Noisy, clamorous.
This was a city full of charm and vitality. At least it once was…
Wooo… wooo…
Under the blazing sun, in broad daylight, flames and smoke rose in bursts amid the sirens of martial law, erupting in the bizarre corners of the metropolis.
The air was extremely hot. It was filled with an indescribable stench—like the foul smell of protein meat clumps being smoked and roasted without being bled or gutted, mixed with the acrid odor of burnt electronic components.
The once-busy overpasses and rail trains had long since come to a halt, replaced by a concentrated display of humanity and its creations' violent side.
Police sirens wailed, and the crowd surged.
The tide of people flowed like waves toward the police barricades on each street. Near the electric warning devices sparking with electricity, behind police cars modified with a degree of armor, a line of security police and humanoid security robots stood armed.
"Warning, warning. City citizens, your behavior has violated the city's public order management regulations."
The police security robots used loudspeakers to continue delivering formulaic recorded warnings to the dark mass of people, who had already shifted from demonstrating to organized rioting.
"Final warning. Please immediately cease unlawful behavior. According to safety protocols, this unit is authorized by public order regulations…"
"F*ck your dumbass robot! Get out of our city!"
With curses came a Molotov cocktail thrown from the crowd—bang. The fireball exploded at the front of a police car, flames burst out, and the city security officers reflexively ducked down. "Enemy attack!"
Unlike the human patrol officers who might still hesitate, the formulaic warnings of the security robots stopped instantly. According to protocol, they pulled the trigger nearly the moment the crowd crossed the warning line—ratatat!—knocking the rioters who crossed the barricade to the ground.
At the same time, several security robots holding automatic machine guns turned their heads, the red light of their scanners sweeping across the crowd. The hooded man who had clearly made a throwing motion and then tried to hide, and the men and women about to pull out guns or explosives, were caught in the sensors. Gun barrels lifted, locked on, and fired large-caliber rounds. In an instant, a cacophony of gunfire erupted.
Ratatatatata—
Within just a few seconds, an interwoven net of firepower had covered the crowd ahead of the road from multiple directions.
Whether the innocent were harmed or whether the punishment was excessive—none of that mattered at this moment.
Bullets fired directly into the crowd, into the scrapped and abandoned vehicles, into cybernetic limbs, tearing through flesh. Blood and gore flew, sparks scattered—white liquid, whether oil, coolant, or nutrient fluid, mixed with destroyed cybernetic debris and chunks of flesh, splattered everywhere.
All around were the screams of protesters, the curses of rioters, and the wails of the lucky survivors.
From a bird's-eye view, one could see that in the city's main arteries, explosions, fires, and electrical sparks from destroyed equipment all erupted simultaneously as if by design.
The city was crying... no, more accurately, the city that had long run out of tears was once again naturally set ablaze.
...
City Center.
Arasaka Tower.
Quiet to the point of coldness, entirely in dark metallic tones—in this cold, towering world, elegant traditional Japanese music echoed softly.
It felt like entering another world.
Here, everything remained in perfect order. Company employees were either diligently busy with their tasks or resting in the tea bars and lounges between office zones, chatting quietly about the amusing chaos happening in the city center.
As if the urban riots just one block away had never happened.
Mid-level Tactical Command Center.
Tap tap…
The soft sound of fingers tapping on silent keyboards rang out occasionally. The glow from split-screen monitors illuminated cold faces marked by cybernetic implants.
Inside the room, a group of tall figures stood silently.
They wore heavy black-and-gray insulated combat uniforms, draped in dual-layer heavy armor like samurai, fully armed, with tactical helmets adorned with crests. Reflected in the glow of computer screens, the black background and white clover logo on their shoulder and neck armor emitted a faint phosphorescence.
Arasaka Security Department combat soldiers.
Surrounded by Arasaka soldiers, seated beside the central console of the tactical command center, was a seemingly young blonde woman leaning against the back of her chair.
Judging from her appearance, she looked to be in her early twenties—statuesque, well-proportioned, and without any visible signs of cybernetic modification.
Her shoulder-length hair, somewhere between gold and silver, was tied back in a ponytail. Her features were delicate and naturally beautiful, even without makeup—easily suitable as the face of a cosmetics company or a spokesperson for the corporate PR department. She wore a sleek, dark, form-fitting uniform with a strong technological flair.
Shh… shh…
The blonde woman lightly rubbed her fingers across the desktop, watching the surveillance footage being transmitted back from district monitoring hubs: urban police units were engaged in intense firefights with crazed gang members, opportunistic mercenaries, looters, ambitious agitators, and a small number of idealists with a sense of justice.
Heavily armored transport vehicles, funded by the corporation and filled with armed police and security robots, were arriving one after another at the front lines of the riot.
For now, just blocking off the roads to the city center didn't yet require the support of corporate forces.
