[To Vela—or whoever you are:
If you're reading this message, then I suppose I've lost.
I'm quite certain that the first person to get their hands on it in the midst of this chaos of war and turmoil would only be you—or your people, my dear niece.
To see your handwriting is as if seeing you in person, Vela. Heh. These past few years, we've detested each other—neither of us could stand the other. Although that old bastard Saburo sowed discord between us, making us each other's whetstones, you really are such a hypocritical and conflicted woman.
A Machiavellian zealot who worships cold-blooded honor—does power truly intoxicate you so much?
Enough. No point in rambling with empty pleasantries.
By now, I've likely lost my head. Imprisoned? Executed? Suicide? Consumed by the virus? Turned into a digital ghost by Soulkiller... one way or another, something will fit.
I hope my death leaves nothing behind—not even ashes.
That would be ideal.
But of course, that's only wishful thinking.
Becoming a research specimen for your fusion-virus experiments—or worse, a vessel for Saburo's perverse Relic Project—seems a far likelier end.
Between the two, I'd rather be a walking pile of rotten, stinking meat in some lab!
Heh... pathetic, isn't it?
Did he really think I didn't see through his little scheme when he welcomed me back to Arasaka? Maybe, as you read this, my skull is being hollowed out and filled with Saburo's decayed digital soul—just like that sakura tree at the old Tokyo estate. Hollow inside, yet still stubbornly blooming with delusional flowers.
Saburo will be reborn in my body.
I'm not afraid of that ending. I've never feared the end.
But tell me honestly, Vela—would you want that?
To be ruled again by that domineering old demon?
Saburo believes he's tamed a phoenix that soars the heavens, weaving a gilded cage of power and profit to keep you perched on Arasaka's sacred tree. Yet he doesn't realize—it's his own rotting soul trapped inside that cage.
Fear—that's his greatest talent.
Ever since I could remember, Saburo has known how to provoke fear in others.
In that, I'll admit his skill.
Just look at the pathetic fools on the board—a bunch of idiots so scared they'd piss themselves over an old relic who hides in a freezer!
Saburo once told me: "Everything of value is like driftwood on the wind. And the wind is fear." Then... do you know what he did? He blew at me.
That time, though, he was wrong.
It works on others.
Because they fear him. But I don't.
And neither do you.
Let's be honest, Vela. My coup wasn't because you or Saburo were thorns in my side—nor was it just for power. It was a declaration of war on corporate colonialism. A revolution. Do you understand?
I wanted to destroy all of you—all the rotten systems and corporate lies!
Fifty years ago, with Militech's backing, Johnny Silverhand, Morgan Blackhand, Rogue—they blew Arasaka Tower to ashes. And what changed? Nothing! The tower still stands.
Cut off one serpent's head, and new fangs grow sharper and deadlier.
That was when I realized—corporations like this can't be destroyed from the outside.
So I made a decision: if bombs can't destroy it, then I'll become the bomb.
But...
Since you've read this far, you know already—the so-called revolution has come and gone.
My way failed.
Then let's see yours.
If a stronger, darker, more powerful Arasaka conquers everything—what kind of change will it bring to the world? What kind of future will it forge?
Better—or worse? I don't know. I don't care.
To a defeated man like me, knowing that you and Saburo walk the same road but with different hearts—that's enough.
Vela, allow me to lend you one final hand. I've encoded the complete intelligence from before and after the coup within this message:
—Attachment 1: [Tokyo Tower "Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians" / "Restoration" / "Parliamentary Faction List"]
—Attachment 2: [Correspondence Logs with Militech and the New United States]
—Attachment 3: ["Special Military Operations" Strategic Outline]
...
Believe it—or don't.
Use them—or destroy them. You understand better than anyone how to survive in this dog-eat-dog world, how to be the kind of monster that makes others afraid.
Never again, Vela—or whoever you are. If you should win...
I bless you—and I curse you.
Remember this: our burning ashes have stained every throne.
—The spirit of rebellion never dies!
Yorinobu, the Steel Dragons' Number One Coward, final words. ]
Click.
After reading, Vela silently pulled out the connection cable from the [Shepard A-T] smartphone.
Whoosh! A wave of heat whipped past her ear. She tossed the shattered phone in her hand lightly, weighing it with idle rhythm.
"I underestimated you, Yorinobu..." As the crimson data streams in her eyes dimmed, crack! she clenched her fist and crushed the private phone into fragments.
It was safer to keep it in her memory.
The fragments fell through her fingers. Beneath her visor, Vela's expression was complex. "Good night... last of the Steel Dragons," she murmured softly. Reaching up, she unfastened the safety relay hanging around her neck, disconnecting her neural link, and tossed the device to the hacker squad leader waiting nearby.
"Ma'am?"
