Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

War was hell.
Everyone who had to endure it would attest to it without objection.

When Covenants attacked humanity,
When remnants of it persisted with discovery of Forerunner AIs,
When UNSC’s very own smart AIs started to rebel against their creators,
When the Banished managed to shred the UNSC to small pieces.

Thanks to Cole Protocol, and ONI’s attempt to ‘sanitize’ data within the Created-occupied locations, Earth had but a few scratches from the fight from space.
Compared to other planets terraformed and colonised by the UNSC and their Megacorp Subsidiaries, which had been glassed by the Covenants and made near-uninhabitable, Earth so far had only lost a few cities and people.

UNSC, on the other hand, got the short end of the stick. Took the full brunt of the several attacks.
Guardians paralysing the Military Government and the Megacorps created under them, and the Banished butchering them up.
If they had one good thing, it was that ONI went down with them.
That was one less pain in the ass in the universe. And at least they did their part to help humanity before they were getting shreded to pieces.

But that still wasnt enough. After taking liver blows from their own Smart AIs, the banished were slowly snuffing the flames out.
If they wanted to survive, if they wanted to stop the Banished from reaching Earth,
They had to take Master Chief’s lead.
They needed to group together and rebuild.

UNSC Revenant was but a few of the surviving pockets of UNSC and UNSC-related bodies.
It was perhaps one of the biggest surviving pockets, spending previous years picking up any distress signals to rescue several officials and militaries, assimilating them into their ranks.
Damages and sacrifices were slowly replaced by whatever they could salvage. This included destroyed parts of other UNSC vehicles and Carriers, decomissioned Civilians ships, and even abandonned Covenant carriers.

Hell, if they had the time they would even scavenge and salvage Forerunner technology to add to their arsenal.

UNSC Revenant was slowly living up to its name, a dying ship forcefully resurrected through any means. What was originally an Epoch-class heavy carrier now had so many crafts of varying origins grafted on to every direction, it now grew to the size of an Infinity-class supercarrier.

They got more people and Vehicles and weapons. They needed the space.

The only problem to the people on board of UNSC Revenant was that their ship basically became a walking UNSC protocol violation, none of them really cared. UNSC was falling apart, and majority of those Protocols were made and preserved out of Paranoia anyway.

“… We’re actually insane for trying this.”

“Don’t worry. It’s going to work.”

Spartan Commander Washington turned away from the screen to look at Captain Church.
Even with the Steel and Red JFO helmet hiding his face, Captain Church could feel the utter dissapointment exuding out from behind it.

“Like hell it is. You’re asking us to basically push on the legal boundaries of the Cole Protocol.”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Use another planet. I know that our ship found a Colony planet designated as UNSC associated that is much closer to us right now.”

“And as I have told you and every other crew within this ship, there is too much of a risk factor there to attempt that.”

“It’s an even bigger risk factor to bring, oh I don’t know… a hodgepodge of Covenant, Banished and Forerunner technology to EARTH.”

“Cole Protocol stated not to introduce captured covenant craft to human controlled space without an exhaustive search for tracking systems that could lead the Covenant to Human bases. And as far as I know, we spent every hour while incorporating salvaged material scanning to see if any of them could backfire on us.”

“And my common sense is stating that our salvaged tech could backfire on us any time. It’s a dynamite- one that just waiting for someone to light the fuse that we cut down to a single milimeter.”

“Agent Washington, at this point in time Earth has already been compromised. After being subjugated by the Created, and being threatened by the Banished, it’s already even more at stake of another alien invasion. And this time, the opposing force isn’t coming to reclaim some Forerunner legacy or trying uphold the mantle of responsibility.
It’s coming for Revenge.”

Captain Church already briefed UNSC Revenant, and clearly expressed his opinion on why this was the best possible solution.

Despite the risk existing by taking a Chimera of a ship, his words held true.
An Eye for an Eye.
Tooth for a Tooth.
Home planet for Home planet.

And despite the efforts of UNSC and ONI, the Banished were just mere footsteps away from rediscovering the Coordinates to Earth.
The best they could do was to properly come in contact with Earth after 40 years (not counting the Covenant Contact during the near end of the war) and act as the last resort in its defence.

The plan was simple: land on Earth, establish a base in one of the areas, and act as the newest main base for the reviving UNSC.

Hide, Shelter, Regroup, and then Strike back.

“Sir, we’ve got news for you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s… well. It’s a Spartan, sir. You may want to check this out directly.”

And also get anything they can salvage or recruit along the way.

Agent Washington received a communication link from the Crewmates down at the scrap sorting cargo hold, made by attaching salvaged and modified regions of a destroyed Banished dreadnought.

The Spartans on board of UNSC Revenant made sure that the Banished Ship didn’t miss their lost parts.

It was now used by the UNSC Revenant to pick up anything they can find and use while traveling through space.

Agent Washington made his leave from the bridge, and promptly traveled down using built in gravity elevators.
These things were disorientating for the first few weeks, and now it made the analogue method of travelling down feel so much slower.

Washington was met with a large cryo chamber, a large Spartan with a cracked helmet visor  presented within.

“Holy shit on a stick. Where did you find him?”

“We found him drifting away from a destroyed UNSC carrier ship, sir. We managed to extract him along with salvageable scraps.”

A Spartan wearing a GEN2 ENGINEER-class Mjolnir stepped up to answer.

“… Any other survivors?”

“None that we could confirm and rescue at the moment.”

“God bless their souls.”

Agent Washington watched as the mechanics started up plasma blow torches.

“The cryo chamber’s been welded shut, several blasts from plasma weaponry by the looks of it. It wasn’t intentional, the amount of blasts this thing took tells me that they wanted to melt the guy completely, and this was the best they could do in the moment. I know the Banished didn’t like Spartans, but sheesh… Whoever he is, the banished were hellbent on killing him in his sleep. Would rather take him out without a fight.”

Agent Washington watched closely as the workers were halfway through cutting the cryo chamber’s lid off.

The half-melted glass made the rest of his armor hard to distinguish, but the slowly dying display monitor on the bottom printed out everything Washington wanted to know.

SPARTAN-B312

“Jesus fucking christ. It’s Noble 6.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s Noble 6. No wonder they wanted to avoid a fight with this Spartan. Spartan-B312, that was his code.”

“… You mean the Ghost of Reach?”

“Not the nickname I’d say in his face. Mind you, he hates that moniker.”

Agent Washington stared at the Spartan UNSC Revenant had rescued.
Why wouldn’t he? Everything that happened for him to get that nickname was just tragedy after tragedy.
Noble 6 wasn’t the type to feel proud about having to watch as everyone around him sacrifice themselves, and yet remain as the sole survivor.

“Take him to the med bay once you pull him out of that makeshift coffin. And notify me once he wakes up.”

“Roger that.”

Agent Washington stared at the blue flames for a few more moments, before taking a step back to the bridge.

UNSC Revenant would be one of, if not the most, chaotic UNSC crew out there.
From the constantly clashing views between crewmates of different origins, to the very plan they all decide to agree on.

Now they had a Hyper lethal vector of a spartan newly on board.
And the Captain was going to take him with them on their journey to Earth.

The entire ship was of clashing colours and design too.
Both the Exterior and the Interior.

But somehow, through sheer force of ingenuity, luck, and will - it all held together fine.
Actually, it was more than fine. Shit, this ship was thriving. Nearly outperforming every other possible fleet from all factions.

The engineers on this ship would call this a rewarding result of their hard work and cooperation.
As they saw it, this was natural because of their effort into researching, reverse engineering, and incorporating salvaged technologies.

Agent Washington saw it as a goddamn miracle.
A goddamn miracle the crew was already pushing the limits of.

Agent Washington sighed as he moved.
He was already questioning his life choices, until realising this would have been the best possible outcome for him.

War was hell.
Everyone who had to endure it would attest to it without objection.

And that’s why the Spartans survived and thrived in it.

There was a reason why Spartans were called Demons.

Chapter Text

“Let’s pick another city, sir. I’d like to vote for New Mombasa. You’ve seen New Mombasa, right Captain? At least, before the war?”

“We can’t afford to start in another city.”

“But why not, sir? I fail to be convinced by your decisions when your only reason for not picking the alternatives is saying ‘we just can’t’, Captain. I’ve just looked through the data regarding Earth, and I’m already getting new reasons to doubt our current decisions even if it doesn’t violate the Cole Protocol. Famine, 4 different wars committed by Corporations, mass pollution, utter chaos. At least every city, every country on that planet has a facade pulled across it to cover up those problems and bullshit. Night City, apparently, could only afford the cheapest one.”

“And that’s precisely why.”

“… Are you implying that you’re intentionally sending whatever hope we have into a hell hole and let it burn? Captain, if you want to give up just tell me that you want to give up.”

Captain Church simply gave a sigh and a side eye to Agent Washington’s sarcastic response.

“Other countries and cities still have some politics and government upholding it. The very facade you mention. Even if it’s simply a front for Corporations to do what they want. You’ve seen the resources regarding Night City, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Among the several no man’s land that formed within that dying planet, that area has what they call an Arvin Accord to maintain its status as a completely free City. In other words, there will be no legal resistance to us setting our foot down there.”

“If we weren’t a government military body. Which, Captain, I think we kinda advertise even with the amount of non-UNSC materials welded to our ship. They’d count that as an outright invasion, and therefore a violation of the Accord.”

“Not unless we’re a new corporate looking to sell products.”

Washington raised his hand, about to object… but he fell silent, weighing the risk and reward of Captain Church’s plan.

“Alright. Fine. Then what are we selling them? I do want to inform you before you give me the options, that selling UNSC or any outright alien technology will be biting us in the ass through many different ways.”

Captain Church gave a side eye to Agent Washington.

“Of course not. Do you think I’m that crazy?”

“With what you’ve been suggesting throughout our journey on UNSC Revenant?”

Captain Church let out a snort as he tapped on the screen.
The holographic display swapped from a 3-dimensional map of Earth (and littered with various videos of Earth’s current situation) to several projects the Engineers on board have devised.

“As you can see, we’ve attempted to integrate what we can offer, to what should be acceptable. As you have pointed out, we’ve considered outright sale of Covenant or Forerunner technology to be a huge risk. So what we offer are products that are derived from us using such technology to make them.”

Architecture, Agriculture, Vehicle manufacture. Agent Washington quickly looked over the various options. Seeing whether they were viable, whether people would buy them over the current existing products.
And whether the crew could make them.

“I’ve spoken with our Chief Engineer duo about which projects we can do.”

“What did they say?”

“If they can crack the code they’re currently having trouble researching and reverse engineering? All of it.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

“If they can manage it. You want to hear what they’re shouting in their labs?”

Captain church tapped another portion of the bridge computer, which promptly opened a smaller holographic monitor displaying a video feed of the lab’s security camera.

One of the two Chief Engineers on board of UNSC Revenant was a Spartan IV - Spartan Cell wore an ENGINEER-variant of the Gen 2 Mjolnir, manufactured specifically by the Lethbridge Industrials to Subvert, repair, and reconstitute technology.
Even those of Covenant and Forerunner origin. The functions built into the suit made sure the Mjolnir variant’s role stayed true.

Washington saw Cell use the added strength from his Mjrolnir armour to throw an analogue pen so hard it speared halfway through the lab wall. And according to the walls and floors being filled with numbers, the pen had already outlived its usage.

“IT’S A 3!! IT’S ALWAYS A 3! NO MATTER WHAT METHOD I USE IT’S ALWAYS A GODDAMN 3!”

The other Chief Engineer was not even human - Khyl ‘Suhom, a Sangheili Artisan-Armourer working directly under Thel ’Vadam, and also in direct cooperation with UNSC thanks to Project ANVIL. 

“But that’s good, is it not? By your explanation a consistent result means that it’s stable.”

“IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE 4!!!”

Chief Engineer Cell’s quad-set of spectrum nodes glowed bright red, the placement of the eyes making sure to display his ever growing frustration through the unchanging helmet.
The visual was certainly terrifying.

Expecting what the Spartan Commander would ask, Captain Church quickly quipped in as Washington looked on at the Chief Engineer’s Tantrum.

“They’re back to researching Forerunner technology we managed to extract from the broken fragments of Installation 04, and from the data UNSC Infinity had sent over to us prior to its destruction.”

“… I take it he’s not getting the progress he wanted.”

“Oh, believe me. He was happy earlier this morning, telling me that he nearly cracked the code to the Forerunner’s Assembly Vats and the ability to convert raw material into necessary feedstock. He told me and Khyl that if he managed to breakthrough in the software calculations, we would essentially have an up and running improvised assembly vat ready to produce whatever form of blueprint we input into.”

“So we’ll have forerunner technology in the palm of our hands.”

“Not fully, unfortunately. The limitation on the data we managed to acquire means that there is only so much we can reverse engineer. We still can’t build an entire fleet, but we can at least mass produce anything from Weapons to Vehicles. We’ll have to manually assemble the vehicles after the parts are separately printed out. He says we may also be capable of outright creating buildings if we’re lucky.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“Yes, it does. But as of right now, he’s stuck.”

“And that sounds concerning.”

“Well, despite our current situation, I can confidently say we have time so we don’t have to worry yet. Besides, his partner-in-crime is a Sangheili Artisan-Armourer. He knows how assembly vats work, the two of them can pull through this.”

“Let’s hope they can pull through before we arrive.”

“I hope so too.”

“Agent Washington, sir?”

Washington’s intercom buzzed to life as a Medical Officer decided to give the Spartan Commander a report.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, no sir. We just wanted to notify you that… Spartan- ahem, Spartan Noble 6 has… woken up.”

Agent Washington nodded at the news. Guess he now had something to keep himself busy while the rest of the ship whittled away at progress.

“I’ll be with you soon. Captain Church?”

Church simply nodded. As far as the two knew, they had exhausted all the current news on the ship.

Agent Washington turned to the door.
Guess it was time to introduce himself to a Hyper Lethal Vector.

“Careful now, sir. You’ve just woken up. We don’t want you falling down on the ground.”

“Balance isn’t an issue. Where am I?”

Washington walked into Noble 6 attempting to stand up from the infirmary platform, ignoring the Medical officer’s concerns. Mark V [B] grazed, battered and half melted in few places. Yet the dented boogeyman still stood up, raring to go.

The Spartan Commander interjected.

“You’re in the UNSC Revenant, Spartan Noble 6. I’m Spartan Commander Washington, second-in-command on this ship. It’s an honour to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Washington stretched out a hand towards Noble 6. Noble 6 in took Washington’s hand, and gave it a firm shake.

“What happened to the rest of UNSC Seventh Halberd?”

“If you’re asking about the destroyed ship we found you near… You were the only one.”

Noble 6 looked to the floor as he let Washington’s hand go, before turning back to Agent Washington.

“Sorry I came alone.”

“None of it was your fault, sir. I’m sorry we couldn’t rescue anyone else. Are you sure that you can stand, sir?”

“I don’t feel anything hurting. I can walk as well. That should be more than enough for me to get back into the fight.”

“That’s good news, sir. But we’re not going to be fighting anything for a few days. Well, unless you're keen on showing new bloods a few tricks in War games.” Noble 6 stood silently, as if to mull over what Agent Washington haf just said.

He finally spoke again, asking a question he needed to get a proper understanding of his situation.

“Where are we heading?”

Washington let out a sigh at the question.
Great, now he has to explain the bullshit plan his captain thought up, and managed to convince around half the crew mates of this ship that it was a good idea.

“Follow me, sir. We’ll give you a tour as we tell you what we’re about to do in approximately 72 hours.”

Noble 6 watched Agent Washington as he followed the Spartan Commander out of the Infirmary.

“First off, UNSC Seventh Halberd was not the only one to take heavy hits from the Banished. UNSC Revenant has been rescuing and salvaging any remnants of UNSC-related personnels. Until further notice, we are the biggest surviving pocket of UNSC.”

“What about ONI?”

“ONI… disappeared, sir. 7 months ago. Last contact was during the Created Conflict when Black Ops Operatives were sent to destroy any UNSC related intelligence in Created- controlled areas. When the Banished systematically attacked us, ONI was unfortunately one of the first branches of our government to go MIA.”

“I see.”

“We’ve been surviving on salvaged parts of Covenant, Banished, and Forerunner technology. Most likely the reason why we’re still alive.”

Several crew mates stopped in their tracks as they gave Noble 6 a salute.

“But we’re taking a break from outright fighting the Banished. We have enough resources to survive, not win a fight. Our forces are still scattered, and thanks to taking two consecutive hits from different forces we lost contact with other UNSC pockets. We… although not unanimously, have agreed to travel to a nearby colonised planet, establish a UNSC base, and regroup with the rest.”

“Did we decide on a colony planet?

Washington stayed silent for a moment or two, before turning around to face Noble 6.

“Yes. Yes we did, sir. Earth. We’ll be arriving on Earth to carry our new objective in approximately 72 hours.”

“Earth?”

“... Yes, sir. Earth. Do you know much about the planet?”

“I know that UNSC cut all official contacts with the planet in 1989. They still had an eye on Earth. Enough to have some of the Spartan II candidates kidnapped from Earth.”

Noble 6 looked at Agent Washington.

“Will that not breach the Cole Protocol?”

“God, I hope not. This is the engineering bay, run by a joint operation of UNSC officials such as the Materials Groups and Watershed division, Personnels from UNSC-associated Manufacturers such as Misriah Armory and the BWS, and the Artisan-Armourers of the Sword of Sangheili. Chief Engineers are Spartan Cell, and Khyl ‘Suhom.”

Noble 6 watched as the Engineers went to work: Salvaged wrecks dismantled, either fed into half-exposed and half-finished Assembler vats to be used as repair parts or recycled materials for new gears.

“We’ve checked your armour while you were out. Mark V[B] ported to Gen 3.”

“Black Ops operation against the Created forced me to take whatever advantage I could. The lack of entrances available to rebellious AIs meant that the Created could spot me less effectively.”

Washington nodded. He had heard a lot of Spartan IVs had also favoured the newly updated Mark V[B] for that exact reason. Which meant that they could adhere to the newly revived Cole Protocol easier.

“Besides.” Noble 6 added. “I just feel more comfortable in this armour.” 

Agent Washington chuckled. “I’m sure you do. Unfortunately, your current armour has been suffering heavy hits. Whatever circuits it had is frying up, sooner or later you’ll be dragging half a ton of scrap metal around.”

“I see. I guess it’s time to move on. Do you have some options for me?”

“We do. We are running a ship that possibly contains the most Spartans out of all surviving UNSC Fleets. And considering that we assimilated several intelligence and information from various Manufacturers and Divisions, we end up have a wide variety in armour. Each blueprint specialising in specific roles. I’ll let the Engineers introduce you to what we have.”

Washington gestured towards the corner of the Engineering bay.
Several Spartans were already having their armours assembled onto them, updating and upgrading parts, or swapping to different variants.

Several Spartans witnessed the Ghost of Reach walking with their Commander, giving the two a salute and standing.

It was a little funny to Noble 6. For nearly all his life his achievements and feats were nothing but black ink and censorship.
He was meant to be forgotten, if he was noticed at all.

And the Spartan III was fine with that. He enlisted to kill, not to gain recognition and become the next Spartan IIs.

To think that a journalist fighting against ONI caused everyone to know his name.
Ghost of Reach, the journalist dubbed him. The hidden hand within Noble Team that successfully tipped the scale of the war. Someone that allowed Master Chief to finish the fight.
It was an exaggeration, of course. There were other Spartans that survived the Fall of Reach. And there was definitely many other Spartans whose sacrifice and legacy paved way for humanity to win the war.
But media loved exaggerations, because the crowd ate that up as if it was a Christmas cake.

Engineers made way for Noble 6 as he stepped towards the platform, mechanical rings unfolding and ready to disassemble the damaged Mark V [B].

Noble 6 felt his helmet lift off his face. Holographic models of potential Mjolnir variants and up-armour attachment he could get.
It was like going through a catalogue in a store. Choosing menus in a restaurant.

“Is there a specific armour you have in mind, sir? Chest piece, knee guard, helmet?” One of the two engineers asked. Noble 6 stopped looking at the hologram options to turn his head towards them. The engineers would more than be glad to attest to how intimidating Noble 6 looked even as he was suspended on the platform.

“Standard Issue, general purpose. Field work. Give me whatever you have.” 

Chapter Text

Because of the difference in the history and year between the two franchises, I’ll make a quick rough timeline of the merged universe of this crossover:

1967 - Creation of NSC by the US government (Cyberpunk/Halo version of NASA) for the purpose of racing the Soviets to the Moon.

1969 - USA (more specifically astronauts of the NSC modified through Project Orion) lands on the moon first, NSC discovers forerunner technology in the form of a half-destroyed Keyship with single surviving Forerunner AI - Head of the NSC destroys all records of their extraterrestrial findings for fear of its misuse by the American Government.

1972 - NSC finishes excavation and retrieval of Forerunner technology - starts to reverse engineer the fleet for advanced spacecraft and software systems.

1974 - NSC finds further Forerunner artifacts and constructions in Kenya, Africa - further excavation occurs until Africa accuses USA of invasion. US Government questions NSC on their intent but NSC remains silent.

1978 - NSC succeeds in the first creation of a Dumb AI, utilising the blueprints they have managed to research from the Forerunner AI. They also start on building NSC Armstrong - the first space ship capable of long-duration space travel.

1984 - Degenerating society and slow collapse of Earth ecosystem leads to NSC planning Project Monolith: NSC officials and family members, and select few population is taken on NSC Armstrong to travel to outer solar systems, and colonise new planets - Primitive Slip space drive and terraform engine near completion.

1989 - NSC is forced to disband due to the formation of the Gang of Four (NSA, CIA, FBI, DEA) and their start of the “Quiet War” - NSC Dumb AI and Forerunner AI calculate and predict that Earth society will collapse due to the action of the Gang of Four by 1994. Former members of the NSC join to form a non-governmental organisation dubbed the United Nation Space Command (Due to recruiting various personnel from different countries - including ones that has hostile relationship with the US) - UNSC initiates Project Monolith, destroying any evidence that points to the existence of NSC and Forerunner technology. Previous Government officials that knew of NSC are recruited into UNSC or assassinated. UNSC leaves Earth without leaving a trace that they were existed, taking roughly quarter of Earth’s population with them (Earth has named this ‘the great disappearance’). UNSC still watches Earth even after leaving it.

1991 - Reach is Terraformed and Colonised, UNSC establishes itself as a de-facto militaristic government. Several other planets are starting to be colonised. ONI is derived from UNSC as the intelligence division. First creation of Smart AIs.

1994 - Earth suffers from the Great Collapse, reducing several lands into deserts, humanity suffers from famine as several crops and animals die.

2020 - Due to UNSC-derived corporations and manufacturers mistreating colonies, Insurgent parties have started to form, UNSC now deals with Insurrectionists.

2021 - SPARTAN-II Program is initiated, lead by Dr. Halsey. Flash cloning in development.

2027 - 150 candidates of Spartan -II programs identified through DNA gathered from UNSC’s Outer Colony vaccination program.

2035 - 
‘This is Spartan Group Omega. They want war, we’ll give them war.’
UNSC encounters the Covenant. The Human-Covenant War starts, and Cole Protocol is established. Among 150 candidates, only 33 survived the procedures without physiological deformities (1 commits suicide upon encountering their flash clone, 1 manages to escape to Earth and replace their flash clone back with themself)

2047 - SPARTAN-III Program is initiated, lead by Colonel James Ackerson. 

2055 - SPARTAN-III Program Beta Company is initiated - Noble 6 is conscripted. Trained, and becomes a Spartan-III.

2068 - 
‘Negative, I have the gun. Good luck, sir.’
Fall of Reach. Noble Team is among several Spartan Casualties (UNSC officially classified their deaths as MIA) - Noble 6 manages to escort Cortana to the Pillar of Autumn, officially goes MIA (Managed to survive the Zealot-Class onslaught thanks to Heretic spies infiltrating the Covenant Ranks, quickly escorting Noble 6 to their ship before his location was glassed). Noble 6 strikes a deal with the Heretics: assisting their insurgency against the Covenant.
Thanks to Master Chief and Cortana’s efforts, Halo ring is discovered by the UNSC and Sangheili has been split apart from the Covenant - Remaining Heretic forces joins with Thel ‘Vadam and the UNSC, Noble 6 is reunited with surviving Spartans.
During the War, Covenant forces lands on New Mombasa - Earth’s first contact with extraterrastrials, and find the existence of UNSC during the war. Many Conspiracy Theorists believe UNSC to be also be aliens - only wearing the appearance of Humans to hold better grounds with Earth.
The Human Covenant War ends.
Due to the success of Spartan IIs and IIIs, UNSC initiates Spartan IV program, with surviving Spartan IIs and IIIs receiving the chance to join the newly created Spartan Operations division.

2074 - Created Conflict occurs, lead by Cortana. Jiralhanae planet Doisac destroyed. Earth held hostage by a single Guardian. Earth has dubbed this ‘Rise of the Machine god’. Few factions (including part of the Voodoo Boys) have decided to worship this Guardian.

2075 - Created Conflict ends with Master Chief detaining Cortana, however Banished forces ambush UNSC, causing UNSC to be shredded and forced into small pockets disconnected to each other. One of the Remaining UNSC forces - UNSC Revenant, travels to Earth to rebuild UNSC.

“Alright, I’ll keep the briefing short. With only 6 hours before we arrive on Earth, UNSC Revenant is getting ready to start its front as a Megacorp. But to do that, we need roughly 3 things: Funding, Intel, and Connections. Spaces for our factories and buildings, and protection during their construction are mandatory too.”

Agent Washington looked over the Spartan team he had gathered in the hanger bay.
All 5 Spartans IVs focused their attention on their Commander’s order.

“So we’re being sent down there for Recon.”

“Close. We’ll all be going down there at the same time. Your Fireteam is going down there as a form of Black Ops Unit. Objective is short and simple. Gather funding for us to use to properly establish a business within Night City’s market, gather intel regarding the City’s social structures as well as other Corporations, and finally gather connections we can use while we ‘officially’ open up for business.”

“That feels a little difficult to accomplish while we remain as a Black Ops Unit, commander.” The leader of the Spartan group quipped as he fiddled with his rifle.

“It won’t be as hard as you think. According to our pre-established intels, business as a mercenary is booming in Night City. It’s a perfect front to use during your operation. Of course, you guys won’t be the only one sent down their with such objective. You’ll simply be the first.
From here on out, all Spartan and ODST fireteams deployed for long-term on Night City will be grouped as Project: Freelancer. Do you have any questions?”

A Spartan IV that was sitting on a weapon crate raised his hand, the knife he was fiddling with during the briefing raking across the crate’s surface. 

“Are we being sent through an ODST drop pod, sir?”

“No. That won’t be necessary. You’ll be landing along with the rest of the workers on a designated location outside of Night City’s centre. While Spartan Cell’s group starts establishing a proper field for our operations, your Fireteam will head to Night City.”

“Sweet, it’s like Reach all over again.”

“In addition, any weapons that could be traced back to us is prohibited. I doubt Night City and the MegaCorps within will take it kindly to finding out we started to poke and prod into their business the moment we landed on Earth. Only Spartans tasked with Security and Defence will be allowed UNSC equipments. Leave any guns and ammos here. You guys are Spartans, it shouldn’t be too hard to acquire weapons once you manage to infiltrate Night City.”

“Can we take our knives?”

“Can you guarantee me that you won’t lose them?”

“No promises.”

“Then the knives stay here as well. Like I said, we can’t afford them to find out about your operation before we can manage to firmly establish ourselves. The only reason why I’m even letting you guys take your armour is because I know they’ll barely recognise Spartans.”

“Won’t they know of our existence?”

“Technically yes, but realistically no. New Mombasa certainly still remembers us from 8 years ago when it got decimated by Covenant forces. Thing is, the only Spartan they did see is Master Chief. And according to the media, they all just think he’s a really strong cyborg, or an android.”

The leader once again raised his hand.

“Commander. I’d just like to confirm some details- the mail you sent to me says that their will be 6 of us. Will that mean you’ll be joining us on this Black Ops?”

“No. But I’m glad you asked. You will have a 6th member joining you. I’ll introduce you to him once I finish briefing you 5. Don’t worry, he’s not a rookie. So you don’t have to expect to carry him around until he can start pulling his own weight. Any further questions?”

“How long will this take?” The final question from the Team through the Leader.

“At the shortest it will take 2 to 3 months.”

“At the longest?”

“5 to 6 months. If you think you need any maintenance, I suggest you go to Engineers now. I’ll be showing you the newest 6th member in the War games in 15 so meet me, and sending all 6 of you down their in 30. Make every minute count.”
 
Agent Washington left the Hanger Bay, and shortly after the rest of the Spartans started to leave as well.
2 started to drop their weapons back in the armory, while the rest went to finalise their maintenance.

They all met together on the observation deck, the glass wall showing the War games field below.
They saw as Fireteam Eagle slowly sweep out the area, closely checking corners for the enemy.

“He’s taking 5 of them on by himself…”

Noble 6 reveals himself again behind one of the pillars, grabbing another Spartan IV from behind and swiftly dragging them back into cover. Barely an audible gag was heard from the poor Spartan IV as they were forced to retire from the wargame.
Assassination. Swift, deadly, efficient and effective.
Bypasses the Mjolnir’s shield, too.

“And he’s winning.”

“To be fair, did we expect less? It’s Noble 6 we’re watching. You know, Hyper-Lethal? One of the only two Spartans with such a classification?”

“The Covenant spent roughly a week just to focus on him. Sent several Zealot Classes to kill the Spartan.”

“And they failed.”

“That’s why we call him the Ghost of Reach.”

The Fireteam witnessed as the surviving opponents slow backed away from the pillars, each covering their comrade’s back so that they cannot be caught off guard.
Noble 6 appeared from the corner, quickly incapacitating a Spartan with a DMR and dragging them into the shadows.
The Spartan could only scream, letting their teammates hear his voice bounce off the walls and echo into the void.

At least they tried.

“… Did anyone see him move from the pillar to the corner?”

“If I did, I would’ve pointed it out.”

“Commander, are you sure that you want to deploy Noble 6 so quickly? I’ve heard that it’s only been 48 hours since he return to active duty.”

“He’s the one that asked for it. Besides, 48 hours is more than enough for a spartan.”

War games ended in 5 minutes: The score showed 50 to 0.
So much for cooperative team manoeuvres.

Noble 6 walked out of the fields and into the observation deck, as ordered by Commander Washington.
All the Spartans within the observation deck stood up straight as Noble 6 entered through the doorway.

“Commander.”

“Noble 6, I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Considering that I want to end this conversation on a high note, I’ll start with the bad news. Half the Spartans on this ship are idiots, and the other half are just one bad day away from becoming insurrectionists.”

“And the good news?”

“All five of the Spartans you’ll be assigned with are smart. Noble 6, I’d like to introduce you to your new Fireteam. This is Fireteam Baba Yaga. You guys will have to introduce yourself individually. The Chief Engineers are wanting to have a chat with me on our project. Get ready, you guys will be leaving the ship through a Pelican in 15 minutes.”

All 6 of the Spartans followed their commander out of the deck, separating from Agent Washington once they’ve reached the Hangar Bay.

“It’s an honour to work by your side, sir. I’m Locust, the leader of Fireteam Baba Yaga.”

“Commander.”

Fireteam Baba Yaga was starting to reach the Pelican, and each of the 5 started to put on their helmets.

Agent Locust wore a Rakshasa-class Mjolnir with a Locus helmet up-armored by PROJECT ENOCH.
For Black ops missions such as this, the ability to speak with tonal patterns that nearby humans can understand, yet unable to be interpreted through recordings or remote monitoring was perfect.

“The ones behind me are Leon, Killshot, Ram, and Jim.”

Leon, Killshot, and Ram wore the standard Gen 3 Mjolnir, the differing in chest pieces, shoulder pads, and knee guards to specialise in their roles.
Leon wore a Celox helmet, the knife holsters on his shoulder guards, chest piece, and legs wore empty. Leon did not like that one bit.
Killshot wore a deadeye helmet with a RS[3]/WOLFTOOTH attachment. It meant that he’ll be staying in the back line a lot, and would have to be quick with the information he gathers.
Ram wore a Courier helmet, the armours certainly made him look bulkier than the 3,  pointy chest armour attachment blocky shoulder guards hid pockets and sockets for secure data storage with a datapad on his right wrist.

Jim looked like the outlier of the team, wearing a Mirage IIC armour instead. Fraction of the cost of Standard Gen 3 Mjolnir, and meeting the minimum baseline of the Spartan’s suits.
But that didn’t matter. Guy stood nearly at 2.4 metres, his shoulders were at the height where average Spartan IVs had their heads. His stature definitely made the armour look the bulkiest. ERINYES helmet and their attachments were installed and uparmoured on the Mirage IIC, hexagonal plates plastered all over the Spartan’s body. The software made through Forerunner’s War sphinx technology covered whatever shortcoming the Mirage IIC had.

Everyone on the team, including Noble 6, had their armour painted Steel-black, with only a few highlights in different colours.
Lime for Locust, Orange for Leon, Purple for Killshot, Red for Ram, and Silver for Jim.
Noble 6 was the only one that had Steel-black for highlights as well.

Each boarded the Pelican, nodding at the living myth or offering a hand shake.

“Jim’s a Spartan-III like you, sir.” Agent Locust added as Noble 6 shook the brute of a Spartan’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jim.”

“Honour.” The voice that spoke out of the Mirage IIC was husky and monotone. Short, curt.

Noble 6 quietly waited for more, but Jim thought otherwise. Simply taking a seat in the Pelican and quietly waiting to take off.

“Big man doesn’t talk much.” Leon quipped. “It’ll be a miracle if you hear him speak a full sentence. They say it’s because of what he saw when the Covenants glassed his home. Some say it was a slight side effect of the Gamma Company’s operation. You know, surgically getting their brain messed with.”

Jim simply gave Leon a side glance before returning to stare at the floor. Leon snorted at Jim’s passive defiance.

“Don’t worry, he never bites. Not unless you order him to.” That was the last thing Leon said to Noble 6 before he got a stern look from Agent Locust.

Noble 6 opted to move on from the conversation.

“Welcome to Baba Yaga. Agent Washington says we only need one bad day to become insurgents. I say we only need a minute of incentive.”

“Agent Killshot, I doubt that kind of joke will be appreciated.”

“But am I wrong, Commander?”

Whatever Agent Locust was going to say, the engine of the Pelican starting to blare drowned his voice out.
Guess it didn’t matter. What was important was that they stuck to the objective.

Several Pelicans started to take off from the UNSC Revenant, a few holding newly created Assembler Vats that will be used to start the UNSC’s Megacorporation activity.

Agent Locust already saw the file. Apparently Spartan Cell managed to complete the calculations that was eating him and Khyl from the inside - incorrect calculations of the nanomachines that would cause insufficient transformation of radiation from nuclear fission into additional matter. Detrimental effects of such miscalculations would be significant.

With only 7 hours on the clock, Spartan Cell managed to do what everyone on board would consider a breakthrough - performing further calculations using extra dimensions and inputing such into current computers allowed Forerunner software to be safely translated into current human software, allowing programming of the newly improved nanotechnology capable of reducing any scrap it has been fed into starter feedstock, and then create whatever the blueprint inputed through such transformed materials (and also siphon some of the nuclear energy to power the nanomachines)

Broken Assembly forges were repaired and quickly modified based on these newest calculations, and the reverse-engineered Assembler vats were termed ‘The Cell-Khyl Vat’.

Agent Locust was glad to have Ram on their team. Ram’s older brother was capable of utilising and integrating Forerunner technology, and Ram himself was just as capable as Cell.

Night City saw as a gigantic ship invaded the sky, with several smaller ships coming down to the surface of the badlands.

‘Good Morning, Night City!’, Everyone would tune to in the morning after.

Chapter Text

[Good morning, Night City! Last night was quite the shock, wasn’t it folks? A giant space ship resembling a rifle, coming down from the sky! Not to mention some of the giant planes that came out of them. Now why would these space people come to Earth for? We’ve seen them building something in the Badlands, and come up in the morning- boom, it’s a pristine, clean, and preem building in the middle of the wasteland. It certainly looks out of place from the mountain of garbages behind it, but hey- maybe they have plans for that as well. I know for sure that building is going to smell of rotting stench, but I bet you smell the same thing I do at the same time: new opportunities. Whatever they came here for, I bet you half my eddies they brought something that’s going to change the game in Night City. All I know is that the rest of the Corps are going to have a try at our newcomers, one way or another. As far as I know, I’d like to watch this far away from that ship- the end of that spacecraft no doubt looking like a barrel of a gun.]

“I guess that’s our queue.” Agent Locust loaded a pistol as he announced to the team.
Rifles, handguns, shotguns.
Fireteam Baba Yaga had no problem taking care of the Mavericks formerly setting up base in the abandoned factory. Had no problem taking their guns as well in the process.
They weren’t in top condition - gravel and dust in the gaps between parts, as well as dents and scratches everywhere on the gun- but it was good enough.
The Spartans could work with this.

“Alright, team. Remember: For the next couple of months, we’re not UNSC. We’re freelancers, highest bidders win. Of course, don’t forget to clip some data and materials from our soon to be rivals if you’re sure you won’t be caught. Ram, do you get what you needed?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit disappointing, but I guess this is my new standard now.”

Spartan Ram looked at the recently modified cyberdeck. The Fireteam’s Dumb AI BUTLR had informed the Spartans that it was Earth’s equivalent of a neural interface Operating System.
My god, Ram thought. Was this thing clunky.
Ram did not hesitate in taking mechanical parts out of the Mavericks to modify his newly acquired cyberdeck - downgrading it a little to make it function manually rather than through a neural link. Like hell he was going to connect this to himself, much less his armour.
The Spartan specialising in Cyberwarfare sure to take the Maverick’s laptop as well, searching through the net for more information.

“Find anything?”

“A lot, actually. For starters, the original internet is now quarantine as a danger zone, an event in 2022 called the DataKrash caused by some hacker going by the name of Rache Bartmoss. Whatever Artificial Intelligence Earth had went rogue through his virus. No one could destroy them, so they decided to close it off using an Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics called the Black wall.”

“So Earth has been dealing with Rampant AIs too? Jesus christ, guess we are all the same.”

“The thing is, compared to our Smart AIs the ones here are quite… primitive.”

“So it’s more like a dumb AI?”

“More like a prototype to the dumb AI. It’s almost juvenile.”

“Juvenile to you and your brother, maybe. To us, it’s all the same.”

