusion.
"Putting a bullet in your skull from a few hundred meters away is easy, Marco. Especially for people who've made a living off killing for two hundred years. My guess? They wanted to test you. See what you could do. And that leads to one conclusion."
"Their real target is Zorge," Jeremy murmured, catching on fast. "I spoke to him before we got here. He said there was a leak, a data breach. These things have to be connected. Richard wants us all to lie low, go completely off the grid. If he's spooked, it's bad. Really bad."
"Sounds about right," I said with a slow nod. "It doesn't take a genius to see your ties to that fixer aren't exactly subtle. And you've gotten close – too close." I tapped a finger against the side of my neck, right over the new chips I'd installed for them. "They see you as a variable, a threat to their primary objective. This attack wasn't the main event. It was just insurance."
"So, we lay low for now, yeah?" Marco leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes.
"Or…" I offered, tossing out the other option, "…you could bait the hook and draw them out."
That got Ramirez's attention. He'd gone quiet for a while, but now his head perked up.
"Amigo, are you suggesting we become the bait?"
"Exactly. Chances are, the guild won't make too much noise. Night City isn't their turf. Around here, power sits firmly in the hands of the corps. If someone starts playing too aggressively, Arasaka or Militech will cut them off at the knees just to flex their muscle and remind everyone who's really in charge."
"You've got a point," Martinez said, nodding slowly as if convincing himself. "I still remember how fast the Kang-Tao incident got swept under the rug. Nobody even talks about it anymore. But…" He sighed. "Being bait is still a shitty gig."
"You're out of options," I said. "Either you sit tight and wait for orders, or you set the rules and force their hand. There's no middle ground."
"In that case, the smart move is to stay under the radar for a day or two. Now is not the time for bold plays." Jeremy let out a heavy sigh, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the table.
"Your call," I said calmly.
"Thanks for the help, Alex." Martinez gave me a grateful nod and headed for the door.
"Don't mention it." I gave them a dismissive wave as they left the workshop.
The door had barely closed when a new message pinged in my HUD. From Zorge.
"Alex, I have a very lucrative proposal for you. If you're interested, call me at this number: *****."
"Business, huh?" I muttered to myself, already having a pretty good idea where this was going. "Might as well hear him out. Then we'll see."