"So this is all there is, huh."
With a sigh, the blonde woman flexed her slender, agile fingers slightly, then turned her chair, turning her back to her subordinates, and walked to the cabinet against the wall. She gently adjusted the antique-style gramophone on the cabinet, shifting the classical music from a rousing passage to a near-ending phase tinged with sorrow.
"Super monopoly capitalism…" she mouthed silently.
The waxed counter reflected the faintly complex glint in her eyes, which vanished in an instant.
"Commander Vela, the 'fish' has taken the bait. Necessary evidence acquired. Personnel list confirmed. Our operatives are in place. Shall we proceed?"
As the blonde woman silently lit a premium cigarette, letting the curling smoke drift slowly before her eyes, one of the Arasaka soldiers stepped forward.
"Hoo... After days of these petty games, our efforts to stir the pot weren't in vain. It's finally erupting. Yeah, time to reel in the net."
Exhaling a puff of smoke, Vela, cigarette held between her fingers, stepped back toward the large screen and looked at the overhead view that shifted on cue:
Inside the tactical command center, under real-time surveillance and data-locking by high-end access pod-equipped Arasaka hackers, gang leaders big and small, cyberpunk mercenaries, agitators, and corporate dissenters were identified and marked—whether among the crowd or hiding at home or in safehouses.
Vela knew full well that once she gave the order, within an hour, at least a thousand people would be dealt with.
Collateral damage was inevitable. Even with Arasaka's top-tier hackers using elite gear, they weren't infallible. The designated targets were bound to have some margin of error.
But the company never cared about such minor discrepancies.
They would rather kill by mistake than let anyone slip by. No matter which company it was.
The company demanded efficiency from Vela, so she had to be efficient—for the sake of advancement…
She had already become used to it. Numb.
Since arriving in this world and deciding to climb upward, she had long since alienated her former conscience.
Her only remaining conscience was to kill these people swiftly and cleanly.
Before the company—especially a global giant like Arasaka—once it chose to intervene, the people on that screen were already doomed. Letting them taste a bit of sweetness first was only to maximize profits.
"First ignite public discourse on the streets to spark attention, then escalate social conflicts, secretly guide protest marches, and when the crowd nears the wealthy districts and city center, launch a sudden assault—using ordinary citizens as shields to incite a riot targeting the urban upper class. Tsk, not a bad tactic. But what are they after…"
Thanks to the consolidation work of Arasaka's field agents and intelligence analysts, the background and motives of the troublemakers were quickly turned inside out.
The cause of the incident was both complex and simple.
Basically, the Brazilian authorities had exploited the people too harshly, the lower classes couldn't survive, tensions escalated, and someone saw an opportunity in the chaos and fanned the flames. And so, the fire was lit. Whether anyone profited or how much is hard to say, but under various external influences, the 'fire' got out of control and turned into this mess.
Unless someone from another major corporation was deliberately interfering and muddying the waters, the report submitted to Vela should be mostly accurate.
"Those damned peasants can die for all I care. They dare rebel? Even kill my men? These aren't just common rabble anymore—they must be dealt with severely." That was likely the mindset of the Brazilian authorities.
As the situation spiraled out of control, the ones who "lit the fire" may have burned themselves or fled early. But the Brazilian authorities needed to put it out. After careful consideration, they chose to spend big and order public security services from the Arasaka Group.
And that was the reason Vela had come to Rio de Janeiro.
She was assigned to Arasaka's South America Investigation Team to fulfill the security contract ordered by the Brazilian authorities—suppress the unrest, restore order, and eliminate the terrorist organization in Rio de Janeiro.
As for what defines a terrorist organization—well… as long as the client says they are, that's enough.
Vela silently flicked the ash from her cigarette and stubbed out the half-smoked stick in the ashtray. This was a question she neither needed nor wanted to think too deeply about.
Anyway, the root of the problem would always trace back to the corporations in the end.
Everyone said so. Even the long-gone "legends" said so.
"Right, analyze the surveillance footage we've collected these past few days. Find the ones who were the most active. Cross-check to see who didn't show up today when the show started. As long as they're still in Rio, deal with the cowards who chickened out too."
As a thought struck her, Vela paused her pacing, eyes fixed on the screen showing Arasaka soldiers in action. Her indigo pupils flashed with a red virtual overlay as she issued an additional command to the special raid units leaving the tactical command center.
If you're going to kill, kill thoroughly. If you're going to purge, then purge cleanly!
Please the Brazilian overlords. Cement the Arasaka Security Department's reputation on this land. Let Rio de Janeiro enjoy peace for a few more years…
The clients who suffered losses in this unrest would surely hate the instigators. Reducing civilian casualties wasn't her concern. As an external security enforcement contractor, the more brutally she fought, the higher the client satisfaction, the better her performance—and the larger her bonus.
