The assassination directly and severely impacted the core decision-making layers of the two giants, Militech and Biotechnica.
However, due to their vastly different corporate cultures and core objectives, the shockwaves triggered by this impact propagated and fed back within their respective systems, ultimately leading to different outcomes.
Inside the CEO's office on the top floor of Biotechnica's headquarters, the air was suffocatingly heavy.
Niccolò Logaggia stood with his back to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, outside of which parts of Night City's skyline twisted and distorted in the artificial glow.
Security Chief Elliot Kwan stood before him, completely devoid of his usual composure.
Kwan's suit was crumpled against him, his tie askew, and his forehead covered in cold sweat.
His gaze was unfocused, his hands trembled uncontrollably, and his voice was broken and clearly quavering: "She... she just appeared in my bedroom... Mr. Logaggia! In my own apartment, in the innermost room... All the security systems, they all... they all seemed not to exist!"
He swallowed with difficulty, his Adam's apple bobbing violently: "I didn't even see how she got in... One second I was alone in the room, the next... the next she was standing by my bed.
That weapon... pressed against my throat... I could feel it vibrating, emitting that... that low-frequency hum..."
Kwan's voice suddenly rose, tinged with hysterical terror: "Her voice... it wasn't human at all! It sounded like it came through some synthesizer, so cold... so cold it made my whole body tingle.
She said... she said we had to stop all actions against them, all of them! Surveillance, tracking, bounties... everything had to stop!"
He fumbled frantically in his pocket, trembling as he pulled out a data chip: "This... this is the list she gave, she said it was compensation... compensation for our 'offense'. I... I don't even dare to look at what's inside..."
Kwan's breathing grew more and more rapid, almost gasping for air: "She also said... Strange and Winters... they... they have been... been eliminated. And I... the only reason I'm still standing here is because... because I needed to bring this message back..."
Just as Kwan was incoherently describing the weapon pressed against his throat, Logaggia's personal terminal on his wrist suddenly emitted a piercing hum. Two crimson, encrypted message windows forcibly popped up, hovering in the air.
Logaggia's gaze swept over the first message, his pupils contracting sharply. It was an urgent notice from the internal security department: "Confirmation: Board member Julia Winters deceased at her Charter Hill residence."
His finger was still on the first message when the second one immediately followed—an internal notice from Militech, concise and chilling: "Lieutenant Colonel Karl Strange, Special Projects Department Action Coordinator, confirmed deceased."
The air in the office seemed to solidify instantly. Logaggia slammed his fist onto the desk, his knuckles white from the force. Kwan's report abruptly ceased; he stared in terror at the distorted expression on the CEO's face, finally realizing what had happened.
"They... they both..." Kwan's voice caught in his throat, cold sweat instantly soaking his shirt.
At this moment, he truly understood why he was still alive and standing there—he wasn't a survivor, but merely a carefully designed messenger. The other party not only wanted to kill, but also to precisely control the pace of information delivery, even calculating the exact moment he would learn of his colleagues' deaths.
Logaggia whirled around, slamming his palm with all his might onto the hard office desk. The loud crash exploded in the confined space, making the very air tremble. His face, which had been ashen, instantly flushed dark red, and the veins at his temples bulged and throbbed menacingly, as if they might burst at any moment.
"Lawless! Utterly arrogant!" His voice tore his throat, echoing with a crack in the office.
But beneath this facade of rage, his fingertips were trembling uncontrollably.
The news of Winters' death hit him like a punch to the gut; the woman who always opposed him on the board, the rival he privately wished to get rid of, was now truly dead.
Not in a meticulously planned business struggle, but easily wiped out like an ant by an unknown enemy.
This realization sent a chill creeping up his spine.
He forced himself to stand straighter, his voice rising higher, trying to mask the deep-seated tremor within him with volume.
"Revenge!" He practically roared, turning to the executives who had rushed in at the news. Their faces were etched with panic, which only irritated him further: "The most severe revenge must be exacted! At all costs!"
His gaze swept over everyone present, noticing several senior executives exchanging uneasy glances.
This made him even more furious, yet also more unsettled.
"Intelligence Department!" he yelled, calling names, "Send out all analysts! That assassin and the one who ordered her! Don't miss any clues! Street rumors, black market gossip, investigate everything!"
His voice grew louder and louder, as if to fill the suddenly too-empty office with his commands.
The shadow of death had never loomed so palpably over him.
He recalled Kwan's description of the weapon pressed against his throat and instinctively touched his own neck.
"Security Department! Immediately raise the alert level to maximum! Re-evaluate all executive security details!" His commands came one after another, too fast for anyone to react.
"Black market bounty, a sky-high price! I want to pile up Euros into a mountain and get all the hounds in Night City moving!" At this, he suddenly paused, his chest heaving violently.
A bead of cold sweat trickled down his temple; he roughly wiped it away with the back of his hand.
"I want to know which rat hole in the desert that mastermind is hiding in!" His voice suddenly dropped, carrying a kind of almost obsessive paranoia, "Drag him out... and utterly crush him..."
The last few words were almost squeezed out through gritted teeth.
He looked around at the silent executives, seeing the fear and hesitation in their eyes, which made him even angrier, but also made him realize more clearly: if the other party could easily take the lives of Winters and Strange, then taking his life would be no difficult feat.
This thought coiled around his heart like a venomous snake, almost suffocating him.
But in front of his subordinates, he could not show the slightest weakness.
He forced himself to straighten his back, using all his strength to maintain the facade of rage, even though he clearly knew that, to discerning eyes, it was nothing more than a show of bravado.