“I guess this was the main reason why the Created could only hold Earth hostage. A lot of these are just spaghetti codes. The so called Black wall that they brag about is barely even a wall. It’s more like a flimsy piece of paper taped over a broken glass window.”

“Then try not to touch it here- give that intel to your brother once we meet him again. I bet you guys can take care of that once our operation is finished.”

“Alright. Other than that, I’m finished. Once I get some tools I can have a look at our newly found weapons too.”

“We can do that on our way. We’re moving, folks. Time to find what this City calls a fixer and start our jobs as Freelancers.”

Ram stored the laptop in his back and cyberdeck in his right shoulder guard.

“Noble 6, Killshot.”

Agent Locust called over the two on watch.

“It’s time to go.”

Rome wasn’t built in a day.
But the mainframe for the new Megacorp’s first building did.

The Municipal Landfill was barely managed by the Warbler Lake Hazardous Waste Facility.
And even then, the Scrapyard couldn’t stop the growing amount of trash that was filling the Rocky Ridge.

Enter UNSC Revenant, Sending 4 pelicans down to start eating them up and spit them out as recycled materials, piping hot and ready to be made into new products.

Among the many UNSC soldiers standing guard, Ian and Anthony were Spartans wearing Red Gen 1 and Gen 3 Security helmets.
The Spartans stood on top of a wall built by the Assembler Vat’s nanomachine blocks. A downgraded imitation of the Forerunner’s Smart Matter, the nanomachine-assembled alloy was still leagues above in durability and versatility to whatever materials the Megacorps in Night City could offer. Khyl would call this thing ‘Cell-Matter’, to the chagrin of Spartan Cell.

Beyond the wall laid corpses and shattered vehicles of Raffen shivs scattered across the wasteland ground.

“Hey, Ian?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever wonder why we’re here?”

“It’s one of life’s greatest mysteries, isn’t it? Why are we here? Are we a product of some… cosmic coincidence? Or… is there really a god? Watching everything? You know, with a plan for us… and stuff. I don’t know, man. But it keeps me up at night.”

Anthony took his eyes off the scope of his DMR, and slowly turned his head to Ian.

“… What? I mean, why are we out here? In this makeshift junkyard?”

“… Oh, right. Yeah.”

“What’s all that stuff about god?”

“Hmm? Nothing.”

“… You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Anthony went back to scanning through the wasteland for any possible raiders coming to have a crack at the newest Megacorp factory.
They made sure to leave the bodies out here as warning.
But apparently most of them are way too illiterate to read the signs.

“But seriously, why are we out here? As far as I know, it’s just mountains of trash in the middle of nowhere. I thought we were suppose to build our… you know, shop, closer to Night City.”

“Oh, that was the original plan. Until our Chief Engineer saw this trash heap and decided to build it here.”

“… What?”

“Yeah. Called it ‘a treasure pile’.”

“… It’s trash.”

“That’s what Simmons said to Cell! Then Cell said, ‘exactly. That’s why it’s treasure.’ I guess it’s because whatever Cell and Khyl managed to cook up in the Workshop allowed them to completely recycle trash into these materials.”

Ian took a knee and knocked on the wall. Audible sound of metal clanging against metal resonated in the air.

“Huh.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re making more buildings and walls for protection, and then announce ourselves properly to the rest of the City.”

“Did they decide on a product yet?”

“Cell said we’re starting with vehicles. But you know Cell, he could stick to the plan last night, then the plans are changed to focus on buildings today.”

Soldiers (including 2 Spartans wearing Rakshasa Mjolnir) went out from the gates to start retrieving new materials - guns, broken down vehicles. Anything that Spartan Cell wanted to check to see if he can create new blueprints for a product.

Ian and Anthony was to keep watch with the rest of the soldiers standing guard.
Of course, the snipers were keeping an eye on the hill next to the trash mountain. The guard’s experience told them that the flashes they were seeing from there was from a lens.

[Hedgehog Team, watch your 7. We’ve witnessed another of these hooligans using what seems to be a rifle. It could be just a scope, or a binocular. Luckily they haven’t shot us yet.]

“What are they doing?”

One of the Aldecaldos pestered their nomad friend using binoculars.
Night City was already buzzing with the news of the spaceship. But the Nomads were the first to witness it with their own eyes. What seemed to be a Megacorp Factory built up in a single night. Clean, smooth, robust and sleek at the same time.
It looked more like a sculpture
Wraiths, Raffen Shivs, Aldecaldos…
Who wouldn’t want to at least try and have a look?
Dakota Smith did. As a fixer, she needed info about this newest diva of a Megacorp. 
Or… about this possible alien invasion.

“They’re… They’re taking the guns and the cars.”

“What about the corpses?”

“They’re just… leaving them there. To rot in the desert.”

Raffen shivs never stood a chance. Each bullet precisely shot, as if they were surgically placed into these raiding Nomad’s skull.

The Raffen Shivs expected the place to be poorly defended, that with enough of them strike at once they could overwhelm them.
Their calculation was based on average Megacorpo’s construction speed, the results were severely off.
And their miscalculations costed them dearly.

Entire families of Raffen Shivs laid dead, their camps miles away were now empty.
The Aldecaldos saw this as a happy arrangement - the cars and engines and other supplies they had raided from Corpos and other Nomads and stored in their camps will not be left lonely.

They just needed to know if their new visitors from outer space was happy to settle on killing Raffen Shivs, or if they were planning on extending their list to the rest of the Nomads of Bad lands.

“Are they doing anything else?”

“No, just taking guns and cars. Holy shit-one of those guys just flipped a truck over!”

“That’s not that hard to-“

“They used only their right arm. One. Fucking. Arm. They’re dragging it back to their base using only one arm too!”

“… Oh.”

“Yeah, they’ve just gone back in…  Oh shit, I think one of them saw us, they’re aiming at-“

Gunshot exploded through the air. Hearing how loud it was, this far away, told the two nomads just how powerful the rifle was.
But the bullet itself travelled faster than the sound, they saw the trail left behind by the bullet getting shot out of the gas-operated S7 Sniper.
But it didn’t hit either of them.

At first the two looked at themselves, then each other, to check if the bullet had passed through either of them, and it simply travelled so fast that the punctured body hadn’t reacted yet.
No blood. Not on either of them.

But they soon noticed the puddle of blood pooling from behind them.
And they saw a Raffen Shiv lying flat on their back, head was missing a huge chunk and blood was flooding out from the exposed, shattered cranium.

An assault rifle fell next to the Raffen Shiv.

Poor bastard probably didn’t even realise he got shot. Died too quick to even notice the pain.

The nomads quietly looked back at the building. Then back at the Raffen Shiv.
They dared not to raise their body off the ground. And simply moved out crouching or crawling.

They got everything Dakota needed anyway. They could move a good safe distance away, call Dakota, and go back to their camp.
They couldn’t afford to push their luck any further.

Chapter Text

The ability to copy and build a blueprint simply by looking and dissecting machinery was something closer to fantasy. Even to most brilliant engineers and scientists in Arasaka. Militech and Biotechnica too.

Ask the people sticking to the streets, and they’d think it’s easy if you know your way around tech. They’d think that, with enough books and hands-on experience attempting such a feat was possible.

If that really was, Arasaka wouldn’t need an entire team of engineers working together to research a subject. Biotechnica wouldn’t need to set up an entire project just to finish a blueprint. And Militech wouldn’t need a group to reverse engineer whatever new-technology they managed to steal off of other Corps.

It wasn’t as simple as people thought. You wanted to replicate a motor? You needed to know what every pistons and cogs and gears looked like. You also needed to understand why they were shaped like that - the strengths and limitations of what you were looking at.

You can’t just give an artist a brush, give them a picture of Mona Lisa, ask them to perfectly replicate it and expect a perfect result in a day.

At best it would take a month or two, nearly a year on average.

Spartan Cell and Ram could look at any tech that wasn’t from the Forerunners, and crack it down within half an hour. Basic Forerunner tech would take around 3 days to crack.
They weren’t just an artist. They were Leonardo Da Vinci himself, split into two. If they wanted a challenge, they would be focusing on works specifically done by Forerunner Lifeshapers and Master Builders. And also researching traces of Precursors and the mechanism of their Neural physics technology.

All they needed to do was take it apart and have a look at it for 10 minutes - they’ll be able to replicate the exact blueprint of whatever machine they were given.
Down to the last, minute, detail.

These guys were more akin to Space Wizards than standard Engineers working under Arasaka and Militech.

Spartan Cell looked at the several cars and weapons the team had dismantled.
The other engineers were all huddling together, pointing at some of the still- intact engines and laughing at the lack of evident advancement.
In the eyes of UNSC engineers, Even the fastest cars with the latest Engines were primitive Horse-carriages.

“Look at this engine! This thing is still running on gas!”

“Hey Cell, check what these guys are using for fuel!”

Cell looked up from his screen to see the holograph his engineers had brought to him.
A 3D model of their fuel’s chemical configuration.

Cell let out a shrill laugh the moment he laid his eyes on it.
He hated it.
He hated everything about Earth’s engine and the fuels they relied on.
My god, they still rely on something like this.

Cell ran his hands across the spectral nodes of his helmet. Even if his Mjolnir hid his face, his immeasurable disappointment was still visibly showing.

CHOOH2. They still had to rely on organic compounds as fuel. No doubt harvested from plants modified specifically to produce them.

It was written all over the chemical structure.

“These motherfuckers still using compounds!”

They were over complicating the whole process.
Growing mass crops to fuel something like this.

UNSC had already equipped Warthogs and Mongoose with Hydrogen-injected internal combustion engines. 
They didn’t need some rough mixtures of Carbons and Oxygens.
They only needed Hydrogen. That thing was just one proton and an electron. Had some neutrons if it was deuterium or tritium - but those were used for fusion drives and pinch fusion reactors. The ones that would replicate the conditions of a star’s core.
And they’ve been using that even before the start of the Human-Covenant War.

Agent Washington had to walk into a room full of laughing scientists and engineers.
If he was new, he’d think that he just walked into them telling a good joke, or they were raving mad.
This wasn’t Agent Washington’s first rodeo.

“Alright, we get it- we landed on a planet full of cavemen. Now stop laughing at them and tell me we can control ourselves. Please?”

One of the engineers couldn’t stop laughing, and had to ask the Spartan in the midst of a fit.

“Comman- Commander… Commander Washington, sir… we- we ne-“ The engineer let out a wheeze “ We need to let us give them a Hydrogen-injected internal combustion engine, please… I’m begging you. I can’t- You honestly cannot expect us to make some primitive engine like this and be fine with it!”

“I say we slap a pinch fusion reactor on our cars and call it a day!” Cell quipped to his Engineer’s plea.

“Oh- no, no no! Stand down Cell, I’m not letting you slap a dying star as a fuel and let the natives carry them around. We need this City intact if we want to profit off of them, and we can’t do that if these people are given hydrogen bombs!”

“But- my god, I seriously can’t be expected to go down to their level. We just can’t!”

“I mean, Cell! That’s fine! You don’t have to go down to their level. Well, not fully… I just need you to make an engine that runs on the standard fuel of Night City… for now.
And exclusively. On the standard fuel. Please.”

The room went quite in response to Commander Washington’s request.
The Spartan Commander knew that these folks were capable of doing that.
But whether they could, and whether they would, was mutually exclusive.
Sure, they had the ability. But what about their pride?

“Washington, You know what I do?” Cell finally spoke after a moment of silence. Everyone turning their gaze to Cell.

“… What…?”

Spartan Cell pointed at the engines they gathered from the now-dead Raffen Shivs.

“Not. Fucking. That.”

And there it goes. Another outburst from Cell that caused a chain reaction of laughter from the engineers.
Washington shook his head. He had a hard time getting his mind to understand the thought process of these Engineers and Scientists.
Perhaps he never will. Perhaps the very fact that they could never be understood is the reason why they were so capable of making something like Cell-matter, or a near-perfect replica of the Forerunner Assembler Vats.

“Look, you can make it however you want, just make it strictly run on petrol, or diesel, or whatever the natives use for their cars. We need to ease them in. We just got here, and we just started to make some products before we get further intel from our black ops unit. We don’t need MegaCorpos suddenly trying to take a jab at us because we decided to make them obsolete. Okay? Let’s take it smooth and slow.”

One of the Engineers raised his hands, and Washington had to sigh.
He already knew just how much of a headache and a half these guys were to deal with.

“Yes, Frederick?”

“Does that mean we can’t make our cars with Cell-Matter?”

Spartan Cell groaned at the name. And Spartan Washington groaned at the question itself.

“What the fuck did I just tell you guys!? Of course not! Make it some… new alloy. Nothing that contains nanomachines in them.”

“Yo, Frederick, I need you to stop calling it Cell-Matter. I thought I was clear that we decided on Proto-Smart Matter.”

“Honestly, I think I say on behalf of your engineers that Cell-Matter sounds better.” As soon as Agent Washington added in his own opinion into the mix, Cell held up a finger.

“You, shut the fuck up. I’m already feeling like my god complex is acting up after we made the Assembler Vats, I don’t need anything more that’ll make me feel narcissistic.”

“Too late for that, when you decided to laugh at our new neighbour’s engines.”

Cell’s head bobbed a little as he slightly nodded. He wanted to object, but Agent Washington was right.

“… Alright, fine. I’ll make it work only with the CHOOH2 fuel. But I’m taking creative liberty in how it’s processed.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask for.”

“Also I’m making the body of the car with nanolaminated alloys.”

“I… that doesn’t contain nanobots, right? I’m scared cause it has the word nano in it.”

“Well, it’s assembled by our Nanomachines. It’s just alloy composed of nanoscale-thick alternating layers of different materials. It’ll make our car better.”

“… Just remember, we’re-”

““- easing them in.”” Cell raised his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I get it. I heard you the first time. Besides, what we need to worry isn’t easing them into our presence, Wash.”

“Then what is?”

“It’s making sure they don’t steal whatever technology we give them. We do that wrong and we’ll basically be giving them baby steps for them to use to develop weapons that might be huge pain in our asses down the line. And you, me, and Captain Church both know that a lot of those MegaCorps are going to act like Insurrectionist parties.”

“Cell?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Do you really think that they’ll be capable of replicating nanolaminated alloys and umm… whatever engine you’ll build under creative freedom?”

Cell instinctively opened his mouth to object and explain… until he saw what people on Earth was working with.

It was like worrying that Troglodytes would replicate a pistol when they haven’t even found copper and invented bronze yet.
It would be a miracle if these Corpos saw whatever UNSC Was printing out of this newly built factory and not worship it.

“… No.” Cell finally answered. “No, I don’t think so. Now that I think about it. They’d have to engineer an assembler vat first before they can replicate whatever we’re going to build.”

“… Well, glad to hear the good news. Thank goodness you answered your own question. Now that that’s settled, I also need to ask you to try and get one of those corpses and have a look at their cybernetic augmentations. We could make another sale off of that.”

"Actually speaking of another sale - I need you to know there’s a bit of difficulty in terms of food sale.”

“What’s the problem?”

“DNA samples. For agriculture, I don’t have much of a problem. We have an entire seed bank back in UNSC Revenant that we can use for Crops, Fruits and Vegetables. Grow natural, genuine fresh fruits stable and quick. The problem is protein.”

“Protein?”

“Animals, Wash. Meat. I know that meat was heavily rationed within the UNSC, but Earth had it worse. We’ve at least managed to make proper protein farms where we would clone pig, chicken or cow stem cells and culture them in the UNSC Revenant. Grow steaks and pork-chops like they were 3d printed. Hell, we’ve managed to modify a chicken cell so that we can get eggs. Other Colony planets might have domesticated animals farmed for meat. Not really here though. From the resources sent to me, I found that they’ve essentially farmed bug protein to substitute meat.”

“We could at least try selling protein cultures.”

“Yeah, we could. Probably taste more genuine than whatever worm meat they decided to season liberally to trick buyers into thinking it taste like anything but. Alternatively - if you get me a chicken, a pig and a cow - I could make us an entire food farm. Flash clone them with artificially modified variety in their DNA. Make their population diverse. Then we can patent our newly produced animals to Food Corporations. Sell the licence cheap but limited so that we can standardise natural, genuine meat as food. It’s a quicker way to establish political importance on the agricultural business on Earth than just selling cell cultures.”

“Ok, yeah. You got a point there. So what do you want me to do?”

“Steal animals.”

Agent Washington did a double take.

“… Excuse me?”

“Steal animals. I believe there was some farms in Night City that contained cows and pigs. Chickens will be a problem. Night City banned distribution of avians due to fear of influenza.”

“You want me, to send people out and steal… animals for you.”

“I don’t care if they’re sick and overfed with chemicals and drugs. You get me at least one live animals of each kind- I’ll bring them back to excellent health with 3 kids, and their population from extinction.”

“… Do you even have a proper facility to do that?”

“I will by tomorrow. If you can get me those animals, Commander Wash.”

“… I’ll let the boys in black ops know. But don’t get your hopes up, I doubt we’ll be able to get any of those animals for at least a month.”

“That’s fine. I’ll focus on mass agriculture of naturally grown crops and fruits in the mean time. And I’ll have to settle on creating protein cell culture for now.”

“What you’re going to focus on is making vehicles, Chief Engineer. I don’t want you jumping from one unfinished project to another. Finish this one, then you can focus on food.”

Cell stood there for a minute, his spectral node blinking red for a few seconds.
He then turned to his smart AI Kyle. The holographic model of a Sangheili, born from the brains flash cloned from Cheif Engineer Khyl ‘Suhom (Khyl was more than happy to volunteer as a donor. It wasn’t everyday when you could see your mind copied to become software closer to the forerunners) was fiddling with a holographic replica of a Plasma rifle on top of Cell’s table.

“Hey, Kyle?”

“Yes?”

“Get the blueprint I was working on, and add an atmosphere filter system I made a blueprint in the File named [Get fucked, Air] into the chamber. We’re going to be completely combusting the CHOOH2 using air. If we do this right, we could potentially make a car engine that can travel twice the speed and distance for half the fuel. That’s nearly a quadruple in efficiency.”

“Won’t it be just easier if we installed a hydrogen-injected internal combustion engine instead of overcomplicating it with CHOOH2?”

“That’s what I’m saying! But Wash wants us ‘easing them in’!”

“… I see. I’ll get onto installing the atmosphere filter system to the current engine blueprint.”

“… Thank you.” With a huff, Cell turned back to Agent Washington with his hands outstretched, showing the 3D blueprint of the newest engine being finalised.

“Get fucked, Wash. I finished what you wanted in just an hour.”

Washington responded with a dry clap, shaking his head a little.
Guy was a genius. Annoying sometimes, but a genius.

“Now, I’ll leave the rest rest of this job to the engineers here. I’m moving onto agriculture.”

“What about the weapons here?”

“Primitive. Might as just well be using two sticks and a stone. And they’re sharing the stone.”

“You’re not going to be working on weapons?”

“Nah, not yet. Got no real use for them right now. I think one of the engineers wanted to have a crack on weaponry anyway. I’ll leave it to them for now.”

“…. Well, alright. I guess you can start making… a farm. I guess.”

Cell started to pack his datapad and Smart AI the moment Washington finished his sentence. A fickle Spartan, he was already raring to move onto his next project.
The UNSC soldiers that came down to Earth was getting hungry anyway. It was good incentive for Cell to change his interest, and was certainly good timing - none of the UNSC personnels were against the idea of getting stable supply of food.

“Great. I’m making a water filter system as well. The water here is toxic as shit. I’m also taking one of the assembler vats, don’t stop me.” 
 
“I… why would I? You go on… ahead. I’ll just contact the Black ops about the animals.”

“How’s my brother doing anyway?”

“Ram’s doing great. Fireteam Baba Yaga managed to get in contact with a fixer and got their first job as a mercenary.”

Chapter Text

Reilly Kudokawa lit up a smoke using the fire erupting from her car.
She would’ve used her lighter if she hadn’t lost it on the highway 500 miles behind her, when it flew out of the shattered window thanks to the Tyger Claw gang suddenly crashing into the side of her car. And also if her right arm was still working.

She tried to blink the blood in her right eye away, looking over her shoulders to see what was left of her car- and her bodyguards.
Shit… her Villefort Alvarado V4F 570 Delegate…
She just had it tuned and coated silver last night. Now it was riddled with holes and dented in.

The Driver leaned on the steering wheel, bullet peppered into his face.
One of the bodyguards in the back had a bullet lodged into his forehead and eye - the other 2 managed survive long enough to get out of the car and put up a fight.

“This is the bitch we needed to kill, right?”

One of the Tyger Claw poked and prodded Reilly’s head with a Tamayura. Reilly glared at the Tyger Claw while holding the newly lighted cigarrette loosley in her lip.
She gripped her Nue Pistol, but none of the Tyger Claws took any caution to that.
Why would they, they already got her bleeding out. She couldn’t do anything.

No one left to protect her, no routes or options she can take to get out of the situation.

Reilly took a deep breath in, tasting the fume of the synthetic tobacco going through the filter.
For the first time ever since becoming a Fixer, she had managed to reach the big league. She got her own proper office in Kabuki, made a big enough name for herself that high paying clients were starting to pop up in her contacts, willing to push a gig through her way.
Hell, she was starting to make enough eddies to start hiring netrunners and bodyguards - and use the left over money to buy something like an Alvarado.

And she was going to die here.
She knew that she shouldn’t have taken that gig. She knew something was off. Client’s face was too clean for being just a lowly Corpo. She should’ve picked up the traces telling her that the Client was a executive of Biotechnica.
The gig wanted Mercs to steal a new blueprint from Arasaka. Corps sabotaging Corps, Reilly realised too late. They just needed someone to act as a middleman- and a buffer. A meatshield.
The gig itself went well - that’s why Reilly got into this kind of situation.

Arasaka’s counter intelligence may not have found out which Corps hired the hit, but they could trace back the Fixer. And they needed that Fixer to disappear before Biotechnica could place another gig.
Tyger Claw sons of bitch was more than happy to take the hit job.

Guess this was it. Reilly wanted more out of her life before she died - but Night City wasn’t the type to listen to every single dream uttered out of the mouth.
It only listened to those with power.
Reilly no longer had power.

Reilly looked down the barrel of the gun.
She couldn’t believe this was how it would end.

Gun shot rang through the night sky. Then several more in unison.
Reilly instinctively flinched at the sound, closing her eyes.
But none of them ever launched bullets her way.

“What the hell is happening!”

“誰が撃っているのか?!”

Reilly slowly opened her eyes.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Sillhouettes of Tyger Claw illuminated by neon lights and street lamps were falling to the ground.
Few fragments of their heads were splattering on the ground.
Blood looked like black water in the darkness. She could only tell they were blood when the flames from her car showed that a part of the stains newly painted on the concrete and asphalt were red.

She didn’t know who was shooting the Tiger Claws down, and neither did the Tyger Claws.
Few saw their friends get slaughtered in cold blood, bullets coming from darkness.
Some were waving their guns into the dark corners and shadows casted by buildings, shooting frantically.

Then she saw.
She saw what could only be described as a humoungous fullborg emerging from the shadows, a knife in their hands glinting briefly before the fullborg went in for the kill.
Steel-black body with muted Orange highlight briefly shined in the neon light as the fullborg dug a fist into one of the Tyger Claw’s ribs, and then stabbing the other side with the knife.

Tyger Claw couldn’t even let out a scream in pain- knife dug in deep, reaching the lungs and puncturing it.

The rest of the surviving gang couldn’t even understand what was going on. One moment it was only them with a helpless Fixer, next they were the one being hunted down by the great unknown.
One saw the gurgling Tyger Claw fall to the ground, blood dripping out of his mouth and wounds.
They turned to aim their gun at the assailant - but the assailant’s hands were faster.
Three more knives were pulled out of the armour and thrown at the Tyger Claws. One hit the shoudler, two hit the forehead and cleanly lodged into the skulls.

One hit by the shoulder gripped the trigger, bullets going out of the control and spraying the ground.
Another bullet flew from the top of a building hitting the back of the Tyger Claw in the back of the head and ending the pain.

The last Tyger Claw could only scream, tried to run away.
The Fullborg flicked a knife - hitting the back of the fleeing Tyger Claw’s knee with precise accuracy.

As the Tyger Claw fell to the ground, and the fullborg throwing 2 more knives into the back of the gang - one where his liver was, and the other where his heart was- Reilly could only mutter a few words.

Perfectly fucking surgical.

The fullborg quietly walked over to the corpses and pulled any knives lodged into them. It was taking sweet as time retrieving every knives it threw, as if it got all the time it wanted.

Yeah, sure. It can take as long as it needed. Reilly was fine with that. It just saved her life, it was the very least she could do.

Rain started wet the asphalt, she heard some of the water droplets sizzling as it hit the fire on the car.
As the Fullborg finished wiping blood off its blades, she saw as more fullborgs entered into the light of the fire. One by one, emerging from the shadows.

It was the scariest thing she had seen. And boy, she just survived an assassination attempt by a ruthless gang through sheer miracle itself.

Each had a face as intimidating and menacing as the fullborg next to them. It was clear to Reilly that the only thing organic was their brain. They might as well be Adam Smasher’s little brothers.

One of the six walked in front of her, and knelt down.
Reilly instinctively pulled back. She couldn’t help it, the Fullborg that decided to walk up had a head designed to be an adult’s living nightmare.
A mechanical skull that had no eyes, mouth covered with a clear face mask.
It was unsettling. It managed to feel grotesque without showing organs or blood. It was just dipping down to the uncanny valley. At least the other four had some sort of visors that made their heads resemble a helmet.

“Reilly Kudokawa?”

Oh god, the voice was distorted as well. It wasn’t even a voice - it sounded more like a machine mimicking a voice by combing sound patterns.
And it knew her name.

“We’ll be taking you to the nearest medical service - but we’d also like to notify you that we’re here to ask for a job.”

Reilly blinked.
These Fullborgs were… here for a gig?

“You guys are… mercs?”

“Yes. We’ll introduce ourselves on the way. We have first aid medication ready as well.”

Reilly couldn’t help but giggle a little.
A group of Mercenaries, here to ask for a job.
What an awful timing for them - but it was perfect timing for her.
Rescuing your employer was one hell of an introduction, you know.

‘My name’s Locust. Knife nut over there is Leon, One who’s been sniping from the building was Killshot, the rest of these 3 are Ram, Noble 6, and Jim. We’re… Freelancers. You can call us Baba Yaga.’

Reilly couldn’t help but laugh again as she was finalising her treatment by the Ripperdoc. The biggest man on their team, was called Jim.
At least they were polite, sounded professional as well.

She put out her cigarrette with the ash tray provided by the Ripperdoc. She still couldn’t get over the fact that none of them were Fullborgs.

They were confused by her naming them Fullborgs, and when she provided further explanation it was their turn to chuckle.

‘It’s just a suit, lady. Nothing but flesh, skins and bones underneath here.’

Reilly could guess they had a backer or a history- maybe some Megacorp’s secret military group. That was the only way they would get their hands on something like that.

Reilly didn’t care. They were capable of saving her life, and was more than willing to get a job from her.

So she sent a gig their way- a corpo gig. It was a gig that was too risky for her to send. An assassination gig, requesting an Arasaka executive to be ‘neutralised’.
Client was Kang Tao this time - they paid high eddies, almost tripple the amount of an average assassination gig.
Money was tempting, but she saw the danger lying underneath. That’s why she was hesitant on taking it.

She had finished a call with the Kang Tao client a moment ago, told them the gig was accepted by a group of mercs.
Fuck it, she wasn’t going to hold the job off if there was someone capable of pulling it off. And if those Arasaka corpos thought they could get away with trying to put her six feet under, they had another thing coming.

Every info the Client sent to her was given to the so called ‘Baba Yaga- Freelancers’. The back of her mind told her that it wasn’t enough info, that she was rushing it. She knew that, but take any longer and that could mean the death of her. Her emotions took over and she promised herself that if this gig was successful she’d never let the emotion get a step over her again.

‘Do you want us to do this quietly, or go in hard and loud?’

That was pretty much the only thing they asked from her. And god, did it make them sound like they have experience in this. It made her trust them. And she just wished they could walk the walk.

If they could, she wanted this to be done quietly. And that’s what she answered with.
One of them was screwing in a silencer on his pistol the moment she answered.

‘If you can, I want him to be captured alive. Contact me once you do. I’ll send a car over to you. Hell, I’ll pay you more for it too.’

That was a high demand. Reilly knew it. But she was playing safe for the past few months, ever since she started as a fixer. And look where that nearly got her.

She thought it would be okay to act a little bold and greedy tonight, after nearly dying and all.

Her holophone started ringing, and she looked at the number.
Well, look who it is. The Freelancers.
They took the gig and left 10 minutes ago. If they’re calling her this quickly, there must be something wrong.

She sighed as she took the call. Guess she was being too greedy.

“Hey, is there a problem? If you triggered the alarm then just run and gun, it doesn’t matter so long as you kill the tar-“

“We got the target. We didn’t trigger any alarms either. Didn’t get caught on cameras too. Folks won’t even know that we were here.”

Reilly briefly blanked out for a moment.
… What the shit?
This quickly?

“We’re currently outside with the target. Alive. We’ve removed any trackers or alarms from his chip that could trace us. You told us to contact you if we have the target alive, didn’t you?”

Reilly batted her eyes a little. She still couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Umm… Okay, Okay. I’ll… I’ll send a car over your way. Send me the coord of where you guys are.”

The other side ended the call, but they sent a text message filled with numbers soon after.
She quickly relayed the coordinates to one of her couriers.
Once she was in better health to start walking, the courier came back to greet her outside the Ripperdoc.

The shocked expression on the man behind the wheels said it all.

“The guy?”

“… In the trunk, Miss.”

She quickly walked to the back and opened it.
My god.
My goodness gracious.

There he was,
The target.
The Arasaka Executive.
Bound and gagged, expression showed he was beyond terrified.

Yet there was not a speck of blood on him.

Unharmed, safely in the trunk like he was nothing more than a piece of cargo.

Reilly didn’t know how the six of them managed to bypass Arasaka’s security.
But they did, and that made her too scared to find out exactly how they could.

Reilly closed the trunk (ignoring the desperate pleas and muffled screams of the executive), and got into the car’s passenger seat.

She just wanted to kiss that eyeless Skull helmet, right on the forehead.
That unsettling head was looking like the most beautiful thing she had ever seen now.

As Reilly was punching in the contacts of her client, the driver quietly asked.

“Miss Kudokawa…?”

“Yeah?”

“… Just who are those guys?”

“… I don’t know. They wanted a job, so I just gave them a job.”

Reilly heard on the news the next day: Arasaka executive disappearing from his office at the dead of the night.
No alarms tripped, no traces of him found. No clues that might point to a possble foul play.
Journalists suspected that the Corpo decided to run away. With what anyone could find, that was the best possible answer.

Reilly laughed.
Boy, if they knew.
If only they knew.

Those Freelancers called themselves Baba Yaga. Boogeyman.
They sure lived up to their namesake. Kidnapping Corpos in the dead of the night like they were children, making them disappear with no one know any better.

Kang Tao was thrilled to see their target captured alive. Paid a hefty bonus for the job well done.
Reilly looked at the gigs flowing into her contact. Half of them required going sneaky peaky.
Those gigs were wanting a rare skill. You ask a hundred Merc if they can wipe out an abandoned factory of Maestrom gangs, and a 100 would raise their hand.
Ask the same 100 if they can sneak into an Arasaka building and steal some data without alerting anyone, practically none would raise their hands.

Well, she got 6 Mercs that can raise their hands.
And they wanted more work.
Who was she to deny her saviours of what they wanted?

Chapter Text

Judy Alvarez looked out from her truck.
Laguna Bend looked relatively the same. Still flooded into a small toxic, polluted lake.
She didn’t really care. It was more toxic a decade ago, and she was confident her diving suit was good enough to keep out the water.

The water’s not safe for diving? Bite her. She likes diving, what were they going to do? They can’t stop her.

“What… what the hell?”

But, if there was one thing different in the Laguna Bend, there was a giant building built next to the Laguna Bend.
It… it wasn’t there yesterday.
Yeah, she was sure of it, she saw the camera feeds of the badlands. The whole reason she decided to take a dive today was to also have a look at the building with her own eyes.
The one building they had was nearby the Laguna Bend, not right next to it. If it was next to anything, it was next to the Trash mountain.

Now there were two of them. She saw the original building in the distance.

It was way too unsettling. It felt like those buildings were alive, replicating like cells undergoing mitosis.

What sort of building will be formed tomorrow? Where?

As her trucks got closer she managed to get better details of the new infrastructure.
Sleek, Clean. Pristine. A few of the surfaces shined silver under the sunlight. 
And there were several blocky and cylindrical machines sticking out of the structure, and into the Laguna Bend. Judy saw how fast the inside of the machines were turning, yet the rotation was so smooth that there was barely any sound in its movement.
Water was being drawn into half of the machines, which indicated to Judy that it was acting as a pump. The other half was releasing water back into the Laguna Bend. The output of the water was slightly smaller than the input, but it was extremely difficult to tell with the naked eye.

The edges of the Laguna Bend used to have rubbish bags littered around it. Judy also saw that the Laguna Bend’s surrounding was now devoid of trash.

It… it was surprising to see, sure. But for some reason Judy found herself smiling a little. I mean, who wouldn’t. When you witness the former remnant of your home slowly getting cleaner.

NC Dam Ltd bought Laguna Bend to use as a reservoir, to separate the toxic water from the clean drinkable one. Unfortunately the project was a bust when the clean drinkable water turned toxic. Probably due to the pollution breaking out thanks to hasty and rushed construction.

And… there it was.
These aliens from outer space just came down roughly three days ago, cleaning up trash and purifying waters.

The water flowing back into Laguna Bend from the pumps were visibly much cleaner. Got damn, the structure was turning the murky toxic water into what Judy would describe as liquid diamond - crystal clear.

Judy saw several drones flying in the sky, recording building’s activity. The sides of the drones had news station logos printed on it.
Yeah, this was breaking info, alright.

Judy saw several people, clad in militaristic gear and holding weapons with designs she had never seen before patrolling the machine.
There were already Raffen Shivs trying to hit the new infrastructure, the aftermath being visible as corpses and broken vehicles littered around the badlands.

Some of the soldiers patrolling the building were dressed head to toe in futuristic armour. They might as well have been androids or fullborgs with how tall they were.

Judy didn’t feel like diving into the lake today.
No, no. She was content on just watching this new alien-looking tower work its magic on the lake.

“This is Spartan Group Smash. Has there been anything on your end, over?”

“Negative, Spartan Group Smash. This is Spartan Badger. All we could find was some…. Floating cameras. Those Mad max-looking hooligans stopped driving and shooting once we had enough corpses littered on the floor.”

“Roger that, I’ll relay that to Commander Washington. Umm… In the mean time, Commander Washington told us to just take it easy if there’s nothing happening.”

The comm went quiet soon after Ian told Badger they were allowed a break.
His team was already getting tired from staying up the entire night, their shift was ending in about an hour anyway.

The rest of his fireteam was already sitting down on top of the barricade, battle rifles and DMR still in their arms.

Badger saw Spartan Heaven setting up an old radio, twisting the dial around until he managed to pick up a channel.

“Heaven, where did you get that?”

“From one of the cars. This was the only thing that wasn’t broken.”

It looked like Heaven was fiddling with it from morning.

“Find any channels?”

“Yeah I found a few and wrote them down. If we’re staying here for a long while, might as well see what sort of music we can listen to, you know?.”

“Well, which one did you find?”

“98.7.”

“You can’t just give me some random number and expect me to understand it.”

“Channel 98.7. Body Heat Radio.”

“Does it play a specific genre?”

“Yeah, pop. Here, listen.”

Heaven started turning the dial up, until the speakers started to turn the static into discernible voices.
The rest of Fireteam Badger started to gather around Heaven as they started to hear ‘this is 98.7, Body Heat!’ resonate.

[You are my PONPON
我愛你 PONPON
君にPONPON
君にPONPON 

PON PON SHIT!

PON PON SHIT!

PON PON SHIT!
PON PON SHIT!]

“… This music is ass.” Among the overdone dubstep wafers, Spartan Skulker was the first to speak up. And truth be told, he spoke for half of the crowd here.
Heaven only sighed a little.

“The worse thing is this song is the one that’s played on the Radio the most.”

Heaven heard the rest of his teammates groan all at once.

“I mean, I don’t know. The more you hear it the better it gets.”

“No Heaven, that’s just you coping about the fact that you had to hear this while finding other channels.”

“That’s another possibility.”

“Change it to another channel. You’ve got other ones, right?”

“Yeah, I got some rock musics, uhh… a bit of Jazz. You guys like Jazz, right?”

Heaven started to change channels to one he already found out. Unfortunately a lot of his comrades didn’t react as positively as he did. Groans and moans of distaste was constantly erupting from the small crowds of soldiers, Heaven only muttering a few shut ups back at them as he tried changing songs.

Heaven tried to satisfy the team’s music taste. He tried so damn hard, but the radio just wouldn’t play the right songs. The spartan ended up hitting the radio slightly in frustration, turning the dial again until he ended up back in Body Heat.

Luckily for them, a new song had just started, so they didn’t have to get tortured by another Pon Pon Shit.
Unlike the provocative dubstep from the Japanese LAZRpop cover, this one had started with a smoother, quieter synth, followed up by soft beats that resembled strings being plucked.

[I couldn’t wait for you to come and clear the cupboards.
But now you’re going to leave with nothing but a sign.
Another evening I’ll be sitting reading in between your lines
Because I miss you all the time.]

For the first time ever since they gathered on top of the barricade, Fireteam Badger remained quiet. A few of them nodded their head to the beat, while others slowly started to sit down.

[So, get away.
Another way to feel what you didn’t want yourself to know.
And let yourself go.
You know you didn’t lose your self-control.
Let’s start at the rainbow.
Turn away.
Another way to be where you didn’t want yourself to go.
And Let yourself go.
Is that a compromise?]

Dakota Smith had already heard enough info from the Aldecaldos she had sent out. Heavy guards, with guns and aiming skills good enough to put a bullet into a skull from several kilometres away.

When she heard that a new building was built overnight, near the Laguna Bend, she had to go herself.
Ever since last time, majority of the Aldecaldos mercs weren’t so keen on going near their new visitors from the sky. She was mad at them, but she understood why.
One wrong move, one step too close, and they could be looking at a bullet flying at them, fast enough to tore their forehead into two. 

Fuck it. She was a nomad. So long as she knew the risk, and the reward, she was brave enough to venture out there herself.

