In the quiet archive room, the man paused for only a moment before opening the box in his hands.
Inside was almost nothing—just a pitch-black chip embedded in padding.
As the box hit the floor, William pinched the chip between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed until the plate twisted and gave way under the pressure.
At last, it crumbled into several fragments in his palm.
He tossed the shards out the window.
The dark pieces spun through the air, catching the light in sharp flashes, like a bird released from his grasp.
He stared blankly at the sight until—
In the silence, several figures appeared, each dressed differently, with varied builds.
They looked like ordinary employees, some still holding unfinished work.
But now, every face was grim, their formation subtly closing in on him.
"You're suspected of damaging company property. Come with us."
The speaker stood in the center—a man in a white shirt, his tie slightly crooked, as if forgotten in the rush of work.
William looked at him, his expression unreadable. His lips parted slowly.
"You... don't look like Operations Department..."
Huff—
The man shook his head slightly, his gaze drifting into the void.
"Rules... are rules...
Some things may not matter, but it isn't up to us to decide."
He shrugged.
"I'm just a small cog."
It seemed like a choice, but William had made his decision long ago.
Expressionless, he said nothing more and simply let himself fall backward.
With so many people around, words would only make things harder for them.
The wind howled past his ears. The sunlight high above was blinding, but he faced it calmly until red swallowed his vision.
"Record it! Target jumped. Team B, head down and search."
At the order, the team on his left departed at once, leaving only four men to the right.
The speaker straightened his tie, walked to the window, and glanced down.
The drop was high. The details below were unclear.
Behind him, a female teammate stepped forward. From start to finish, it felt like only the two of them were truly present.
"Even if you covered it well, it wouldn't hold up to scrutiny.
You weren't even close to him. Was it worth it?"
Her voice was soft, carrying like a whisper in his ear.
The man's eyes swept over her briefly before he pulled them back without reaction.
"Who knows? Maybe in five years, everything will be different."
Ambiguous words, saying nothing at all.
His gaze flickered—five years from now, if he hadn't lost his mind, he might no longer be human.
Soon, the comms channel buzzed with a report.
"Target triggered overload cyberware. All neural links destroyed. Nothing salvageable."
"Pity... Write up the report..."
Though his tone sounded regretful, the man's body relaxed.
Lives weren't easily replaced, especially when their value didn't balance.
"Independent Operations Unit of the Intelligence Bureau—stay undercover and erase all traces.
Afterward... focus on leads tied to brain-consciousness tech. That's our target."
The true power of the Corporation was how even the smallest trace—a careless word, a drop of spit—could be turned against you.
Clearly, that slaughterhouse basement hadn't just been sniffed out by Arasaka. Militech had caught on too.
The Scenic District—Heywood's festering sore. Its crumbling walls and wild weeds were the city's rot, yet it clung stubbornly near the municipal center, right beside Corporation Plaza.
And where there's rot, there's crime and gangs.
In a low, shabby self-built house, Kiwi—the netrunner from Maine's crew—lay submerged in ice water.
Even now, she wore her signature mask. A cigarette glowed through the iron mesh, its burning tip bright in the dimness.
"I told you, things are fine now. No reason to cooperate."
Head tilted back, relaxed against the tub, she spoke on a call.
"This is a rare chance. You'd pay almost nothing—guaranteed profit."
The voice on the other end was sharp and insidious—Faraday, the fixer with the warped cybereyes.
"Your pitch... I won't comment.
But you know how long I've been with that old bastard Maine."
An arm rose from the icy water, plucked the nearly spent cigarette from her mask, and flicked it into the tub.
She stood, her frame thinner than Lucy's—bordering on frail.
She dried herself without concern while Faraday's grating voice droned on in her mind.
"I know you, Kiwi. You're smart...
Just say the word, and the money flows straight into your pocket. No risk. All reward."
"Glad you think so... But as you said, I am smart.
Remember—you're just a fixer without turf. Without Maine, you'd still be hustling kids at the Afterlife.
Maine carried your debt for nearly a decade, and he couldn't even afford a proper home.
Do you really think I'd fall for your lines? I'm not... a rookie anymore."
Half-lidded, she wrapped herself in a towel and sat casually in a chair.
The room's only light came from a faintly glowing terminal.
The dim glow caught a sliver of her skin, leaving the rest in shadow.
"Damn it! This time I'm working with the Corporation! One day you'll see me at the top!"
The voice rumbled deep, like a beast's warning growl.
"And this—this is one of the few chances you'll ever get."
Her short hair swayed as she leaned forward.
She moved closer to the terminal, its faint light sharpening her features.
She glanced at the screen, then cut the connection without hesitation.
She shook her head lightly. In her years of childhood wandering, she had seen betrayal and scheming too many times.
Until Maine—one of the few anchors in her bleak life.
Thinking of that, she didn't hesitate and dialed Maine's channel.
"Ah! Kiwi!
Damn it, where've you been? How are you doing?"
Fresh from Vik's clinic, Maine answered immediately, his voice urgent and tinged with worry.
"Me? I'm fine...
Forget that—I called to tell you something. Faraday's scheming behind the scenes. It's aimed at you."
Hearing her words, Maine frowned, uncertain what to make of it.
"You got more intel? What's he after?"
"That... I don't know."
Kiwi's tone was as flat as ever, drained of all emotion.
"I'll keep watch...
But what about you? What have you been up to these days? If trouble hits, you can always come back."
Her eyes flickered briefly before she replied.
"I'm planning to leave Night City... Looks like you don't really need me anymore...
Some people... maybe they just belong in the dark."
Maine fell silent at her words. He thought for a moment, but didn't try to stop her.
"Leaving...
Just be careful on your own, especially as a netrunner.
If things get rough, come back."
The silence stretched long before he added,
"If you leave Night City, we won't be able to reach you.
Sigh—
Stay in touch..."
"Cut it out, Maine. You sound like a nagging mom.
I'm hanging up."
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser