Everyone jokes that corporate dogs are flexible in posture, always selling their souls for a living.
So, is what I'm doing now considered selling my soul?
Watson, a rust-covered, dilapidated old industrial zone. In a wide alley near the main road, an edge runner named Lucy, wearing a thick acid-alkali-resistant raincoat, got up from the tattered couch on the balcony after taking a job from the company.
Through the gaps between the alley and factory buildings, she gazed into the distance at that dark fortress-like cluster of buildings. The tall facades made of glossy black glass and steel-reinforced concrete bore the glowing letters "aRaSaKa" and the round clover logo.
Lucy didn't know the answer to that question.
She had hated that symbol since the beginning.
She hated being under their control. Hated being powerless. Hated her past…
Even now, she still hated it.
"Lucy, monitor the stretch from Arasaka Waterfront transitioning to Northside Industrial District—Blackthorn Street. I'm sure Faraday hired more than just us. Jackie and that corpo dog... cough, that lady are waiting for our update." It was Maine.
His voice came through the team's encrypted hacker call channel.
Lucy's expression stiffened. She replied, "…Roger." Her expression was a bit complicated.
She was doing another job for Arasaka.
"Hoo…" Tossing away the spent cigarette, taking a deep breath, Lucy turned and walked through the gap in the iron fence, entering through a half-open door.
Twisting and turning.
As she stepped onto the stairs, Lucy's frost-purple cyber eyes flashed with data streams. In her optical view, several anti-personnel infrared-detecting landmines switched from red to green. Biometric verification passed.
Creaaak.
She pushed open the door, and a chill mixed with mildew, smoke, alcohol, and food smells hit her nose. Lucy looked at the two people inside—
Kiwi, completely naked, lay in a bathtub filled with ice.
Above the adjacent rig, the fan spun silently. Data cables crisscrossed in a slightly messy layout. Multiple monitors behind her lit up, filtering through countless lines of 0s and 1s, along with footage from various surveillance zones.
The other person was an older man with flowing hair, a thick beard, and a 'T'-shaped implant mark on his chin.
He was pouring a plastic bucket of ice into the tub where Kiwi lay.
Hackers need to cool down while working. Those without money soak naked in ice baths. The rich ones just use a specialized netrunner suit and recline in a cooling chair.
"Falco," Lucy greeted.
Falco, the team's dedicated driver. While he didn't directly join operations, he was always there when the team needed transport or for big jobs.
For this mission—reconnaissance, or more accurately, disguised recon—Maine and Dorio formed one group, Pilar and Rebecca another, both operating on the move.
Lucy and Kiwi, the team's netrunners, were stationed at a fixed safehouse, ready to hack surveillance systems or provide remote support during combat. Falco was responsible for protecting and extracting the two—one group of three.
"Want a cup of instant noodles? Just heated."
Falco nodded, pointing to a half-open, steaming rectangular paper container on the table. Inside was a greasy pile of noodles with some kind of unidentifiable minced meat.
"No thanks."
Lucy shook her head and walked toward another bathtub filled with ice.
She began undressing…
There was nothing to be shy about. They were all mercs, edge runners. Trust among comrades who covered each other's backs was a given. She stripped completely and stepped into the tub filled with ice.
"Looks like you've accepted it."
Sensing Lucy's network signal, the data streams in Kiwi's cyber eyes returned to normal. She reclined and lit a cigarette.
"Yeah, work is work," Lucy replied. "Besides, the pay's decent this time. In this world, only money brings dignity…"
"Still thinking about going to the moon? Hm, a single trip costs 250,000 eurodollars. After this job with Welles and Faraday, plus the savings you've accumulated over the past two years—your daily expenses are minimal—you should have saved up more than half by now."
"..." Lucy didn't answer.
Buzz—her pupils flashed with an orange-red glow as she hacked into the Northside Industrial District's LAN and surveillance networks. She began filtering the data.
At the same time, in the team's encrypted channel:
[Maine: Kiwi, did you find them? How many decoys did Faraday send?]
[Kiwi: I've been watching him. Besides us, at least four other teams. That guy still has some clout—hired a bunch of cannon fodder. His backer is most likely Militech. Maine, good thing you kept a backup plan. Otherwise, if you'd gone to him out of desperation, he'd have sold you out for sure.]
[Rebecca: That four-eyed bastard—one day I'm gonna blow his damn head off with a shotgun.]
[Maine: Hmph! If he weren't cunning and ruthless, he wouldn't be a fixer in Night City. Still... (unclear if it was a sigh or a self-mocking tone). He's just a hyena picking at corporate scraps. Then again, so are we...]