Luckily her driver was loyal enough to stick with her. Dakota was already happy with her driver simply dropping her at the designated location best for safely watching those Space soldiers. She was more than happy about the fact that the driver was willing to stay and watch with her, ready to take her away from this place should those guards start pointing their guns at them.

The nomad fixer expected a lot of things to happen, a lot of things to go wrong. She had experience as a fixer to calculate and predict these stuff, and try her best to prevent them. Or at the very least, find a way to listen the blows when they start flying.

Dakota and her driver left the car and took out their binoculars.
They saw what the new barricaded building was doing, pumping water in through those blocky and cylindrical machineries and pumping them back out.
She half expected what other corpo water pumps would be doing - dumping waste back into the already-toxic lake. Wasn’t that why they built it on the Laguna Bend?
No, if there was one thing she was surprised with, was that dirty water was going in, and clean water was flowing back out.

She had to check again, dropping the binoculars and going back to her car to launch a drone.
Dakota’s little flying camera mixed in with the rest of the reporter drones, and started to zoom in on the pumps and waters expelling out. The scanners showed results Dakota had a hard time believing.

Water. Clean Water, free of chemical pollutants, toxic waste, and other nasty solvents and precipitates.

“Is it really clean water, ma’am?”

“That’s what the scanners are saying, but…”

“Hard time believing it?”

“More specifically having a hard time believe they’re doing this for charity, I’m curious why they are doing it.”

Most Megacorps were run by psychopaths, those whose moral compass was so far out and above the society. And she knew how such a devious moral compass could easily corrupt the public if it had power.
She knew about Santo Domingo, and how Arasaka had basically poisoned the underground water supply that the civilians drink from with chemical waste.
Were they paid by NC Dam Ltd? To recover their project of providing clean drinkable water?
No, that couldn’t be. If there were any contacts made by Corpos in the bad lands, she was the first to know.
And she knows the only thing the Space soldiers contacted with was Raffen Shivs. And she saw enough corpses littered on the ground to know how that ended.

Her drones started to pick up the top of the barricade, where several mechanical titans were gathering around a certain spot.
It looked like they were setting up an equipment.
Something that looked…

“… Are those speakers?”

Two giant speakers, ones you’d find at a party.

They started to hook up the speaker to what could be described as a portable dataterm, and-

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

Everyone nearby, including the drones picked up on the music blasting from the speakers.
Hell, she was hearing it with her own ears, from this far away. It felt like they were putting the volume up over the maximum limit.

And she’d recognised that synth opening anywhere. She heard it enough time while driving.

Then they heard it- the various Spartan Fireteams gathering together to sing in unison.

“““I COULDN'T WAIT FOR YOU TO COME CLEAR THE CUPBOARDS!
BUT NOW YOU'RE GOING TO LEAVE WITH NOTHING BUT A SIGN!
ANOTHER EVENING I'LL BE SITTING READING IN. BETWEEN. YOUR. LI~INES!
BECAUSE I MISS YOU ALL THE TIME!!”””

By god Dakota Smith could hear the emotions in those strained voices.
There appearances looked like Fullborgs, but the sheer heart going into those verses made her question if there were any cybernetics implanted in them.

“““SO, GET AWAY!!
ANOTHER WAY TO FEEL WHAT YOU DIDN'T WANT YOURSELF TO KNOW!!
AND LET YOURSELF GO,
YOU KNOW YOU DIDN'T LOSE YOUR SELF-CONTROL!!
LET'S START AT THE RAINBOW!!
TURN AWAY!!
ANOTHER WAY TO BE WHERE YOU DIDN'T WANT YOURSELF TO GO!!
LET YOURSELF GO…
IS THAT A COMPROMI~ISE!!!”””

Dakota so all the reporters drones, once chaotically whizzing through the sky to take pictures of every nook and cranny of that water plant, all now started to collectively focus on the visitors from outer space singing.

It was… it was certainly a strange sight.
Something she doubted she’ll ever see again.
Something she doubted anyone would believe if you didn’t have a video of it.

“““SO WHAT DO YOU WANNA DO?! WHAT'S YOUR POINT-OF-VIEW?!
THERE'S A PARTY SOON! DO YOU WANNA GO?!!
A HANDSHAKE! WITH YOU! WHAT'S YOUR POINT-OF-VIEW?!
I'M ON TOP OF YOU!! I DON'T WANNA GO!!

'CAUSE I REALLY WANNA STAY AT YOUR HOUSE!!

AND I HOPЕ THIS WORKS OUT!!
BUT YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU BROKE ME APART!!
I'M DONE WITH YOU!! I'M IGNORING YOU!!
I DON'T WANNA KNOW!!”””

She saw from her drones how each of them where wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulder, swaying side to side as they sang.

“““AND I'M AWARЕ THAT YOU WERE LYING IN THE GUTTER!!
'CAUSE I DID EVERYTHING TO BE THERE BY YOUR SIDE!! AAAAAH, AH -IDE!!
SO WHEN YOU TELL ME I'M THE REASON, I JUST CAN'T. BELIEVE. THE. LI~IES!!
AND WHY DO I SO WANT TO CALL YOU?!
CALL YOU?!
CALL YOU?!
CALL YOU?! ”””

“OOII!”

Dakota (and the media) so all of the singing abruptly stop as someone started to walk up to the barricade, shouting at the top of their lungs.
Whoever it was, she could tell by the other soldier’s reaction that they man that just entered the scene was a superior officer.
The 4 glowing-red eyes resembling optic implants Maelstroms would favor was menacingly looking at the crowd.

The melody was still blaring out of the speakers, but everyone stood frozen as.

Then their superior officer lifted something from his hands and started to sing.

“SO WHAT DO YOU WANNA DO?! WHAT'S YOUR POINT-OF-VIEW?!
THERE'S A PARTY SOON! DO YOU WANNA GO?!
A HANDSHAKE! WITH YOU! WHAT'S YOUR POINT-OF-VIEW?!”

Dakota blinked her eyes several time.
The superior officer was lifting up a freshly harvested Carrot, dirt still plastered on parts of the big, thick, bright-orange healthy-looking vegetable.
Then the rest of the soldiers erupted into a cheer, hollering at the top of their lungs in celebration.

The outburst soon developed back into a unison of the chorus.

“““I'M ON TOP OF YOU!! I DON'T WANNA GO!!

'CAUSE I REALLY WANNA STAY AT YOUR HOUSE!!

AND I HOPE THIS WORKS OUT!!
BUT YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU BROKE ME APART!!
I'M DONE WITH YOU!! I'M IGNORING YOU!!
I DON'T WANNA KNOW!!

OH-OH OH-OH-OH!!”””

She saw as the crowd started to pick up their officer and lift them above their head, crowds forming waves like they were fans crowd surfing their favourite rockerboy.
It was such a blaring sight to see a walking mechanical armour holding two carrots in each hand.
She was surprised to see carrots that healthy looking too.

“‘“SO, GET AWAY!!
ANOTHER WAY TO FEEL WHAT YOU DIDN'T WANT YOURSELF TO KNOW!!
AND LET YOURSELF GO!!
YOU KNOW YOU DIDN'T LOSE YOUR SELF-CONTROL!!
LET'S START AT THE RAINBOW!!
TURN AWAY!!
ANOTHER WAY TO BE WHERE YOU DIDN'T WANT YOURSELF TO GO!!
LET YOURSELF GO!!
IS THAT A COMPROMISE?!

SO WHAT DO YOU WANNA DO?! WHAT'S YOUR POINT-OF-VIEW?!
THERE'S A PARTY SOON! DO YOU WANNA GO?!
A HANDSHAKE! WITH YOU!! WHAT'S YOUR POINT-OF-VIEW?!
I'M ON TOP OF YOU!! I DON'T WANNA GO!!

'CAUSE I REALLY WANNA STAY AT. YOUR. HOUSE!!

AND I HOPE THIS WOO-OORKS OUT!!
BUT YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU BROKE ME APART!!
I'M DONE WITH YOU, I'M IGNORING YOU!!
I DON'T WANNA KNOOOW!!”””

Once she heard ‘I really want to stay at your house’ finish, she heard the next song starting immediately after.

"""A THING OF BEA-UUTY, I KNOW!

WILL NEVER FADE AWAY!!"""

Oh god. The space men knew Never Fade Away too.

It looked like they would be partying for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

[Good morning Night City! Wow, yesterday had quite a strange evening, didn’t it? Laguna Bend, what used to be such a lovely town on the edge of the badlands was now a toxic lake thanks to NC- oooh, I should’ve rephrase this… ahem- due to some mishaps with an unnamed Megacorp. For the past 15 years it remained toxic, but in just a day scientists have found the toxicity level of the lake cut down to half. Half, folks. What remained polluted for 15 years was suddenly dropping down the moment our little visitors from space came down from their floating cannon ship and started building towers near polluted areas. Cleaning up Scrap mountain, purifying deadly water. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say our Starmen came down to save Night City! And for those who are still suspicious of our new alien neighbours, scared that they’re planning an invasion- just look at the video of them circulating the media. Look at them go! Singing at the top of their lungs. Even alien soldiers can help but like ‘I really want to stay at your house’. And we’ve all seen what their boss was holding. Carrots! By the looks of it they were freshly grown too, fresh out of the ground! Boy, if I had the chance I’d be running to my car and driving out to the badlands to have a chat with them. With the amount of Raffen Shiv attacks they were dealing with, I doubt that’ll go well right now. For the time being, let’s just enjoy the fact that they’re cleaning up our mess].

The radio inside the vertical farm was booming out the door as Washington walked through the hallway, getting close to his permanent pain in the ass.

Spartan Cell was humming to himself as he assembled a new sprinkler. Compost made from specifically designed and coded nanites had caused the dry sand he had collected outside to become fertile soil, nutrient rich.
Don’t ask where Cell got the nutrients from. You don’t want to know.

Sprinklers themselves were spraying the vegetables with clean water, and the simulated high light intensity allowed for the crops to grow at an accelerated rate - what would’ve taken months to grow was now ready to harvest and eat in a day. The automatic planter and harvesters were at work, filling up crates with fresh food.

Quite honestly, UNSC Revenant didn’t need that much food. Neither did those participating in Project Freelancer. They were overproducing food- which if Earth wasn’t suffering from the Collapse, it would’ve been considered a waste (It would now be considered charity).

While agriculture was a potential business avenue Captain Church was looking forward to pushing when they finally got into proper contact with Night City as a Megacorp, farming was just for Spartan Cell’s own personal amusement right now.

Washington slammed his fist on the doorway as he entered the vertical farm.
From engines to softwares to weaponry and farming.
Everything. Everything was for Cell’s own achievement and amusement. If a project didn’t amuse him, he dropped it immediately and moved on to the next. The very fact that he had several completed inventions comfortably under his belt was a sign of his sheer determination in getting the satisfaction of making a breakthrough (and flipping the bird to Dr. Halsey) and pure miracle.
That was the kind of scientist Cell was.

“Cell, What the fuck.”

Cell looked up from his current small project, and grabbed a potato from one of the crates next to him.

“Hungry?”

Washington let out a defeating chuckle as he threw his datapad onto Cell’s table. Cell, in exchange, tossed the potato into Washington’s arm- which Washington caught and stared at.
Damn, these potatoes looked much better in quality than the ones growing on the UNSC Revenant.

Cell tapped on the screen to open the datapad, revealing a video of yesterday’s Spartan party.

“Oh shit, it was caught on camera.”

“It was caught on 27 cameras, you moron.”

“Damn, that many? I guess it’s fair to be mad at us getting caught fooling around.”

“No, I’m… I’m not mad about this.”

“You’re not?”

“No, but I’m livid about this.” Spartan Washington swiped his finger across the screen of the datapad. This time it wasn’t a video footage of outside.
It was a video footage of one of the areas in the water harvester- one that had nothing to do with directing purified clean water to the vertical farm. “Cell, what the fuck is this?”

Cell took a moment to check which area it was, then nonchalantly answered.

“Hydro-processing centre.”

“... Why?”

“For collecting Deuterium and Tritium.”

“Why?!”

“What do you mean why? How else am I supposed to power up the pinch fusion reactor?”

“What do you mean how else- Why do we even have a pinch fusion reactor?!”

“The hell do you think we power up our structures here? Wind and solar power?”

“Well I didn’t expect our buildings needing to be powered by a dying fucking star!”

Cell lifted 3 fingers.
“3 dying stars.”

Washington stood silent and frozen for the briefest moment, before throwing his hand up in the air. He pretty much gave up on remaining angry. The Chief Engineer in front of him took too much emotional toll on him. He was even feeling physically drained.

“You’re insufferable. You’re insane. How are we not dead yet? How are we still surviving after letting someone as psychotic as you be the chief engineer?”

“Because I’m that damn good at my job, Wash. And so is Khyl and Kyle.”

Cell muttered ‘also the Huragok too’ under his breath as he continued assembling a prototype design for a sprinkler, standing up from his chair to install it in one of the vertical farm column.

“And where are my cows, Wash?”

“... What?”

“Where are my goddamn cows and pigs, Wash? I’ve built everything, I’m waiting on those animals.”

“... Seriously? Already?”

“I spent the entire 2 days building this entire agriculture station. With the Hydrogen-processing centre for Pinch fusion. All I need are the cows and pigs. I’ve already got the info about birds, so I’m fine with chickens for now.”

“Did you even sleep?”

“No. But that’s besides the point. I’ll have my sleep when I have DNA samples I can shove into the artificial womb and process into zygotes.”

“I’ll… I’ll get work on that this week.”

“I want my farm animals by the end of this month.”

Washington sighed as he left the farm, looking back to see Cell pull out a beetroot and check how red it was. 
Guy sounded like a loan shark.

“Yooo, Baba Yagas! Freelancers~! How you doing?”

Agent Locus heard Reilly’s cheery voice on the other side of the call. Just yesterday, they had taken 15 different gigs consecutively.
To Reilly, that was unheard of. Most Mercs would take an entire day to complete one gig smoothly. Even if they were in a group.

Fireteam Baba Yaga was already starting to become the talk of the town. Agent Locust and his team slowly becoming hushed whispers, tales travelling from mouth to mouth, in bars and in alleyways.
People disappearing in their own offices, transports of important technology gone from its own crate.

Corpos didn’t have a single clue of what was happening. But fixers and mercs did.
Some of the people working for Reilly were already spreading the news. Boogeymen for hire, capable of completing your hits with 0 alarms raised.

It was too good to be true, but their recent results made even Rogue’s head turn.

“Listen, choom! You and your team’s skills already made the streets talking! Just yesterday I had Dexter Deshawn and Faraday give me a call to ask about you guys, and how much I was willing to get paid to get you guys in contact! Fuckin’ Dexter Deshawn and Faraday!”

“You have new jobs for us?”

Reilly pouted from her couch as she heard Agent Locust’s reply. Here she was, singing high praises and trying to make that eyeless-Skull blush. And all she gets in return is asking for work.
She didn’t realise that for UNSC Black ops like Agent Locust, all they needed was confirmation that their task was done successfully. For all the Spartans cared, the media can spout propaganda about Spartans to fatten up the crowd. Not them.

They were on a mission that ended who knows when. And they were simply focusing on it.

Reilly huffed. “Yeah, yeah. I have a job for you and your friends too.” Reilly rubbed the bridges of her nose as she continued. She liked Agent Locust for the same reason she was frustrated with him. He was a workaholic. “We’ve got a gig from a High-class client. Willing to pay whatever amount needed. I made him pay two thousand eddies: he sent me 4 thousand for the gig to be completed now. Because of his generosity, I’m perfectly willing to send him my best mercs.”

“Details, if you can.”

“Rescue mission. You see, our client is an executive of Kiroshi Optics. His poor little daughter was kidnapped off the street by some Scavs. If they still like how she looks after they shittily take out her implants, they might just doll her up. They’ll ruin her by the time her father could find her again. If, he finds her again.”

“Do you want us to finish this quietly, or do you want us to go in loud and hard?”

“I’d say do your usual and… hang on- … you sure? Ok, I’ll tell them that.- our client wants you guys to go in and kill all of them. Make sure you put the fear of god into them as you send them to hell. And fear of god into any other gangoons that sees the aftermath as well- think twice about ever kidnapping his little girl off the streets again.”

“Copy that. Send me the location. Tell your client to wait for 10 minutes.”

“Can you guarantee her safety?”

“How long has she been missing?”

“Roughly 10 hours now. She didn’t come home last night.”

“... I can guarantee her being found.”

“That’s a bit concerning, but I guess our client will have something. Call me once the job’s done.”

Agent Locust ended the call and turned to his team. The old factory was roughly renovated into a temporary base of operation, Ram was using one of the assembly table as a makeshift workshop.
Different parts from several guns were littering the tables - the useless ones rolling on the ground.

Ram and Cell were twins - born with physical capability inherited from their ODST trooper of a father, and with intelligence inherited from their ONI scientist of a mother (she was an assistant to Dr. Halsey in several projects). Despite both being near identical in appearance and skills, their ultimate differences in personality lead to their distinctive direction.
Cell was a Spartan who liked advancement - reverse engineering of Forerunner and Covenant technology despite the paranoid ire of ONI showed just how much he favoured completely new technologies.
Ram was a different Spartan - he would constantly be called old-fashioned by his brother for his preference and philosophy. When Cell liked new dominating old, Ram liked the idea of recycling and modification of the old. The art of reusing ‘antiques’.

It didn’t really matter in the end: In the eyes of Cell and Ram- Militech, Arasaka, Biotechnica’s latest invention was a living piece of technology 100 years ago.

“Look at this, Jim. They either rely on gunpowder still, or on flawed rail gun technology.”

Jim simply looked at the piece of bullet Ram was holding up and grunted. Ram chuckled as he tapped the bullet on the table.

“You guys felt it yourself while firing shots, right? How slow the bullets were going. We managed to perfect gas-operated firing mechanics to allow for hit-scan performances, and here we can see the bullets as it flies in the air.”

It was a waste of chemical powder they could’ve used for better things.

Ram finalised his creation with a crude soldering iron made from previously deactivated factory arms.

“Here you go, big fella. Just as you ordered.”

Ram held up the crude and oversized revolver and tossed it to Jim, which the giant Spartan III looked all over before testing out on the factory wall.

The rest of the team saw what Jim was holding - What used to be a Burya revolver had most of the barrel and chambers replaced - replaced by parts taken out of Constitutional Arms M2038 Tactician and Malorian Overture.

The chamber of the revolver was fat, the back of the revolver was now extending back enough to touch Jim’s wrist. The only thing that stopped it from being a drum-fed shotgun was it’s short barrel - but even that was pushing it.
Around 30% of whoever sees this monstrosity of welded firearm will call it an oversized revolver.
70% will call it a sawed-off shotgun with the end of the barrel extremely shortened.

Leon noticed the blade welded on the hand guard and groaned. By the size of it, Ram took the blade from a machete.

“Did you seriously make him a replica of a Mauler?!”

 “Hey, big man wanted something with more punch. So I made it have more umph. Don’t worry, all the parts were pre-existing in Night City.”

“Not the brain of the man who welded it together.”

Ram simply shrugged his shoulder.

“Meh, it’s not for sale anyway. I doubt anyone could pry that out of Jim’s finger, not unless they’re UNSC.”

For something that was fed shotgun shells with gunpowder, the initial firing of the weapon was silent. Noble 6 noticed the sound and correctly guessed that it still used the rail gun system of the Burya for shooting the bullet.
But the moment it shot out and hit the wall did the gunpowder explode, further shooting out buck shots that dug into the wall. That threatened to deafen anyone close.

The wall now had several holes in them, before they collapsed into smaller numbers of much bigger holes.

Locust didn’t exactly know how, but Ram managed to make shotgun shells into bunker busters

“I eavesdropped on your talk with the fixer, commander. We’re suppose to go in loud and hard, right? Well, I guess it’s Jim’s time to shine.”

Killshot swapped out the cracked long scope on his newly acquired SOR-22 with a new one - holographic Kairo SA-1, looking through it to test it out and and then firing on the single piece of rubble still standing inside the hole in the wall.

He took aim for only a short moment, yet the rubble was effortlessly hit and reduced into dust.

“Bah.” Killshot exasperated as he took the scope out. “Too cluttered, I’ll be going with the iron-sights this time.”

Everyone else got ready, either grabbing magazines or sharpening knives.
This was their first gig asking for kill-all rushing in loud.
Something first time mercs loved, and experienced mercs wary of.
It didn’t matter. Fireteam Baba Yaga advertised dirty deeds done dirt cheap.

[This is Spartan Killshot. Commander, I have the Scav leader in my sight.]

The downside of a sniper rifle is the inability to silence their shots.
Killshot was capable of calculating bullet trajectory that far extended from effective range, making Precision rifles with suppressors built in just as deadly.

The top floor of the apartment building was just filled with Scavs, and soon they would put all of their attention on the 5 spartans busting into through the elevator.

[We hear you loud and clear, Spartan Killshot. I’ve gotten access to the fuse. Turning off the lights in three… two… now.]

Spartan Ram ripped out several wires from the breaker box, and Killshot saw the Scavs getting confused over the sudden lack of light.
Then it started.

The elevator door opened, the two Scavs keeping watch was expecting their people to come in with fresh meat to dismantle and rip implants off of.

What they got was a knife flying from the opening of the elevator, thrown by the one and only Spartan Leon, which went through the holographic mask and lodged into the skull.
The other Scav next to the poor sod, barely registering what happened, could only look back to see Noble 6 running towards him, closing the distance in a flash before a giant hand covered the Scav’s mouth - knife digging into the chest and puncturing the wound before his neck snapped as his head rotated 100 degrees to the left.

They died without a sound.

[Spartan Killshot, this is Spartan Locust. We are in position, and ready to go in loud and clear when you take the shot.]

Killshot didn’t even hesitate. He pulled the trigger immediately after he had received confirmation.
Fireteam Baba Yaga knew he would do this. He always did. That’s why they gave the confirmation with the full knowledge that they would be busting in immediately after.

They went in loud and hard - Spartan Jim bashed through the concrete wall and grabbed the nearest Scav by the head, throwing him down and shooting the russian with what the Fireteam had dubbed: the Proto-Mauler.

Fragment of flesh and bones exploded from the gang, reducing him into half a pile of ground meat. Agent Locust shot a Scav point blank with a tactician, while Noble 6 unloaded bullets from a Nowaki into two Scavs shooting in the distance.

Jim went to work the hardest, throwing corpses at the gangs to throw off their aim, then offing them swiftly using a revolver shooting shotgun shells.

It was loud- judging by the pain expressions of the surviving Scavs as they held their ear it would’ve been deafening without helmets.

Bullets from precision rifles shatterd walls and windows, shooting any Scavs that hid from the 5 Spartan’s view.
Their leader was dead anyway. They were just cleaning up the floor with method the client had ordered.

A Scav with heavy statures walked in with a Defender, ready to try and use large firepower to suppress the intruders.
Jim simply ran up, kicked the Defender out of the Scav’s hand (demolishing it with the kick in the process) and crushed the Scav’s throat.
He shot the Scav point blank immediately after.
This was the bullet speed Spartan Jim was used to. Somewhat. Mind you, it was still slow.
But the kick made up for it.

Hell was unleashed in under a minute- floor and any remaining walls splattered red with flesh and bones.

All the Spartans had to do was sweep through the floors to find their target. Still on watch for any potential Scavs in hiding, they scanned through any corpses of unfortunate civilians and Joytoys that got the Scavs’ attention.

For better or for worse, none of them were the client’s daughter.

[Commander, we’ve found the target.]

Spartan Leon’s voice rang through the Comm link, the rest of the Spartans taking no time to start moving to Leon’s location.

Jim had already crushed the metal door open - heavy plating and signs of clumsy welding showed how difficult it would be for a solo to open this without the right tools.

Jim didn’t need tools. He had his hands. He’ll brute force the fuck out of anything if he needed to.

Several young teens, recently swept off the street, were huddled around corners. Sniffing and crying, tears running down their eyes.
They looked at the 5 metallic behemoths standing outside the door, the largest in front ripping the giant metal barricade off its welding with one arm.

They looked like Moas caught in a head light.

“Which one of you is Erica Johnston?”

One of the girls slowly raised her hand.

“Your father paid us to rescue you. I guess rescuing the rest of you would be bonus. Everyone follow me, we’ll get you out of here alive and safe.”

Chapter Text

Erica had been walking down the road when she heard the engine of a van behind her.
Next thing she knew, pairs of hands wrapped over her arms and mouth and she found herself sitting in the corner of a dirty storage room.

In nothing but her underwear, the first thing Erica did was panic. Scream, try to stand up, look around her surroundings.
3 girls and 4 boys, chromed up with the newest models just like her, were chained up in different corners. They were looking at her with tears in their eyes. One of them had even wet their underwear, puddle forming on the floor.

Judging by their state, she could at least take comfort that they were just dumped into this room.
Though that meant every minute was agonising. They were but pigs getting lined up to be slaughtered.

She heard Russian beyond the thick gate, tone in the voice sounded mad… or scared.
Maybe someone was coming to save them? She was a daughter of a high ranking corpo of Kiroshi Optics after all, her father would have sent someone to get her back. The other people here looked like they came from rich parents too.
… Or one of the Scavs botched up an operation, so the gang was mad about damaged goods and reduced pay. As much as she hoped for the former, the latter sounded like the likelier outcome.

She saw enough Scavs aftermath on N54.

Gunshot resonated through the metal gate and concrete wall that made her think twice.
A few of the young teens hiccuped every time guns were fired. Screams and shouts here promptly cut off every time they heard a bang. Heavy footsteps thumped across the floor.
The metal door, heavily welded with several plates, smashed in like all of that effort just made it as durable as cardboard.

Everyone was frightened when they saw a hulking amalgamation of plated armour and a space suit rip the crinkled up door off its hinges and casually toss the gate to the side.
Next to the giant was a another walking armour, more futuristic and still taller than anyone she had ever seen, speak.

“Commander, we’ve found the target.”

Soon, 3 more gathered at the doorway, looking around the room.

The one that talked was hideous to look at, and horrifying to hear. Metallic skull with no eyes spoke in a distorted voice.

“Which one of you is Erica Johnston?”

Erica raised her chained hands.

“Your father paid us to rescue you. I guess rescuing the rest of you would be a bonus. Everyone, follow me. We’ll get you out of here alive and safe.”

That was all the eyeless skull needed to say for all the young teens to start bawling their eyes out.

Erica looked more closely at the mercs when they started tearing the chains off of her and the rest of the captives, getting clothes littered from the other room for them to wear.
The plating made them look robotic. She’s seen Arasaka and Militech security who bought products from her father. Maxtac too. None of them had something this… imposing for their uniform.
She saw the undersuit, looked like synthetic skins and muscles the way they moved.

She believed wholeheartedly that her saviors were fullborgs. Slightly frightened her too, almost all fullborgs were cyberpsychos. The size of them indicated that they were modified for combat, which made her mind connotate these 5 mercs with Adam Smasher.

At least they were polite.

The mercs surrounded the captives as they escorted them out of the building. Dead Scavs were littered around the floor, in which one of the girls next to Erica angrily kicked and spat on. The merc with round helmet gently grabbed the girls shoulder and led her back into the rest of the rescued. Patting her on the shoulder.

Yeah, scratch that. Erica thought. Adam Smasher would never do something like that. A longer inspection certainly told her (and the rest of the teens) that the similarity between Adam Smasher and thest 5 mercs ended with the fact that they were all Full’borgs.

Adam smasher from camera recordings had hydraulic pipes, motors and wires exposed underneath the plates, didn’t even bother hiding the fact that everything about him was machine.

These 5 had smooth skin covering everything below the plates. While their helmets were intimidating, it also resembled those that police officers or superheroes from cartoons would wear.
Authority that protected.

Their body languages too, subtle and defensive as they tried to safely take the teens out of the building.
Cars started pouring into the car park once they exited the Scav den. 

5 bullets shot from what Erica first assumed to be the sky pierced through the car windows, the death of the drivers caused the wheels to steer out of control- collide with each other.

The rest of the mercs went to work.
The teens had to flinch when the black and white fullborg rushed forward, effortlessly grabbing the front of a car with one hand and whack another car with it like it was a small hammer.

They heard screams from the car, then a sparks ignited flames that bursted out from the inside. The rest of the mercs stepped in front of the scared teens, forming a makeshift wall using their bodies.

Bullets that would’ve hit the kids bounced off the mercs instead. Energy particles glowing yellow, interlinked together in hexagonal patterns appeared on top of their armour as bullets harmlessly bounced off, changing trajectory. The energy particle soon hid its presence once the tall ‘borgs started to return fire.

One of the teen stumbled back, falling on their butt as they saw between the Spartan’s legs - the guy that rushed forward kicked a car, sending it sliding and rolling at such a fast velocity that once it collided with another it tumbled and spinned in the air. The side of the car that got the merc’s foot was cratered in, doors were falling apart from the force.

They saw the flame lighting up the night. NCPD’s blue and red siren was blaring at the distance. 
Erica’s car arrived first. The driver, her personal chauffeur, stared at the aftermath dumbfounded on the side of the road.

“Lady Erica, seems like you’ll have to go first.” One of the mercs, the one with blades holstered in various platings of the armour, gently announced with a chuckle. She saw as one of the other armoured solo stretched out a hand for the teen that fell to the ground to take.

She felt the giant arm wrap around her shoulder as the merc escorted her to her limousine.

“Luckily, you weren’t hurt. When you’re father goes to give you a hug, telling you how sorry he is that he couldn’t keep you safe and find you any sooner… take a bath and a good long sleep. Maybe get a glass of your favourite drink. Think of it… as a passing nightmare you had tonight. Everything will be alright.”

No need to remember any of this. Not good for your health. She heard him say. He opened the limousine door and ushered her in.
Her driver looked in shock as he stared at her escort, who only gave a curt nod. The driver nodded back. And she quickly rolled down the window when the merc carefully closed the door.

“How much?” Erica urgently asked.

“Hmm? No need. We’ve already been paid by our fixer.”

“No, how much to hire your team as our personal bodyguard?”

The merc wearing knives like a fashion statement was silent.

“My father, he’s got a promotion yesterday - he’ll be working as an executive for the Night City’s branch of Kiroshi Optics. He was talking about how he’d be hiring better security for us. I’d… I’d like to hire you and your team. We’ll pay you more than what the fixers would pay you for gigs.”

The merc laughed, as he took a knee so that his head was level with her.

“Sorry, missy. We’re Freelancers. Besides, my boss won’t like me taking these kinds of deals without him knowing, and… we’re not exactly being mercs for money.”

“But maybe you can-”

“Talk to him about it? Could do. I doubt he’d take it up, however. Well, if you want… when you have a problem, maybe ask a fixer in Watson about us. I’m sure we’ll take up the gig.”

“… What’s your name?”

“Ask Reilly for Fire Team Baba Yaga. That’s our name.”

Erica saw the merc lightly tapped on the hood of the car. Signal for the driver to start the engine again and take Erica back to her father. As the merc started to walk away, rejoining with the rest of his team, Erica pushed her head out of the window.

“I won’t forget you, you know!”

Erica saw the merc simply turning his head to look over his shoulder, giving her a thumbs up in return.
As the limousine left for home, Erica quietly sat back into her seat.

Mother always told her fairy tales, about princesses kidnapped and locked away in towers. Rescued by a knight in shining armour.
She used to love those stories until she hit 15. Then for the past 2 years she was embarrassed that she used to like them as she hung out with other kids from Corpo families- buying clothes from Jinguji and trying out Smash before partying.

Then here she was tonight, kidnapped and locked away at a top of the building, people that looked like they were clad in metal plates coming to save her.

She never expected for her life to be a fairy tale for one night.

‘When you have a problem, maybe ask fixers about us.’

She didn’t care if they were full’borgs barely looking human. In her eyes right now, they looked better than any other guys her age.

Fire Team Baba Yaga.
Her knight in shining armour.

Reilly looked at the bouncer of Afterlife move aside for her to enter.
Holy shit, she was in the big leagues now.

She had put on her best clothes, grabbing a drink from the counter.

Everyone inside saw the grin plastered on her face. They snickered as they saw the new blood being giddy about the high place they had reached.

She heard the result of the rescue from several sources. Callan Johnston had doubled the payment of the original agreement. He further asked about Fire Team Baba Yaga, how his daughter would talk nothing but them for the entire night.
Hell, she even transferred the visual records from her Kiroshi Optics.
He wanted them to go loud and clear. Their definition of loud and clear was strategic release of hell - Jim going full on cyberpsychotic on the cars, killing the Scavs with them inside it - crushed and scattered across the road.

How much to hire them as personal mercs? Callan asked her.
And he wasn’t the only one - other Corpos, high ranking, starting asking for Fire Team Baba Yaga. Turns out Erica wasn’t the only child of MegaCorp executives that they rescued from the building.

They were all thinking like Callan. They saw the footage that their kids pulled out of their optic records to show them. They saw the design of the mercs, their skills as a solo and how they treated their clients. It made them froth and drool at the mouth.

‘They’ll have to make the final decision on that. Until then, they’re not for sale.’ Reilly had told all of them. She doubt they’d take the offer anyway.

“So, you’re the new fixer. Reilly Kudokawa, right?”

Voice of an old woman echoed from one of the private rooms, Reilly looked to her left and blinked.
Oh my god, it was Rogue.

“Oh I… h-hello, maam. I was just here because someone… called…”

“Yeah, yeah. That was me.”

Rogue shooed one of the mercs to the side, giving space for Reilly to sit in.
Reilly took Rogue’s offer without hesitation, scurrying in.

“So, how’s the fixer life going for you?”

“Well, one thing for sure, I nearly died…”

Rogue let out a snicker.

“Yeah, that sometimes Corpos and gangs don’t like it when a fixer gets nosy on their business. They won’t be targeting you now, on the bright side.”

“Yeah, barely anyone’s threatening me now.”

“And I guess you have those Baba Yagas to thank for, huh?”

The Bartender put two glasses on the table and poured the drinks in. Reilly could feel a little sweat trickle down the side of her face.
Rogue was the queen of fixers. And she didn’t get that spot by being a bleeding heart.
No, if she wanted something, she’d get it.
Through any means possible.

Reilly knew why Rogue invited her here. If she can agree to Rogue’s terms with no problem, she can stay drinking here. If she can’t… well, guess she’d have to savor the experience while she can.

“Are you paying your top mercs properly?”

Reilly blinked for a moment, before taking the glass and downing the shot.

“Y-yeah. 40% of the gig.”

Rogue laughed.

“Only 40%? For results like that? How are they still sticking with you?”

Reilly shifted in her seat.

“They said that they don’t need too much money. Just jobs.”

It was Rogue’s turn to drink a glass.

“New blood, let me tell you something now that you’re in the big league. Mercs ain’t shit without fixers. The few exceptions exist, where it’s the other way around.” Rogue pointed at Reilly. “Your little Baba Yagas are one of them. One way or the other, those mercs are what pulls shitty fixers out of the dump, and pulls better fixers into high places. Like you.”

Rogue pulled a few pictures from the laptop on the glass table - Reilly knew who they were.
Morgan Blackhand, Andrew Weyland, Adam Smasher.

“Those are the ones that defies the rule of Night City - and makes everyone remember them while they are alive.”

Reilly felt her throat slowly dry out, and decided to grab another drink.

“You really think those guys are… you know…”

“Legends? You… have seen what they do, right? Reilly, there’s 4 different types of Mercs. 3rd rate, 2nd rate, 1st rate, and living legends. At least 2nd rate Mercs are what you want to deal with - 3rd rates barely get through their first gig before getting a bullet in the back of their skull. Now, busting into a place and going gung-ho? That’s a 2nd rate merc. That’s what they could only do. 1st rate may still do that, but at least they can follow the client’s request. But living legends… those are the mercs that can walk in and out without anyone knowing. Very few mercs got that skill, and it’s a skillset that’s high on demand in our work force. I’ve read what they are capable of, these Baba Yagas. I’ve heard about them. And god damn, they are every single eddie worthy of that name. Baba Yaga, the Slavic Boogeyman. Witch that can help a hero out, and eat them at the flick of a hat. It’s been around a week or two since they arrived in Night City, and they already have the other mercs spooked.”

“… Even here?”

“Yeah, they’ve all heard what they could do. What they already did. Hell, if I shout at the top of my lungs ‘the Baba Yagas are coming!’ right now? I’ll bet you this entire club that everyone outside this room will freeze up, wondering ‘shit, are they here for me?’”

Reilly laughed. I mean, they’re good. She’ll give them that with no resistance. They’re really good.
But ‘scare even Afterlife Merc’s’ good? She didn’t really-

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Rogue stood up, strutting in her synth-leather jeans to the entrance of the private VIP section.

“Hey, boys!” She shouted. The queen of Fixers made every merc turn to her.

“The Baba Yagas coming to the Afterlife!”

Reilly saw every single one of them freeze up, some clenching the glass they were holding.

Some that still had optics looking like organic eyes had the pupils shrink up in silent panic.
No one talked, making the club feel silent and empty even if there was music blasting from the ceiling.
Some were starting to focus on the door.

“Ar-are… are they here because of a gig?” One of the mercs had the balls to ask Rogue. Rogue knew him and his crew. Maine, with his input Dorio on the left, their gun nut and Techie siblings Rebecca and Pillar on the right, and their netrunner Sasha in the middle. She briefly turned and looked at Reilly with a smirk, before looking back.

“Yeah, just got words that they’re coming for a merc. Client hired them to have them disappear. And I guess you kids know what that means, right?”

Mercs looked at each other, wondering whether they should bolt out of the door and leave now, or hole up here and try to negotiate.
They didn’t like the thinking of running out from the club without knowing what was waiting for them outside.

“I’m just joking! No need to shit your pants.” Rogue finally told the truth to the mercs, everyone started erupting in various emotions against Rogue.
But all of them displayed relief soon after.

“Guess I’ll be keeping my club.” Rogue responded.

Holy shit. They really were that good.

“Reilly, now you’ve seen how good your mercs are. The next thing you need to know, is that you want them consistently on your side. If I were you, I’d be paying them 70% of the gig, no matter what they said to you. Because what they say and how they can respond, are two very different things. And with the skills they have, they’re making a name for themselves. Faster than Adam Smasher before he became Arasaka’s Dog. Pretty soon, they’ll be making better connections. Better gigs, better pay. Hell, I’ve already got clients asking me to specifically put Baba Yagas as the merc on the job. Willing to pay for the ‘celebrity taxes.’ It pains me to turn them down because I don’t have contact with them. Pretty soon, however, those boogey-men-for-hire will be walking into clubs run by fixers. And other fixers will be more than happy to send them gigs with 80% of the cut. They’ll leave you in the dust before you can get a good grip on them. And when they’ll be the next Morgan Blackhand or Adam Smasher, you’ll be… you. In your shitty little make-shift office, telling clients and other mercs on your payroll that you once did some gigs with them like you still do.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind, ma’am.”