All for the sake of progress.
People were going to die anyway. Might as well make it worthwhile—for you, for me, for everyone.
With the mindset of a model corporate dog fully adjusted, Vela returned to her command seat and signaled the tech crew to live-track field teams' operations. She brought up the surveillance feeds and began watching eagerly.
These small fry weren't enough to make her personally take to the streets. She was, after all, middle management now—well, lower-mid level but on the leadership ladder. That counts as an official rank, right?
From the surveillance footage, the special raid teams she had brought to Rio had already started their missions. Coordinated with the local Arasaka division's rangers, they were rounding up and executing the labeled "terrorists" on the list.
Among them was a mission targeting the leader of the biggest gang in Rio's streets.
Name…
Not important.
In any case, one thing was certain—this guy had stolen a lot of cargo from Rio's city government in the past. He was known to be a rather unruly figure.
As for Vela, she was, of course, here to vent her client's frustrations. Coincidentally, this guy had good intel and had gobbled up quite a bit of territory during the riots—not entirely undeserved.
However, "the reconstruction of urban infrastructure…"
Looking at the flaming streets and vandalized, looted buildings on the giant screen, Vela's lips curved slightly as she softly murmured, "…someone in the company will definitely be interested." Even before she finished speaking, a red glow of communication data flickered in her eyes.
"Night City Information Department, this is Vela Adelheid, Security Headquarters of Night City's Security Division, Special Assault Unit…"
"Yes, I'm currently in Rio de Janeiro on a public security mission… That's right, I've got good news. I have a freshly compiled detailed blueprint and live footage of the destruction to Rio's urban infrastructure… I believe that's sufficient. You know what I mean."
"Yes, go through official channels. That's right—contact our friends in the Corporate Construction Division. Ask them if they're interested in a slice of the Rio de Janeiro reconstruction pie… it's very fresh. Surely no one has more authority than the one enforcing suppression on the ground, right? Have them prepare reconstruction plans in advance…"
...
While the corporate dog at City Center was already discussing post-riot reconstruction, in many other parts of Rio de Janeiro, during this period of lost order, the riots had mercilessly destroyed all peace in the city.
Law-abiding citizens were terrified amid the gang wars and looting sprees. Arasaka security forces were conducting their public security operations in full force.
Just as Vela had never worried about the mission failing, with no significant external interference, the so-called "terrorist organizations" in Rio were nothing more than a ragtag mob.
They crumbled at the first blow.
In a corner of the city, a particularly violent explosion rocked the main base of Rio's largest gang, drowning out the howls of underlings still high from looting the wealthy districts and commercial areas.
"F*ck that bitch!"
Someone shouted, voice tearing through the blast wave, hysterical and mad.
"Arasaka! F*ck! Those gutless cowards hired Arasaka—damn it! Military tech bastards too! None of them have any balls… that Arasaka bitch! She tricked me—damn! Nothing good happens once corporate dogs show up. Bitch! Don't let me catch you!"
A fierce-looking, bald Latin man charged out, clutching a heavy MK.31 machine gun, swearing a blue streak.
Beneath his tattered, scorched reddish-brown coat was a heavily modified, muscular body. Artificial muscle fibers, reinforced bones, enhanced tendons, and subdermal armor were clearly visible.
"Boys! Go, save our loot! Whatever you recover—your old pal 'File' Beard keeps his word—you get half!" the man bellowed.
In the street gang world, that was a generous offer.
But the smarter ones had already sensed how bad things were and started stuffing valuables into their pockets before fleeing.
Arasaka? Asking them to stop Arasaka was a death sentence.
Still, some who had perhaps looted too hard in earlier operations, got too hyped, or were overly influenced by the gang boss's long-standing dominance, responded to his call with manic expressions, grabbed their weapons, and charged toward the burning camp.
"Bastards! A bunch of ungrateful traitors!"
Though furious at those who fled—especially subordinates he had once valued for their cunning—Beard knew full well that now was the time to run.
He could only hope those crazed underlings high on adrenaline would buy him a bit more time.
With that thought, he moved in long strides, yanked open the door of a nearby modified car and dove in. The crude motion made the car's weld seams rattle loudly. Ignition, sharp turn of the steering wheel, throttle down, accelerate.
Vroom… vroom…
Inside the burning gang building, gunfire, explosions, shouting, screaming, the thunder of collapsing walls, and the crackling of burning construction materials all merged into one chaotic soundscape.
Boom! Boom! Boom—
It all happened in a flash, firelight crossing.
In the rearview mirror, Beard saw a gruesome, blood-soaked scene.
At the camp entrance, a gang underling who had just rushed in seconds earlier was torn in half by a discarding sabot round. His torso spun weakly in the air a few times before slamming onto the ground.
