It was about 10 minutes to the meeting point, and I was speeding at 140 on the highway. I wondered what awaited me, who the client was, and what the job entailed. I thought about what I might do with all the money. Maybe I'd get new furniture, spruce up the apartment a bit. Or maybe move altogether? But probably something not much more expensive than what I pay now, since 70,000 credits doesn't mean I'm set for life. Well, first I had to get this job done, I thought as I arrived.
I didn't take my motorcycle inside; I locked it up somewhere outside. Didn't want to pay extra for parking. I went in — it wasn't even 4 p.m., more like five minutes before — but I thought he'd be here already. That didn't seem to be the case. I looked around the entire underground parking lot, but there was no one in sight.
"Seriously, if you want something from someone, you should be on time," I muttered.
Just as I was about to head upstairs to stand by the entrance so he could see me if he came, someone got out of a white van and said:
"Good thing you're punctual."
"So, you're the client, right?" I replied.
"To be sure you're not someone else, tell me: Who sent you?"
"Rodrigo."
"Okay, good. Then let's get to the job. You have to sneak this van into the Arasaka headquarters and hide it well so they won't find it until the festival next week. Specifically, you need to park it in the delivery hall, so it blends in with the other transport vehicles and doesn't stand out. Then you notify me and send a photo so I know it's in place."
"And why all this? Why on the day of the festival?"
"You're not paid to ask questions."
"Well then, I'll have to decline. I don't like doing things without knowing the purpose," I said and turned, hoping he'd explain.
"Wait, I'll tell you, but only because I'm desperate and no one else took the job."
I stopped and listened.
"There are 1,200 kilos of highly concentrated C-4 in the van. The delivery hall is right in the heart of the building, under the main support structures. If the explosives go off there, the entire structural integrity will collapse. It won't just shatter a few windows or wreck some offices — it will bring the whole building down. Arasaka has destroyed too many lives, and now it's time they pay the price. This van is more than a vehicle — it's a mobile bomb. As for the festival: most of the workers who have families and lead normal lives won't be there."
I let his words sink in. The plan was insane and risky, but well thought out. "But some will still die... What did Arasaka do to you?" I asked.
"Maybe it'll help to talk about it," he said hesitantly and began to tell his story:
"My wife was pregnant back then, and I was one of Arasaka's employees. As an employee, you were insured by the company, but when my wife wanted to give birth, they explained the fine print of my contract. It turned out only my side of the family — my parents, siblings, and me — were insured, but not my wife. Because of that, the child died in her womb. She couldn't bear the psychological pressure; the loss was inside her. She lost her mind.
I just wanted to get revenge on the company and ended up blowing up the Arasaka Tower. Of course, the news made it look like the culprit had been caught to avoid panic. I thought that would be enough, but no. Every night, I'm torn apart by nightmares — my wife screaming in pain and grief, but also the beautiful dreams of watching my little daughter play.
That's why now it's the headquarters' turn. I want to make them accountable for everything. I want to wipe out Arasaka — they won't recover from this."
Wait, what... is this... the guy who took everything from me? Are you the bastard who caused my parents to burn alive?! I thought as I listened to him. You could see the anger all over my face, but this asshole probably thought I'd be moved by his story — no chance.
"Oh, so that's how it was…" I said, full of rage.
"…"
I started to smile sympathetically and walked toward him as if to pat him on the shoulder. But no — I punched him as hard as I could in the face. He fell to the ground, and immediately after, I kept going. I sat on him and saw only red with rage. I punched him over and over again — right, left, right, left, and so on.
"BECAUSE OF YOU! BECAUSE OF YOU THEY DIED! I WAS ONLY 16!" I screamed as suddenly shots rang out and I felt a stabbing pain in my side.
After a moment, I noticed he was losing consciousness... I couldn't tell if he was dead or just passed out. Also, I realized I was bleeding somewhere around my liver. The pain got worse and worse...
"Oh my God! What happened?" I heard a woman scream. It was the girl from before. She ran over and asked, "Hey, are you okay?! Can you stand? Wait, you're bleeding! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I'm calling an ambulance right now!"
"Wait a sec, help me up... check where the nearest river is... please," I said, gasping.
"What? Why? You're hallucinating, that makes no sense."
"Please, just do it."
"Alright," she said, and after half a minute added, "Two minutes from here. Straight down the road."
I went to the van and climbed in painfully.
"Hey, what are you doing?! The ambulance is already on its way, you shouldn't overexert yourself!"
"I have to drive the van into the water, or many people will die," I said, clenching my teeth.
She got in and said, "Then I'm coming with you." I didn't have the strength to argue she should get out. I wanted to survive and didn't want her to die.
I drove off, and she navigated. The burning pain grew stronger. The adrenaline in my body was fading, so the pain became more intense.
"Okay, we're almost there," I said. "We have to get out now and push the van so it rolls down. Gravity will take care of the rest."
Done and dusted, I just watched the van roll down. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness as I heard her scream for me to hold on…