“Good. On that note, I need the Baba Yagas.”

And there it was.
Rogue finally stopped wacking around the bush to tell Reilly what she really wanted.
Reilly expected as much.

“… Could I ask why?”

“No. You can get 20,000 eddies to leave them here so I can have talk with them about a gig. Does that sound good?”

Reilly weighed her options. She didn’t have many… fuck it, she didn’t have any. But she at least wanted to feel like she did.

“… I’ll call them to see if they can come here now.”

“Thank you.” Rogue’s eyes flashed blue, and Reilly saw herself getting 20,000 eddies richer.
Reilly gave Locust a call. While the tone was ringing as the avatar of Fire Team Baba Yaga’s leader was still the holophone’s default, Reilly quietly hoped that he wouldn’t pick up.

[Reilly.] She heard the distorted voice speak on the other line.
God damn it.

[You have a job for us?]

“Not… quite. Not me. But another fixer. One that basically tells you that you’re in the big leagues.”

[I need more explanation.]

Reilly sighed.

“It’s… it’s Rogue. Queen of Fixers. She wants to talk to you guys about a gig. In person. Are you free?”

There was a brief silence on the other line. It was agonising, but Locust did this a lot. It was obvious to Reilly that Locust was talking with the rest of his crew.

[Send me the location. We’ll be there.]

“Well, I won’t be. Have fun talking, and uh… don’t mess this up, you hear?”

The best thing she could do was send the new up and rising merc team with a pat on the back.
They’ll still do gigs for her… right?

Reilly stood up from her seat and looked at Rogue, who now came back to take a seat, legs crossing.

“They’ll come soon. I gave them the address. I’ll… be on my way.”

“Don’t have to leave so quickly. Take your time in the bar, have a drink! I’m sure if you chat with the mercs, you’ll get new chooms that’ll take your gigs. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Reilly smiled nervously as she left the VIP section. Maybe she should take Rogue’s advice. Hopefully her skills really are good enough to get good results with mercs other than the Baba Yagas.

Chapter Text

Rogue watched as Reilly started chatting up with several Mercs. She started out nervous and a little intimidated, but the new blood fixer eased in quick. Cracking jokes and buying drinks.
Rogue silently watched all that. Reilly had talent as a fixer. The only thing Reilly needed to do was live long enough to have that talent bloom.

[Rogue, Ma’am?]

The voice of the bouncer for tonight rang inside Rogue’s head. Holo call that she always had opened in case the bouncer needed to tell her something urgent.
This time, however, the bouncer looked nervous. Scared, actually.

[What is it?]

[There’s… there’s 6 people…? Umm… here. They- they say that they were sent here by Reilly Kudokawa.]

Rogue poured a drink and downed it. That sounded like them.
Rogue cleared her throat and answered.

[Let them in. They’re with me. I asked them to come.]

[I… yes, Ma’am.]

Rogue stood back up again. She had half the club panic thanks to her jokes, so she better clarify that none of them were in trouble.

Yet.

“Alright, boys! This time the Baba Yagas are actually coming, but they’re with me! So don’t be scared!”

Sasha saw Maine downing shots after Rogue gave everyone in the club a fright.
She couldn’t help but laugh at her team leader trying to calm down his panicking heart.

To be quite fair, everyone here was coming down from a scare. Sasha could still feel her heart bump against her ribs.
Every merc here had taken at least one unsavoury gig, done something that certainly landed them on someone’s shit list.
And if they had enough eddies to hire NC’s newest boogeymen, then… well, shit.
One unlucky bastard would be dragged out into the shadows, and the lucky rest wouldn’t even realise one of them went missing inside the club.

It sounded like an exaggeration, but there was enough news about corpo executives disappearing from high-security buildings and ending up as corpses inside rusty cars under bridges and highways.

And the video going around for the past week… Sasha saw it, Maine saw it, everyone on the Edgerunner crew saw it.
Majority of the video was obstructed by the close up plating of the Baba Yagas, but through the gaps between arms and legs one thing was clear - at least one of them was capable of swinging cars around with one arm like it was made of Styrofoam. A kick to a car caused the vehicle to spin and roll into the air.

Who was even capable of doing that? Sasha had thought.
Then she saw the giant futuristic walking armour’s silhouette darkened by the flames in the background.

That gave her the creeps.
Though to be fair, that gave everyone the creeps. The way that suit of armour slowly turned around, acting like it just didn’t slaughter several gangs while they were still in their car.

It was all over the news, people thinking it was Adam Smasher returning as a merc for hire.
Until they found out it wasn’t. It was someone completely new. That’s when every news media got interested.

Sasha tried finding info about them, but to her avail barely anything could be found.
It was as if they really were boogeymen, only known by their name.

“Alright, boys! This time the Baba Yagas are actually coming, but they’re with me! So don’t be scared!”

The Edgerunner crew heard Rogue once again shout at the top of her loung for an announcement.
Few of the mercs in the club laughed. They all got fooled by her once. No way in hell were they getting fooled again.

“For fuck’s sakes, give us a break…” Sasha heard Maine mutter under his breath as he groaned. Dorio chuckled at her output’s exasperation.

“Hey, maybe they really are coming.”

“And what, they’re going to take us away, dragging us to hell while they make us scream?” Rebecca asked as she rested her arms behind her head.

“Who knows, if we’re lucky enough we’ll be watching them in action.”

“And if we’re not, maybe we’ll be the targets.”

Sasha and Pilar giggled at Rebecca and Dorio going back and forth.
Sasha had heard high satisfaction rating by the clients.
Boy, did they work fast and dilligently. Roughly two weeks have passed and they had done enough gigs to be considered children’s cautionary tales.

“Oh fuck.” The Edgerunner crew heard their leader mutter. Sasha managed to catch the eyes behind Maine’s sunglasses. Widened with small pupils.
That’s when they all saw them.
Every merc in the club had stopped talking and stared at the new guests striding through.

They were taller than anyone here, all 6 heavily suited up and barely showing skin. Faces covered with helmets. If they had faces, they looked more like full’borgs than humans in armour. The one in front, presumably the leader, wore what looked like Skull with the cranium completely covering where the eyes should be.

Their weight caused the floor to rumble slightly with each step, fast rhythm vibrating throughout the club.

Everyone was silent, too scared to even talk lest the 6 Spartans all turned their heads towards that one in particular.

“Fuck me,” Dorio muttered. “They really are monsters.”

“You sure they’re the Baba Yaga?”

“Their bodies match the silhouettes in the video. It has to be them.”

“Hey boys!” They heard from one of the tables outside. It was Reilly, the newest fixer in Afterlife, waving at them like they were chooms.

What surprised the rest of the guests was how the 6 would respond. Either awkwardly raising a hand in return, or waving back in a playful manner.
That… unsurprisingly unsettled the mercs more.

They all headed towards Rogue, just as Rogue had announced. But the size of them meant that only one or two could fit in, the rest was simply standing outside and leaning on the walls.

“… Do you really think that Rogue called them here?” Rebecca whispered over the table. The VIP section meant that most of their talks would stay in this room, but with how quiet the club sounded it felt like any sound an octave higher would be picked up by those giants.

“Why else would they be here? It’ll be weirder if they weren’t allowed in the Afterlife, after all they managed to do.” Dorio answered, voice just as hushed as Rebecca.

“I… I guess so.”

Sasha focused on the merc wearing all black armour. Contrary to the other 5, they were the only one without any extra colours for highlights.
With how big they were, it was a wonder how they could sneak into highly secured locations and sneak back out.
But as curious as she was, she was just as scared to find out.

“First off, welcome to Afterlife. The fact that you could walk in here means that you’re in the big leagues now.”

Rogue greeted the Spartan in front like she greeted every other newcomer mercs. Normally the moment she said this they would be grinning ear to ear. Maine and his crew on the other side (still staring at Fire Team Baba Yaga along with other mercs) certainly did.

The metal titan didn’t respond. It was like they were golems.
Rogue narrowed her eyes, trying to skim off their body movement.
She couldn’t get any reads off of them, and it frustrated her even more.

“You have a job for us, I presume.” That’s when that… eyeless skull spoke. It caught Rogue off guard in two ways. The fact that it was so sudden, with no body movement to announce that it was going to speak. And then there was also… the voice. Distorted. It sounded less like a voice and just amalgamations of vibrations imitating the tone of one to make words and string them into sentences.

Rogue blinked.

“Yes. I can tell you’re solely here for a biz.” Rogue placed a shard on the table. Which Agent Locusts looked down at.

“Have a seat, I’ll give you the details.” People inside the VIP section had to scoot over even more when Locust decided to comply. The seat sank in thanks to the weight of the Gen 3 Rakshasa variant Mjolnir.

“Drinks?” Rogue offered, trying to at least establish some… human contact with the Baba Yagas.

“We don’t drink.” A polite decline, yet something that made them look less alive.
Agent Locust grabbed the shard, holding it up to briefly see the shape. To Rogue, it looked like he could read the data off the shard just by looking.

Agent Locust turned to the rest of his crew.

“Ram.” The distorted voice ordered, to which one of the bulkier ones stepped up to grab the shard, taking a heavily modified laptop and an equally upgraded cyberdeck from the underside of it’s shoulder armour. It plugged wires between the two and inserted the shard into the cyberdeck.
The other Spartans started gathering around the screen as Rogue narrowed her eyes.
How paranoid were they to go for something like this?

“It’s a MegaCorp gig. Client’s Arasaka. They asked me to make a team to steal some valuable assets from Militech. A prototype of their latest weapon system. You see, Militech has what they call Special Projects Department, a group responsible for the development of technological ideas considered too exotic, sensitive, potentially dangerous. Arasaka caught wind of one of these exotic ideas, and would like an espiona-”

The merc the leader had referred to as Ram started laughing as he watched the screen. Like his namesake, Ram made sounds resembling cries of a sheep.
Well, Rogue thought. At least they acted like they had human emotions. A very wrong reason and very weird timing notwithstanding.
The other 5 were looking at Spartan Ram. To them, it was obvious why he was laughing.

Exotic, she says. Something that looked like what UNSC used 60 years ago before throwing away in favor of newer, better models.

“… ahem, so anyways. Militech had transported one of those very special development projects to Night City. We don’t know if Night City is a pit stop, or a potential testing ground. It doesn’t matter. What matter’s is that it’s here, and Arasaka wants it in the hands of the Night City’s Arasaka’s facility. The rest of the details, including the number of securities and the building layout is in that shard.”

Agent Locust turned his head back to Rogue. The Queen of Fixers wanted to make some sort of eye contact- to read the merc’s response, to establish some sort of proper fixer-merc relationship, to make sure that she can at least stare this metal motherfucker down in some ways to tell her she’s not to be messed with.

The lack of eyes visible meant that it failed. But Rogue didn’t falter.
And neither did Agent Locust.

“You want us to go in quiet, or loud and hard?”

“Do whatever you want, it doesn’t matter. All we want is for you guys to take that new project, and deliver to the designated location.”

That was all Agent Locust needed to know. He stood up, and the rest of the Spartans gave way.
It was time to leave, and do their jobs.

“Wait.” Rogue opened her mouth as Agent Locust but a footstep away from getting out of the VIP section. “What’s your name? I know your team is called Baba Yaga. But I’d like to know of who I was directly talking to.”

Agent Locust turned around.

“Agent Locust. At your service.”

Ram closed his laptop and packed up as he also stood up, leaving the VIP section with Locust and forming the 6 man band again.
Collectively footprints were heard throughout the club as they disappeared around the corner.

Rogue picked up her glass, still half full with whiskey.
Hmph. She swiveled the glass and saw the drink swirl.

At my service my ass, she barely had any control of that conversation.

Chapter Text

Agent Locust sat on the platform of an unfinished construction work.
Building that was in development for an unknown Megacorp, but tension between them and Militech caused this place to be put on an indefinite hold. 

Agent Locust continuously replayed the 3d blueprint of the Militech’s Night City R&D department on the other side of the road. Any possible entrances and openings, breaches in their security was marked and trasnferred to the rest of the Baba Yagas.
Trucks were going in and out of that fortress-like building. Something Agent Killshot was spying on from the metal scaffolds using the point-isolated VISR focal software installed into the Dead Eye Variant Mjolnir helmet.
Militech Software was among the most advanced software Earth had, competing with Arasaka - who also developed military-grade ICE and security systems. Their security were bolstered on the fact that thanks to the Datakrash, the net had become broken into small little bubbles - under full control of either the corporations that created them, or netwatch.
Agent Ram was constructing an extra cyberdeck using parts he had taken from gangs that the Baba Yaga had eradicated over past two weeks for gigs. The experience of developing new military softwares for the UNSC, and creating Smart AIs made the net that Militech was using looked like a flimsy window to him. Crude imitations of dumb ais he had created from these customised cyberdecks and his own privatised net would have been sold at very high prices as ‘newest Daemons’ in Megacorp auctions. Anyone from Night City would have mistaken them as rogue AIs from the black wall.

Agent Locust took his eyes off the laptop screen to look at the building with Agent Killshot. They started when the sky was clouded and rain was hitting concrete and metal (Ram notified that the Rain had above-average levels of acidity and toxcity, heavy indication of water sources being polluted). The rain persisted even when the night sky made everything pitch black.

Fire Team Baba Yaga started out as an ONI black ops group, then later tasked with intruding into Created-dominated locations for data sanitation and recovery.
They had literally fought advanced AIs over data, what amounted to their home territory. Baba Yaga’s terms of victory in such a fight was that they managed to eradicate such data from Created-controlled terminals without being noticed. The fact that they survived meant they were very successful at such tasks.

And they also had Noble 6.

Agent Locust snorted a little as he stood up, closing the laptop and putting it back into Ram’s back plating.
They should be able to make that little ‘product’ of theirs disappear without them none the wiser.

Agent Locust snapped his finger, the other 5 Spartans returning from their post to gather around the Fire Team Leader.
Locust had seen enough of the blueprint, got enough intel from Ram and Killshot.
It was time.

The mission was simple. Find the project, get it out and go to the designated location.
But this was Militech’s R&D department for Night City. What that meant for Baba Yaga was that precious intel from one of their newest rival Corporation was stacked inside like a gold mine.

“…?” A militech soldier briefly looked at the ceiling.

“You see something?” Her partner soldier, going with her to patrol the building, looked back at her with a bored tone.

“No, it’s just… the lights are flickering.”

“Guess we’ll tell that to the techies.”

5 of the Spartans had emissions cloaking system integrated into their mjolnir armor. The only one that didn’t was Jim - Mirage IIC only fulfilled the bare minimum performance requirements for a Mjolnir suit, which meant internal emissions cloaking system was non-existent.
That didn’t matter. Spartan Jim always carried an active camouflage module he had ripped out of a Stealth Sangheili during the Covenant war.
That elite bastard had nearly stabbed him in the back while hiding in abandoned covenant hydrogen extraction plant, Jim made sure to lodge his knife deep into the underside of its mouth, puncturing the skull.

Noble 6 and Ram waited silently as the two Militech Guards went past them through the corridor. Once they disappeared out of sight, Ram went to work.
They didn’t really need to tamper with the security cameras - the upgraded active camouflage could seemlessly bend light around the mjolnir armour. You’d have to pratically plant your face on the armour to spot the shimmering in the space around the armour.
Physical proximity to the eye was necessary to even see something out of the ordinary. The cameras couldnt pick up on that.

Spartan Killshot was on top of the Militech building, using a scope detached from a rifle to scan the surroundings in case there was a sudden change in the situation. Jim was on standby with Killshot incase the situation went out of control.

That left Spartan Locust and Leon to be on the other side of the building, creating a safe route for Noble 6 and Ram to travel, and themselves ready to act once the duo in the terminal room found the location of the Project (and extracted whatever data they could from the main terminal).

Killing wasn’t part of the plan, knocking them out wasn’t either. Any harm done could potentially leave traces that they were here.
Violence, in this case, was a contingency plan.

Noble 6 and Ram opened the door when the Camera was looking in another direction, closing before it rotated back.
No one else was inside the main terminal. Camera in the corner couldn’t look behind the giant computers.
Ram quickly plugged his laptop into one of the computers - they were all interconnected, breaching one lead to all of them being compromised.

Ram’s acted quickly, anyone in cyberspace would’ve seen what amounted to eldritch abominations being created from thin cyberspace-air. Formless blobs of codes that instantly conformed and evaded to every possible firewalls. Noble 6 watched as Ram was busy typing on the keyboard, the noise was covered by the soft rumbling by the terminals.
Like water going through paper, the code would stick to the ICE and walls, showing Ram what sort of codes formed commands, which interlinked with eachother to create the military-grade ICE. Ram skimmed over it, and then feed them new codes that made them identify the program as ally, another data needed to be stored in the databank, and willing invited in.
Once they left, all records of them entering would be deleted.
This entire process would’ve taken even the best Netrunners almost a couple of years to manage, they would have needed to develop the Daemons from scratch.
Ram and Cell dealt with Forerunner softwares, their biggest breakthrough was creating a replica of the Warden Smart AI. Smart AIs, which UNSC engineers would remind you, would’ve required scanning a biological brain to get the matrix needed for their cores.
Making Daemons like this was just a weekend homework the twins would do while trying to recover from a hangover.
Ram looked at his laptop monitor, looking at the amount of data going past his command  screen. Information was extracted and sent through, security programmed made by the best of the best in Militech would just helplessly witness this progress.
If they were aware, then they would have no mouth and must scream.
Future development projects, including the one Baba Yaga was tasked to ‘retrieve’, was but few of many that Ram collected. Soon, details regarding who was in charge of what project, all of the details from the lowest ranking engineers to the executive members were being sucked out and placed into Ram’s palm.

Agent Washington will love this.

“… Oh, this is going to be difficult.” Noble 6 heard Ram mutter as the team’s technological expert chuckled. Noble 6 quitely turned around to look at Ram.

“Were we found out?”

“No. But we might be compromised if we decide to steal our client’s interest.”

“… I’d like some clarifications.”

“I’ll tell this to our leader as well, but what we need to steal is-”

“-A truck. We need to steal, a truck.”

Agent Locust double checked with Ram over the comm link, Spartan Leon was shaking his head and laughing a little in frustration.

[More like the Project is so big it needs to stay in the truck. No other way to carry it out.]

Spartan Leon opened the back of the truck again, letting out a small chuckle as he and Locust had to confirm that it was that goddamn big.

[It was orignally to be transfered to an underground facility in NUSA territory - it only made a pitstop here because the road they were going to take was getting populated with Nomads. They needed to regroup and restock their defenses.]

“… Well, shit. That changes things.” Agent Locust sighed as he looked around the storage room.
There were several other trucks lined up, recently arrived. Agent Locust and Leon had created a temporary blindspot on the camera to safely open the cargos.
Among them were new artillery projects, and experimental drones.

“What do we do now, sir? We going gung ho?” Agent Leon asked as he readied his weapon. The storage had a total 6 security guards, 2 had breifly left to check on another room and would be returning soon.

[Sir, if I may.] Just as Agent Locust was mulling over the possibility Leon had suggested, Noble 6’s voice came to life on the comm.

“Noble 6, you have a suggestion?”

[I do, sir. Ram managed to find the digital route to the generators of this building. He’s also manageed to get the full list of employees within this building, among other things.]

“… I think I’m seeing your angle. But please continue.”

[I’ve read Spartan Leon’s files. His specialty was voice imitation and languages?]

Agent Locust turned to Agent Leon, who was already nodding his head to Noble 6’s offer. Gears were turning in everyone’s head, which ended with Leon chuckling.

“Give me a secure line and the details of who I need to impersonate. And a security footage of him talking.”

[The back-up generators will be online 3 minutes after I cut the power, in the meantime  Noble 6 will regroup with an improvised burner phone for Leon to use. I’ll delete any records of the truck from this facilitie’s terminal, and then cut the contact of the truck.] Spartan Ram injected himself into the conversation, who was already at work tampering with the records.

“Send over what I have to say.”

[Noble 6 is already on his way with the necessary devices. By the time Noble 6 arrives at your location, all comm links will be rerouted to our liking. Baba Yaga Leader, I need alternate routes for Me, Jim and Killshot to use before randevousing with you three.]

“I’m already on it. Sending it your way. It should be away from the generators too, but watch out for patrols just in case. Make sure you don’t leave any traces.”

Agent Leon looked at his leader while the two huddled behind the truck.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Leon’s remark only made Locust shake his head.

Kowalski Speckleman was a recent addition to the security team. He couldn’t believe that he managed to get through the internship, but… well, here he was. Wearing Militech helmet and vest with a newly manufactured M251s Ajax.

Like majority of his colleagues, the only thing of note that he had to keep in mind during his patrol was that there were trucks that came from NUSA inside the storage for the following 2 days. Though according to the head of security, this place was an underground facility unknown to majority of people. They should be fine.

His partner-in-crime had continuously looked at the flickering lights on the ceiling. The lack of proper maintenance of the inner circuitry was probabliy the problem.

“God, it just feels like the lights are gonna blow, soon.” She muttered under her breath as they continued their designated patrol route.

They were starting to return to the storage when her words became reality.
All of a sudden, the lights suddenly went out, the door in front of them refusing to open even if Kowalski put his ID card into the lock.

Him and his partner’s communication flared to life.

[This is Albert Rondale, head of security of the Night City’s R&D underground facility.]

Oh shit, it was their boss.

[Unfortunately the worse has come to our attention. Our generator has briefly gone haywire, and while our engineers have a look at it, we’ll have to rely on the backup generator for lights and doors. Because that also means our security cameras will not be working thanks to power constraints, I’d like all security to undergo protocol night defence. Patrol group 1, 2, and 3. I’d like you guys to change your patrol route to sector A. 4 and 5. You guys will be guarding our engineers in case they find evidence that the generators were sabotaged. 6, 7, 8. I’d like you guys to start from the storage, and then spread into Wings alpha and beta in Sector B.]

Kowalski looked to his partner, the lower part of her face exposed thanks to the design of the Militech helmet showed a little skeptical expression.

“What’s the matter? It’s standard protocol.” Kowalski asked.

“Well, it is. I guess…” That’s all she had said as they started to follow their superior’s orders. Then she looked back at Kowalski “It’s just… won’t that leave the storage a little… empty?”

Kowalski shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, you heard the guy. I’d say with the location the generators are at, we should be more focused on guarding routes that could lead to the terminals.”

While his partner still showed suspicion, she nevertheless nodded her head, agreeing to Kowalski’s reasoning.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Nothing else was out of the ordinary for the guards. After 2 hours suffering under the subpar performance of the back up generators (They didn’t expect much out of it anyway. Back up generators were designed to provide the bare minimum for the facility to function at some sort of level), the main generator was restored and every other function returned with it.

One of the fuse had overloaded, the militech techies said. Most likely from the rust buildup no one had the time to clean.

“Emmeric? Pines?” But minor confusion was brought to surface, when Albert Rondale looked surpised to see guards in some of the sector. “Why the hell are you guys here?”

“You… ordered us to patrol this sector, sir.”

“… What?”

“We heard from your call, that we needed to Wings Alpha and Beta in Sector B.” One of the guards piped up.

“I said patrol Sector C and the entrance to the Storage! We don’t need to patrol Sector B! Let alone have you 3 groups squashed into it!” Frustration was evident in Albert’s voice, to which one of the guards stammered out in confusion.

“But sir, you clearly told us to-”

“Well you heard it wrong, you shit-for-ears! Stop arguing with me and go back to the storage!”

The guards didn’t bother arguing. But they did talk amongst themselves whether their head of security had said Sector B or Sector C. Majority of them had indeed confirmed they had heard Sector B, with a few saying that they had heard Sector C instead.
Their conversation went nowhere, which only added to their beffudlement.

“Ummm… hey, how many trucks were supposed to be here again?” One of the guards asked the other as they went back to patrol.
Something felt off, but the guard couldn’t put a finger on it. It was like those ‘spot the difference’ puzzle game, except the only two comparisons were what he was seeing with  what he vaguely remembered.
It was pretty much a losing game, especially since they were breifly panicking on the black out and the discrepancy of their bosses order.

“Let me check.” Said his partner, who looked through the dataterm nearby. He came back soon after. “It says we had five trucks coming in here. Why?”

The guard started to count the trucks.
One… two… three… four… five.
Yeah, ok. He thought. There’s all five of them.

“What, you feeling something like Deja Vu?”

“… Naah. I think I’m just remebering something different.” The guard brushed it off and went back to patrol.
Still, he would look over his shoulders at the truck.

It felt like he was missing something important…
Something that made his hair stand a little. He didn’t know why though.

[The package is in a militech truck parked at the designated. Don’t worry, they cut any possible trackers on the payload. Destroyed records of it too. The mercs I hired are watching out for it until you guys arrive.]

Kate, the Arasaka Counter intelligence stepped out of the car as they arrived at the designated location they had provided to the fixer for the gig. Douglas was already waiting outside the car for her, extending her an umbrella as the rain continued to pour down.
Puddles formed on the asphalt pavement bounced lights from streelamps, yet there wasn’t enough lumination to properly brighten the way.

There wasn’t anyone else waiting for them, and that made Kate doubt the integrity of the Queen of Fixers.
There wasn’t any mercs, there wasn’t even the fixer’s little handymen waiting for her.
Just a militech truck, slowly gathering rust and water stain thanks to the rain.

No matter, if the cargo was there, then she guessed it was a job done.
Kate opened the back of the truck, the newest model they had managed to receive intel out of from interrogating a miltech executive (any claims to Arasaka torturing the man would be denied. As far as the public knows, the man had committed suicide in his own car) was safely inside.
Well, job well done. Kate sighed a little as she anticipated the amount of work she and Douglas would have to do in order to completely eradicate the traces of the Militech product going into Arasakas hand.
But then again, she didn’t realise that Baba Yaga had done that job for her. Like a present from Santa, like a Turkey served on silver platter during thanksgiving- this was a gift with no strings attached.
Kate and Douglas would soon realise that until a week later, this product simply disappeared from reality, any records and evidence of cargo was no longer existent within that time period.
For a good long while, Militech wouldn’t even realise it had existed - then it’ll take a week to know that it had disappeared, then two more weeks to find out it was stolen.

“Douglas, get the Arasaka Agents to retrieve this, and confirm to the other executives that we have the product.”

Douglas didn’t answer.

“Douglas?” Kate turned to see why Douglas was so silent.
Douglas stayed frozen on the spot, looking to the top of some abandonned building behind them.
His hands were shivering but not because of the cold air.

“… Miss…” Was all Douglas eeked out from his voice.
Kate followed Douglas’s gaze, and realised why he was so spooked.

There was nothing among the abandonned buildings. At least, there shouldn’t have been.
But she could see how the rain was hitting something that didn’t exist there. The impacts of the droplets were drawing outlines of sillhouttes: 2 on the top of the left building, and 2 on the top of the right.
Then there were 2 standing in the narrow road that entered into this space. Sillhouettes Kate and Douglas could barely see.
What was even scarier was that no matter how many times they tried to scan the outline, results came back with absolutely nothing.

Nothing existed there, yet the rain told them something WAS there.

Then they slowly started to see the 6 sillhouttes walking away, out of sight.
And with that, they were gone. Disappearing into the shadows casted by the buildings, molding in with the darkness casted by the night.

Kate and Douglas never saw a good look at the 6. But they heard enough from the streets to get a good gist of who… of what they were.

“Baba Yaga…” Kate whispered out with an exhale. She hadn’t realised that she was subconciously holding in her breath, until the silent terrors had left.

Fuck me, they thought. Rogue hadn’t just hired top tier mercs for the gig - she had hired the fucking Boogeymen.

Chapter Text

The infrastructures ‘grown’ outside the badlands near the scrap yard and Laguna Bend, was busy at work. It started with a simple Cell-Kyl vat placed in the middle of the trash mountain, marines and Spartans hauling nearby trash to feed the clouds of Nanomachine.
First the nanobots built the infrastructure using the trash that it was fed.
Once the walls were built, 2 M12 Warthogs were deployed to be used as temporary trucks, carrying the trash into the barricade twice every day.

It was known officially under the UNSC record created by Captain Church as [HIGHCOM Facility Draugr-1]. The crewmates had easier time referring as ‘the Graveyard’.
And inside the hive, Crews of the Engineering branch were working tirelessly like the undead, developing several vehicles for personal use that would make gathering scrap and transporting them back to the Cell-Kyl vat easier.

The Warthogs they were using were already returned back to the UNSC Revenant.
Trucks with crane arms were sent out from the Graveyard to shovel out trash. Marines were driving the vehicles with nothing but complaints mulling in their mouth as ODST troopers and Spartans rode behind them, rifles aimed to any possible uninvited guests.

Washington watched the Trucks go to work in the distance, several of these trucks being deployed out through the hard-light gate and coming back in, filled with trash.
They weren’t supposed to have Hydrogen-Injected Combustion Engines. But Cell specifically had them installed anyway.
To his reasoning, those trucks were never going to be for sale.

“What if they get stolen. Then we’ll have a company able to mass produce Hydrogen-Injected Combustion Engines.”

Agent Locust silently looked at his superior, the Locus variant helmet expressionlessly conveying a sense of disbelief.

“Do you seriously think they’ll manage to steal one of them?”

Washington thought for a moment.

“… I guess not. Maybe I’m just overreacting.”

“You ARE overreacting.”

Agent Locust and Agent Washington were hiding inside a naturally formed tunnel. With the cameras floating around here recently, having their conversations recorded for the entire city to see was not an option.

Spartan Ram was further behind the tunnel, who was busy finishing compiling a data chip.
It was more for Dumb and Smart AIs to read and transfer to a separate, safer cyberspace build by the UNSC.

“We’ve got several intel regarding Militech in this package. My asshat of a brother could use some of them for inspiration for new projects.”

“They can’t be that advanced.” Washington said with a slight concern.

“Precisely. They’re definition of the next gen experimental tech, is our definition of a garden shed science experiment. I think the annoyance will be plenty enough for him to stick around Earth for… I don’t know, 4 more years or so.”

“He really does get that easily bored, doesn’t he?”

“He’s mister Prodigy, Forerunner stuck in a human body.”

“I’d say you’re no different to him in that regard.”

Washington sighed as he fidgeted with the data chip.
He read their files, how they were among the Spartans recommended by Halsey to go down on a shield world expedition.
The two were among the few survivors of the Spartan IV deployed, the rest were reduced to data.

“Tell my twin I said hi.”

“… Actually, speaking of your twin, here’s a new mission for you.”

Washington procured visualised data from his dumb AI, which sent the information over to Spartan Locust.

Locust’s dumb AI, butler, took the info and deciphered it.

“What the fuck.”

Washington nodded in defeat at Locust’s response. It was expected.

“Look, we don’t even need to get the entire cow. I mean, Cell wants an entire cow… but he can still work with blood samples.”

Locust sighed as he sent the info to Ram as well.
Ram read through the info, and chuckled.

“This sounds like Cell, alright.”

Locust and Ram stood up, readying to deploy their active camouflage once more.

“You don’t have to do this now. Take your time.” Was all Washington replied as his subordinates disappeared.

Washington also readied his active camouflage. Guess it was his time to leave too.

“Here’s intel from your brother. Be grateful.” Agent Washington tossed a data pad.

Spartan Cell took his eyes off of the microscope, a plate half-filled with dirt from outside.
Compared to the soil Cell had created and managed, these ones had a paler dryer colour.
It advertised itself that it was devoid of life.

Washington heard Cell sneer as he scrolled through the data pad. Sounded like he found the Militech secret.

“And they’re calling this next gen. That’s adorable.”

Ram was right. Not that Washington disagreed with him.

Washington was already seeing the gears inside Cell turning.
Guess he’d be hopping to a new project, while their intended Car production was still work in progress.

It was almost always like this- Cell kickstarting a project and a terrifying speed in progress, and then dropped it immediately for Kyl to pick up.

Washington had to get use to this soon.
He looked at the dirt and pointed at it.

“So, find anything interesting?”

“Yeah. It’s the lack of anything worth looking in that’s interesting.”

“…O…kay?” That response was a first. “Elaborate if you could?”

“Nothing is in this dirt other than poison. Absolutely 0 active microbes identifiable.”

“… Isn’t having no microbes good? That’s why companies advertise disinfectant that’s like 99.99% effective against all germs?”

Cell placed the datapad on the table and leaned back on his chair, one leg resting on the other.

“Wash?”

“Am I wrong?”

“You failed biology class, right?”

Washington sighed. Cell’s insult right now would’ve counted as insubordination. Only problem was that due to both of them being in Spartan division (and that both were near-equal in specific status and field work experiences), there were no ways of punishing Cell with his own authority.

“No, I passed with a B-.”

“Figured. With the sort of dumb ass question you just told me.”

Cell picked up the plate and removed it from the microscope, showing it off to Washington as if it was his newest miniature invention.

“For life the size visible to our eyes to exist, we need microbes. Think of them as the small parts that make up a circuitry that runs the computer. Plants especially need microbes in the soil to convert any chemicals that they can’t use but could potentially be used as nutrients, as actual source of nutrients.”

“Right. So the complete lack of them is concerning.”

“It’s already concerning with the concentration of poison in the soil. It’s downright mind boggling that it was capable of driving a microbiome to functional extinction. All those diverse bacteria, completely wiped out like the Spartan IIIs Beta Company during Operation: TORPEDO.”

“Oh my fucking god, Cell.”

“It’s that horrifying to look at from a biological perspective, Washington! Now the bright side is that I’ve found capsules and spores, which means some of them are laying dormant until the conditions are right. The bad news is that the soil condition is so bad, they’re never going to wake up.”

“Is the poison that bad?”

“Yeah, I’m actually getting the chemical composition of the poison sample scanned right now. The results should be coming in an hour. But with what I’ve seen right now, I can already confirm one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“This right here-” Cell tapped on the edge of the plate, soil moving and crumbling thanks to the sudden force from his finger. “It’s artificial. Probably from a Megacorp too. Now, I’m sure not all the soil out here is like this, but could predict a majority of them would be.”

Washington looked to the dirt, and then back to Cell.

“And I presume that’s going to be your next new project you’ll promptly hand over to another engineer group once you get bored again?”

“Yep. This one should be quick though.”

Washington nodded a little, before pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on.
Unlike Cell, Washington had enough sense of responsiblity to look through the list of Militech Personals.
Speaking of dirt, there was a LOT of dirt on these guys just from the data Ram had acquired.
It was almost sad the way these sort of information was so easily and quickly copied and stolen.

“… Hey, Wash. Can I ask you something?”

Agent Washington was about to leave the doorway, but Cell’s voice stopped him in his track.

“Sure, shoot.”

Cell was staring at the datapad, and then to the dirt.

“… You know how we’ve become… what we are, right?”

Washington stepped back into the room. He saw Cell tap at the bottom right spectral node on his helmet.

“Yeah, we’ve found Forerunner artifact on the back of our moon, took it with us back to Earth to research it.”

“That’s the thing. We calculated that thanks to us contacting Forerunner tech, we had essentially made technological leaps equivalent to 500 years into the future. It’s only been roughly 100 years since we left this planet, but the difference in technology and experience is close to 400 or 500 years apart.”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking you guys to go easy on the products.”

“Yeah, but here’s where my bit of concern comes in. You see, Earth used to have something that they called the Library of Alexandria in Egypt. It was one of the largest and most significant library of the ancient world, acting as a larger research institution.”

“What happened to it?”

“It burnt down, intellectuals purged information going up in literal flames. By 270 and 275 AD, it was completely gone. Historians believe that if the library was intact, humanity would have made advancements close to 100 years.”

“So it was the complete opposite of our situation.”

“Yeah. So here’s the question to you: If we hadn’t discovered that Forerunner artifact, what would have happened to us?”

“We… wouldn’t have existed, I guess. Could I ask why you suddenly wanted to ask this?”

“Oh, I was just looking through the technology on the datapad and got me to think ‘damn, these guys are cavemens.’ And then I remembered my experience on the Shield world expedition. You’ve read our files regarding that, right?”

“Only the ones that wasn’t blacked out in ink, yes.”

“Well here’s what the inked parts were - me and Ram were turned into data as well.”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

“You heard me, Mr Depressed. The twins suffered the effect of a composer. Thing is, we were contact with the Forerunner’s equivalent to the internet. The Domain, it called itself.”

“What, ‘it called itsel-’ am I hearing that right? That thing is alive?”

“Yeah, and it can think. Think faster and better than any of us. So many information, layered atop of each other. The oldest data altering into something else. But it was there, it still existed. Beyond our space-time. We met a forerunner there, or… whatever was left of it. It called itself Master Builder Faber. They helped us connect with the Domain, because it wanted to talk to us. It was excited about having new visitors, it enjoyed sharing information. Do you know what it told me?”

“I’m starting to get too scared to ask. So just tell me if you want me to listen.”

Cell nodded.

“It told me the basic principles behind every Forerunner calculations and software, every matrix of programs that it used to run their machines. How it built AIs.”

“So that’s why you were capable of creating a Warden-AI replicant.”

“Oh, but it gets even better. Among the things it whispered to us, one of them was a simulation it was running on background.”

“Simulation?”

“Predictive calculations about the several choices that diverges time-space into smaller sub-divisions. About what some of those branches would look like and how long they’ll grow. One of them was a predictive model of what would’ve happened had we not found Forerunner artifacts in 1969.”

“Which was…?”

“That everything, everything we’ve built, everything we’ve achieved, everything we’ve fought and experienced was pushed back 500 years into the future.”

“That’s… expected.”

“No, Wash. I mean everything, down to the last. Minute. Detail. Was delayed exactly 500 years ago. We left Earth to colonise other planets in 2362, insurrections and the Spartan-II program starting in 2494 to 2525, Covenants contacting with humans and starting a war in 2525, ending in 2553, us fighting the Ur-Didact in 2557, Banished forces in 2557.”

“Wait, you knew the Banished would attack us?”

“I knew they would, I didn’t know when, where and how. Not in our universe, at least.”

Washington stared at Cell. Cell avoided Washington’s eyes and instead focused on the wall in front of him.

“The point is, every little thing UNSC has done was pushed back for 500 years, the discovery of Forerunner technology was the divergent point for OUR timeline. And then it started a butterfly effect. Slowly it diverged. If we hadn’t found those artifacts, Earth may not have been in such condition.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because if Domain had calculative the most possible course of our time in such a scenario was that UNSC was under the commands of the United Earth Government.”

