The space inside the maintenance shaft was narrow, the air heavy with metal and dust. It wasn't suffocating, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. Neo was lean, his frame fitting easily in the confined darkness. Rebecca, small and delicate, managed to fit beside him — though just barely.
Their bodies pressed close, shoulder against shoulder, her breath mixing with his. The warmth of his skin, the faint scent of engine oil and smoke clinging to him — it was too much for her to ignore.
Rebecca's cheeks flushed scarlet. In this tight, dark silence, she could feel every inch of him, every slow inhale, every quiet shift. Her pulse quickened.
For someone like her — who'd never been good at hiding what she felt — the proximity was lethal.
Neo's voice came low, steady.
"Rebecca, did you hear what I just said?"
She blinked. "Huh? Oh… yeah, yeah, I got it. Whatever you say goes."
Neo exhaled quietly, eyes fixed on the narrow slit of the inspection grate. Through it, the living room beyond was visible — polished glass, white stone, a reflection of luxury and arrogance.
Soon, the performance would begin. The stage: Yorinobu Arasaka's penthouse. The players: father and son — Saburo and Yorinobu Arasaka.
The tragedy that defined Night City was about to unfold right before his eyes.
...
Above the shimmering skyline of Night City, a fleet of lights pierced the dark — an Arasaka private aircraft, cutting through the night like a silent blade.
Inside, Saburo Arasaka, patriarch of the Arasaka dynasty and the ruler of the world's most powerful megacorp, sat in absolute stillness. Eyes closed, hands folded over a lacquered cane, his breathing calm, his mind sharp as ever.
At over a century old, Saburo looked frail — but the truth was, there wasn't a single natural organ left in his body. His heart, his lungs, his blood — all maintained by the most advanced biotech on Earth. His life was a symphony of science and wealth, conducted by a team of hundreds who monitored every heartbeat, every cell, every deviation.
If one were to examine him, the readings would show the vigor of a man half a century younger.
"Lord Saburo," came a low voice from beside him. "We've entered Night City airspace. Konpeki Plaza is in sight."
It was Goro Takemura, his most trusted samurai and personal guard.
Saburo didn't open his eyes. He only murmured, "Has Yorinobu arrived?"
"Yes, my lord. He returned to the hotel ahead of you."
A faint, almost knowing smile curved Saburo's lips.
"I don't even need to see his face to know what expression he's wearing," he said softly. "Panic — because I came without warning. Irritation — because he knows I've come to confront him."
Takemura hesitated. "Lord Saburo, forgive me if I speak out of turn."
Saburo's eyes opened at last — sharp, ancient, unyielding.
"Speak freely, Goro. You've earned that right."
Takemura bowed deeply. "You and Lord Yorinobu are father and son. If I may, when you speak with him… perhaps, approach him calmly. Without anger. He might listen if you—"
Saburo's quiet chuckle cut through his words.
"You don't understand my son, Goro."
He shifted slightly, his cane tapping against the polished floor.
"My Yorinobu lacks talent. He lacks vision. But if that were all, I could forgive him. After all, he bears my name — Arasaka. That alone could have guaranteed him a life of comfort and power."
Saburo's tone hardened.
"But his mind… his ideals are diseased. The time I gave him control of Night City's operations was meant as a test — his final chance. And he failed."
His voice grew colder with every word. "Under his leadership, Arasaka's stock plummeted. Militech and Biotechnica are bleeding us dry, even Kang-Tao has surpassed us in key sectors. At last month's World Summit, the old men mocked me — me — the great Saburo Arasaka, brought low by his own son."
His grip tightened on his cane. "Tell me, Goro… is it my punishment to have such a child? Did the gods mock me by giving me this bloodline?"
Takemura's expression softened. He laid a hand gently on the old man's shoulder. "Please, my lord. Without you, there would be no Arasaka. And I believe… Lord Yorinobu still carries your legacy within him. One day, he'll see your wisdom."
Saburo smiled faintly, eyes empty of belief.
"For your sake, I hope so."
He straightened, composure returning as fast as it had cracked. "Enough sentiment. He's already in his suite, yes? Then let's go."
"Yes, my lord."
...
"Why!?"
Yorinobu's voice shattered the silence before the door even opened.
"Why did he come to Night City!?" he shouted. "Why didn't he warn me!?"
The suite door slammed open as Yorinobu stormed inside, his rage spilling like acid. His fury found its target — the towering figure of Adam Smasher, standing silently in the corner.
If anyone else had spoken to him like that, they'd already be a stain on the wall. But this was Yorinobu Arasaka — the Emperor's son. And even Adam Smasher, the butcher of Night City, the walking apocalypse, knew his place.
"I wasn't told," Smasher said, voice metallic and flat. "The order came from Arasaka Security Command. Lord Saburo is arriving tonight at Konpeki. I was assigned to his personal protection detail."
Yorinobu snarled, pacing across the room. His hand reached for a half-empty bottle on the glass table. He drank straight from it, the burn of the liquor doing little to still his trembling hands.
Fear and rage — two emotions Yorinobu had spent his life trying to bury, now roared to the surface.
The fear of his father. The terror of standing before the man who defined his existence.
Adam said nothing more. He simply stood by the door, motionless, his cybernetic bulk like a statue carved from steel and shadow. He knew his job now was simple — stay silent, and don't get in the way.
After all, who would be foolish enough to pick a fight inside Konpeki Plaza tonight?
...
Inside the vent, Neo and Rebecca watched the entire scene unfold from above.
The moment Adam Smasher's massive form came into view, Rebecca froze — her pulse jumped, eyes wide as she whispered, "That's him…"
Neo's hand found her head again, a reassuring pat.
"Stay calm."
But his own eyes gleamed with something far sharper — something almost feral.
Rebecca's fear was instinctive. Neo's reaction, however… was hunger.
His heart thudded once, heavy and deliberate.
Adam Smasher.
The monster who had slaughtered legends. The beast of iron and war.
Neo's lips curved slowly, a ghost of a smile playing across them.
"Just you wait," he thought.
You're next.