God knows how terrifyingly insane Arasaka's killing machines' weapons were.
His gang brothers were like paper, shredded by three revealed Arasaka heavy soldiers.
Literally shredded—like a meat grinder. In the glow of the fire, shrapnel flew. Every gang member in their path was blown apart. Red-hot nano blades sliced through the exposed, warped bodies of cheap cybernetic modifications like cutting through plastic.
Beneath the signature crested tactical helmets of Arasaka soldiers were demonic masks splattered with blood and flesh. Embedded tactical visors glowed red, locked tightly onto him.
Having just witnessed the brutality of the Arasaka heavy soldiers, Beard felt even the full-power cybernetic spine in his back go cold. Without thinking, he slammed the gas pedal to the floor.
He spun the steering wheel wildly, cursing in Portuguese as he operated the heavy machine gun illegally mounted on the car. He directed every weapon he could at the stationary Arasaka soldiers. Wait! Stationary?
Why were they…
"Shit!" Beard sensed something was wrong.
In that instant—
Zzzzz—
Beard suddenly shuddered, vision blackened, as if electrocuted.
His cyber-eye circuit shorted!
[WARNING: SYSTEM UNDER ATTACK.]
Arasaka hackers!
Then—bang!
A muffled gunshot. The car window shattered. Beard felt a heavy impact on his chest, like being punched hard with a spiked war hammer. Pain erupted, his whole body instantly drained of strength. The next moment, the world spun.
The out-of-control modified car slammed directly into a roadside concrete barrier, jolted upward, lifted off, flew off the road, flipped, skidded, and crashed into a wall.
Urgh—
His head felt like mush. When Beard's senses returned, half his body was wrecked. His internal medical sensors, now reactivated, emitted a sharp, urgent buzz.
That sniper round had blown a bowl-sized hole in his chest. Though his body was one of the top-tier builds on Rio's streets, the impact and car wreck had twisted and deformed it, revealing internal mechanical components. White coolant and blood pooled on the ground.
Thud, thud~
In his final moments, Beard saw the Arasaka heavy soldiers approaching. From a high position, the Arasaka hacker who had been hidden now appeared as well, carrying a Nekomata Tech sniper rifle and crouching before Beard.
Then, he pulled out the interface from his hacker terminal on his arm and, lifting Beard's blood-smeared head, forcibly jacked in.
[WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS ATTEMPT…]
Beard could no longer speak. He could only watch helplessly as the Arasaka hacker infiltrated, pulling data from his information bank—everything: gang data, backup plans, financial stash points, safehouses—all uncovered.
In less than thirty seconds, after extracting the last drop, the Arasaka hacker stood up.
"'File' Hackson Beard: executed."
The dazzling muzzle flash was blinding in Beard's fading vision.
"F*cking Arasaka, f*cking corporate dogs." That was his final thought.
...
That evening, in Rio de Janeiro, a day of slaughter drew to an end. Overall, the riot had been mostly quelled, with only sporadic gunfire remaining.
The sunset bled red. Arasaka's Special Assault Unit had completed its purge operation with success. Of the names on the list, 1,328 identified targets had been executed, with countless collateral casualties.
Arasaka's well-prepared cleanup operation was swift and decisive.
In the aftermath, leaders of every major and minor gang in Rio had been eliminated. Middlemen, mercenaries, and anyone with a serious criminal record in the company or municipal systems were also purged.
Only a small number of clever individuals, lucky survivors, and corporate black ops made it out alive.
"It's over."
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the last squad of the Special Assault Unit returned with seized spoils. Dressed in her pristine uniform, Vela stood silently, arms crossed, in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window that made up an entire wall, gazing down at Rio de Janeiro from a god's-eye view.
The streets of Rio were now dark, while neon lights still flickered on the skyscrapers of the municipal center.
This side—was heaven.
Beyond the city center—was chaos, a war zone, a living hell.
At dawn, the sun would rise as usual. But for many, there would be no second morning…
"..."
Turning around, Vela silently looked up at the three-dimensional structure of the building's interior and the prominent Arasaka clover logo.
After a long pause, she shifted her gaze.
"Time to return to Night City."
Walking back toward the operations center, Vela pulled up the mini-display in her cyber-eye. "This is Vela Adelheid. The Rio de Janeiro riot has been suppressed and is entering the final cleanup stage."
Summary Report: Arasaka Group South America Investigation Unit
[To: Arasaka Information Department, Operations Oversight Committee — Night City]
Executor: Vela Adelheid Russell [Arasaka Security Division, Special Assault Unit 6 — Night City]
Location: South America / Brazil / Rio de Janeiro
Mission Description: Assist South America Arasaka divisions in executing security services, suppress riots in Brazil, and purge the terrorist organizations hiding in Rio de Janeiro.
Date: 2074/5/24
Status: In Progress → Pending Completion