“… Which doesn’t exist.”

“Not here, no. Maybe… in another universe, parallel to us? Definitely.”

“And you’re sure that parallel universe exists?”

“Wash, Forerunners had engines that extracted vacuum energy from infinite numbers of alternate realities. Vacuum energy they sucked out from those new born universes resulting in their premature death. Infinite energy supply that- if you give me 5 to 10 years, I can recover from scratch.”

“There’s no fucking way I’m allowing you to do that.”

“Go fuck yourself. But moving back to my point- yes, it does exist. Somewhere, somehow. Can we contact it? Not yet. Can we observe it? Not yet. But can we be aware of its existence? Yes. That does beg the question, if… if in an alternate reality, where Earth was in this exact situation, without UNSC existing. Would their events had happened much later in history?”

“That… could be a possibility.”

“Then here’s the question I wanted to ask you, flipping the previous question around:  Because of our existence here on Earth, would events that should’ve happened… let’s say 2 or 3 years in the future, happen much much quicker?”

Washington thought for a moment, and in that time Cell added in more terms to the question.

“Even if we just… observed Earth, without interfering with it. Would our existence alone still warrant an acceleration of events?”

“… I’m, not too sure about that.”

“It’s fine. I just wanted to see a non-scientific individual’s perspective on this.”

“… I’d say then, that it’s an absurd scenario. But with what you just told me, it doesn’t sound too farfetched. I don’t know. It could be. I can’t be sure enough, unfortunately. Those sort of speculation is more of your Domain than mine.”

Cell chuckled a little.

“No. It’s no longer anyone’s Domain.”

Vic Vega looked out his window.
Night had fallen on Rancho Coronado, Santo Domingo.

Recent news had told people with bounties on their heads to fear the dark.
Hell, he’s seen his subordinates and security check the closets every time they were on Graveyard shift.

‘What the fuck are you guys doing, you guys trying to find something? Huh? Lost a pen in a closet?’

‘N-no, sir… it’s… uh, we were… just checking.’

‘Why are you guys checking closets?’

‘… If the Baba Yagas was hiding in there, sir.’

Vic was briefly lost for words.

‘Get the fuck away from the closets and go do your fucking job! You pussies!’ he shouted. Security promptly did as they were told.

Ridiculous. He heard the words on the streets, but he couldn’t believe that even his own men were believing what people were saying.
Yeah, they’re mercs. They’re good at making people and cargo disappear.

But for fuck’s sake, they weren’t the actual boogeymen!
How superstitious were you going to be to be checking closets!
What, were they checking under their own beds when they go back home?

Vic grabbed a pen and fiddled with it, thumb clicking the tip in and out as he alternated his focus from his window to his computer.
… He wouldn’t lie, he caught himself looking a little tense in the reflection every time the outside of his window went dark.

He heard about them. Who hadn’t? He’s seen the video, of cars getting thrown around like they were nothing more than hot wheels toys.

But, that didn’t matter. He chided himself.
He’s Vic Vega, head of the private security company C-Team!
The amount of security guards and cameras installed in this building should be more than enough to catch anyone lurking around here when they’re not supposed to.

Yeah, it was fine. Besides, who says they’re interested in him?

It was just a new scare for Corpos that people of Night City loved to sink their teeth into.
Vic bet 5000 Eddies to his friends that 90% of their deeds were over-exaggeratio-

Vic briefly saw the reflection in the window.
Steel black helmet with gold visors behind his own head.
It only took a second for Vic to register the image as he was suddenly pulled back into his chair by the throat.

He gurgled and kicked as he grabbed whatever was constricting around his neck.
From the corner of his eyes he saw one of his guards walking down the stairs, only showing their back to Vic.

He wanted to shout to them, that he was getting attacked.

But he couldn’t the loudest he could be were quiet sobs as foams were forming at the corners of his mouth.
Eyes watering as he looked back at the window.
He had just realised that one of the windows in the hallway was open.
The peripherals were going dark, making it feel like someone was turning off the lights.

Yet the Gold visor, bouncing off from the window as a reflection, looked so clear to him.
It was burning into Vic’s retina as tears were falling down his cheeks.

Oh god,
Oh god. Oh fuckin’ christ.

It was them.
It was the Baba Yaga.

Even as he was blacking out, he couldn’t dare forget that helmet.

The Spartan in black quickly tightened his choke hold roughly three times just to check the guy was out.
Once it was confirmed that Vic Vega was going to be sleeping for a while, the Spartan quietly carried Vic out of his office and out through the open window in the hallway. Active Camouflage obscuring his target from sight.

“Noble 6, I’ve got the target.”

A brief notification on his comm link to the rest of the team, Noble 6 promptly jumped down from the roof.
He could see a vehicle enter the parking lot of C-Team.

Rogue had expected Vic Vega to be delivered alive.
Noble 6 saw the driver nervously twiddled him thumb as both of his hands firmly gripped the steering wheel.

The driver jumped when he heard the trunk of his car opening, something heavy falling into it.
The trunk closed, and he saw as the Boogeyman materialised from darkness to look at the driver through the window.

Something big was caught in the driver’s throat as the giant armour in pitch-dark metal spoke.

“The target’s in the trunk. I’ve done my job.”

Fear forced the drivers words down, as the driver just rapidly nodded his head.

He’s seen many mercs hired by Rogue. Deliver packages to him as they were caked in blood and wounds.
He thought he saw them all. Thought for all that gore and bravado, he thought most of the mercs weren’t that scary. Just intimidation and macho fronts to earn more street cred.

Not this fucker. Oh no, not this fucker right outside his car window right now. The serenity and calm, the patience in his voice. It wasn't something you'd ever hear from a Merc that specialised in making things disappear for a price. In fact, it was something you'd never want to hear. It was so... disconnecting, disorientating. It was uncanny, much more frightening than a merc that's always angry and shouting.
Sometimes it’s scarier when the night outside is quiet. His pa had told him why it was scary when we couldn’t hear anything outside at night.

He still remembered how he tucked him into bed, and that curiosity gave him nightmares that forced him to check the bed with all the lights on, and him refusing to look at the corner of his room or gap in his slightly-ajar closet.

‘El nino’, his pa had said. ‘We’re scared of the silence at night because we’re used to hearing animals chirp and sing even when it’s dark. Our ancestors learnt that when the night is dead quiet, that means there’s something out there. Something in the dark that scares the animals so much that they don’t sing or chirp anymore, because they don’t want to let the thing know it’s there. So sleep now, sleep when it’s quiet so that the thing outside doesn’t know where you are.’

The driver saw from the corner of his eyes, how the black suit of armour was slowly fading into open night, melting into the darkness.
He didn’t hesitate to shift the gear and put pedal to the metal.

Pa, the driver thought.
Pa, I think the thing in the dark outside knows where I am.

Rogue sipped her glass of Whiskey as she watched several Mercs talk to each other.
A few were laughing about their latest haul.
But a majority of them were talking in hushed whispers. Whispers they hoped would be drowned out in the music.
But Rogue heard them just fine.

They were talking about Fire Team Baba Yaga.
Mind you, their gig with Arasaka weren’t heard by the streets yet. Rogue was smart enough to keep a tight lip on her gigs.

No, Baba Yaga had already made enough of a reputation to scare even adults that took black lace and bullets for breakfast shitless.
They all heard how, just a few days ago, Vic Vega woke up tied to a chair screaming and pissing himself.

Vic was still defiant about the interrogation, but Rogue only had to imply that if he was going to be of no use, she’d just toss him into dark were a boogeyman ‘could’ be lurking in (Agent Locust wasn’t so keen on the idea of sending one of his men to do something like this, but Vic didn’t need to know that).
Guy was begging and ready to kiss her feet on command.

Jesus, the Baba Yaga was solution to everything.

The fact that you never saw them when they were men on a mission was a fear factor, as several of the mercs under her paycheck (and her driver) would testify.
If you did see them, good. They weren’t on a job. That was when you’d want to get on their good side, give them something they might be interested in with no hesitation to get into their favour.

Hell, Reilly was doing that, how do you think she got that much of a street cred?
The very fact that she was first fixer to hire the Baba Yagas was enough rep for Mercs in the AfterLife to take her gigs.

It helped that she was good for a new-blood too, getting enough info for the mercs for their jobs.

Rogue looked at her holophone, the number she managed to get from Locust was standing out from the rest.

How could it not? Saving the contact as Baba Yaga certainly made sure she knew which number to press when she needed a difficult gig done quick and perfectly.

[Ma’am…]

The bouncer on the comm link said with a nervous voice.
He didn’t need to finish it.
The mercs on the bar were already going quiet and staring at someone… or something walking through.
Speak of the devil, Rogue thought.

The familiar (yet still quite unsettling) eyeless skull marched to the entrance of the private VIP sector she favoured.

[… the… the Baba Yaga’s here.]

Rogue sighed.

“You don’t say? He’s standing right in front of me.”

The bouncer for the VIP sector was trying to nervously look at Rogue at the corner of his eyes. Rogue could see the sweat dripping down on the back of his bald head.

The bouncer was too scared to take his eyes off Agent Locust, as if the moment he decided to turn his head to Rogue, either Locust would disappear…
… or the bouncer would. Permanently.

Rogue waved her hand, and the bouncer quickly scooted aside to let Locust through.

Agent Locust stood for a minute in silence, before moving in. Nodding at the bouncer, which the bouncer (with a lot of courage), returned with a nod.

Most of their gigs ended without a blood spilt.
And that was precisely why people were scared.

“So long as you show yourself like that, you’re always welcome here.” Rogue had said this to Locust, but the bouncer knew that the message was for him.

If you see him next time, just let him through.

Mercs around the seat quickly scooted over as Locust got closer, all staring at him with either fear or awe.
Locust didn’t take a seat, still staring at Rogue.

The queen of fixer was trying to get used to it. Tried to convince herself that it was the boogeymen’s attempt to intimidate her.
… hopefully.
She didn’t want to acknowledge that it was successful if it really was.

“Well, first off I’d like to say congrats on your team’s street cred. It’s not everyday you see someone show up on the street, then enter the major league with everyone shitting themselves in just under a month.”

Locust didn’t respond.
A minute went by as the fixer and the merc stared at each other in silence.

Then Locust broke the quiet air.

“I presume I can hire fixers to gather information, correct?”

“Of course,” Rogue answered with a smirk. “You got something for me? Just a heads up- it costs eddies.”

“I expected that.” Locust quietly placed a shard on the table.
Rogue could tell from the scans she procured that it was an eddie stack.

“50,000 eddies up front.”

“I’d rather you tell me the information you want, first. Thank you.”

“Cows and pigs.”

“…”

Rogue blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“I need info on where you can find Cows and Pigs.”

Rogue opened her mouth. But for a few moment no words came out.

This was…
Well, this was unexpected.

She could see the Mercs around her (and the bouncer) hold a laugh. Brief interchanges between laughter and fear told her that the only reason why they weren’t outright laughing was that they were too scared to ire Locust’s wrath.

“… Am I right to assume you mean which farms are still active?”

“Yes. Preferably their layouts as well.”

Rogue had so many questions, but her experience as a fixer had told them that it wasn’t her concern.

“… Normally it cost around 15,000 eddies for information. Because of how much you and your team helped me, I’ll just take… 5,000. Take the 45,000 and… get yourself something.”

“Will you contact me when you get the information?”

“… Yes, I will.”

Rogue heard Locust sigh a little as he nodded his head.
Rogue was a little surprised about this. I guess there is still something human underneath that eyeless skull.

“Keep the change, I need you to provide me with a truck capable of transporting animals with the rest of the money.”

Rogue didn’t think that was too bad of a deal. 45,000 was enough to get some heavy duty trucks for these hulking humanoid horrors.
Maybe even a Militech truck with the registration and tracker removed.

Rogue saw Locust leave without further words.
She was fine with that.

What she wasn’t fine with was how Faraday, sitting at a table on the opposite side of the Club was staring at Locust, 3 of his right eye fixated on the boogeyman-for-hire.

Maine was on the other side of the table. By the looks of it, Faraday was handing over a gig to the chromed-up merc.

Rogue took another sip.
She never liked that slippery bastard, along with Dexter Deshawn.

Chapter Text

‘Negative, I have the gun. Good luck sir.’

Noble 6 looked to the orange sky, Phantoms and Spirits flying over head.
Reach had fallen. UNSC had failed.
They were losing.

Noble 6 turned his gaze back to the ground, fallen Spartan IIs and IIIs were littered on the ground on this hill.

They were dying.

But they haven’t lost yet,
And Spartans sure as hell never die.

What was once a pristine black Mark V [B] Mjolnir was now heavily battered and damaged. Few parts were replaced with whatever Mjolnir plates he could replace with his fallen brethrens.

Noble 6 briskly touched the handle of the knife holstered on his shoulder pad.

‘I’m ready! How ‘bout you!’

He could’ve left. He had that chance when the Pillar of Autumn was still here.
Should Noble 6 have taken it? Left with the Pillar of Autumn?

‘You’re own your own, Noble. Carter out.’

‘Six, that AI chose you… She made the right choice.’

No. That was indeed an option, but that only had outcomes none of them would want.
Noble 6 didn’t regret this. He made a choice, he stuck with it.

A nearby corpse of an Elite Major had its wrist blare with holographic sigils.
Noble 6 had enough of a clue from the codes he had to decipher from the Covenant ships to know what it meant.

‘First glassing? Me too.’

The Covenant had been armies after armies at Noble 6. They needed this planet and they needed that Pillar of Autumn.
The only thing stopping them at this point was Noble 6.
The current battle had been engaged for several hours, Noble 6 shooting and running until they managed to corner the Spartan III on a hilltop.

The Covenant wasn’t hesitant on deploying an entire Warhost of Elite Generals just to see the sparks in this Ghost of Reach die out for sure. To incapacitate it long enough for the glassing to happen.

Phantoms and Spirits were circling around the hilltop in the sky. They were closing in.

Noble 6 grasped onto a dog tag wrapped around his wrist for the final time.

‘Reach has been good to me. It’s time to return the favour.’

‘Tell ‘em to make it count.’

It was fine. Noble 6 grabbed an assault rifle from one of dead Marines.
He wasn’t alone.

“Noble 6.”

Plasma shots flew in the air, blue light illuminating as it hit and vaporised any structure it landed on.
Noble 6 had a crack in his visor. It was an old buddy issued when he came to Reach.
It was a strong partner, Noble 6 would give it that.

He grabbed one of the elites from the back, lodging Emille’s knife into their neck and give the Sangheili a harsh twist.

He quickly grabbed the Plasma repeater and unloaded on the other Elite Majors marching up. Energy shields were depleted fast thanks to the sheer power and heat of the plasma rounds.

Elites were getting vapourised as they fell to their knees, but Noble 6 wasn’t feeling to great either.

How long?
How much longer can he hold this up?

For who?
Is there any reason he’s still trying to put up a fight for this long?
Any more soldiers, any more civilians that needed to be extracted?
Any more ships that needed to escape from Covenant’s grasp?

Noble 6 felt a charged shot from a Plasma Pistol hit his back.
His radar went down a while before.

Noble 6 immediately turned around, Needler in hand, and unloaded the blamite crystal on the Grunt.
The Unggoy exploded thanks to the supercombine of the crystal, which caused the methane gas tank to light up as well.

It was a firework, setting off a chain reaction in that area.

Noble 6 chuckled as he ran behind cover.
His shield went down from that shot.

It didn’t really matter anymore why he was trying to survive for so long. Even if the only thing left in this planet was him and those Covenant, he’d still fight tooth and nail.

All those deaths, all those Spartans… 
They didn’t just give up either as they drew their final breath. Why should he?

“Noble 6?”

Noble 6’s eyes landed on a Spartan laser, laying next to it’s Former owner - Spartan III with a Gungnir helmet.
Noble 6 promptly picked it up, charge was on 40%.

It was enough. Noble 6 aimed at the crowd of Generals, and let the red stream burst through the air.

He then started unloading the rest of the charge on the Phantom coming in, enough shots caused the Phantom to explode before it could deploy any of it’s troops.

Elites and Grunts fell out from the exploding Phantom, limbs flailing before hitting the ground and never standing back up.
That made Noble 6 curious. Did the blast kill them, or them hitting the ground?
Maybe it was a combination of both.

Noble 6 saw his periphery light up, and in that instance time seemed to slow down.
He knew what it was. Spartan IIs and IIIs had these happening thanks to the augmentation. Average unarmoured Spartans had their reaction time reduced to 20ms. This was reduced further with Mjolnir Suits and AI, as well as combat situations. And over time,  SPARTANs’ augmentation would improve as they get adjusted to them. Their physical speed also accelerated to allow them to respond quickly.

Average human’s reaction speed was 250ms, if they were lucky.

Noble 6 saw the plasma torpedo falling down on him from the various Phantoms and Spirits.
Elites always considered direct territorial combat as the honourable way to fight and kill.
The very fact that they had decided to shoot Noble 6 from the distance told him that they would rather feel dishonoured than fight him directly.
Noble 6 felt honoured as he sprinted out of the way, throwing the Spartan Laser out of the way.
The force of the blast from the torpedo hitting the ground gave back-draft to further accelerate. Average Spartan IIIs could run at 30 Kph, and Noble 6 was a CATS-II damn it.

Further torpedo fires drew an ark in the air, the trajectory suggested it was a ground vehicle firing them instead.
Noble 6 saw how it took a little moment later for the Elites to realise what had ran past them. Ghost of Reach, they shouted. Demon, they cried.

Noble 6 saw the Wraith hiding behind the boulders, and immediately leaped towards it.
The one handling the turret was panicking, trying to take aim at the Spartan.
Emille’s knife flashed in Noble 6’s hands, as a swift punch to the jaw discombobulated the Elite before Noble 6 came back with the curved blade ready to be lodged in the Sangheili’s skull.

He threw the corpse out of the turret, and striked against the cover of the Wraith repeatedly. Shockwaves resonated throughout the Wraith everytime the Spartan’s fist slammed down, the cover fell off and Noble 6 could see the fear in the Elite’s eyes as it’s only barrier was diminished.
It tried to fight back, grabbing the Energy sword hosltered on its side to strike.

Noble 6 was faster, he grabbed the Elite’s wrist and slammed his fist down again.
A kick caused a sickening crunch as the Elite fell limp.

Noble 6 immediately threw the body away and sat in the seat of the Wraith.
The rest of the army was coming.
He took aim and fired.

Arcs of Plasma bolts landed in the crowd, causing them to scatter either through their panic or by the sheer force of the blast once it contacted the ground or the unfortunate Covenant soldier.

The Wraith glided across, wreaking havoc.

But it was too good to last as Airships fired on the location.
Noble 6 had to abandon the Wraith and run once more.

The air was slowly getting thick with Plasma shots, it was getting harder for Noble 6 to run.

“Sir?”

Noble 6 was picking up weapons and returning fire, but more and more Plasma shots were finding their intended target.
Shields were going down, helmet had too much cracks on its visor to do it’s role anymore.

Noble 6 took off his helmet and threw it too the ground. He needed better visuals.
He picked up a Magnum and an Assault rifle, advancing on a General as he focused all his shots.
Once the Elite went down, he immediately turned to elbow another Elite sneaking up behind him.
He heard that bastard from a mile away. And once the assassin fell to the ground he took out the Magnum and made sure they stayed down.

More Plasma shots hit Noble 6 as he took down couple of the Elites, until one managed to grab the Spartan and push him to the ground.

They saw the chance and tried to take it.
Energy swords unveiled and swung at Noble 6.
Noble 6, still on the ground, dodged and kicked the Elites away, until one managed to properly pin him down.

Several more Elites unleashed their Energy blade.

But some of those Energy blades were not for Noble 6.
Elites that were pinning Noble 6 down saw as the tips of the Energy blades emerge out from their chest.
They turned back in shock to see their own soldiers running the honoured weapons through them.
Heresy. Betrayal.

… Heretical.
Heretics.

Noble 6 saw as the Elites fell, the traitors grabbing Noble 6 by the chest piece and picking him off the floor.

[The artefact was true. The Ghost of Reach still lives.] They had said over their comm link.

“Noble 6, sir?”

“Noble 6, sir? Can you hear me?”

Noble 6 turned to Spartan Killshot.
Noble 6 wasn’t in the hill anymore.
The sky wasn’t orange, and nor UNSC soldiers were dead nearby.

It was pitch black, night sky was even darker thanks to the heavy downpour.
Noble 6 and Killshot was scouting the area tonight. Using scopes they had scavenged from precision rifles as improvised binoculars.

“… Sorry.”

“I was saying that there were Arasaka trucks coming in.”

Noble 6 focused his scope where Killshot was pointing to, heavy duty trucks were forming lines as they hit the road. Killshot chuckled a little as he lowered his scope and crouched down near a scaffolding pillar.

“Man, your files mentioned this… but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“It… happens sometimes.”

Noble 6 continued scanning the area with his scope, when Spartan Killshot decided to pass the rest of the time asking further questions.

“Is it getting better or worse, sir?”

“How long was I gone for?”

“About… 5 minutes.”

“Then it’s getting better.”

Killshot shook his head.

“You go on for thousand yard stares, disappear faster than any of us, effortlessly pilot vehicles, hand-to-hand combat is unrivalled, and you chuckle when you take 3 head shots in a row. You scare me, sir. You know that?” 

“I had people tell me that.”

Killshot looked to the distance.

“We can rest tonight, sir. We’re only on scout duty for tonight.”

Noble 6 looked between the scope and Killshot, before taking the Spartan IV’s offer and sitting down next to the opposite pillar.

Locust and Leon were talking with Reilly over the phone, Ram was making something with scavenged circuits and machinery.

Jim was… Jim was sitting quietly in a chair. None of the Spartans knew if he was sleeping or just waiting.

It was only Noble 6 and Killshot on the top of the half-constructed building.

“Do you have anyone waiting for you, sir?”

Noble 6 watched as the screens installed on the buildings changed from one commercial to the other.
Majority of the ones he’s seen were… quite graphic. Ads were saturated with excess sex appeals and gore.
Overly reliant on shock values, probably made majority of the Night City citizens desensitised further.

“No.”

“You sure? No friends or families?”

“I’m sure.”

Killshot quietly nodded his head. “… I see.”

“How about you?” Noble 6 asked without removing his gaze from the Corpo Plaza area in the distance.

“Not much either. Thanks to the Banished, I’d be glad if there was anyone I knew that’s still alive.”

Silence fell between the Spartans for a bit.
Then Killshot decided not to beat around the bush.

“What do you think, sir?” Killshot softly asked.

“About what?”

“About Earth.”

Noble 6 was quiet. Pondering his choices of words.

“Not particularly liking it.”

Killshot laughed.

“Honestly, who is? At least New Mombasa wasn’t so bad when I was an ODST. Even if it was in the middle of a Covenant assault.”

Noble 6’s head perked up. He had heard about that a lot from the other UNSC personnel. About how Master Chief had gone in with Cortana to defend the City.

“How was it?”

“Chaotic, sir. An EMP caused our drop pods to go haywire. A fell 200 Km from my intended location. A lot of us were already dead by the time I made it.”

“… I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s okay. We managed to fight them back. We all knew we wouldn’t be expected to come back from New Mombasa alive. I know the Spartan II that helped my team survive didn’t.”

Spartan II… Spartan II…
Noble 6 had heard about that as well. The Spartan II that escaped to Earth, went into Hiding for the next 33 years.
Only to resurface in New Mombasa to assist the UNSC with the Covenant assault and dying there.

“Leonard-131, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you read the file. Was confirmed KIA by the file once UNSC lost the Spartan on Earth. They could’ve done a more thorough search to find our missing Spartan… but that would’ve risked UNSC’s existence getting exposed. They assumed he would commit suicide, and wrote him off.”

Killshot removed a worn out dog tag around his neck. Noble 6 noticed that the strap was also carrying a wedding ring.

“It was a shock to everyone when they found out he survived- made a false ID and started a family. Used his wife’s surname. He was known as Leopold Martinez on Earth.”

Killshot extended the dog tag towards Noble 6. A wordless exchange between the two Spartans to check out the Spartan II.

“He said that he saw what was happening on New Mombasa. About UNSC revealing themselves. At first he got scared, but then he saw Master Chief. He didn’t like UNSC, but he knew at that moment that they had to win if he wanted his wife and kid safe.”

“…” Noble 6 turned the dog tag over his palm, then softly gripped it.
A silent prayer given to the fallen. For their sacrifice.

“… We were going past a heavy infantry. Majority of us injured. We had a package the UNSC needed to be delivered to protect New Mombasa… we would’ve all died then and there. Failed the mission. The Spartan II with us gave us his dog tag and ran in there, acting as a distraction for us to escape without conflict. He asked me if I ever had time on Earth, and I could go to Night City. Then to find his wife and son for him. Give them that. According to him- for all they knew, he just suddenly ran away and disappeared.”

Noble 6 handed the tag back to Killshot.

“… It’s the least I could do for him. Probably the only thing I can do for him. I… know that none of us wanted to come here. I know Commander Washington didn’t. But even then, I guess I have a reason to be stick around here.”

Killshot had heard the tale.
About how Master Chief accidentally killed ODST during a fight they had instigated. It was enough to form bad blood between the former best of UNSC, with the newest best that replaced them.

… Killshot couldn’t really bring himself to hate the Spartans. Especially not after one of them had willingly saved their lives at the cost of theirs.

“What’s their name?”

“… His wife’s name is Gloria. Gloria Martinez. And his kid’s name is David Martinez.”

“… I assume it’s not just personal reasons to find them, is it?”

Killshot let out a sigh.
Sound of a heavy heart carried out from the voice.

“No, sir. Once the war had ended, ONI wanted me to look for them on Earth so they can research the kid. They thought Halsey only altered and augmented the Spartan IIs in their somatic gene. But her records were discovered, and they realised Halsey altered their germ lines too. And some of the augmentation surgery could be passed down as epigenetic factors. David Martinez is a potential Spartan 2.1. Sure, I doubt he would be born inheriting ceramic bones or coated lungs… brain surgery won’t be carried through either. But the Catalytic Thyroid Implants that dissolved into the body, and growth hormone catalysts could be potentially transferred. And the Superconducting fibrifaction of Neural Dendrites were done with Nanites, which they found to also be a potential epigenetic factor thanks to their size and attachment to DNAs. We’d be seeing a kid that is slightly faster, stronger, smarter, and more resilient than the average citizen. Probably capable of performing sudden bursts of reaction speed accelerations matching those of Spartans when adrenaline level is high enough.”

“You sure know a lot about that.”

“I asked Ram and Cell about it. The twins were… very enthusiastic about the potential inheritance of the augmentation.”

“Guess that’s more than enough incentive to find the kid.”

“You could say that. In the end, though. Never managed to go back to Earth until now. Created Conflict and Banished attacks forced us to be deployed for black ops missions on other planets. Then ONI disappeared. Captain Church did ask me to find the kid, however. He said that if Megacorps knew about this, then we could risk our biggest secret about Spartans getting leaked.”

“I see.”

“… A lot of reasons to find them. In the end, what’s important is that I try and find them as soon as possible.”

For Leonard-131,
For his Wife and Son,
For the UNSC,
For everyone’s sake. Killshot thought.

“… I’ll tell you if I find anything about them.” Noble 6 replied.

“Thank you. I’d appreciated that.”

[Killshot, Noble 6. That should be enough Recon for today. I need you guys to join up with the rest of us. We have a new job.] Locust’s distorted voice flared up in the comm link.
Both Noble 6 and Killshot stood back up, packing their scopes and rifles and heading back down.

“Oh, and Noble 6… sir?”

Noble 6 turned around, looking up at Killshot who was still at the top of the stairs.

“Thank you. For saving all of us.”

Noble 6 stood there for a second, before lightly nodding his head.

“I wasn’t the only one. Just part of the few who had a stroke of miracle to live.”

Chapter Text

Reilly planted both feet on her desk the moment she came back to her office.
She couldn’t erase that giddy, shit-eating grin off her face anymore as she lit another cigarette.
Unlike Dexter Deshawn and his fancy-ass cigars he smoked to look like hot shit, Reilly’s cigarettes were 10 eddies at a local mart.

You didn’t need to put up an appearance to show class- no, your action showed that for you. Appearance will follow class.
Reilly learnt that from the Baba Yagas. Normally, wearing heavy armour like that would’ve been made fun of, insulted as tin cans and doughboys.

No one on the street was dumb enough to call them that. Even behind their backs. Everyone who has their ears even slightly next to the streets all heard what they’ve done, seen what they’ve left behind (or the lack of anything left behind).
You don’t so easily talk shit about someone capable of making even a truck disappear from the Corpo eyes without them even noticing, either because of fear or admiration… or both.

In fact, words on the street says that some low-grade mercs have started to imitate the Baba Yagas, either attempting to go fullborg or wearing armour from head to toe, optical camo implanted to make them copy even just a small pint of the Baba Yaga’s skills.

They were easily scoffed at by the fixers and mercs, now those guys were freely insulted- called Boogeymen wannabes both in front of their faces and behind their backs.
And those lower grade mercs, and the way they carried out a gig, only accentuated just how much their was in the disparity of skills between them and the Baba Yagas. One cannot simply follow in the steps of a 1st class merc, as Rogue had told her one time they had a drink together in the Afterlife.

Now THAT was class - that, was something no one could copy.
And it also told Reilly that the Mercs she directly sent gigs to was that much of a legend in such a short duration of time.

I mean, for crying out loud, it’s only been a month and half the eddies she raked in was from other fixers willing to pay high money just to get in contact with the Boogeymen for hire.

She wasn’t stupid- as much as she wanted to monopolise on the Mercs she had listened to the Queen of Fixer’s advise, and she learnt pretty quick that unless she was a very high ranking Corpo like Yorinobu Arasaka, she couldn’t keep someone like them under such a short leash. Hell, she couldn’t keep them on any leash.

The least she could do was pay them well enough to have them take her gigs just as much as the rest of the Fixers in Night City.
And… also get as much eddies from the situation before it ends. She called it ‘Celebrity Tax’, and the Fixers understood well enough to know why they should pay it. Baba Yagas, despite their reputation, was elusive. It fit their namesake, to be quite honest.

Fixers that made good enough reputation would get a way to contact the Boogeymen after a gig. Those that were less fortunate would… have to ask Reilly for their contact again. Once again paying the Celebrity Tax.

It was the way of the city. Of course, she could only keep 40% of the tax- the 60% was for the Baba Yagas to convince them to meet up with their newest ‘client’.

Reilly took the cigarette out of her mouth as she saw the holocall buzz to life.
The name was familiar enough. She let out a smoke as she stubbed the cigarette into the ash tray.

Speak of the devil.

[Heeey, Reilly! I’ve heard a lot about you from a lot of Mercs!]

Muamar Reyes held up his ever cheerful persona. Reilly smiled at the fixer.

“Hey, El Capitan. I’m sure you’re calling because you’ve got something for me?”

[Oh yeah. It’s not that big of a gig… Ok, I guess it is. But I’ll cut to the chase - couple of mercs I hired for a gig is in hot shit with the package I need. They’ve managed to Delta out for now, but they’re not in a good situation. They can’t leave the current place, but they also can’t stay - gangoons had sniffed their trail and are closing in. Thing is, I NEED this package, and I would also rather have my employees alive.]

“Before I ask where and who- I’d assume you’re here to hire one of the ‘special’ mercs for the job?”

[Yeah, Yeah. Bang on. I need one of the guys that so many people right now are too scare to meet face to face. You know… the ones that go bump in the night.]

Reilly smiled. Fixers never really called her for her mercs… unless it was for ‘them’.
It was always for ‘them’.

“Of course, I can give them a call to ask them if they’re up for a gig. To be fair, they’re almost always up for a gig. Of course, trying to contact them ain’t going to be cheap…”

[ I know, I know. I’ve already heard. Celebrity Tax up front, then whatever eddy I pay for the gig to be done I pay them directly.]

“Good, just tell me where you want them to meet you and zip me the eddies.”

Muamar chuckled on the other side of the call. Truth be told he expected contacting the NC’s newest Boogeymen to be a lot harder than this.

[You got it, boss. Sending you the detes along with the Eddies.]

Reilly saw the Eddies rolling in the moment Muamar ended the call. Along with a text message that displayed the location - The edge between Santo Domingo and Westbrook.

By the sound of it, Muamar needed a merc quick.
Feeling quite giddy at the potential prospect of having fixer indebt to her, Reilly didn’t hesitate calling up Spartan Locust.

The rain outside was pouring down like a water fall. It had been a while since a rain this heavy came to Night City.
Almost as if there was a storm coming.

[… Reilly.]

It had taken Reilly a month to finally get used to that distorted voice…
… but fuck, it still felt uncomfortable hearing the monotone synthetic voice.

“Hey, Locust! You guys up for a gig?”

[Details and Location.]

Reilly snorted a little. At this point she was using Locust’s no-bullshit requests as a way to know it was Locust she was talking to.

“Your Fixer will also be your client: Muamar ‘El Capitan’ Reyes. Says that he gave a gig to some mercs but they’re in hot shit with gangs, need one of you guys to extract them. You’ll get the rest of the info from the guy himself. I’m sending you the location. You up for it?”

[…]

Reilly quietly transferred the data Muamar gaver her along with the eddie.
She didn’t need to get nervous. Not anymore, right?
She knew he’d bite.
She knew he’s always aching for a new gig.

[Tell him we’ll be there in 5 minutes.]

See? He was just talking to the rest of his team.
Reilly smiled.

Another day where her bank account got richer, and her street cred as a Fixer was going up in places.

Muamar sat on the edge of a rundown highway, overlookig Charter Hill while sipping a bottle of beer.
He’d like to put on a cool face, tell everyone including himself that all was Ok.
But he’d be really eating up those lies if those Boogeymen-for-hire would come soon-

“Muamar?”

“Holy Jesus Chri-” The beer still left in the bottle swirled and crashed against the glass wall, Muamar nearly falling off from the highway road.
This motherfucker didn’t make any sound until he was right behind him.

Muamar quickly looked back. He couldn’t help but smile.
God damn, the Baba Yagas in the flesh.
The one in front, who clearly was the leader of their little group, was the most horrifying to look at.

Damn… He heard the Mercs in the Afterlife talk about him. He thought they were a little exaggerating about the whole eyeless-skull thing.
No, it was an apt description.

That was all the ‘El Capitan’ needed. His fixer’s sense was telling him the rest -
That they were more than capable of finishing this job exactly the way he wanted.

“Right, name's Muamar Reyes. You can call me ‘El Capitan’ if you want.”

Muamar extended his hand towards Agent Locust, who took the hand and shook it.

“What’s the job.”

“Glad you asked. I’ve heard about you from the other fixers - how to get you salivating for a gig, I’ll cut to the chase: We have two Mercs: A solo named Dorio and a Netrunner named Sasha. Their gig was to go into an Arasaka territory and steal some packages for me. Trouble is, the entire Merc team they’re in is shit at stealth. Those two were probably the best at going in quietly in their team too. Their best wasn’t enough for the gig, however. Now they have Tyger Claw gunning them down. Last time I contacted them was 7 minutes ago. They’re holed up somewhere in Japantown, and Tyger Claw is closing. I need one of you guys to go down there and help them out - make sure you get the package with you as well. I’d rather not have the mercs I hired die. Those kind of shit kinda tanks a fixer’s street cred as well, though not as much as the mercs themselves.”

Muamar saw the 6 mercs look at each other, before the leader looked back around.

“Before we continue, would their be a particular reason why you’d only have one of us go in?”

Muamar smiled bitterly.

“A lot of reasons. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough money to hire all 6 of you. I know that would’ve made this job a lot quicker, but at the same time I know that stealth is no longer an option if you’re going to try and rescue our mercs while they’re still breathing. Westbrook is where the wealthy elites and corpos live, that means they’re is way too many security cameras. Perfect stealth without proper prep and time will just take too long. I need my mercs and package out and away from the Tyger Claws and I need them out and away now. Now, I know that gang wars are common - especially in Japantown. What isn’t common, you see, is 6 successors of Adam Smasher running around and stirring shit up. That causes chaos. Way more chaos than Night City wants. If we’re starting shit, let’s keep it as low as possible. One person, I’m sure you guys are capable of doing this job with just one guy, right? You don’t even have to kill all of the gangs- just take the 2, take the package, and run.”

Muamar looked across the 6, hopefully they were understanding his point of view. Sure, fixers liked criminal jobs if it benefited them. That was the whole point of a fixer. What fixers shouldn’t like, is causing shit that puts them under thin ice. Especially when it’s starting shit in another big Fixer’s territory. Muamar sure as hell didn’t want Wakako breathing down his neck.

Sure, maybe with 6 they could pull this gig out of the water without raising more alarms than now.
But Muamar doubted that. Dorio and Sasha had caused enough shit that the Fixer was sure that it was impossible to quietly cover up.
Then just sending in one guy to do this should be good enough, right?

“Which one do you want?”

Spartan Locust asked.

El Capitan smiled.

“I’d need some explanation of the menu, Choom.”

Locust chuckled curtly as he turned to face the 5, he first pointed his index finger at himself.

“Infiltration and Interrogation Specialist.”

Locust then pointed to Spartan Leon.

“Sabotage and Espionage Specialist.”

As Muamar quietly nodded his head, Locust’s index finger then pointed at Killshot.

“Recon and Long-range marksman specialist.”

Locust pointed at Spartan Ram.

“On-field Engineering and Cyberwarfare specialist.”

Locust then pointed at Spartan Jim.

“Assault Specialist.”

Muamar’s eyes lit up at the mention of Assault. Yeah, if it’s the assault specialist… he might fix this current situation ASAP. Rush past the gangs, get the good and our little helpers, and run.

Just as Muamar was about to answer, Locust finished by introducing Noble 6.

“The all rounder.”

Muamar stopped in his track.
The last one was not like the others.
Not a specialist, not… really something that told a lot to Muamar about the armour completely steel black.
Yet somehow that made Muamar curious.
As much as he wanted to choose the Assault Specialist… 

“What’s… the all rounder?”

The 4 of the Spartans chuckled, the Spartan IIIs simply standing there quietly.

“Easy. It’s who you send when things are tricky.”

“… Could you… elaborate?”