The squad leader caught the relay, glancing down at the shattered phone pieces scattered on the floor. His voice was cautious, tinged with curiosity. Was it infected with malware—or filled with venomous insults from the late traitor? He couldn't tell.
"No matter."
Vela waved her hand dismissively, not bothering to elaborate. Her voice was calm, commanding. "Rebuild a temporary unified command network as fast as possible. Get a full report from Westbrook. Also, summon Morishita—there's an urgent mission."
"Yes, ma'am." The hacker bowed and withdrew.
Boom! Lost in thought, Vela fired another blast from her pistol, reducing the phone debris beneath her boot to molten slag. Folding her arms, she stood beside the [Black Abyss] spear, gazing out at the blazing torch that had once been Konpeki Plaza.
She was analyzing the intelligence Yorinobu had left behind.
Honestly, what was the point of leaving such a long-winded last letter? She didn't care.
In the end, it was nothing more than a manipulative gesture—a failed man's attempt to influence her posthumously.
Even the flattering terms—calling her a "phoenix"—were carefully chosen to stoke her suppressed ambitions and drive a wedge between her and Saburo. Whether she or Saburo read this message, Yorinobu's intent would succeed.
Not that Vela needed his petty provocations to harbor ambition.
The list in Attachment 1 even amused her.
Clearly, Yorinobu, the idealistic revolutionary he fancied himself to be, truly despised those royalist relics and ultranationalist fossils he'd had to cooperate with. Even in death, he wanted to drag them down with him—using Vela's hand.
Had he considered the possibility that someone else might find the phone? Of course, he had.
After all, the device had been inserted beside a Sakuradite explosive. Once detonated, everything within several hundred meters would be obliterated.
If the bomb went off, the entire Arasaka coastal area would be annihilated, wiping out most of the suppression forces Vela had brought with her. Yorinobu wouldn't have mourned the loss—those "Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians" zealots were just corporate dogs. And more troops would have arrived soon enough from the JA-23 floating transport fleet.
If the bomb failed to detonate, the phone would remain intact—and since the area was swarming with heavily armed Arasaka troops, either her men or his, no outsider would likely notice the inconspicuous 2077-era touchscreen device. Yorinobu had planned it perfectly.
The ending, of course, was direct—a parting warning. A gesture of goodwill wrapped around a poisoned seed. While preaching "rebellion eternal," he was also provoking her, daring her to outdo Saburo.
She would.
Vela mouthed the words silently.
Her contemplation was cut short by approaching footsteps.
The commander of the Presidential Security Division, Morishita, clad in command-type power armor, strode briskly toward her. Bowing slightly, he greeted, "Ma'am."
"Well then, Arasaka's internal turmoil is resolved. What remains should pose no problem." Vela turned, a wicked curve playing at her lips. "Now, it's time to deal with our external pests."
"Militech's vermin."
"Orders."
As she spoke, the V-shaped visor of her helmet began to pulse with an amber glow.
[Visual Interface Information Frame]
Attachment 2: [Contact Logs — Opened — Entry #144: The New United States representative relayed Rosalind Myers' request that Yorinobu facilitate the transfer of a large-scale device into Night City for Militech and FIA agents.]
Attachment 3: ['Special Military Operations' Strategic Outline — Opened — Page 13: Joint operations with Militech forces — planned assault and sweep targeting her private residence.]
Militech's involvement in Arasaka's chaos? Of course—they'd lend a hand.
And that "large-scale device" being transported... suspicious indeed. Vela's eyes narrowed slightly, recalling the strike she'd delivered against Myers back in Omaha.
So this was revenge, was it?
"Deploy elite Security Division operatives and ninjas. Coordinate with bomb disposal engineers, the first Chemical Analysis Department of Forensic Science, and the Security Bureau's Explosives Unit. Form a rapid-response composite team specialized for sub-nuclear ordnance handling..."
"Also—inform Valerie (V) from Counter-Intelligence. It's time to strike back. Exterminate all infiltrating hostiles."
...
At the same time, Charter Hill, Westbrook—Arasaka Corporate Community.
The greenery still shimmered, spring life gleaming beneath a night sky set ablaze by thermal weapon fire.
Amid shattered walls and rubble, stray rounds whistled past. A downed Octant-class heavy drone lay in pieces, explosions lighting the smoke and dust. The air was thick with the smell of burning plastic and ozone.
Militech's armed units were advancing.
Suddenly—a crackle of black-red digital lightning erupted, an invasive AI virus sweeping through the soldiers' ICE (Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics) units.
"Damn it! It's Songbird!" a Federal Intelligence Agency agent shouted, recognizing the attack signature immediately. Rage twisted his face as he screamed, "Song So Mi—you backstabbing bitch! Traitor!"