[Falco: Nothing much to say. I've done corp jobs before. Just that everyone I worked with back then is dead now. Maine, these double-dipping, two-faced contracts—don't take them lightly… Dorio, keep an eye on Maine. Don't let him lose it.]
[Dorio: OK. Got double the deposit, and we've got plenty of suppressants.]
[Lucy: Stop. I've got something. Maine—Arasaka Waterfront, there's a fleet docking!]
Beneath an old neon sign, on a filthy terrace blaring heavy metal music—
"Maine, look!" Dorio's voice.
On top of a converted water tower-turned-nomad shelter—whoosh—
The dark-skinned, sunglasses-wearing giant snapped upright, sweeping the casual poker cards off the board and raising his binoculars toward the Arasaka portyard behind the automated factory.
That area used to be called the Coastal District. It was one of Watson's four zones.
Now, including Night City's own government, everyone had grown used to calling it the Arasaka Waterfront. Arasaka's coastline.
A fortress island representing corporate authority in the sea of crime that was Watson. The pristine, new Arasaka-controlled lands stood in shocking contrast to the worn-down factory buildings elsewhere in Watson, decayed by time.
Woooo—!
A deep horn echoed over the port.
Maine and Dorio lifted their military-grade binoculars.
A rare post-rain clear day—temperature inversion smog and acid mist had dissipated. The view was crystal clear.
At Arasaka Waterfront Port, six Arasaka-branded, matte-black multi-role transport ships approached the pier under escort from Arasaka's fleet.
As if a switch had been flipped, half of Arasaka Waterfront erupted into activity.
Rarely seen Octant heavy combat drones, armored hovercraft of MaxTac-grade specifications with Arasaka's livery, lifted off en masse from the transport ships' flight decks and flew toward the temporary military personnel docking zone within the portyard.
Densely packed, rising and falling—the sky filled with menacing war machines.
Below, the stern ramps unfolded and rotated forty degrees to connect with the dock and lock in place.
Vrrr… Vrrr…
Engines roared.
Barely discernible from a distance: wheeled Behemoth armored vehicles loaded with attack drones and armed robots, hover armor bikes, light armored hover combat vehicles, bipedal heavy-duty drone mechs, heavy multiped manned tanks, integrated firepower deployment platforms, large box trailers hauling unknown cargo, supplies—and massive formations of Arasaka heavy infantry units…
A lineup of war machines so overwhelming it made Maine, a hardened merc, dizzy.
"Shit, is Arasaka gearing up to start the Fifth Corporate War...?"
Even Dorio, brash and bold as she was, instinctively ducked her head. Seeing the sheer scale of the troop reinforcement and the tactical equipment nearly covering the portyard, she couldn't help but click her tongue in disbelief.
Click click click—
Maine used his cyber-eye's camera module to snap photos quickly and transmitted them back to the team channel.
[Falco: Fuck! Is Faraday trying to get us killed?! Steal? Let him send his mom and dad to steal that!]
Even the calm veteran driver couldn't help but curse inside the safehouse.
Kiwi puffed on her cigarette, squinting as if deep in thought.
Lucy, having hacked into the Watson Industrial District's surveillance system to piece together real-time visuals of the Arasaka Waterfront from multiple angles, had gone silent.
Especially when those large main battle hover armor vehicles showed up—she went numb. Those things were even more intense than the Manticore used by NCPD's most powerful force—MaxTac. There was also an unidentified aerial beast, reminiscent of Zetatech's "Surveyor," whose size looked capable of airdropping an entire fully equipped platoon behind enemy lines in one go.
And then recalling how Arasaka recently launched community patrols in Vista del Rey under the banner of civic engagement, Lucy decided that from now on, she would completely abandon her petty "revenge" of pickpocketing Arasaka wage slaves on subways and trams.
[Maine: Is that a Basilisk? How the hell is Arasaka using Militech's Basilisk?]
Maine, a former enlisted grunt—even if he was just Rank-4 cavalry—suddenly questioned. He'd seen Basilisks before. No way he got that wrong.
[Kiwi: Sigh, Maine, read more news and lay off the black braindances. International news—Arasaka HQ Tokyo spokesman already explained. Long story short: Arasaka's troop buildup in Night City got fierce opposition from Militech. Then Arasaka hit back, citing Militech's 'Showroom Strategy'...]
Showroom Strategy:
It's Militech's integrated approach combining sales, recruitment, and garrisoning.
Because Militech signs pseudo-castle-law contracts with local governments when opening showrooms in major cities, its personnel inside those showrooms are granted "full rights to demonstrate weapon capabilities."
Although global norms strictly prohibit "excessive firepower" within city limits, Militech consistently ignores those rules in their showrooms.
The result? In city centers, Militech's weapon stores and showrooms don't just sell handguns and rifles—they also stock tanks, hover armored vehicles, self-propelled artillery, all in operational condition.