“Right…” Locust folded his arm. “You want something to be delivered safely? You call the all rounder. You want people to be safely evacuated from a war zone? You call the all rounder. You want a vehicle to be piloted? You call the all rounder.
You want an entire militia group disappear overnight? You call the all rounder. You want someone to clean up your mess because something fucked up? You call the all rounder. You want every single general and army to focus on a single soldier? You call the all rounder. You want an entire war zone gone with the only signs that there were ever soldiers fighting there being corpses and guns littering the floor? You call the all rounder.
You want to put the primal fear into whoever fucked you over, and make sure they either never set their sights in dark corners again, or never let them take their eyes off even that small little shadow behind a door? You. Call. The. All. Rounder.”

Muamar silently gulped as he looked at Noble 6.
Compared to the Sniper with a cross-shaped visor, the techno-goliath, the man with several knives holstered on his body, a giant spacesuit and an eyeless skull, Noble 6 didn’t look special. It showed in the color of his armour too, when the rest of his team had highlights accentuating the plates and helmets, Noble 6 was steel black from head to toe. Only having a gold visor to accentuate his helmet.

But Muamar knew not to judge a book by its cover.
And his instinct, his sixth sense, honed by his experience, told him that he may need the all-rounder more than the assault specialist.

Muamar grinned.

“I’ll take the All-rounder.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Sasha was reloading her Pink Omaha when she heard Dorio swear at their current situation.
It was supposed to be a quick and easy gig - go in, hack the terminal, get the medication crate, and get out.
How should they know the package was rigged? Even Sasha had scanned it twice for potential trackers!

Sasha checked how much magazines she had left. Not much, she and Dorio had used up most of the bullets they had packed when they were trying to shake those Tyger Claw fuckers off their tail.

Dorio emptied the used shells of her Overture and started reloading.
Her left shoulder was slightly bleeding but she didn’t really care about that. It was a graze, she just took a MaxDoc. It’s fine.

Sasha bit her lip. Dorio saw that through her periphery and simply patted the cat-like netrunner on the head.

“Don’t bash yourself, Sasha. It was an outside context problem.”

“But I should’ve checked for the truck itself instead of just the cargo…”

“Yeah, well… who gives a shit? We’re still alive, we have the package, and Muamar told us that he’s getting a clean up crew to come in and help us.”

“Clean up crew?”

Dorio scratched her head.

“Well… more like a clean up man. Didn’t really give much detes, just told us to hold tight and survive for 5 more minutes.”

‘C’mon, C’mon!’

‘Where did you guys go!’

Tyger claw goons were heard from outside the building.
Among the many here, the Tyger Claw was going through them one by one to get to the two.

Sasha was getting ready to quick hack a few chumps from the window. Dorio saw the glowing eyes of Sasha, and quickly grabbed her shoulder.

“Sasha, whatever you’re thinking of, don’t! They’ll trace you!”

“I know, I… I’m just getting ready for when they find us.”

Sweat was running down Sasha’s cheek. The bob cut hair she had dyed black was slowly sticking to her.

[Hey, Dorio! Sasha! You girls still alive?]

El Capitan’s voice was heard on the other side of the Holo Call.

“Damn it, Muamar! Where’s the back up!”

[He’s coming in 20 seconds. Let me tell you, you guys got yourself into hot shit but you toughed it out long enough. It’s nothing but cruising for you two ladies now!]

Dorio heard the excitement just dripping out from his voice.
From the distance the two mercs heard the sound of something thudding across concrete.
It was from the roof top of the buildings across the street. 

[Honestly, I knew it would be expensive to hire at least one of these guys but- whooooah! I know that I have to sell cars at double the price for the time being.]

Dorio felt herself relax a little, chuckling at Muamar riling the two up for the reinforcement.

“You never raise the price of your car. Is he that good?”

[Good? Good?! Dorio, Choom! You don’t even know how much your underselling this just by saying that! Saying that he’s ‘good’ is like saying that Arasaka is just ‘rich’, or saying that the Rayfield Caliburn is just ‘fast’!]

From the corner of her eye, outside the window, Sasha saw something jump from a building.
Something big,
Something dark,
Something…
… scary.

[Out of the 6, this guy costed the most! Almost double the price of the rest of the 6!]

Sasha looked down at what had fallen to the ground, under the nervous looking Tyger Claws.

Dorio heard the crash on the road, and the sudden frantic screams and shouts from the Gang.

Then gun fire rang in the air.

Sasha had already scooted closer to the window to see outside, and Dorio crawled next to her.

“… Holy, shit.”

That was all Dorio could say.
She knew who their back up was, mercilessly shooting the heads of the Tyger Claw with pin-point accuracy.

Bullets were flying the giant’s way, but they effortlessly bounced off of some yellow hexagonal particles interlocked with eachother into some form of energy barrier.

[Ladies, meet Noble 6: The all rounder of the Baba Yaga.]

More Tyger Claws were either flooding out from the buildings they were searching, or trying to take potshots from the windows.

Noble 6 punched a head clean off of a Tyger Claw, the decapitated head with a caved in skull rolling next to a buddy of theirs, and soon took a blood-stained pistol off of a Tyger Claw Corpse and returned fire at the windows.

Some barely saw the barrel of the pistol as a bullet smashed into their optics.
Sasha couldn’t believe how the guy could just snipe a gang with a pistol that far away.
But what was even more surprising was when a Kunoichi activated her Sandevistan to close the distance, Katana in hand and ready to stab the new intruder.

She circled around him, clearly thinking that despite such an entrance the guy would be too slow to catch up. Even if he did have a Sandevistan, it would be too late to activate it-

Noble 6 immediately turned his head towards the Kunoichi, startling her.

Oh fuck-

Noble 6 immediately sprinted towards the Tyger Claw, way too fast for her to react to even with the Sandevistan.
She tried to back off, but the fist dug into her ribs faster.

She felt her feet get lifted off the ground, and next thing she knew she collided with her friend so hard that her upper torso was in one place and her legs were in another, intertwined or embedded into her friend’s fragmented body parts.

“He-He’s got a Sandevistan!”

“I can’t do anything! He’s way too fast!”

“Someone hack him! Quick hack him now!”

“I-I can’t!”

“Break his ICE then!”

“It ain’t that! I just can get a read of him! He’s invisible to the scanner!”

“What the fuck does-.”

One of the Tyger Claw’s neck twisted 180 degrees with one sweep of Noble 6’s arm, before a mozambique drill confirmed the kill.
Whatever guns ran out of bullet he threw to the ground and picked up a new weapon, reloading and checking the chamber before firing at the gang.

The guy was unstoppable. Shoulder tackle caused someone’s ribs and organs to collapse under the force - a kick cased someone’s head to get flattened like a pancake.

Noble 6 grabbed one man by the neck and used him as a human shield, firing a Masamune with one hand like it was a pistol, firing it without swaying from the recoil of the three-round burst.

It was insane.
This whole thing was insane.

Nobel 6, in the eyes of the Tyger Claw, was insane.

“…DaiTengu..! DAITENGU! IT’S DAITENGU!”

One of them shouted at the top of their lungs, several were deciding to call it quits the moment one of them managed to get a clear view of the Spartan informed the rest.
  
“大天狗だ！はやくニゲロ！”

“大天狗だよ！殺すことはできない!”

Tengu. A japanese yokai, demons that took the forms of birds of prey. Using magic they would cast curses and pranks that made people or objects disappear.
DaiTengu, were one of the greatest one among the Tengu - more akin to gods than simple demons.

Tyger Claw was too scared to call Baba Yagas by that name - they thought they would be hiding in every shadow, waiting for someone to call their names to invoke them.
Superstitious lots, but the Spartans’ skills made sure that irrational fear spread like wild fire amongst gangs.
Like a code word, Fireteam Baba Yaga were called DaiTengu like a euphamism. A roundabout way to refer to them amongst Tyger Claw and those associated with them so that the Spartans wouldn’t know the gang was talking about them.

Sasha didn’t take her eyes off him. Couldn’t even blink.

“Muamar, that magnificent bastard… he actually went and hired a boogeyman…!”

Sasha heard Dorio mutter to herself.

Noble 6 threw the human shield away, who had unfortunately expired thanks to numerous friendly fire.

The Spartan had come without any weapons - and now he was surrounded by guns that he could use.

Shotgun was picked up to blast a Tyger Claw point blank, ripping the torso in half. Nowaki in the other hand to snipe more of the cheeky buggers shooting from the windows.

Many that were still alive were leaving. Either running away or going back to their cars and motorbikes and revving up the engine.

Soon the streets were nothing but blood stains, bullets, guns and corpses.

Noble 6 picked up a pistol and a rifle that looked like it still had bullets loaded in them, collecting spare mags and other ammos.

Sasha saw Noble 6 place a finger to the side of his helmet.

[Yo, Chooms. I’ve heard from our back up that the Tyger Claws are gone for now. Tell me which building you guys are in so I can have our boogeyman escort you two out with the package.]

Sasha and Dorio only realised how dry their throats were went they gulped their spit down to speak.

One of those guys could massacre an entire group of gangs like he was cooking breakfast.
Sasha and Dorio knew there were 6 of them total. They saw them whenever they walked into the Afterlife to get preem gig from the Queen of Fixers herself.
And they all knew how to take things quietly.

Dorio, after finishing sending their location to El Capitan, looked over to Sasha and laughed.

“Fuck Adam Smasher, amirite? We’ve got someone that outdoes him and the legend he built up in a month.”

Sasha grimly smirked.

“I don’t know about that, Dorio… But I get what you’re trying to say.”

Chapter Text

Dorio and Sasha quietly watched the door. Soon enough the two heard the sound of knuckles hitting metal.

Dorio quietly tiptoed to the door, looking through the eye hole and ready to start shooting if it was someone they shouldn’t meet.

By the way Dorio opened the door and stepped to the side, it was their back up.

This was the first time Dorio and Sasha managed to meet with a boogeyman face to face. The Sci-fi looking militaristic black helmet with a gold visor catching the duo’s eyes as the merc entered the room.
And fuck, the guy was HUGE. Easily standing two heads taller than Dorio. Sasha felt the height difference the most, since Dorio herself stood a head above Sasha.

“Dorio and Sasha?” Dorio and Sasha were quietly taken aback by the voice coming from the black armour. Ignoring the fact that it was the first time they heard any of the Baba Yagas besides the leader talk. A little muffled by the helmet, sure, but they half-expected hearing something demonic. Something distorted purposefully for anonymity. And for the fear factor. Like those XBDs showing Adam’s latest massacre. That Arasaka full’borg had a voice that not even his mother could love.

“Oh… yeah, yeah. I’m Dorio, and this is… Sasha?”

The giant’s voice was surprisingly calm and smooth. It was disorientating for the two, especially for Sasha.

“Sasha!”

“Wha- huh? 

Sasha tore her gaze away from Noble 6 when she heard Dorio shout.

“Happy that you like our back up, but not the right time!”

“R-right!”

Sasha quickly snapped back to reality, slightly slouched shoulders straightened and lowered arm raising the pink Omaha pistol back into position.

“Is the package secure?” Noble 6, on the other, hand, saw the situation (and his radar) and lowered the looted gun.
Dorio snickered as she pointed to the giant crate at the back.

“Yeah, over there. We checked the content, everything’s still intact. The case is pretty tough to crack.”

“Heavy too.” Sasha added.

“Oh, definitely heavy. It took the two of us heaving up the stairs - and unlike me, Sasha doesn’t have much in the muscle department-.”

Noble 6 quietly walked past Dorio and Sasha as they spoke. Still acting like he was engaged in the conversation, the Spartan opened the lid to confirm their testimony, closed it back and promptly lifted it with one arm like it weight absolutely nothing.

Dorio’s words were cut short when she saw Noble 6 effortlessly carry the cargo with one arm and start walking back to them. The metal box under his arm like it was a handbag.

“Is there anything else you two need to take?”

“…No,” Dorio quietly answered. Her eyes were still glued to Noble 6. “No, that’s… that’s pretty much it.”

“Good. Most of them were chased off. But it’s possible that they’ll come back. We’ll have to leave now. Few of them left their cars - we can use them.”

When Noble 6 started walking out of the temporary shelter, Sasha took note of the smaller details of the Spartan’s Mjolnir suit.

She hadn’t noticed the subtle glowing blue lights speckled calculatingly placed around the chest and shoulder pad.
 
She saw the undersuit beneath the plates as the giant moved, condensing and flattening, bulging in few places like it were muscles.
The movement itself made Sasha believe that their back up was a full ‘borg. If he really was a ‘borg, then it was the most high tech prosthetics Sasha had ever seen. Megacorp material, and an experimental one at that. She managed to look at the side of the helmet more closely, seeing a large [UNSC] logo printed below where the ears would be. That wasn’t a Corporation she had ever heard of - believe her, as a netrunner she would be the first one to get info about Megacorps making such high-quality military-grade chassis.

Sasha tried to subtly scan him as he started walking down the stairs. Nothing - her optics picked up nothing. That was the strangest thing - it wasn’t an active jammer or concealer or ICE, Sasha’s scanner just didn’t seem to realise that Noble 6 was there.
It was as if Noble 6 was nothing more than a mirage. Sasha pondered if that was the reason why the Mercs said they were invisible in the night.

Sasha felt a sudden nudge on the shoulders, causing her to flinch and straighten her back. She turned to see that the perpetrator was her very own duo, who was grinning ear to ear in a fashion that caused Sasha to grumble.

“Da-hamn Sasha! I knew you took a liking to our big helper, but I didn’t think you’d be eyeing him up like a cat seeing fish!”

“Shut up, Dorio.” Sasha growled. “It’s not like that.”

“You sure? It’s the first time I’ve seen you give someone those kinds of eyes.”

Sasha ignored muscular solo, pushing past Dorio and following Noble 6 down the stairs.
Dorio let out a chuckle at the sight. If she told her crew that pushing their buttons weren’t fun, she’d seriously be lying.

Arasaka counterintelligence division was a part of the Japanese Megacorp that presented itself as a security against data.
Everyone knew that was a front - only an aspect of what they really were, what they really did on a daily basis. Espionage, investigations, assassinations, literally stealing other Corpo data.

For a while they thought themselves to be the prime eye in the sky, thanks to getting Netwatch’s assistance and their own advanced experimental technology. Night City bought it for a moment too.

Then the shadows gave birth to boogeymen. Then everything started going dark for them.
Their own people suddenly disappearing in their office, discovered a month or two later bloody and bruised. Barely breathing too, if they were lucky.
Cargos suddenly disappearing into thin air, highly confidential data suddenly leaked.

Their only solace was that they weren’t the only ones being targeted - other Megacorps were suffering the same mysterious circumstances too. They all soon learned the general gist of what was happening when they started dropping gigs into Rogue’s lap.

Baba Yaga, they called themselves.
Slavic enigma of the wood, witches- ogresses that either swept people away to cook and eat, or elders that helped the hero of the folktale.

An apt description, Kate had come to realise the more she tried to dig any info regarding them. Depending on who’s perspective it was - and who’s coins were being fished out of the pocket, they really were here to help a poor scop out of the trouble heap… or to eat up a choom the moment everyone turned to look somewhere else.

Kate looked out the window, the fingers of the crossed arm digging into her lean prosthetic biceps.

The buildings and highway roads below her were getting drenched in rain.
And once a moment, once a single moment,
She expected the rain to bend around something.

Like it did three weeks ago.

Were they happy they got the package as intended? Yeah, kinda.
Were they happy that it took full two weeks before militech realised their package wasn’t coming back? Everyone in the Counter intelligence division were laughing.
Was Kate grateful that they got the best there was on this street?

No.
Not one bit.
Because unlike the rest of the Corporats in this building, Kate knew what that meant.
That Night City had people that were just as capable of slipping in and out of Arasaka territory unnoticed.

Who knows, maybe they have already been doing that. There was no way to tell right now.

Kate sipped her coffee as two people entered her office.

The one in front, stepping into the light and revealing themselves, was her assistant Douglas.
The mono-eye optic glowing red as he handed over a shard to Kate.

The figure behind Douglas remained in the shadows, eyes just as red as Douglas, but the absolute stature of the silhouette made them more menacing.

It took days, almost a week and a half, trying to acquire this and process it with enough resolution.
But they finally had what they wanted.

“Just so you know, ma’am.” Douglas added as Kate took the shard and inserted it into her computer. Holographic screen came to life to start as she opened the file inside for all 3 to see. “The counterintelligence officer sent to retrieve and process the footage was found dead in her office 2 hours ago. As soon as she finished everything.”

Kate didn’t visibly react - a twitch of her index finger the best she showed. “… Cause of death?”

“Suicide. Put a bullet in her own head with a Nue Pistol.” Douglas clarified. “Her colleagues reported that she had shown strange behaviour ever since she was put on this task. Got worse as nights went by. She had left a digital note, and the new Counterintelligence agent has been going through her personal files - records show that she recorded seeing ‘figures’ at her bedside. Medical records already showed that she was suffering from health problems due to stress - heavy medications were found in her office drawers too.”

Douglas sent the file to Kate with a glow of his eyes.
Kate quietly read through it, finger hovering over the video file.

[I started this task as an Arasaka analyst thinking that they were just some new mercs. Boogeymen, they were called. Baba Yaga, they called themselves. Scary names they chose themselves to look big, look scary. Look tough.
Every night I watch through different video clips of anything I can find, and I realise one thing - they undersold themselves. This wasn’t their attempt to make them look like a tough adversary or legend- this was their attempt to look human. They talk and act like this to blend in with us, to make us think that they are like us.
I leave a message to anyone who will carry on my work for Arasaka, whether willingly or not- The only position in nature where you would play yourself down and mimic yourself as something less than intimidating, is when you are the predator. Praying Mantis were recorded to disguise themselves as flowers to lure in butterflies and bees, Spiders mimicking ants to hunt them. Aggressive mimicry existed in life because it WORKED, just like how it is working now.
I’ve gathered any records I can find, and I leave them here so that they do not make the mistake I did. They disguise themselves as mercs, boogeymen-for-hire. And we all ate that up hook, line, and sinker.
They are not mercs.
They are not boogeymen, they are not here to hide under the bed or inside closets to take kids at night.
They are not the Baba Yaga. The slavic witch can at least be tricked, can be reasoned with.
They are not human.
They are worse.

They are darkness itself taken form. They mimic speech to make us think they can be negotiated, that they can be reasoned, that they can compromise. They have shown their true colours once they strike, for at that moment they no longer have a reason to keep up the facade.
They are demons, wearing human hide.
And the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.

When people like us realise the great lie, they know.
You’ve heard the lie, now they can see you.
You’ve seen the lie, now they can hear you.
Never speak about it, not like I did. If you do, they can touch you.

I’ve seen their face on the glass window of my office. Whether it’s just a figment of my imagination or the source of the fear itself closing in on me, I do not know and I no longer do not care. I’ll be ending my shift on my own terms. I’ve already decided on that.]

Kate stood silent for a moment, before steeling herself and sneering.

“So she couldn’t take the pressure. So what - we got what we needed out of her.”

Kate pressed the video file.
An XBD file, processed into ordinary footage. While Kate and the other 2 watched it on the comfort of the office couch, sipping beverages, the analyst would most likely have been using the Brain dance to sift through - feeling the fear and pain of the Tyger Claws as a hulking mass of black metal was flying down from the sky.

Slowed footage showed how small flames were erupting from the back and the legs, before a sudden burst of force rushed down on the ground.
The Boogeyman had slammed onto the ground with might that caused a small quake to move through the asphalt, knocking several of the Tyger Claws off their feet, some launched into the air - unlucky few that were too close was crushed instead.

Then it started. Bullets flying at the boogeyman that bounced off of glowing hexagonal particles, not even one one managing to hit the walking mechanical armour.

Kate saw Douglas’s mouth widen slightly ajar, and she felt her jaw fall slack too as the footage continued.

One footage showed the perspective of the Kunoichi, complete with the movement in the footage slowing down to tell the audience that the Tyger Claw had activated her Sandevistan, circling around the Baba Yaga.

Then the boogeyman turned his head faster, moved much faster than the Kunoichi too. With a flash, the Kunoichi was sent flying across the town and hitting her friend. That footage ended with the optics of the Kunoichi recording her lower half getting entangled with the eviscerated torso of her friend.

A few more footage showed of the merc’s pinpoint precision with any weapon he can get his hands on - pistols, rifles, shotguns, even knives. One Footage was a Tyger Claw with a sniper rifle, miles away from the actual fight.
The scope showed the Boogeyman looking at the sniper, pistol aimed before the sound of glass shattering caused the footage to end.

Next showed Tyger Claw in a car, chasing the Boogeyman and two mercs inside - The boogeyman drifted across the road like it was made of butter, one hand on the wheel and a tanto in the other - the knife for the driver was all Noble 6 needed to cause the car to go out of control. The optics saw as a flash of metal flew past, smashing through the glass and embedding itself into the forehead of man behind the wheels.
By the time the owner of the optic had managed to crawl out of the car, their target was nothing more than a number plate disappearing at the corner.

More footage of a Car chase. Only reason why Kate would even classify this as carnage was because of how big of an after effect such restrained small actions caused. No hails of bullets or grenades - just short, concise bullet shots or knife throws from the black armour and suddenly cars and motorcycles were crashing into each other and turned over on the road.

Kate replayed the footages, and finally ended on the scene that could show the perpetrator as clearly as possible - and even then it was a semi-blur.

Gold visor, helmet design wasn’t something she had ever seen.
The area where the clavicle would be showed an emblem of an eagle with its wings outstretched, sitting on top of a globe.
She couldn’t make out the letters, but she knew there was something written on the logo.

“What do you think?” Kate asked. A question thrown into the two’s general direction, but Douglas answered first.

“I think the analyst had the right idea.” Kate snickered. She felt her heat drumming against her ribs. Kate expected that if this was viewed with a brain dance, then whoever was watching wouldn’t leave without a heart attack. Maybe she was wrong about the Counter intelligence officer. Maybe she took the pressure well.

“I’m asking about the technology this… thing has. Energy shields, reaction speed exceeding a standard issue military-grade Sandevistan… pin point fucking precision. Thruster packs.”

“… Out of this world.”

“That’s one way to say it. Everything about this merc is a Megacorp’s fantasy. Arasaka and Militech, especially. All of this. All, of this, is something that our R&D haven’t even been able to start on because their math kept fucking them over. Technology that isn’t even inthe  theoretical stage is currently roaming the streets like it isn’t breaking the laws of physics.”

And she had a general gist of where they may have come from.

Kate looked out her window and into the cloudy Night City night sky.
Up above those clouds was the ship of their newest guest.
And in the badlands were their newest abode.

“And we have 6 of them.” Douglas and Kate turned to the 3rd member in the office, who finally spoke. Mechanical voice boomed out after such a long time of silence.

“Yes, Adam. We have 6 of these fuckers going around town stirring shit up and barely leaving a trace. 6 of them who are several thousand years ahead of any technology Earth could whip out right now.”

Adam Smasher silently stared at the holographic footage. Even if he wasn’t making any noise, Douglas and Kate could still hear him salivate.

When Arasaka saw this and felt fear, Adam Smasher saw a challenge.
New Challenge.
A real challenge since Morgan Blackhand.
And not like that cheap disappointment that called himself Johnny Silverhand.

They had taken Adam’s title of NC Boogeyman, which he wasn’t too happy about.
But he could at least commend them for how efficient they were in the killing business.
Yeah, they deserved the title. While their methods may be different Adam expected them to be a kindred spirit at the core.

And that was precisely why Adam was dying to find them.

“What. The fuck.”

Washington had recently received their latest report from Agent Locust.
Enough had been delivered over the past month and a few weeks to finally move into phase 2: something that Washington was going to discuss with Cell.

And what did Washington find as he went inside Cell’s newest office?

A fucking corpse inside a broken refrigerator.

“What.” Cell replied while he still looked through the lens of a microscope.

Washington stammered a bit while looking from the opened fridge and to Cell. He then pointed to the corpse.

“THAT!” Washington shouted. “I’M TALKING ABOUT THAT! WHAT THE FUCK, CELL! WHY DO YOU HAVE A DEAD BODY IN YOUR OFFICE!”

Cell looked behind him.

“Oh, that. Yeah, our boys found the fridge as they dug up the trash mountain. While it was going to be fed into our vat, the lid opened and… well, tadah. Dead body. We were going to throw it away but I thought it’d have some uses.”

“… WHAT USES! YOU CAN’T JUST ‘Oh, that.’ A FUCKING CORPSE, CELL!”

Cell pushed himself off the table to get some space between him and the microscope, gesturing to the lens.

“Ok, Ok. I know it’s a little weird but I promise it’s well paid off. First off, the corpse reeks.”

Washington just stared at Cell, arms going limp. 
Why wouldn’t a corpse reek? It’s a corpse! Who knows how long it’s been out in the open!

“Which, I get sounds obvious to you because you’re a little stupid in the scientific area. So I’ll elaborate - if the corpse isn’t decaying, it shouldn’t reek. While the decaying process was slow thanks to… well, being refrigerated, the fact that it smells means that it is happening - which means we have…?”

Washington looked to the corpse and slowly looked back at Cell.

“… Microorganisms, Washington. We have microorganisms.” Cell finished his sentence with a disappointing tone. He tried to make this fun for the Spartan Commander. But whatever colony planet this guy came from, their education system had seemingly failed poor old Washington here. “We can get the bacteria we needed to convert the poisoned soil of this shit hole from the corpse.”

“… Is… is that what you’re looking through the microscope?” Washington weakly asked. He was getting tired at this point.

“Well… yes, but actually no. I’ve already seen the samples, got what I wanted. Then I just did some gene modifications and I’m watching the results.”

“Results…?”

“Yeah, I got the analysis of the poison - it’s artificial toxin. Which means we have some Megacorp purposefully contaminating the ground. Luckily I got several ways to make the microorganisms counteract it: I can make them form small biofilms between the soil, have them resist it using specific amino acids and RNA, and then I can make them process the toxins and convert them into viable nutrients and cell-building materials. The base of the microorganisms I got from the dead body over there, and then got some DNA materials from legume roots.

“Legumes…?”

“Beeeaans, Washington. I got them from Beeeans. Here, take a look.”

Cell gestured at the microscope to Washington, who defeatedly walked over and decided to humour Cell’s offer.

Several microorganisms of different sizes and shapes were eating materials, and then spitting them back out.

“They’re eating the toxin particles and spitting out usable materials. Essentially making the soil a huge nutrient storage for them to use whenever they need to.”

“That’s… good, I guess. Makes the terraforming effort a lot less tedious. What about our cars, though?”

“Oh, right. Ratchet?”

“Ratchet? Who’s Rat-” Washington asked as he took his visor off the lens, only to be interrupted by a blue holographic figure coming out of the table.
A feature common within UNSC smart AIs.

[For the last time sir, it’s ‘Rache’. Not Ratchet. Rache Bartmoss.]

“Don’t care, give me report of our current car situation.”

The Smart AI threw his hands in the air in frustration, but decided to follow Cell’s order.

[It’s… it’s currently going swell. Your Chooms have finished like, three different models and are testing them out at the back right now. Got the recording going on and everything.]

“Sweet. There’s your answer, Wash.”

Washington looked at the newest Smart AI, and then to the Corpse.

The two clicked together rather fast as he whipped his head to Cell.

“You-, he’s-, you-”

Cell looked at the Smart AI and then to the corpse as he heard Washington’s emotion get the best of his speech capability.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you did I? I flash cloned the guy’s brain and well… voila.”

[Hello, nice to meet you. Agent Washington, correct? I’m Rache Bartmoss, the Smart AI created with the dynamic memory-processor matrix scanned and replicated from the neural pathway of the brain of the late Rache Bartmoss.]

“….WHY?!”

“Because the guy had pretty cool technology for what’s our perspective of medieval peasants. The fridge is a customised computer, and the guy had some hand held tablet as well.”

[It’s called a Cyberdeck, sir.]

“Like I give a shit, Ratchet. Whatever the fuck it’s called, it’s still an ooga booga tablet to me.”

Cell and Washington saw the Smart AI slightly crouch down at the response, who was grumbling to himself like he was emotionally hurt.

“So anyway, turns out this guy was a hacker.”

[…and not just any hacker too, I’m made from the legendary netrunner, you know…]

Cell swivelled around his chair

“Shut the fuck up, no one gives a shit about what you did here.” Washington swore he heard a short sob from the Smart AI as Cell then turned back to the fellow Spartan. “He’s the one who crashed the entire internet on Earth and made them all go back to the primitive net.”

“… So we have someone that knows their way around this Earth’s net.”

“Yeah, for a pretty unstable matrix I cloned from a rotting brain this thing has some pretty solid residual thoughts and memories of the dead guy. Guess the fact that there’s a lack of optimal environment of microbial growth allowed us to have a pretty well preserved body. I was able to make someone that’s hot shit on Earth into our glorified tour guide thanks to that.”

Washington had way too many thoughts rushing into his mind, but then he noticed the tablet in his hand and realised what he was here for.

Oh yeah, this mother fucker wasn’t my problem anymore now.

“Cell.”

“Washington.”

Washington placed the table on Cell’s table, which the Spartan picked up and read over with his four spectral nodes on his helmet.

“Your file told me that you had experience in founding and running a start up company?”

“Yeah, I made it with my girlfriend before we joined the UNSC.”

“Girlfriend?”

“… Miranda Keyes.”

“Oh. Oooh.”

“We met thanks to our mother’s working at the same workplace. Lovely lady, she was. Got the best of both sides of her parents… But yeah, once I went into the ODST and she followed her father’s footsteps our Company and the workers were absorbed into the Watershed division. Reds and Blues, we named it. We cradled it in our arms like it was our newborn.”

“Well good news, you’re getting that Startup back, and you’re the CEO.”

Cell took his eyes of the tablet screen and turned his head to Washington.

“I am?”

“Yeah, because that’ll be our front as a Megacorp now. You’ll be running this joint as I go back to UNSC Revenant.”

While Cell would still have to make monthly reports to Captain Church, Washington now didn’t had to directly deal with Cell’s bullshit for a good long while.

Cell silently looked back to the tablet as Washington left the room. The Spartan Commander shouting ‘Peace!’ could be heard echoing into the entrance to Cell’s office.

Well, shit.
… Guess nothing really changed.

“Hey, Ratchet?”

[… Rache, sir.]

“Tell the engineers in charge of the vehicle R&D that I’ll be coming over to help.”

Cell could hear the Smart AI let out a sigh.

[… You’re the boss, sir.]

“… Damn right, I am.”

Chapter Text

Moris huddled into the trash heap, grabbing the worn and torn blanket over himself as the dumpster fire gave some form of warmth for him.
The night sky in the badlands was full of stars, and he’d like to imagine how cool the thought of having stars for ceilings were. But then he felt the pain of his stomach trying to digest nothing but dust and rotten synthetic food he found decaying in one of the food packages he managed to scavenge here.

Moris was a soldier, used to be the so called ‘security division’ officer of Militech during the Unification war.
He was leading the front line using the panzers for NUSA, goddammit. And so was the rest of them lurking the streets of Night City.
All the fighting and shooting, all that shouting and commanding. All that training and replacing damaged limbs and organs with chrome. All that sacrifice. All for what?
Just to have his implants and jobs stripped away from him, to have them kick him out once they no longer had any uses for him?
Moris felt the pang of pain shoot through his right leg, which used to be chromed with military-grade implants before they took it away from him. Now it was nothing more than shoddy hydraulics he managed to find in the garbage heap.
The wires were from a used and discarded electronics, short circuiting every minute and shooting sparks that hurt.

Moris endured it and forced his eyes shut.
It didn’t matter. Megacorps were full of shit, ready to use and discard workers who pledged their lives and loyalty to the corporation like they were one-use assets. Moris was too dumb to realise this before he got fired.

Moris woke up at the sound of heavy engines and crushing of scrap. It was too close for comfort - both emotionally and physically, which caused him to jump up from his improvised bed - and witness the excavation of trash mountain.

He… holy shit.
He had heard words on the street about them, how everyone is now too scared to go to the badlands thanks to these folks.
Purifying water? Cleaning up the trash?
Night City government was thinking highly of that, sure.
But when those guys weren’t hesitant to litter the sands with corpses of raiders and wraiths and raffen shivs, and was perfectly capable of doing so without question, the bravest action was to send a drone.
He had thought that at earliest they worked during the day. That was the most logical conclusion anyone would’ve reached, considering that those star people had only two buildings at most.

No, they went active as early as 3 in the morning, the sky still purple when Moris suddenly had lights flash into his eyes.

Several soldiers surrounded Moris, the homeless ex-soldier blocked the flashlights with his arms (or at least with his half-working right arm, as best as he could) and tried to blink away the whites in his vision.

4 of them had matching uniforms and helmets with visors, while one was a hulking figure of metal from head to toe - almost like they were a IEC Dragoon.

Moris adjusted to the brightness when he realised that the flashlight shining lights into his eyes were attached to assault rifles.
Typical, sure. But the entire situation was still something that frightened him. It already made him tense and anxious during the war, now without proper equipments and not being in a good condition? That was signal for Moris to slowly raise his hands to show that he meant no harm.

“What are you doing here?” One of the soldiers shouted.
A stupid question, yes. But they were too intimidating for Moris to grown or laugh about.

“…Sleeping.” Was all Moris could manage out of his dry throat.

“…” the soldiers were turning to look at each other, before looking back at Moris.

“Why…?”

“What… what do you mean why?”

“Why here?”

“…” The tone in the soldier’s voice was of genuine confusion and concern.

It had been too long since he had heard anyone address him with emotion exempt from aggression.
But that made him feel all the more ashamed and embarrassed about the situation.

Because those that were angry about some homeless folk taking up shelter on a bench or the basketball field, Moris could write off as assholes.

The soldier that simply asked why in the dumpster made him realise how low he had fallen.

Moris tried to hold back the sobs, and the tears. Nose pinged a bit as he forced out an answer.

“It’s cold, and I have nowhere else to go…”

The soldiers were looking at each other, while their rifles wavered a little they were never lowered.
Until the IEC Dragoon-looking big guy in the centre started to lower his gun, and subsequently placed a hand on the rifle of the soldier next to them, pushing it gently down.
That was enough of a signal for the rest to stand down.

The Spartan - a member of Fireteam Crimson, slowly walked up to Moris and took a knee, lowering his body enough to somewhat meet Moris at eye level.

“What’s your name?”

“… Moris. Moris Grant.” The homeless veteran replied.

The Spartan took note of the dogtag still hanging around the guy’s neck, to which he asked.

“Are you a soldier, Moris?”

Moris paused, stammering a little before answering.

“I-I am… I was, there… there was a war that ended 5 years ago. Militech forced me out once it did.”

The Spartan briefly looked to the floor, then back to the soldiers. Words were not exchanged between them, but the message was clear.
One soldier walked back to a vehicle - a prototype car from the engineer team - and came back with basic supplies. Which also included a blanket.

The Soldier handed over the supplies to Moris, and the old war-vet, with shaking hands, took the supplies and opened one of them.
Water.
There was water.
The lack of chemical smell meant that it was fresh. How could it be fresh? Fresh water costed thousands a millimetre. It was absolute luxury that he could only afford once a year during his service under militech.

With shaking hands and slight fear and hesitation, Moris took a sip. It really was fresh water, tasted crystal clear with no impurities. Clear, odourless, tasteless water.

Moris quickly drank the water, coughing a little and making sure not to spew it back out.
The Spartan didn’t care about the sight, and only focused on gently wrapping the blanking over Moris.
It was warmer than the torn sheet he had found 4 hours ago.

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.” The Spartan quietly said as he grabbed Moris by the shoulder, gently lifting him up.
He supported the homeless man as they started to lead him into the car.

Moris was a little scared. Scared about the sudden kindness, what they’d do next - what’ll happen to him now.
But months of fatigue and extreme environments had made him weak and tired. Too weak and too tired to complain and resist the gentle guidance to shelter.

Moris got into the car, much much warmer than the outside cold night air.
Moris found himself drifting back into sleep, keeping the drink bottle he had been gifted by these people close and tight to his chest.

When Moris woke up, it had been two days straight- according to the medical officer in charge of the infirmary he was in.
The first thing he noticed was how warm, soft and comfortable the bed felt.
The second thing he noticed was that he was feeling such sensation with his right arm and right leg.
No, that couldn’t have been true, that couldn’t have been right.
Those right arms and right legs were made of chromes built with junk and scrap, there was only bits of motors and wires in their, no way for the sense of touch and temperature to be felt-

Moris looked at his right arm. Hydraulic pipes, exposed wires, and battered platings were no where in sight.
Flesh, with veins slightly visible under the skin.
It was his flesh. Lighter than his left arm, but the way the hair was grown on the forearm- it was his alright.
He slowly lifted the blanket and was met with similar sight on his right leg.

Flesh. Blood, bone, skin, and muscle.
He, with shaking fingers, gently touched the surface of his leg with his fingertip.
Soft, warm.
It really was his leg, it really was his arm.

“I knew you’d be having that reaction.” The medical officer commented with a chuckle, Moris lifted his head in confusion. “In case you’re wondering-no, that’s not a dream. That’s really your arms and legs. Flash-cloned them with your cells and attached them through surgery while you were asleep. Extra anaesthetics were used too.”

You like them? Those words echoed into Moris’s mind, as he slowly stood up to walk.
Both legs were of exact height- Moris no longer had to view the world with a slight slant. He tried walking, wobbly legs but strong legs nonetheless. It worked without significant problems or trouble. He couldn’t believe. Despite what the doctor over there said, it had to be a dream.

Not even a miracle was this advance - no megacorp was.
… Unless…
Unless it was those star people.

Moris’s stomach growled and grumbled. Now that he was awake, his guts were signalling for food.

“Come on.” The medical officer said. “You can either get yourself cleaned before you go get something to eat, or you can get something to eat and then get yourself a nice hot shower.”

Moris had to take a moment to process the choices given to him.

Moris stared at the vegetable soup given to him.
The lack of proper nutrients he was getting meant that his digestive capabilities was a little shortcoming at the moment. It was best not eat solid for now, until his internal organs could properly heal and function again.

Moris tasted the flavours in his mouth. Savoured it.
Food, proper food. Fresh food, made from fresh, natural ingredients.
No traces of toxic contaminations in his mouth. Genuine pure vegetables.

Moris didn’t realise he was sobbing until he found that he couldn’t breath properly - tears and snot was blocking his nose as he held in a cry.

This was something he couldn’t get a taste of even during his military years. It was too good. Too good to be true. Moris looked around the cafeteria, soldiers - both the standard UNSC Army, Marine, Navy, and Air force were talking to themselves. And then there were also Spartans on break. They had taken their helmets off to reveal their faces underneath. Revealing to Moris that no, they weren’t robots. They weren’t ICE Geminis or dragoons.

They were humans. No matter how big, how intimidating they looked- underneath those Mjolnir armour, they were human. Just like him.

