"Hello. You here for two implants?"
Rocky stood in the doorway of his clinic, calm eyes on the man in a suit.
Ignoring the question, the agent stated his purpose with a flat face. "L, you run an underground clinic and work as a merc in Night City. Two weeks ago and again a few days ago, you delivered for a company called Ascension Technology and pushed product info for them. I need the full details on your employer. Everything about Ascension Technology."
Rocky lifted an eyebrow. So they still did not know the serum came from him. They only read him as a seller and courier for Ascension.
Arasaka's team had combed what tips they got from local ripperdocs, but came up light. They traced the delivery merc's identity and backtracked Rocky's clinic from email trails, yet found no factory, data fortress, formula, freight records, or staff. The drug looked like it appeared out of thin air in Night City. Without evidence, they took Rocky for a simple agent.
"Your source is quick. If I say I do not know much about them?"
Rocky sounded indifferent, as if the suit did not rate his interest.
"You do not get to decide that. Come with us. This is not a request. It is a notice," the agent said. Fully armed combat specialists stepped up behind him and boxed Rocky at the door.
Rocky read the formation and knew he could not dodge this visit today. He spread his hands. "Fine. I know things. We can talk."
A cold snort. Seeing cooperation, the agent turned to lead off. Two combat specialists closed in on Rocky's flanks to block any move.
An armored transport sat at the curb with an Arasaka crest on the side. The rear door yawned open. Two more heavies waited inside. Four in total would be his companions after he boarded.
Rocky walked to the rear door. A specialist behind him set a palm on Rocky's shoulder and reached for his arm, ready to shove him in.
"Do not touch me. I can get in by myself."
Pressure bit down on his shoulder. Rocky cursed. He hated hands on him, and he hated restraints more.
"You talk too much," the enforcer said. He whipped out a stun baton and slashed for Rocky's neck, aiming to knock him out and shut him up. Corporate training solves the problem with force. With a gap in strength, there is no conversation.
The baton cracked home. A hard jolt of current rode the blow. Rocky's vision swam for a heartbeat. His frame sagged for a second under the voltage, then his endurance and resilience hauled him back.
"Ah."
He rolled his numb neck until it popped and turned to look at the man who swung at him. Surprise flashed across the specialist's face as the "guaranteed" baton failed to drop its target. Rocky's stare made him swallow.
Before the man could move again, the figure before him burst into motion. Rocky pivoted, clamped a hand around the man's throat, and lifted him close.
The enforcer clawed at Rocky's fingers for air. His other hand groped for his sidearm and froze when Rocky pressed a barrel to his forehead.
"I said, do not touch me. Can you not understand words?"
Rocky held the throat and spoke loudly enough for the street. He had already woken in a bad mood to suits at his door. Now these blind idiots thought he was an easy mark.
Around them, the other specialists had already raised guns and settled sights on Rocky, ready to shoot.
"Cyberpunk, drop your weapon and stop your dangerous behavior," the nearest one barked.
Rocky did not flinch. He laughed. "What then? Kill me if you have the guts. Come on. Please show me your courage. See if you can learn what you want from the second person after you drop the first."
The combat team glanced at the suited lead. Veins stood in the agent's forehead, but he raised a hand and held his shooters.
Rocky had hit the soft point. Right now, Arasaka's best lead into Ascension Technology was Rocky. If he died or vanished, the chain snapped. Finding a new opening might take time; they did not have. Orders from above were clear: get Ascension intel fast.
If Rocky refused to cooperate, any measure was on the table. But he had just said he knew and would come. If the agent blew this, he was done.
Now the job was twofold. Pry the information from Rocky's mouth and keep him alive long enough to hand it over. Keep rivals from snatching him on the way.
"Easy. No need to turn this tense," the agent said, voice sliding down a gear. "We were wrong just now. I will make sure they keep their hands to themselves—guns down. If you come with us, you will not be mistreated. Give us what we need, and you will be paid in full."
He had read Rocky right. This was a challenging target; the priority was to secure the intel, not win a street fight.
"Now you want to talk politely? You were loud a minute ago," Rocky said, contempt plain. "Bullies who fear the strong. Trash."
This is Night City. The weak get stripped to the bone; the decent get muzzles pointed at their face. Without leverage and strength, you kneel.
If Rocky had not punched back, they would have kept handling him like soft clay, without negotiation or sweeteners.
He lowered the pistol, released his grip, and threw the man aside. The specialist, face flushed purple, sucked air in great gulps, then pushed up and slipped back into formation without a word.