Arasaka seized on this—twisting the argument around reciprocity: "Your showroom is tiny, my waterfront is huge. Of course I need matching defensive strength." Add in the recent Dogtown unrest, and the claim that NUSA's rebels need reassessment… all conveniently packaged.
EuroBank, Biotechnica, and SovOil all issued statements supporting Arasaka's stance.
Then, Tokyo Arasaka HQ had Saburo issue a second formal statement: that a new advanced research center would be built in Night City—to provide the best environment for his "Arasaka gem," "Night City's most dazzling golden stone." A new land purchase agreement was signed with the city government, with real money backing it.
Zetatech, Kang Tao, and even Petrochem—normally SovOil's bitter rival—all fell into rare alignment with SovOil.
In 2076, the two biggest potential flashpoints for another corporate war were: Arasaka vs. Militech, and SovOil vs. Petrochem.
The diplomatic pressure on Militech was obvious.
After the Metal Wars, nearly the entire world didn't want to see NUSA unify again.
Eventually, Arasaka took a small step back: they agreed to purchase Behemoths, Basilisks, and Manticores from Militech as part of their reinforcement loadouts—giving Militech some face and a graceful exit. Washington compromised.
After Kiwi finished explaining, the rest of Maine's crew let out sighs.
[Rebecca: That Vela chick… Saburo Arasaka values her that much? Calling her a gem, a golden stone?]
[Kiwi: Let me play it for you. Give me a second.]
Soon—
"…Her weight in my heart exceeds the total weight of the escort troops and convoy dispatched this time."
A deep, measured voice spoke in Tokyo-accented Japanese.
"If not for President Myers' interference, I would have continued dispatching more escorts. This is the love of an elder for the younger generation—there's never such a thing as too much. I don't want her to be harmed by the malicious schemes of ill-intentioned people. I've borne that pain once before…"
Beep beep.
[Kiwi: There you go, a news clip I intercepted. Saburo Arasaka's exact words. Who knows how genuine it is. My guess is Saburo's just making excuses for the troop buildup. People like him... whatever. Not our problem.]
[Maine: Looks like siding with Arasaka was the right move.]
[Kiwi: So far, yeah.]
Hoo…
Atop the derelict water tower, Maine exhaled heavily. Data symbols flickered in his eyes as he jabbed another dose of Arasaka's new suppressant into his arm and muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, "So this Vela really is heavyweight."
"An escort team—hell, all that was just her personal guard? Fuck, this is what they call a 'guard'? That's some next-level envy. What's this VIP doing right now—any word from the news?"
[Kiwi: Yep. She's having lunch with Michiko Arasaka at the Konpeki Plaza. Why, you wanna join?]
[Maine: I wish. But no way I'd get an invite.]
[Kiwi: Alright, enough jokes. Maine, to the point—I've compiled all the photos and audio files into a detachable chip. Those container trucks and sealed heavy cargos are probably what Faraday's after. What now?]
Maine grinned, "Extort him, of course! The situation is way more serious than he described. We'll need a pay raise to keep going—and no guarantees of success."
[Kiwi: What about Mr. Welles?]
"Sell out the positions of those four teams…"
[Lucy: Correction—six teams.]
She had stayed silent until now, quietly navigating through local networks. Then she dropped a signal marker into the channel.
[One of their guys almost spotted me. The signal from this network pod was familiar—similar to Militech's training chip frequency. I'm not certain if they're Faraday's, but he was in contact with another team Faraday deployed—that's how I found him… There's one more team—unclear.]
"That's enough."
Maine slotted in a one-time-use comms chip and sent out an encrypted message.
[Brother Jackie, here's what you asked for.]
[Muy bien (Very well). Stay safe, choom.]
After sending the message, Maine crushed the chip. After watching for a moment, he signaled Dorio to relocate. Just as they descended the water tower—Vrrrm—
An Arasaka armored hovercraft roared overhead, heading north.
"So fast?"
Running through the narrow alley, Maine looked up.
Before he and Dorio could relocate—
Lucy dropped an image into the team channel.
From the background, it was the northernmost part of the old industrial zone. A blurry, massive chunk of black iron was leaping from a hovercraft, landing dozens of meters below with a thunderous crash.
Beep beep.
Lucy uploaded two more screenshots.
One: an explosion on the tall chimney of an old factory—black smoke billowing.
Two: several shredded humanoid figures fell from the chimney's top. At the cracked edge stood a towering, pitch-black "mecha beast," outlined against the flames and smoke—clutching a severed limb oozing red and white fluids.
Maine recognized it instantly.
The product manager of the bar counter at the Afterlife nightclub!
"Holy shit—Adam Smasher?!"