That’s why one of them could show compassion to him so naturally.

“Hold up, Cap and a half. Guess who’s in admin? ME. Guess who ain’t in there?” Spartan Heaven pointed at Spartan Ant. “THAT. BROWN. MOTHER. FUCKER. RIGHT THERE. YOU. LYIN. BITCH-”

“CAP. AND. A HALF. CAP. AND. A HALF. NO, HEAVENLY- NO, HEAVENLY’S CAPPIN.”

“Geuce and Ant… Geuce and Ant…”

“Nah, nah, nah…”

“On mah Mama. CUZ.-“

“Chief. Chief. Chief.”

“On mah Mama, CUZ. It’s Geuce and Ant-”

“ON MAH MAMA YOU WEREN’T IN FUCKIN ADMIN!”

Few of the Spartans were arguing about something. About what, Moris had no clue.
All he knew was that the rest of the soldiers in the cafeteria looked thoroughly entertained by Fireteam Badger’s antics.

Mortis took another spoonfull as he watched.

“YOU’RE EITHER BLIND. OR YOUR CAPPIN.”

Once Moris was done eating, he was guided by one of the soldiers to the shower room.

“Here’s the shampoo, here’s the conditioner. Oh, if you want to shave as well, we’ve got the shaving cream and shave here, or if you’d like the electric one it’s underneath here.”

Take as long as you need. Is what the soldier said as he went back out.
Moris got out of the patient uniform given to him while he was asleep, and started to wash his hairs and body properly. The site of surgeries were sanitised, but only those areas. The rest still had grimes and grease, something Moris was happy to remove.

Hot clean water sprayed down and he was enjoying this so, so much. According to the soldiers, water wasn’t an issue. He could use it liberally. He was more than happy to, and quickly grabbed the shaving cream and blades too.
His beard was too long, and so was his hair.
Unfortunately there was nothing he could do for the hair - but the beard was good to go.

He went to work, looking in the mirror to see his chin again for the first time in forever.
He saw how gaunt his cheeks were, looking like they were sucked in.

He gently touched the now-smooth skin of his face, and slowly went back under the water.
Steam was rising, and he saw how dirty the water was when it fell down his body and into the drown.
After enough shampoos and body wash, the water leaving through the drain was finally just as clean as it entered. He felt clean too.

He finally stopped, closing the waters and drying himself off with a towel.
Fresh clothes were given to him by the soldier before he entered the showers- a nice pair of boxers, trousers and shirt.
He carefully read the logo on the chest of the black t-shirt: An eagle with its wings outstretched, sitting atop of a globe that read UNSC.

He put the clothes on and left the shower room, and was greeted by the same soldier that guided him here.

“Finished?”

“Yeah… Yes I am, sir.”

“Ni~ce. Alright, our boss said he wanted to see you once you were done. You ready to meet him?”

Moris swallowed a little out of anticipation, but nevertheless nodded his head.
These people gave him warm clothes, fresh clean water, and his limbs back. He knew there was some price to pay, but by the looks of it the price would be somewhat reasonable.
He was ready for it, he guessed.

“Sweet. Follow me. Not far from here either.”

Moris followed the UNSC soldier, passing through a hallway where ODST and Marines were chatting with each other, before noticing Moris and giving him a curt nod. Moris gave a curt nod back. It made him feel like he was back in Militech, where at least the soldiers had a code of honour between each other.

When one of the hulking Spartans walked by, they gave a nod to Moris to. Moris gave a nod back as well. Despite their intimidating stature, he just couldn’t forget the kindness one displayed to him - the whole reason why he was here right now.

The room Moris entered was a weired one. When the soldier said boss and office, he expected it to be a clean expensive suite, with an aquarium or a holographic model dancing to some tunes.

No, it was just computers and microscopes. Computers, computers, computers.

“Spartan Cell, sir? Our guest is here.”

The Spartan turned around from his computer, 4 spectral nodes glowing red. Moris gasped a little, the imagery of his boss resembled Maelstrom, and they were never a good sign.

Spartan Cell leaned back in his chair.

“Moris Grant, was it?”

Moris stammered a little, but managed to push through.

“Ye-yes, sir…”

Moris saw how much the system here was militaristic. He did his best to give a soldier’s salute, to which Spartan Cell chuckled.

“I heard from Crimson team that you were a war vet. That true?”

“Yes, sir. Militech Sergeant, before the Unification war ended on 2070… I was fired right after then. Once the war was finished and Militech was on the disadvantage, we were just reliability… sir…”

Cell simply nodded, his Mjolnir helmeted showed no emotions or empathy.

“So that means you know how the city and NUSA works, right?”

Moris rolled his eyes a little, slightly concerned and equally confused about the question.

“Um… yes… sir? Some… somewhat.”

Cell nodded his head more, before pointing at Moris.

“Good… Good. We need someone like you.”

“You… you do?” Moris asked curiously.

“Yeah, we’re trying to introduce ourselves to Earth as a Megacorp you know. We need as much info about here as possible if we want a stable landing. After all, you’ve got some debt to repay to us, right?”

Moris blinked a few times. He understood where this was going. Slightly. But he was still unsure about it.
Cell picked up his tablet, tapped on the screen and then handed it over to Moris.

“Here’s what you’re going to do: you’re going to join the UNSC. You’re going to answer every question we ask. And you’re going to help us with whatever we ask. With what we did for you, that’s the least you can do to repay the debt, right?”

Moris looked through the details on the tablet.

Moris was going to start out as a cadet of the UNSC Army, with him assigned to the barracks in HIGHCOM Facility Draugr-1, and expected to be assigned to another facility once they established a base within Night City. Any information he knew about Night City and NUSA, he was to provide them as much as possible to the UNSC to help establish a location, and he was to help with anything he can once they managed to create contact.

Moris felt his hand tremble slightly.

“How… How long will I have to do this?”

Cell snorted at the question.

“How long…. You’re asking this question like it’s got a time period.”

“… You mean…”

“We’re not letting you go, Moris. Once you’re in the UNSC, you’re staying. You can’t leave this shit, Moris.”

Moris felt tears well in his eyes once again.

“You-you mean this… this is permanent?”

Cell laughed.

“Damn right it’s permanent, you mark my fucking words Moris. Not even when you’re in a body bag are you going to leave us.”

Moris felt his voice shake and ache.

“Oh… Oh god.”

Moris couldn’t believe it.
He had a job.
He had a job!
He had a fucking job again!

“Oh god! Oh god!”

Cell stood up from his chair.

“Don’t you pray to god, Moris! God didn’t give you shit! God didn’t do shit when life took away your arms and job, Moris! God didn’t give you food! God didn’t give you water! God didn’t give you your limbs and job back, Moris! I did! You don’t pray to god! You pray to me now!”

“Oh, Sir! Sir!”

Moris fell to his knees, yet he managed to grab hold of Cell’s hands.
He clasped the Spartan’s hands firm and tight and sobbed.

“Thank you, sir…!”

“Yeah, that’s right! You pray to me!”

Moris woke up from his barracks, bed as soft as ever.
He handled his new guns and armour with care, ready to suit up and start the day on patrol.

He was a cadet, not a Sergeant. Sure. But that didn’t mean shit to Moris.

Cadet Moris of the UNSC had a better life than Sergeant Moris of Militech.
For once, his body felt much better: Much stronger, much faster, much lighter, much healthier.

Good food and good training showed better results than some inhaling drugs and chromes.

He felt himself getting stronger by the day too, shooting any raffen shivs that were dumb enough to start running towards the trash excavators.
He enjoyed how much fun it was to talk with his fellow soldiers, who didn’t care that he was of Earth descent.
He enjoyed how much it was to fight alongside a Spartan, to watch them in combat as they punched a car with their bare fists until it exploded.

He also enjoyed whenever he get to try out the SPNKR. Those gas-operated rocket launchers were a weapon of mass destruction.
Couldn’t believe it had such a highly advanced-smart link system, too.

Moris had most of his implants removed or replaced with UNSC standards. And these ones caused no such problems at all that the old chromes were regularly displaying.

Just yesterday, Moris had tried out War games with his newly made friends and comrades - according to them, those that showed promising results in those activities were selected to either become ODST, or Spartans.

Spartans, those massive people clad in full plates were called. God. To Moris, they represented every meaning, every letter of those words. Spartans, fierce warriors and soldiers. They were almost like Greek gods than simple Spartans.

Maybe someday, Moris could be either one of the two.
That’s what Moris hoped, at least. Until then, he trained, he patrolled, he defended and he fought.
He no longer fought for his country, nor for a Corporation.

No, he fought for UNSC. And for what UNSC represented. He heard the story from his fellow soldiers and ODST. This history of UNSC - what they fought in space, and what they were trying to do here on Earth.

Was it the truth, was it propaganda? Moris didn’t care. They gave him food, clothes, limbs and a second chance at life.
If they can provide that to some homeless folk with no promising qualities, then they had Moris’ full loyalty.
Fuck Militech, Moris spat on the sand as he thought of the Megacorp. Rosalind Myers and her bitch of a government and corporation didn’t do shit for him.

Moris went to patrol over the trash mountain with his team 7 Bravo, climbing up and down to make sure no one was trying to ambush their precious vehicles. It was a little nostalgic, considering how he was making trash fires and eating rotten chemically filled products here just a month and a half ago.

Next thing he knew, he was flashing lights from his assault rifle at a homeless person with his friends, surrounding the poor sap.

… Whoah, Moris quietly exclaimed.
It was exactly like Deja vu.

The homeless person also had faulty chromes, trying to block the light with his arms…or at least tried as best as he could.

“What are you doing here?” One of the soldiers shouted.
A stupid question, yes. But they were too intimidating for the homeless man to grown or laugh about.

“…Sleeping.” Was all the guy could manage out of his dry throat. He had a rough Japanese accent in his voice, but the tone made sure to convey that he was scared.

“…” the soldiers were turning to look at each other, before looking back at the homeless man.
Moris finally saw the homeless man’s face properly once he slowly lifted his arms up in the air as a sign of surrendering, that he meant no harm.

Holy shit, it was Genjiro.
Moris knew the guy, he used to be a high ranking executive member of Arasaka… until one of his colleages made a mistake and pinned the blame on him, threw him under the bus. Genjiro, despite going homeless, had always laughed with Moris and told him that it was better than being dead, having concrete sticking to his shoes as his body sunk to the ocean floor.

Genjiro had shared the bigger half of Duhan’s 4 dollar burger the Japanese man had found behind the dumpster.

“Why…?” Moris’ comrade had asked the homeless man as Moris and Genjiro’s eyes met.

“What… what do you mean why?” Genjiro said with a stutter.

“Why here?”

“…” The tone in the soldier’s voice was of genuine confusion and concern.

Moris saw Genjiro’s face scrunch up as tears formed at the corner of Genjiro’s eyes.

“It’s cold, and I have nowhere else to go…”

Moris was the first to lower his gun.

Then the Spartan accompanying his team lowered his.

Moris knew what to do from here, running to the car as soon as Spartan Simmons ordered dropped.

Fresh clean water, Blanket.

This time, it was Spartan Simmons the one who handed Genjiro water, as Moris wrapped the clean blanket over the friend he had made during his fall to hard times.

“It’s ok, Genjiro.” Moris said with a comforting tone. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Chapter Text

David Martinez jerked up from the coach the moment Noble 6's knife lodged itself on a Tyger claw's forehead.

The XBD he had received from the ripperdoc was scenes of a Baba Yaga killing gangoons stringed together.
David was left huffing as he removed the braindance from his head.

[S-so, how'd you like that? Pretty- really cool, right?]

[Doc-Doc! It's the best!]

Most XBD was long sessions of torture porn, pain elongated and screams intensified.
This XBD went the opposite direction: quick, precise, rapid.

Carnage was cleanly done- just a few bullets knives to sweep through the crowd. Only that the audience of the Braindance was the crowd.

Like a sickle through the fields.

David already heard about the Baba Yagas- 6 suits of armour that only showed themselves when they weren't on a gig.
What he had gotten was the only proper footage of one at work. And they were merciless. Efficient.

David still felt his heart pumping blood through his veins. He was on an adrenaline rush.

He loved every moment of it.

Was there more?
Probably not- the Ripperdoc told him that this was the first time a Baba Yaga was caught on a brain dance.
It was already selling like cake, and if David sold this to he could get some of the profit.

David was already motivated. This was easy eddies.
He pondered, however, as he started to pack his bag and fill it with copies of the XBD.

What were the Baba Yagas doing right now?

Agent Locust picked up his ringing phone.

"Who is this?"

He gestured to Agent Ram, silently telling him to get ready to intercept the call in case it was an unsavoury individual.

Agent Ram plugged in the cord from the phone into his laptop, finger hovering over the keyboard.

[Just a fixer needing certain individuals to get a job done. Specifically, those that go bump in the night and leave even the toughest men scared of meeting.]

Agent Locust held his finger up. Then returned to the conversation.

"I need a name."

"Of course, it will be Mr Hands. I've heard you guys were careful. I like that in a merc. Already a reputation of making people disappear without leaving traces. Not unless the client wanted carnage."

"What's the job."

Agent Locust wasted no time - the fixer called because he had a job for the Boogeymen.
Agent Locust heard Mr Hands laugh on the other side of the call.

[Straight to business- why couldn't more Mercs be like you, Baba Yaga? I have two gigs for your team. One of the gig is the assassination of Dexter Deshawn. You would have heard about him: A fixer that decided to wander into Pacifica to haul something big, but has recently ended up causing a huge stir in my territory. Now I have both Barghest and Voodoo boys causing chaos when I needed order. This would require the majority of you to be on it. The other gig is short and simple - only one merc on the job will do. A simple search and rescue mission of two NCPD officers from a Barghest-infested building. I'll be sending the details for both your way. Keep in mind that I need both of these gigs done by tonight. They are very urgent.]

Agent Locust was silent for a few moments, before turning to the rest of the team.

"... We'll get to it when we receive the details."

[Excellent, I'll be waiting for your results. And to whichever Boogeyman you send for the second job, I'll have to give them a specific location to travel to in order to reach the required location.]

Agent Locust soon saw the files sent to his phone, which Ram opened on his laptop.
Agent Locust walked over to Ram to read it, before standing straight up.

"Ram, Killshot, Leon: You guys are going with me. Jim and Noble 6, I sending you guys to a different location."

"Understood, sir."

"Understood."

"Ram will transfer you two the location. The 4 of us will leave first. Contact us when you guys are finished with your side of the gig."

Jim picked up his customised revolver, nodding at his leader.
The rest of the team got ready to move. Rifles loaded, knives sharpened, knuckles cracked.
Noble 6 stood by the doorway, waiting for Jim to get ready so the two could disappear into the darkness of the night.

Dexter Deshawn puffed cigars after cigars as his bodyguard stood next to the door, shotgun ready in his hand.

Yeah, sure. He admitted he fucked up. Yeah, he fucked up! He didn't realise the heist he planned would ruin half of Pacifica (and piss off Kurt Hansen). But it did, and he had to take that fact in.
He had already dealt with loose ends - his bodyguard had shot the mercs that decided to come back splattered in blood ready to argue about the difficulty of the gig and the increased prices. Their corpses were ditched somewhere in the trash heaps in Dogtown. No one would look for them anyway.

Dexter Deshawn saw the setting sun. Sky dyed orange like the days of 2020s, when the red war caused the air to be filled with red for decades.
He had managed to pull a ticket for a plane - used half of his savings to do so. He would have to leave Night City for a good long while. He had to leave, as soon as possible. He had no choice in that matter, lest he wanted to go around the corner and get a bullet in his fat skull by a merc hired by a newly made enemy of his.

"Where the fuck did that lard ass go!"

A group of Barghest soldiers were running around the streets, angrily shouting at each other to find Dexter Deshawn.
The fat fixer watched the scene through the gaps in his barricaded windows.
By night the patrol would've thinned out. They would think that he escaped Pacifica by then.
That's when he can leave for the airport.

The sun was already setting, and the darkening of the sky calmed him down a bit.
He didn't need to wait too long, his time was coming.

But a sudden flash of fear went through his mind as he saw the shadows of the buildings drawing longer.

What if one of his enemies hired the Baba Yagas? What if they were starting to move?
He remembered how nearly every one of their gigs were done at night. Especially when it rained.

There was even a saying on the street now: Every time the clock hit 12:00, the boogeymen would drag someone into the shadows.

Dexter Deshawn felt his skin growing wet, and wiped off the sweat with his gold-plated chrome.

He had eddies.
He had lots of them.

Surely they'd be reasonable, right?
500 million to just pretend they didn't see a fat bastard run to the airport.
It's not a bad deal, is it?

… Is it?

Stella Ramoss quietly waited in her car. She was taking deep breaths to calm her nerves.
Sasha Yakovleva, her dear sister, had recently come back from a gig.
In which half the bloody Tyger Claws were after her. Sasha probably didn't know how much her heart sank when she heard the news thanks to the NCPD near the scene. Angrily demanded an answer when Stella met Sasha again. How they got into that mess, and how they managed to get out.

Muamar had sent a Boogeyman for her back up. Stella didn't believe it at first, but then the XBDs started popping up on the street. Naturally, her fiance Bill bought one to check it out.

Holy shit. Stella still remembered the aftermath. She was sent into the crime scene for investigation, after all. Now she knew how there was such a widespread dispersion of corpses on the streets of Kabuki.

Many of the NCPD have dropped the investigation - those that remained either didn't believe that there was any reason the Baba Yagas would target them, or they had a more direct problem breathing down their neck.

The rest in the middle didn't want to take the chance of letting the Boogeymen know who they were. It was way above their pay grade.

Stella watched the barricaded building on the opposite side of the road.
Currently, her fiance Bill had decided get convinced by his friend Charles into trying some wacky scheme.
All she knew was that Bill had just called saying that 'It's bad.' She deduced that Dodger had taken Bill and Charles hostage, and requested the gig to Mr Hands as soon as her fiance gave her the call.

The Fixer called her back 5 minutes ago, telling her that they found a Merc willing to take the gig, and will come to her location.

Stella heard a sharp tap on her car window.

"Stella Ramoss?"

Stella flinched, and turned to look at the merc.

Well holy shit, Stella thought to herself as she heard herself gulp.
She remembers how the Baba Yaga looked like in those brain dances.

And they were standing right outside her window.

"I'm here for the gig."

Stella had initially planned to let whoever decided to take the job into her car and explain there.
But there was no way to fit that size in such a small vehicle.
All she could manage to do was roll down the windows and quickly hand over a key card.

"Yeah, need your help. We can't be seen here, so I'll just talk quick - my fiance Bill and his buddy Charlie, they're trapped in that building across the street, until Dodger took over. It used to be an old precinct - you can go in using this access card."

Noble 6 gently took the key card with his large fingers, holding it in his hand, and looking to Stella.

"I'll be finished soon."

Stella nodded as she pulled the lever of her car and started to enter the road.
She looked at the back mirror to see that Noble 6 was already nowhere in sight.

… Damn, Stella thought. Bill's going to shit his pants when he sees the merc.

Every morning, Genjiro woke up from his room and put on his Uniform. Grey high collared suit that didn't look too bad on someone like him.
UNSC was… a very peculiar place to him, to say the least.

The last and only other association he had pledged loyalty to expected him to work 5 to 1. Sure, they gave more money per month than an average Night City Citizen could get their hands on in 2 years, but with so little time given Genjiro rarely had any moments to spend that for his own indulgence.

UNSC let him sleep in a little, so long as he could help them out in establishing themselves in the market.
Good food made from natural vegetables, a clean and safe environment.

And most of all, colleagues that didn't even think about stabbing him in the back. Half the stress he had to endure in Arasaka was fellow executives or subordinates just a moment away from blackmailing him, or selling precious info to a rival. Sometimes even other Megacorps like Militech.

UNSC was… UNSC was different.

Genjiro took a breath of fresh air in and opened the door.

"Hey, Genjiro! You working today?"

"I'm afraid so, Mister Donut."

"Oh, that's cool. If you got time after, me and the some of the crews are going to try set fireworks in the yard. Wanna watch?"

Genjiro smiled at the walking suit of pink armour.
Would anyone from Arasaka ever ask something as stupid like this? Genjiro thought not. Not unless it was some code word, or an attempt to lure Genjiro into a trap.
But enough weeks had passed for Genjiro to realise that no, these… Spartans, they were called- a walking, talking, human weapons of mass destruction equal if not more to the likes of Adam Smasher- were really that keen on simply having fun with the most trivial activities.

More so together.

"That would certainly sound fun, Mister Donut."

Spartan Donut waved his hands.

"Oooh… no need to put Mister there, Genjiro! It's just Donut! Anyways, have fun with work - Oh! The cooks told me that today's menu is rice with fried potato mashes and shredded cabbage salad. A Japanese dish, they said? You should totally try it out."

Genjiro laughed.
Ah, Spartan Donut means Koroke.

Due to limitations on meat, it was strictly vegetarian until their outside sources managed to procure Cows and Pig DNA.

Genjiro could already think of all the possible dishes that'd be added to the menu once meat was available.
He couldn't wait, all those thoughts had made his stomach growl.

"Thank you very deeply for the information… er… Mist… Donut."

Genjiro bowed as Donut awkwardly imitated his gesture. With all they had done for them, it was hard for Genjiro to not include any sort of english honorifics on them.
Even as a beggar, Genjiro's honour and dignity was the one thing he did not give up or sell.
Which meant trying to talk like he was equal footing with someone like Donut felt so… disrespectful.

Genjiro pondered about that further as he walked to the cafeteria, making sure to greet each and every soldiers and workers within the central base.
He had heard the stories as he lived here, worked here.

Spartans, more than just super-soldiers- they were symbol of hope and strength. The very bastion that opposed the invading forces.
They were warriors.

If Japan and Arasaka knew of their existence and their feat, they would consider the Spartans and ODST Shoguns and Samurais.

At least Genjiro considered them so. Benevolent too, considering how conversant they were to someone like him. They were always willing to answer his questions without mocking or insulting him. Inform him of anything new going on.

Some even showed him the main factory… 'The Cell-Khyl Vat', named after the two chief engineers who created them.

To see a cloud of nanomachine turn scrap into immaculate plates of uncannily serene materials that shined like silver and as durable as titanium.

It was a beautiful sight for Genjiro. Almost analogous to their philosphy on members of the UNSC, where everyone- no matter where they came from- can become something extraordinary. Even if they were considered trash by the rest of the Megacorps and was thrown to the streets.

No talent wasted, no man left behind.

Genjiro ordered the menu Spartan Donut had suggested.
He could already smell the flavours of Koroke from the occupied tables.

He still couldn't believe it sometimes. Fresh, natural ingredients, grown from clean soil and nurtured with care.
Those would be considered food of the highest quality, eaten only by those of the highest social order like the Arasaka clan or President Rosalind Myers.
And they were given to low-ranking workers like him! For free!
The quality they were in, the flavour they had created that exceeded perfection!
Those would sell for millions a gram, and they were just given like it was normal!

"Hey, Genjiro! Over here!"

Genjiro heard Moris's voice over a table, and saw his saviour sitting with fellow soldiers and colleagues.

Genjiro did not hesitate in carrying his plate over to the table.
His friends immediately made space for him, smiling as he sat down.

"How's the place working out for you, buddy?" Moris asked as he smiled.

"Like heaven, Moris. I can never stop thanking you for saving me from that trash heap."

Moris laughed as he flicked his wrist.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm just returning the favours to everyone."

Returning favours.
Returning kindness that was given to them.

Those were concepts long forgotten on the roads of Night City, perhaps in majority of Earth too.

It felt foreign at first to Genjiro, but as time went on it felt natural. That's when Genjiro realised that such concept was something that was always meant to be.

Soon enough, Moris and Genjiro wasn't the only failures of Night City UNSC had taken under their wings.
Like returning kindness that was given, Moris helped the UNSC gather the homeless and lost from the trash heaps, or anywhere close. Genjiro then helped the UNSC have them washed, cleaned, fed, et cetera.

Soon enough those Citizens were given jobs and roles that befitted their talent and passion.
Spreading out like flowers in rich soil.

Some of the Citizens used to be farmers until Biotechnica robbed them of their land, job, and home. They were now taking care of the crops grown within the greenhouses.
Others used to be mechanics. They now helped build engines and cars, learning new technology along the way.

Those that used to be part of Security, like Moris, were trained as soldiers. Returning to the old roots made them grow muscles bigger than before.

Rarely anyone here used chromes- at most they had neural interfaces installed. Sleek and nearly unrecognisable like the ones used in Night City, they however could not be hacked. Being on a completely different network that Earth had no way of recognising or accessing was one reason, just the shear complexity and several redundancies within the interface acted as natural ICEs.

Everything was new to the recruited civilians. Even if it felt like some were the same, those some were definitely better than before.

All of them. All of them had a second chance at life, thanks to the people that came down from the sky.
Yes, Genjiro thought. This is how you earn undying loyalty from people.

"And I will put Kool aids in all the water fountains! And we won't have to wear school uniforms, anymore! And Principle Cell will allow double… Recess! recess…! recess…!"

Some of the Spartans here were bit grounded to Earth, while others were a bit… chaotic and creative in their perspective of the world.

Spartan Caboose was very much the latter.

"Caboose, we're not running for Class president! We're trying to choose the fire team leader!" Spartan Simmons exasperatingly responded to Spartan Caboose's recent wild claim.

Contrary to Simmons, however, the newly recruited UNSC officials from Earth was interpreting Caboose's speech differently.

"No, don't you see sir? Spartan Caboose is trying to tell us that when Reds and Blues becomes a Megacorp in Night City, there won't be school uniforms anymore because everyone will be free to take lessons from UNSC-lead educations. They won't be differentiated by social status money, or age like Arasaka Academy. Everyone will have equal chance and equal opportunity to chase their dreams instead of risking their lives acting as criminals! Spartan Caboose is trying to tell us that President Cell will send us out back into the real world where we won't have to aim our gun at every corner to make sure we live another day!"

Private Tai, Who used to work under Kang Tao before she was promptly fired for a minor mismanagement done by her subordinate, looked up at the Blue Spartan standing on a table with awe.

"My god… he has such way with words."

Spartan Simmon's helmet slowly turned to Private Tai.

"… Is this girl for real?"

"But wait, what about Kool aids in the water fountain?"

"Why that would be the purification of water! By making sure to filter out all those nasty gunks out, it would actually taste like the water we have here, so that kids and elderly folks won't have to get sick or die from being forced to drink such water, like those in Santo Domingo!"

"And I'll order Pizza for everyone! Every toppings you want!"

"Wow, sir… Providing food for everyone to make sure they don't starve…"

Hoo rah!
The soldiers and works surrounding Spartan Caboose shouted.

Genjiro and Moris watched all this from the other side of the room.
Only a select few were annoyed by Spartan Caboose's antic. Those were being Spartans close to Caboose.

And even then, no one could stay hating on Spartan Caboose.
Such a kind and innocent soul.

Genjiro had also noticed that despite his rambling resembling those of mad men, it did hold wisdom.

And to be fair, Genjiro didn't think Tai was wrong. UNSC was all about equal opportunities and chances. It showed in the armours of their soldiers too. Even those like Private Tai and Private Moris had energy shields.

Which also meant they were near unstoppable against Raiders. Hell, Genjiro was sure that even Araska would have a hard time fighting the UNSC army.

Genjiro had already finished his meal, but stayed a while to chat wtih Moris and the rest of the people in the cafeteria before they had to head off for work.

Time wasn't strict in UNSC. Only when it was emergencies did they need to stick to every second.

"So the road block is market entrance, huh?"

Genjiro heard Spartan Cell's voice as he walked through the hallway.

It was like hearing Saburo Arasaka's voice while one was working in the central office of Arasaka.
A gift, for sure.

"Our vehicles have finished testing and improvement, sir. Ready for mass-production. We just need to find a platform to advertise our product and our company name."

"Which is where the problem lies…"

Genjiro turned around, he could feel his mouth getting slightly dry.
He… he thought he knew a solution to this problem.

No, he was sure he had a solution.

Did he dare intervene in President Cell's business like so?
If it was Arasaka he was sure to get punished for this.

But with all the gifts he had been given by the CEO of Reds and Blues, he had to return the favour somehow.

"I… President Cell…" Genjiro felt his voice go weak but he pushed through.

Both Spartan Cell and the Spartan next to him turned to look at Genjiro. Genjiro first swallowed the saliva forming in his mouth to moisten his throat.
Quite honestly, if Spartan Cell got angry here and now, and ordered Genjiro to commit harakiri, Genjiro would follow through without complaint.

Of course, Genjiro knew from the back of his mind that President Cell wouldn't be the type of person to order something like that.

"I… I am terribly sorry for eavesdropping like this, sir. Please forgive me for such disrespect but… I… I may have a solution to that problem."

Spartan Cell tilted his head. 4 spectral nodes, shining like eyes, focused on Genjiro. "Oh, really? Shoot."

Genjiro nodded. "I have contacts. 'Had', might be the better word. But I know people- companies, those in charge of markets and malls in the Corporate Center of Night City. I used to talk with them and make deals when I was an executive in Arasaka. To… distribute products Arasaka was willing to sell in Night City. I still remember their number because they called me so many times. I can contact them again, get some of the first few cars we are willing to sell. They might scoff at the deal at first. They know I was removed from Arasaka. But the product we show them might make them consider-"

Spartan Cell quietly held his open palm up, which made Genjiro immediately stop talking and look to the floor.

That's when he heard Spartan Cell talk.

"Genjiro will be risking his life talking to people like that. I want people guarding him as he gets in contact. Preferably a fireteam of ODST at the minimum. Anything Genjiro needs to make a deal in our favour, provide it to him."

Genjiro felt his eyes widen.

"Genjiro?"

"P-President Cell! Sir!"

Genjiro bowed his head, hips at a 75 degrees angle.

"If you can manage to establish a place for us in the market as you suggested, I'll be putting you in charge of our office within Night City. Are you okay with that?"

Genjiro blinked. That offer was… was…
… wow…

"That is… that is a lot, President Cell. Before anything, I will make sure to accomplish this goal."

"You heard the man. He's our hope. Help him with whatever he needs."

Cell patted Genjiro's back.

"Good luck."

When Genjiro heard the CEO's footstep echo behind him, he simply straightened back up and looked back to Cell with awe.

He had to succeed.
This was the best way he can repay all the kindness UNSC had showed him.

The silver bullet that will lead this Organisation to greatness on Earth.

Like hell he was going to let this fail.

For UNSC, he quietly muttered.

For the one coroporation that actually acted like they gave a damn about the people working for it.

Dexter Deshawn's bodyguard was by the doorway, quietly looking at the security cameras with his interface.
Everything was all… clear, he thought.
Albeit it was quiet hard to see everything when it was so dark.
Night time, he thought.
He saw the fixer that hired him look all the more nervous as he watched the clock.

That's when a camera showed a slight movement in the shadows.
Something was coming. Something quiet, something subtle.

The bodyguard quickly grabbed the pistol on the table, which startled Dexter Deshawn.

"What, what is it?" The fat fixer urgently asked.

However the Bodyguard couldn't answer.
Because just then, he saw a single flash outside the window, on the opposite building to them.

It was flash from the moonlight being reflected by something.

The bodyguard realised too late that it was a scope reflecting the moonlight, when a bullet whizzed into the opening of the barricaded window and opened a hole right between the bodyguard's eyes.

Dexter Deshawn watched as the shades on the Bodyguard split into half and fell to the floor, blood splattering the wall.

He screamed in panic. Quickly grabbing his Plan B and stuck to the wall, away from the windows.

That was when he heard the door to his hotel room open.

Noble 6 choked the Barghest soldier out.

"Hello? Are… are you still in there?" Charles' voice on the other side of the door was cautiously asking once the angry Barghest suddenly became silent.

"This… is Baba Yaga. Stella Ramoss sent me. Am I speaking to Bill or Charles?"

Noble 6 answered for the Barghest soldier.

"Oh…. Oh… Oh shit…" Was all Charles said for a while.

"I-I'm Charles. I'd like to open the door for you, but it's… stuck."

"Move back."

Noble 6 grabbed the door with one hand and ripped it off the metal frame.
Noble 6 quietly set the door down next to him and showed himself to the blood soaked Charles.

"Oh my fucking god…" was all Charles said as he stood there, face to face with Noble 6.

If Charles hadn't gone to the toilet recently, he was positive he would have pissed his pants right there.

"Bill is… Bill is this way. Hey Bill! Bill! Look who your Fiance hired to rescue us!"

"What-! What is it, keep it quiet and- Oh… Oh my fucking god…"

As Charles guided Noble 6 to his partner, the other NCPD officer stood there speechless. Also covered in blood.

… Noble 6 sighed a little. He didn't think he would bother asking questions about why there was a corpse on the table, dissected.

"Oh…shit, shit shit shit!" Dexter Deshawn said in a hushed tone as he saw who was stepping into his room.

A walking suit of armour, Eyeless skull as a helmet.

He knew exactly who it was.

It was Baba Yaga. THE FUCKING BABA YAGA…
He had seen the guy, and the team he lead, walking into Afterlife to get jobs from Rogue-fucking-Amendiares.

He knew exactly what they were capable of.

"Look, man. I, I know someone sent you to get me. But… But we can talk, right? We can negotiate. Let's negotiate! I'm a fixer too, you know? I've… I-I've got eddies! Half of what I have, I can give to you to tell whoever sent you that you lost track of me- that by the time you managed to track me down it was too late. We can- We can make a deal!"

Agent Locust stood there silently. Stood there dead still. No movement that even indicated he was breathing.
Like a statue, he was illuminated by the little specks of moonlight streaming between the barricades. Standing right next to the corpse of what used to be the fixer's bodyguard.
Dexter Deshawn couldn't see his eyes but he could feel the stare from this god damn monster.

"We can… we can make a fucking deal, come on! Speak to me goddammit…"

Dexter's breath became heavy as fear was slowly catching up to him. The longer he stared at the assailant, the more Agent Locust looked less human.

Dexter didn't realise what Arasaka's Counter intelligence found.

That they disguise themselves as mercs, boogeymen-for-hire. And they all ate that up hook, line, and sinker.
They are not mercs.
They are not boogeymen, they are not here to hide under the bed or inside closets to take kids at night.
They are not the Baba Yaga. The slavic witch can at least be tricked, can be reasoned with.
They are not human.
They are worse.

They are darkness itself taken form. They mimic speech to make the rest think they can be negotiated, that they can be reasoned, that they can compromise. They have shown their true colours once they strike, for at that moment they no longer have a reason to keep up the facade.
They are demons, wearing human hide.
And the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.

Dexter Deshawn fell for that trick. Thought they could be negotiated, that a deal could be made.

Agent Locust no longer had a reason to keep up the facade.

"Wait… wait wait waitgodpleaseno… NO!"

Agent Locust picked up the pistol on the floor and aimed.
He pulled the trigger with zero hesitation.

Noble 6 picked up the revolver on the floor and aimed.
He pulled the trigger with zero hesitation.

Dodger, on the floor and howling in pain, had his brief misery ended permanently by his own custom modified handgun.

Several Barghest laid around the garage, dead.
Their faces contorted with pain and fear.

Bill and Charles stared at the scene, mouth ajar.

This was what those Tyger Claws were facing?

Noble 6 turned to the NCPD hiding behind their car.

"Are the two of you hurt?"

Charles stood there speechless, but Bill answered instead. Albeit with a stammer.

"Ye-wha-…. Ye-yeah, we're fine… we're fine."

Noble 6 nodded.

"Good. Time for us to leave."

Noble 6 looked to the door. He was sure more was coming this way.
Bill stood there, staring at Noble 6. He would continue looking at the Spartan if it wasn't for his partner-in-crime to snap him out of it.

"Come on, Bill! We need to go!"

"Right-! Right!"

As Bill and Charles got into their car, Noble 6 opened the garage door and gestured them to go.

They didn't have any reason to wait, immediately hitting the pedal to the metal and leaving.

It was time for Noble 6 to go too. As he turned on his camouflage module, he contacted Agent Locust through the comms.

"This is Noble 6. I'm finished on my end."

Agent Locust's distorted voice answered from the other end.

"This is Locust. I hear you loud any clear Noble 6, we're finished on our end too."

Noble 6 looked at the Revolver still in his hands. He had taken the weapon without thinking about it, but he guessed it was good to have a back up weapon right now in case there were obstacles while he was returning to his team.

Chapter Text

Locust looked at the shard that Rogue slide to his side.

“Finally got info that you wanted… you know, about cows and pigs.”

Locust nodded as he took the shard. Rogue had also prepared a truck for him. How nice of her.

“Oh, and one question.”

Rogue spoke as Locust rose from his seat.

“Dexter Deshawn was found with a bullet in his head in a rundown motel, Pacifica.”

Rogue quietly tapped her fingers on the synth-leather couch.

“You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

Locust silently stared at Rogue.

Rogue will be honest, she was suspicious of Baba Yaga.
But then again, she was suspicious about every 1st rate Mercs being involved in that assassination.
MO didn’t fit Voodoo Boys, who would rather kill him using daemons and viruses. And if it was the Barghest they wouldn’t have killed him so silently. Probably dragged him across the broken pavement until his lard ass fell apart from friction, then pump bullets into the fixer.
This was too clean, too quiet.
No traces of the perpetrator.

Standard Baba Yaga behaviour.

Barghest had also faced heavy setback thanks to Dodger turning up dead in his own headquarter. Which made Rogue all the more sure it was a Merc’s work.

“I don’t go near Pacifica.” Locust lied. “Reilly might know something, though.”

Rogue sneered. “Of course she would.” That cheeky little shit had suddenly become the centre of the network of info. Baba Yaga had made her so big that nearly every information went past her first at this point. Even Rogue was starting to use Reilly as a source of info for a gig or two.

Locust walked out of the VIP room, disappearing into the shadows as soon as he walked around the corner.

Rogue’s took a sip of Whisky that Locust didn’t touch.
He never touched the drinks in the club.

A farmer woke up in the middle of the night.
The cows he was keeping in stations, fed with hormones and antibiotics like they were food and water, was mooing in distress.

The pigs too, squealing in the night air.

The Farmer felt something was wrong. Something was off.
Probably some no good Chooms, stupid enough to try and steal something… or vandalise something.

The Farmer grabbed his shotgun next to his desk and pumped it.
Well, let’s see if they’re still laughing with lead stuck in whatever skull they have left.

The Farmer quietly opened his front door and walked to the farm Shotgun ready and aimed to shoot at anything that moves.

He couldn’t fire.

