2074/12/23
Overcast.
Rain.
The air thick with moisture, mold, dust, rust, chemicals, and the acrid stench of blood.
On the rain-slicked street, shattered storefront windows had left debris everywhere. Glass shards and broken fixtures were scattered across the pavement, catching dull reflections in the wash of rainwater.
Overturned trash cans lined the road, their contents mingled with protest signs, flags, plastic bottles, bricks, and even discarded clothing. All of it had mixed with blood and rain into a muddy slurry—trampled so many times it became one indistinguishable mass.
"Hah…"
In the mid-level lobby of the black tower bearing Arasaka's three-leaf clover logo, Vera stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the dreary world outside through the steady drizzle. She parted her lips slightly and exhaled a sharp stream of smoke, which dispersed and vanished into the ventilation system.
She stood among a crowd of corporate dogs—some sneering, some mocking, others expressionless—as she quietly observed the scene below.
"Damn it, you know what you're doing is illegal, right?"
"Get lost! Disperse!"
The dark mass of fully armed security forces wielding riot shields, batons, stun guns, tear gas, and pepper rounds—those were Arasaka's.
The colorful, shouting, fading, retreating crowd throwing debris—those were the protesters.
From peaceful demonstrations to violent clashes, the escalation had taken just a few days. A rising wave that crashed hard, leaving behind only the wounded and the wailing. Some would be dragged off to who-knew-where, their bodies ending up on some organ harvester's table.
The smoldering remains of shops, broken bricks, and debris lay strewn along the street—made all the more desolate under the gentle baptism of rain.
"Manager Russell, thank you for your hard work with the suppression operations these past few days."
The head of Arasaka Sydney Branch's Manufacturing Division—a burly older man—smiled graciously as he handed Vera a freshly ground Lodoron coffee. She had flown in as a reinforcement from Night City.
Though technically head of the Security Division in Sydney, his actual authority wasn't much greater than Vera's.
After all, Vera was from Night City's Security Division.
In all of Arasaka, only three locations could call their office buildings "Arasaka Tower" and their jurisdictions "headquarters":
Tokyo (Global HQ), Paris (European HQ), and Night City (North American HQ).
And Night City—that hellhole—had the worst security situation on the planet. Only Tokyo rivaled it. In terms of firepower, Night City's North American HQ fielded the most formidable forces under Arasaka's banner.
As the frontline against their old rival Militech, Arasaka's West Coast operations were loaded with military resources: armed barracks, fortified bases, naval ports, checkpoints, and a tug-of-war with Militech over Latin and South American markets.
"I trust that after this lesson, those petty trash will quiet down for a while."
"Ah, probably."
Vera nodded with a polite smile, accepting his goodwill and the coffee.
It had been half a year since June's freshman orientation at Arasaka Academy, and she'd been head of Night City's Security Division Special Assault Unit for all six months.
Now she held more real power—and more soldiers—than when she'd first taken the role.
She'd also grown more numb.
More of a corporate dog.
Working for you really doesn't allow a moment's rest, does it?
She looked up at the Arasaka clover embossed into the ceiling.
In the last six months, her experiences had been… "varied."
First, retaliatory strikes against the Maelstrom gang for repeatedly robbing company transports.
Then, when the Vancouver Branch uncovered a secret Militech infiltration op into the Free States, Vera led a team to sucker-punch them, taking out a covert transport convoy—complete with Basilisk-class armored vehicles.
Security Division wasn't Counter-Intel or Intelligence. As a high-ranking officer in Arasaka's military machine, Vera wasn't stuck behind a desk in Night City. Fieldwork was routine.
Assassinations?
She'd had her fair share.
Her travel routes and intel were often targeted—by gangs, edgerunners, fixers, or even other corpos. Militech in particular seemed to consider her a thorn in their side. One day she'd trade pleasantries with their people at a civic banquet; the next, she'd survive a cyberpsycho ambush on the way home.
Cyberpsychosis, madness—the usual "official" explanation.
Vera "believed" it. More or less.
After all, megacorp rivalry wasn't any more civilized than life on the streets.
On the biotech R&D side, she handled small assignments in passing—tweaking formulations based on old Umbrella-era models.
Her regular duties included signing three urban security maintenance contracts in the Pacific Rim. She couldn't oversee all of them directly, so she deployed squads to handle operations independently.
As for bodyguard work—there were plenty of contracts, but only two had needed her personal involvement.
One was in the Indian subcontinent. A super-rich client in Bharat was throwing his daughter a wedding. His business had ties to organized crime, plenty of enemies, and enough religious tension to make things volatile.
He paid top-tier rates for Arasaka protection. Vera happened to be in Tokyo HQ receiving a commendation, and given the generous tip, she stepped in as both combat specialist and field commander.
The second job was Arasaka's own: the annual Aratama-matsuri cultural festival.
These always involved members of the Arasaka family. For Night City's 2074 festival, Arasaka Michiko made an appearance, and Vera served as senior security onboard the extravagant floating palace.
That mission? Flawless.
This month, her attention had shifted to South America, where the Chilean branch was facing growing instability.
Chile, rich in mineral, forest, and marine resources—and globally known for its copper—was a key supplier to Arasaka's Manufacturing Division. Recently, Militech had once again extended its "evil little hands" into the region.
They were arming local gangs and civilian groups, stirring up unrest to destabilize the region—clearly planning something big.
Arasaka's Intelligence Division caught wind of it. After strategic discussions, it was clear: they couldn't let Militech win.
Vera mobilized three 100-man assault teams and a heavy armor detachment to support the Chilean branch.
She personally airdropped in to coordinate.
Cut through the mess. Hit hard before things spiraled.
The threat was neutralized. No restructuring of local power was likely for the next few years—unless Militech or some other corp threw even more resources into the mix.
Just as that operation wrapped and Vera prepared to return to Night City for some rest, trouble brewed in Australia.
This time, there were no signs of outside interference.
Or at least, Intelligence hadn't found any yet.
Arasaka's Pacific Rim directors looked around at their available personnel—and Vera's name came up. She was always deployed where things were rough. The company mantra: "Use what works until it breaks. If it doesn't break—promote it."
So, one order later, Vera was sent to Sydney.
It wasn't Night City.
It didn't receive megacorp weapons funding or serve as a real-world testing ground for cutting-edge cyberware.
Compared to Night City, Sydney was practically peaceful.
No chaotic gangs. No cyberware flooding the streets. Just "spontaneous" protests about factory pollution, contaminated water, low pay, and long hours.
Righteous causes.
Vera wasn't bloodthirsty. When facing unarmed civilians, her job was to disperse, not destroy.
Bruised skin, broken bones, swollen eyes from tear gas—those were enough. No need to bring out the shotguns.
The noise outside gradually faded.
Vera pulled her gaze away from the window.
…This routine approach won't work. Too dirty.
She'd have to think of something else.
Without the Arasaka surname, if she wanted to climb any higher—
Maybe it was time to apply for advanced study.
Go back to school or something.