There he saw, A Cow and a pig floating in the air, looking like they were getting carried out from the farm.
But there were no one else.
How- How were they-

The Farmer felt something grab his shotgun out of his hand in an instance, the farmer fell on his rear thanks to the force.
The shotgun was dismantled in an instant, and there the Farmer stood in disbelief as he saw a black space suit with white highlights, for the briefest moment, be visible right in front of him.

A gigantic figure, a towering figure that stood more than 2 or 3 head taller than him.
Standing menacingly, like Adam Smasher.

Then all of a sudden it disappeared. And so did the cow and pig.

The Farmer sat there on the dirt, hearing the Cows and Pigs calming down and going silent again.

The Farmer felt his pants were warm and wet.

Who could blame him?
He just bumped into the fucking boogeyman. 

Genjiro drank a bottle of water inside the UNSC-developed truck, Cadet Moris gently tapped on Genjiro’s shoulder and gave him a thumbs up.

“Hey, Genjiro. Relax, you’ll do fine!”

2 other UNSC soldiers nodded in support, as 4 ODSTs silently kept watch on the outside road.
This was the first time the ODSTs had entered Night City. Civilians and dirty roads were all that they could see, but they heard enough from the newest recruits about potential gang fights occurring on the road that they could be in the crossfire.

Night City Citizens, on the other hand, saw as the giant armoured Cargo Truck dominated the road with its size.
Gigantic. Of course it was, it was housing 3 different vehicles that would serve as a demo for Red and Blue’s first ever product.

Genjiro smile and quietly nodded. He freely admitted to the people here about just how stressful it was to meet these people to negotiate business.
They wanted something as much as he wanted something, sometimes even more. 
Luckily, Genjiro had honed his skills to get the results he wanted. How else do you think he earned the executive position in Arasaka? Rail his superiors whenever they ringed for him to come to their office?

“This is the location, right Genjiro?” The ODST behind the wheels quickly looked back to ask Genjiro. The Corpo nodded.

“Yes. This is the place.”

Large sleek buildings rose up from the ground like towers, the streets were a little cleaner and people here were dressed better than the rest - clean and pristine suits and dresses.
Definitely the upper class.

Genjiro quitely stared at his own uniform: High collared uniform with padded armour on the arms shoulders, back and chest. It was comfortable, and quality was certainly high.
It just wasn’t for Corpos and rich people that favours famous designer brands.

Genjiro didn’t care about the design though. He resonated more with UNSC’s philosophy than Night City at this point. Hell, with how he was living for the past few weeks he might as well be from a UNSC colony planet.

Howard, the owner of the very famous mall ‘The View’, was already waiting outside.
Genjiro saw the man’s widen in surprise when he realised the Gigantic truck marked [Reds and Blues], the logo above was a Red Mark IV Spartan helmet painted in side view, with a blue flaming plasma grenade stuck to the back.

Howard had laughed when he first got Genjiro’s call 2 days ago. Last time he heard about him he was fired from Arasaka, was half-on the run as a beggar. Howard believed Genjiro had called him for help, for a new job.
Expect his surprise when he heard that he was in a new Megacorp that he had never heard of, pitching a new product.
Howard thought it was a scam. It had to be, who would take a homeless beggar living off the streets and trash in and give them a job?

Howard flinched and was sweating bullets when soldiers clad in black armour come out of the truck first, brandishing SMGs as they formed a cover for Genjiro. That was the moment Howard knew that Genjiro wasn’t lying- there was a new megacorp. And they had soldiers that fit the descriptions of the Baba Yaga. Howard only managed to relax when 

“Howard. It’s nice to meet you again.” Howard looked at Genjiro from head to toe. Genjiro was looking way better than before, when he was still in Arasaka. No dark circles under his eyes, no signs of blood shot-eyes. His skin was looking much brighter and younger.
Overall, he looked healthier. He was eating good diet, getting good exercise.

Unlike the slight port belly Howard had that indicated his slightly below-average health lifestyle.

Howard put on his business smile. “It’s good to see you back on your feet again too. The current Arasaka executive is a bitch and a half to handle. Makes me wish you were still here.”

Genjiro knew Howard was just trying to butter him up. But there was no harm in dismissing his attempt. He needed this to succeed, and Genjiro had worked with Howard long enough to push the right buttons. Genjiro smiled and grabed Howard’s outstretched hand. “Well, here I am. Different MegaCorp- a new one, but I assure you that you will not be disappointed.”

We’ll see about that, Howard thought to himself as he shook Genjiro’s hand.

“So, Reds and Blues huh?” Howard noted as he looked at the truck, and then to the soldiers body guarding Genjiro. “Quite the Megacorp if it can print out a military truck and these soldiers. How come Night City never heard about them?”

“Because it was a recent addition to Night City.”

Howard tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

“How recent…?”

“Only a few weeks. This is their first introduction to Night City.”

Howard quietly scanned the scenery in front of him. Both figuratively and literally.
Nothing showed up on the database, which meant either Genjiro was telling the truth, or these people were so secretive that they decided not to reveal any information about them to anyone else.

The former was much more plausible in this situation, and Howard nodded.

“Where’s the MegaCorp from? Germany? NUSA?”

“Space.” Genjiro bluntly answered. He had already been informed by Cell about what he could and could not reveal to the public right now - Red and Blue being a MegaCorp from space was bound to be public knowledge sooner or later.

Genjiro witnessed Howard’s eyes slowly getting bigger in realisation - Red and Blue was the company that came down from that giant flying gunship, looming over Earth.
They were the one that built that shiny building in the middle of the Badlands near the trash mountain, the one that built that building on Laguna Bend that was purifying the water.

Howard cleared his throat and slowly changed his stance. If they were capable of such performance as soon as they entered Night City, then they were bound to have products that was bound to have everyone’s interest and attention.

“Well, hopefully they enjoy their stay, and… well, I guess we should stop with the talking and get down to business.”

Genjiro nodded as one of the UNSC soldiers walked back into the truck - the back of the cargo hold opened up, and a new car rolled out and onto the road.

“Our newest product: the Black Mamba.”
Howard stared at the car rolling up beside Genjiro and the armoured soldiers surrounding the Corpo - a black and dark-green sports car, the edges were prominent that made the whole vehicle slightly blocky. 

It was… unique, Howard thought as he snorted. He wasn’t going to lie, the vehicle looked somewhere between savagely militaristic and elegantly posh. Like a manufacturer that only knew how to build economy cars decided to copy a hypercar design but didn’t know how so they half-assed it.

“I could stand here explaining everything about this car… or I can just give it to you to try out the product yourself. I do assure you, it will be an experience like no other car.”

The Soldier stepped out of the car and gave Genjiro the key, to which the Corpo threw the key to Howard, who caught it effortlessly. Howard checked just how pristine the card looked. Durable too. A Red R and Blue B was marked as an initial on the corner.

Howard glanced at Genjiro, and sceptically got into the driver seat of the car.
The door closed smoothly, and he saw as the screen right on top and behind the wheel lit up with life.

Genjiro walked up to the window. “Have a drive around the corner and back.

Howard shrugged as he plugged the key into the ignition. Guess he’ll do just that to see just how good this car is.

…
…

Holy shit, Howard thought as he made a curve to the right.
The engine, and gears, the handle and the turning itself-
It was smooth. Way too smooth.
He knew from the touch - he had bought enough cars in his lifetime ever since he rose to the position to get the difference.
Howard silently looked around as he stepped on the pedal. Seamless acceleration.

He returned to the View, and got out of the car with his mouth slightly ajar.
Howard tried to return the key, but was surprised when Genjiro refused. “The demo can be extended for 24 hours.”

Howard stared at Genjiro as the Corpo fixed his collar. “We will be visiting another buyer tomorrow - you may freely enjoy our product until then. And know that while we can print out as much as you want to order, our stocks are… finite.”

Howard had negotiated business with Genjiro so many times before. Majority of the product Genjiro advocated for was pretty much cream of the crops - sold like hot pancakes made from the high-sugar wheat used to make CHOOH2.

He knew, his instincts, his experience knew one thing:
People will come to the View because of the hot news about a Megacorp from space.
And people will stay because of how high the quality of the new Megacorp’s products.

“I-“ Howard was thinking of the possibilities, the potential profit, but he hesitated for a moment because the back of his mind was still unsure about all this, and Genjiro took that moment to raise a hand and stop him.

“We can negotiate the pricing and rest of business tomorrow. For now, enjoy our demo product to the fullest.”

Genjiro turned back to the rest of the soldiers and gave a slight bow to them. The rest of the soldiers, in turn nodded as they started escorting Genjiro back into the truck.
Genjiro briefly turned back to look at Howard.

“I’ll give you call when it’s time for us to talk about business.”

Howard could only nod at that. He was fidgeting with the car key, feeling the texture of its surface.

Howard stayed up in his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His wife was already sound asleep. Tired from working as the accountant.
She had been surprised about the new car, asking him if he decided to buy another one for his collection.

He told her everything - the MegaCorp from the stars,, who had taken a man dragged down to failure due to sabotage and backstabbing into their arms to work for them, a new product. The car.

The car.

The goddamn car.

Howard looked at his hands.
One thing he loved more than luxury items were the engines that veered to life.
He used to race when he was young, and he was damn good at it too.

But life gives you so little happiness, drowning out your hobbies with mandatory responsibilities.

…
… He had heard about there being a race starting in Corpo Plaza, if you had the money to pitch into the bet you were welcome.

Fuck it, Howard thought as he quietly got out of the bed, going to his closet and grabbing his old racing suit. Genjiro wanted him to try it out, and Howard was going to try it out alright.

He closed the door and went to his garage as silently as possible. He didn’t want to ruin his wife’s beauty sleep just because he had the sudden urge to race again.

He called the manager of the race, sent the eddies, participated at the last minute.

The Black Mamba brought him to the race 10 minutes early. He was already feeling the high again. Fuck black laces and cocaine - he considered dopamine from a high thrill race to be the best drug there is.

He felt the flashes bombared the participants - taking pictures and videos of the cars and their racers.
Ever other competitors had their car fully tuned and decked out with custom parts. Will he be able to win against them? Howard didn’t know. But that didn’t matter - he just didn’t want to waste this precious opportunity away by just driving below 50 mph on a slow road.

“Hey, Howard!” A Valentino that he used to race together tapped on the glass with a happy expression. “I didn’t know you came back to racing, man! How’ve you been, choom!”

Howard laughed. “Pretty great. I’m just coming back to race one more time, though.”

The Valentino laughed and nodded. “Still can’t get the thrill of the road out of your mind, huh? Well, keep yourself alive alright? I can tell you came here without telling your input! Don’t wanna drag your corpse back to her and explain the situation.”

Howard waved his hand as he chuckled.
He can feel his heart thumping in his chest. How durable was this car? Was it bulletproof? Can it take an impact?

He didn’t know, but he was more than willing to limit test it out of pure impulse.

The racer was all heading into their driver’s seat. The race was starting soon.

Engines revved to life, making sounds like roars of the beast.
The only one that didn’t was Black Mamba. Like the snake, it was silent.

But Howard knew that silent was deadly.

And boy, was the speed it can jump up to deadly as shit.

“Strap in, pray to your gods and get ready to go for pay dirt! Three! Two!

One!”

Cars started to rev to life, Black Mamba overtook them the moment Howard stomped on the pedal.
The black and green car swivelled and swerved around and between cars like a serpent, some cars were already deciding to try and ram the Red and Blue-made vehicle.

They all missed, the Black Mamba was too fast, too flexible.
Howard was shrieking in his seat with excitement.
The other cars were slowly lagging behind him, he had never been this fast before in his life!

His kiroshi optics flashed with info, he saw the yellow holographic line guiding him through the entire race course. Going around the roundabouts, cutting sharp corners-

One of the cars, highly tuned with almost-illegal engines, managed to catch up to the Black Mamba by using a short cut, it T-boned Howard which shocked him so strong he managed to snap out of his dopamine rush to see what was happening. A gruff looking woman was behind the wheels as she tried to make the 1st place skid out of control. Howard damn well thought he was going to as well.

But the Black Mamba broke expectations- tires gripped, the vehicle refused to surrender control. And just like that, out of pure instinct, Howard turned the wheels to use the force of impact against the competitor- the car spun a little, giving way for the competitor that rammed into him to fly past thanks to her own inertia and crash into a corner.

Howard turned the wheels to the opposite direction and prayed for this to work - that the control would be smooth enough.

It sure damn was- the Black Mamba stopped spinning and immediately straightened back up, blazing through the road in a straight direction.

Howard couldn’t believe it, with how easy the control was it was like this car had a life of its own. He didn’t even feel the impact too, like the car was capable of absorbing such force like it was breakfast.

Gunshot rang through the air as he heard metal hit metal - bullets bouncing off of the Black Mamba.
Someone decided to shoot him from the distance, and this was the perfect moment for the car to demonstrate to Howard it’s durability to gunshot.

Some of the Nomad participants decided to use in-built machine guns, but that didn’t impede Black Mamba’s speed.

A sharp bend to left, and Car turned with pinpoint accuracy.

Howard was laughing.
He was still 1st place - he was now in the Glen, driving around the roundabout and going up the highway. He looked briefly at his back mirror, and saw that the 2nd place was nothing more than a speck of dust on the horizon, disappearing the moment he took a sharp right. If he wasn’t so excited with adrenaline rushing through his veins, he would have been sure that there was a truck that whizzed past the other direction with a sickly looking cow at the back, with the Boogeymen behind the wheels.

… Nah, Howard thought. That must’ve just been a hallucination. Delirious, he was, for many reasons.

All of a sudden, he was alone on the road. No music, no shouts and gunfire.
Just him, and the new car.

He didn’t realise just how beautiful the neon-peppered night sky was as he drove up the mountain.

Some of the rocky roads in between caused the speeding vehicle to fly for the briefest moment, which scared Howard. But with how safely it landed, inbuilt springs making the inertia look like it was nothing, just amazed Howard.

He was on a league of his own- he saw the finish mark, 10 minutes before the rest of the car.
In the world of racing, this meant a lot.

“Howard! The participant who joined dead last, is the one who finishes first! What did we just see!”

The announcer’s voice boomed with exasperation and shock.
Audience that was waiting was just as amazed and perplexed.

Howard couldn’t believe it either: the standard car, no tuning and no customisation, was the peak of racing.
He almost felt a little guilty about it, but that drowned out the excitement of…
Well, as everyone heard, first place.

Howard stayed in his seat for a moment, gripping to the wheel.
He was slowly realising too late that one: this wasn’t his car, and two: it had just taken a lot of hits.

He slowly opened the door and stepped outside, prepared to look at the damage.
He wanted to buy this car, he truly did. But Genjiro said that this was a Demo, and this car was meant to be sent to another Corpo with a mall.

Howard stared at the pristine surface of the car: No scratches, no dents, no signs of damage.

Not even the windows showed any scrapes.

My god… this thing was durable, and they managed to make the drivers and passengers safe from potential damage.

They thought of every feature, didn’t they?

Howard slowly blanked out as cameras flashed to take pictures of him and the car. The other racers arrived and tried to speak to him, ask him what the hell was that car.

Howard tried to answer as best as he can, but he didn’t even remember what he said in amidst of all the adrenaline and dopamine drugging him out.

All he remembered was that he stayed on top of that hill, looking at the sunrise in the horizon.
Everything was quiet as he answered his wife’s holo call, worried sick that he had disappeared without a note. Howard told her everything. And only got an exasperated sigh as a return. Howard laughed. He knew she was just relieved nothing went wrong.

The cool wind blew from the badlands. That made him remember that Red and Blue was built there. Was that where this car was printed out? Where more of this vehicle’s brethren were being printed out?

Howard slightly grazed his hand on the top of the hood.

He hands stopped when he saw a name pop up, requesting a holocall.

Genjiro.

This time, Howard didn’t hesitate.

“Howard, this is-“

“I’ll buy it!”

Howard saw Genjiro’s brow rise. But he couldn’t wait.

“I’ll buy the cars, how many models are there? Is it just this one? How-how much eddies?”

Genjiro smirked at the mention.

“My Superior told me that each will cost 19,000 eddies.”

Howard’s jaws dropped. This high quality of a car and they only wanted 19,000?
No fucking way. A hypercar like this costed an average of 225,000.
Genjiro was bullshiting. He had to be, he had to be taunting Howard.

“Enough with the jokes, Genjiro. I’m serious, I’m willing to buy your stocks for the View!”

“And I am serious as well. 19,000 each.”

Howard dragged his hand over his mouth. Genjiro wasn’t shitting him - this car really was going to be 19,000.
That was going to fuck over Rayfield. Hell, this was going to fuck over Thorton and Villefort too. Did they know this?
… Was that their plan?

Howard didn’t care. No matter how much it really costed, Howard knew from his experience that just having these cars placed in the market was bound to fuck over quite a few vehicle manufacturers.

“… How much do you have in stock?” Howard finally asked.

“How much do you want?” Genjiro replied with question of his own.

“… How many other models are you selling?” Howard didn’t need to try the other models to know that they will blow the competition out of the water. And he knew that would be inevitable.
And if it was inevitable, he might as well be on the profiting end.

“3. We have the Black Mamba, Diamond Back, and Cottonmouth.”

Howard wet his dry lips, the flakes of skins stuck back on as soon as moisture was applied.

“I want 5,000 for each model. We can negotiate for more once I put them on the View.”

Howard looked to the car next to him, before he made an ultimatum.

“And I want to personally buy the car you gave me for the demo, and the other two models.”

Howard heard Genjiro chuckle.

“Willing to be our first customer? That’s fine by me. I’ll bring the first batch to the View, we can finish our business there.”

Howard stepped into his new car as Genjiro ended the call. Shit, maybe he needed to go to the nearest station to refuel on CHOOH2. After all, with how hard he put the pedal to the metal, he most likely burned most of the fuel-

Howard saw the fuel gauge barely going below 96%.

All that exhaustion in the race and he only wasted 4% at best.

 “… Are you genuinely shitting me…?”

Genjiro ended the call and turned to Cell.

“We have established ourselves in the Market.”

Cell laughed through his helmet. Red and Blue predicted that it would’ve taken somewhere between 2 weeks to a month for them to establish themselves in Night City.
Genjiro managed to do it in a day.

Genjiro bowed to Cell as he took interest in Cell’s newest creations: Insects, beetles and worms and butterflies were fluttering around in a small terrarium.
… Were they beetles and butterflies?

He heard from the geneticists that Cell recently decided to genetically create new life forms based on the leftover SCOP stuck to the packets in trash mountain.

Cell saw where Genjiro’s gaze was heading. He felt his mouth itch. 
Fuck me, Cell thought. He wanted to explain this to Genjiro.

And Genjiro was all ears before he had to head over to the View once more.

“Cool, isn’t it? To see such a diverse forms of life originate from leftover food.”

Genjiro blinked as he slowly straightened his back. “Yes, sir.”

“It’s all got something to do with the Hox gene. That’s where all the body plan of an organism is coded by.”

Genjiro nodded his head. He could understand that.

“All I had to do was slightly tamper with the Hox genes to get worms and beetles and butterflies out of it. And tamper the other genes for behaviour, and now we have beetles that eat waste product as a juvenile and worms that enrich the soil, and butterflies that live on trees and crops before spreading pollen with the beetles.”

Cell turned to Genjiro. “Automated crop distribution system, perfect for environment restoration too.”

Genjiro felt Cell grinning like a madman behind his helmet.

“Oh, yeah. I’m making a poll for the rest of the company to decide on our next product. Be sure to vote for one you think would be good.”

Genjiro looked at the office window, looking down at the vertical farm and greenhouses.

Food. It had to be the fresh foods that they were capable of making in excess.
But that was just Genjiro’s thoughts. Maybe the rest of Red and Blue had different opinions.

Chapter Text

“Holy Shit, Maine!” Rebecca shouted as she jumped up and down at the sight of the new car Main had brought. The dark outside parking lot of the AfterLife had people staring at the Edgerunner’s new ride the moment it rolled in.
Night time accentuated the neon lights spewing out from the signs, and those neon lights hit the top of the Black Mamba to accentuate its edges and surface.

“This is… that’s the car! Street Race’s newest record!” Pillar exclaimed as he rubbed the surface of the car with his palm.

Dorio and Sasha sighed as they saw the biggest shit-eating grin plastered on Maine’s face.
The leader was proud, alright.

“It’s only recently been released on the market, right? They only have 40 of it available on the View. How did you get your hands on it?”

“I had strings. Managed to snag the last one. I heard that they were going to release a total of 5000 for each of the 3 models over time, but who would be willing to wait until then?”

Black Mamba laid Valiantly on the asphalt road as the siblings were jumping from one place to another, before jumping into the car and testing out the seats, grabbing the wheel and pretending to go on a test drive.

“And how much did it cost this time?” Dorio asked with an annoyed sneer. Maine grinned even wider than before, he was prepared to surprise them all.

“25,000 eddies!”

Dorio and Sasha blinked twice before their eyes widened.

“Only 25,000?!”

“That’s Cheap!”

“I know! But apparently the price the new Megacorp sold these cars to the View was only 19,000!” Maine bellowed out a laugh. 

Now Dorio was going around checking the car with Rebeccah and Pillar, lifting the front hood to take a look at the engine.

“Holy Shit!” Pilar exclaimed as he tried to scan all the parts with his monoeye. Hydraulics pumps looked way too strong, like it can turn triple the cycle of a standard racing car. “Oi, Maine! Don’t you dare bullshit us! An engine this preem can’t be going only for 19,000 eddies!” Pillar turned back and shouted, only getting Maine to grin widely.

“Shit, I can tell why it won the race like it was a baby’s course! You sure the View owner didn’t race with this just for a publicity stunt?!”

When your first product was this good, it was only matter of time before your Corporation made a name that swept the streets.

While Black Mamba was the newest hot, Diamond Back and Cottonmouth was slowly gaining fame as well, especially to the few nomads that managed to snag the cars.
Better for off roads, the two were, and just as fast.

Rogue herself had managed to snag a Cottonmouth. The navy blue car had the front of the car slightly split into a triangular shape (resembling the open mouth of a viper, or a Sangheili) that slowly went into a gradient from Cobalt to silver, and laid on her personal parking space for all to see and bask in its glory.

“Damn, Reds and Blues ain’t playing around, huh?” Dorio muttered as she checked the inside of the car - the wheels and lights were near-futuristic, the grip felt way too comfortable.

The only problem with these vehicles was that customisation wasn’t allowed.
It wasn’t because Reds and Blues purposely put a stop to modification, no- it was just that the engines, circuits and chassis was just too well fitted together.
If one managed to modify a Black Mamba, it wouldn’t be a Black Mamba anymore: and Dorio and Pillar highly doubted that the result would be any better than the current car.

The technology crammed into this little sweetie was just that good.

“The streets are already talking about their potential new products. Everyone’s buzzing about the new Megacorp.” Rebecca answered, both hands resting on the back of her head as she tried bouncing on the passenger seat.

“Can you blame them?” Dorio turned to Rebecca and smirked. “It’s a Megacorp from outer space, and they introduce themselves by giving us the newest best cars of Night City.”

“I’ve heard Villefort and Mizutani are already foaming at the mouth. Gigs are popping up that’s asking mercs to try and get some info from the Reds and Blues.” Rebecca snickered as she relayed the words from the vines.

No one really thought that they would succeed.
But greed was known to blind good judgement.

“Alright, that’s enough gawking at the car.” Maine said as he pointed to the entrance to the Afterlife. “Sasha has a gig at Biotechnica soon, let’s have a drink while we have time. I can let you guys have a test drive tomorrow.”

“Wahoo! Drinks!”

Maine watched as his crew went down the stairs. They were all excited, sure. But what Maine was silently more excited about was that he had heard from his contacts that Reds and Blues were thinking about dipping into Cyberwares too.

Imagine that, he thought. Chromes built from Alien Knowledge.
Those were guaranteed to be preem, right?

-oOo-

Locust sat silently in his seat. Placed in the corner of the Afterlife stopped the outside sound from entering in.
Lights too - While Faraday was basked in the only light in the room like it was a spotlight, Locust stayed in the shadows - the edge of the lamp just barely illuminating the curves of his helmet and platings.

“Agent Locust, of the Baba Yaga. I’ve heard many things about you. Your team, your exploit, your results. And the rumours about you and your crew. Do you know how long it took for me to reach you?” 

“What do you want.” Faraday’s grin widened into a smile at Locust’s response. He didn’t play into Faraday’s praises, he didn’t play himself up.
He cut through the bullshit, and got down to what mattered.

Faraday placed a shard on the table, and slid it over to Locust.
Locust just stared at the shard as it came to a stop once it hit Locust’s untouched glass of whiskey.

Water droplets were already forming on the outside surface.

Locust looked back to Faraday as he pulled out his phone and inserted the shard into it. Faraday watched carefully as Locust did the unorthodox in Night City Standard - to him, it looked like Locust was extra careful in what he put into his interface.
Good, Faraday thought. That was most likely one reason why Baba Yaga was so successful in carrying out a gig.
The screen flashed to life as Locust didn’t even move his head.

Like a statue, as soon as the screen went back to black, Locust spoke.

“A Militech request.” The distorted voice flared to life.

“Is that a problem? I’ve already heard that your team taken a Megacorp gig. Flawlessly completed it too.” 

Faraday tried to catch any sort of body language from the top of the shelf merc.
But he couldn’t get a read out of him, even with his 4 eyes.

Without even moving an inch of his body, Locust spoke.

“I’m only sending one of my subordinates to Biotechnica.”

Faraday smiled.

“Whatever gets the gig done. And whoever is going, tell them it’s going to be an easy job for them - I’ve specifically made the gig be done tonight so that we have another merc taking a different gig in that same building that can act as decoy.”

Locust stood up, and disappeared into the shadows.
He didn’t touch the whiskey at all.

Good. Faraday thought.
Everyone here knew that if the glasses were untouched, the Baba Yaga was taking up the job right away.

-oOo-

Sasha still remembers the kaleidoscope her mother had gifted her.

Shasha walked through the streets of Corpo Plaza on foot. She had her pink Omaha holstered on her left thigh in case anyone expressed their fancy in less than favourable methods.

The cat-like netrunner walked to the entrance of Biotechnica’s Night City division with confidence, only stopping for a moment to look up to the top of the building because she saw a glimpse of some unknown mass move.

Of course, there was nothing when she tried to take a clearer look. Optics did not pick up anything weird either.

Must’ve been the trick of the neon light.

Sasha walked over to the front entrance, pulling a cord out from her wrist and plugging it into the terminal.

The locked doors opened effortlessly just as quickly as Sasha quietly closed her eyes to focus. Data appearing as green dots of light for the briefest of moments. Sasha quickly checked the inside from the side of the door, and watched as the light stream of the security camera gave way to a road for her to run through.

Sasha jumped over the counter, plugging the cord from her wrist into the terminal once more to temporarily turn the entire security system off.

Among the Netrunners of Night City, Sasha was considered one of the best. 

[Sasha, you in? In ‘n out, kid. Jammer ain’t gonna hold forever.]

Message from Maine popped up in her optics, as she sighed a little in relief and headed into the elevator. 

The two sides of the large and empty elevator was contrasting: one side glowing blue showed a nutrisupplement in an almost angelic light, with a halo and white wings.
The sign left to her was in a reddish pink hue, nymph perfume with a little devil tail accentuating the end of the e.

Sasha quietly waited for the lift to take her to her desired level, blowing and popping a bubble of her chewing gum.

She ran through the corridor basked in red light, quickly hacking into the terminal once more to dash into the office without difficulty.
Sasha took off her coat and placed her bag down next to the chair, opening the zip and taking out a headset.

The netrunner plugged it into the computer, and searched for information that the edgerunner was hired to bring to the fixer.

Financial reports, emails…
Confidential files meant nothing to her, just a flick of a finger and an 8 code password was just a door with a half-assed lock.

Sasha immediately sent the files regarding immunosuppressant 0.091 to Maine.

[Niiice. Now haul ass ‘fore anyone catches you.]

That’s should have been the end of the gig.
The security jammer had bought enough time for her to pack up everything and leave.

But one confidential file caught her eyes, stopped her in her spot.

Securicine.
Access LV1 or higher required.

-oOo-

“This is Noble 6. I’m in position.”

Noble 6 reported as he looked down from the Biotechnica building.
Heights never really bothered him.

It used to, back when he was just a little boy.
But you drop from Pelicans and even from a covenant carrier ship in orbit for roughly a month…
… You get used to the distance.

You get used to a lot of things.

Noble 6 gripped the door and waited for his BUTLR AI to unlock the doors for him.
It was funny to him, how easy it was for UNSC dumb AIs to reach in and tamper with Night City’s broken up networks.

According to Ram, the difference in software and network between UNSC and Night City, was like a Pelican in space and a Civilian Car on the ground.

You can’t reach a Pelican in Space with a Civilian Car on the ground, but you can reach Civilian Car on the Ground with a Pelican in Space.

Noble 6 felt like the analogy was a bit inaccurate, but it did the trick in explaining why a Dumb AI can get in an out of a foreign network so easily.

Hell, Smart AIs can readily interact with Forerunner network and command Alien technology with a snap of a finger, so Earth’s network shouldn’t be that hard.

[We have decoy below you in case anything ever goes wrong. You know the mission.] Agent Locust’s voice replied back in the typical distorted fashion.

Noble 6 turned on the active camo.
Sure, decoy was going to turn the security system off, sure.
But that wasn’t going to take out the human factor of the security equation.

Noble 6 walked into the office. He didn’t even need to touch any of the interface - BUTLR did it for him.

If there was any outside perspective, it was… scary.
Just how easily the doors and electronic systems gave way to the hulking giant, like the machines had minds of their own,
And those minds were scared shitless of the boogeyman too.

The Boogeyman simply walked around the desk and stared at the screen.
That’s all he had to do - the BUTLR did the rest.

“Agent Locust, this is Noble 6. I have the data.”

[Even what we need for Reds and Blues? We need every Megacorp data we can get whenever we get the chance - I highly doubt an opportunity like this will rear it’s head for us again for a while.]

Noble 6 stopped to check is HUD.

There was two things Agent Locust asked for.
1: The data Faraday asked for the gig.
2: The rest of the data within Biotechnica for Spartan Cell.

Noble 6 went through each and individual files that BUTLR and siphoned out from the computer.

[I have found additional confidential files. Shall I unlock and transfer the content as well?]

Noble 6 nodded. They needed everything, no exceptions.

[All files transferred, sir. Excellent haul, I should say.]

Noble 6 relayed the information.

“This is Noble 6. I have both objectives- making my exit.”

[Watch out Noble 6 - I’ve gotten message from Faraday that the decoy decided to overextend themselves: Jammer’s down and security’s been triggered.]

As if on que, Noble 6 heard footsteps as robots with rifles started to run across the corridor.
Luckily Noble 6 hadn’t been noticed, but judging by the Aerodynes marked with the Biotechnica logo flying outside, going back out the same route wasn’t such a favourable option. 

Besides, something didn’t sit well with him with the current situation.
Decoy was going rogue for some reason, and he’d rather find out why the plan wasn’t working out for them.

Noble 6 turned on his active camo once more, and waited for the robots to pass.
He then opened the door, and followed their route.

[Noble 6, I’m seeing your movement on the navs - you mind telling me what you’re doing on the 6th floor?] Agent Locust sounded a bit perplexed at Noble 6’s decision.

[Baba Yaga Leader, permission to save the decoy.]

[…. For what purpose.]

[To find another escape route.]

There was a slight pause on the opposite line.

[Permission granted. I know that you won’t let me down, Noble 6]

-oOo-

Sasha still remembered her mother on her death bed.
And even before then, her mother uncontrollably shaking in her own house.
Sasha and her sister could do nothing but watch as the veteran went through a seizure. Crying.
And Sasha was always gripping onto the Kaleidoscope tightly.

Her mother had always taken Securicine

SECURICINE
CLASSIFIED INFORMATION

CLASS: PAINKILLERS
UNDISCLOSED SIDE EFFECTS: GRADUAL NEURODEGENERATION

1. SIDE EFFECTS WILL NOT BE DISCLOSED TO THE PUBLIC
2. PRODUCT WILL NOT BE PULLED FROM THE MARKET

Sasha took off her headset and looked at the monitor.
Change of plans.

[Jammer’s down! Get outta there! We already got what we need!]

Shasha put her coat back on and slammed the cord into the computer.

She was going to upload this entire classified data to N54.

She wrapped the cord around her rest, loaded her Omaha, and set a bomb to go off once everything was gone.

[Shit-- Sasha! Where are you?!]

[Sorry] was all she could reply to Maine before she cut the line.
She wasn’t planning on coming back any more.

She was ready to fall off the edge.

Metal hitting metal was heard beyond the locked door.
The robots were setting a charge to blast the improvised barricade wide open.

Sasha crouched behind the desk, waiting for them to come in with her omaha in hand. Flash bang in the other.

The charge on the door detonated, smoke bellowing into the room with a deafening sound of explosions.

Robots with green eyes gleaming walked in with their rifles ready. The lack of light in the office made theirs all the more prominent.
They opened fired into the walls of the desk in unison.

Sasha threw the flashbang into the air - and jumped when it went off.
Her implants grew blades like feline claws-

She could almost feel it, the victory.
Almost see it, the young child that used to be Sasha, brown hair and skin that showed no signs of an implant, finally smiling. Even with tears in her eyes.

- Sasha swiped the head off of one robot, stepping on the other two to the stable ground.
The robots openly shooted at her, to which she stopped with a cyberpsychosis quick hack.

One robot’s lack of coherence came quickly - green eyes turning red as it decided to turn on it’s brethern born from the same factory.

Sasha made the mistake to target the robot under cyberpsychosis first, swiping it’s legs under and digging her claws into it’s head.
Oil spilt out like blood, and Sasha watched with eyes wide open. Not fearing the kill.

The other robot was about to turn and open fire at her, and she was getting ready to dodge.

However she was stuck in shock when she saw the robot suddenly flying to the side, crushing into scraps upon impact with the wall.

An invisible force, the Arasaka Masamune the robot was holding was flewing through the air, but stopped the moment it reached somewhere around where robot used to stand.

That’s when the Masamune started firing at the Corridor, sniping the Robots’ heads cleanly off.

The active camo faded, and there he was.
The knight in black armour, here to save Sasha.

Again.

Sasha stared at Noble 6, Masamune in hand.
He cleared the second wave of robots with ease, making sure that he was a barrier between Sasha and the robots, and then turned back to Sasha.

He was like a soldier. Sasha would know - Galina Valieva, her mother, was a soldier herself.
Sasha had always leaned on her back and was in awe with how chiselled and broad it was.
It made her safe, and her mother had always made sure Sasha felt that way.

Just like with Noble 6,
Just like now.

The transfer of Securicine’s files to N54 was already finished.

“Do you have a way out?” Noble 6 asked.

Sasha, without a word, looked to the window behind them.
She never thought about a way out. There used to be, when she was sticking to the plan.

Noble 6 got the gist of it.
He wasn’t very happy.

Noble 6 heard the next wave of security, bullets whizzing into the office.
He shielded Sasha from any threatening fires with his own body, bullets bouncing off the energy shield like it was nothing.

He grabbed Sasha by the waist - big hands tightly gripping her hips and the arms wrapping around her back.

He lifted her up like she weighed nothing, shot at the window with the Masamune, and ran.

Sasha’s bag exploded as Noble 6 jumped out of the emergency exit he freshly created, throwing the Masamune to the side as he aimed his right wrist at the Aerodyne.

He fired his grappling hook and swung.
Of course the Aerodyne wasn’t going to hold their weight, especially the momentum he had just created.

He just needed to cover the extra distance before he landed.
Sasha hugged Noble 6 - gripped the platings his shoulders tight out of sudden shock and awe and fear.

He flew and extra mile even after he set his grappling hook free - the Aerodyne was flying out of control as he tried to break his fall using the thrusters on the mjolnir.

He ended up crashing a random Civilian’s car. He felt sorry for it, truly. But that just didn’t show on his helmet.

It was raining outside. Night sky stretching out beyond what Sasha can see.
She remembered what the other Mercs said in the AfterLife, what Maine and Dorio told her.

About how… if you ask a Baba Yaga for a job, and they don’t touch the drink you ordered for them, then the job will be taken that very moment.

And how every time rain fell down from the Night Sky, some poor Choom was getting dragged into the shadows.

So that’s why you watched out for Shadows that stretch out as longer than your height - there might be something waiting within.

Sasha felt the rain wash out most of her makeup as it slowly gained speed and traction - it was soon pouring.

The rain was washing away the face she put on for everyone to see. The cat-like playful netrunner of Maine’s crew.
The angled bobcut getting mangled by the water, eyeshadow fading.

At that moment, at that night, Sasha Yakovleva was just a grieving woman who’s emotion got the best of her, who just wanted revenge on Biotechnica for what they did to her mother.

And she showed that to Noble 6, who was walking into the shadows between the buildings.

The rain didn’t wash anything off of Noble 6. There was nothing he was hiding.

“Wait… Wait.” Sasha’s voice finally worked. It was lucky that the rain was hiding her tears - once everything blew past, the bottled up sorrows she was holding in was unrelenting in it’s exit.

Noble 6 stopped just on the edge of the highway, the buildings in front casted a shadow that hid half of the Spartan.

“Why were you there for? Were you… were you there for me?”

Noble 6 looked to the side, before looking back at Sasha. 

“No.” His answer was concise.

Sasha blinked. She almost giggled at the absurd situation at hand.
She felt too tired to do that right now.

“It’s… it’s Noble 6, right? Your name? We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

Noble 6 didn’t answer.

“Sasha!” Maine’s voice desperately rang through in the distance, and Noble 6 used that as signal for him to leave.
He turned back to the edge.

“Wait, you can’t just-!”

“Sasha! What the hell!”

Sasha briefly turned to look at Maine running over, his eyes were wide with slight sense of anger and worry, concern.
Like a father that thought his daughter was in danger.

Sasha looked back to where Noble 6.

She just saw the glimpse of the spartan as he fully melted into the shadows, never to be seen again that night.

Noble 6, what kind of person was he?
… She knew that he may have as well been a full’borg.
But he may have also been a man in a suit of armour.

It didn’t matter to much, right? Because there had to be a face under that helmet.
What did he look like, under those golden visors?

What was the colour of his eyes? Was it as golden as the visor? What about the shape? Was it sharp like a knife, or soft and warm like the sun?
What about his hair? Black? Silver? Red? How long was it?

What was the shape of his nose? What about his lips, his chin?

… What forced him to never show his face to anyone? What did he go through?

Sasha wanted to see Noble 6’s face.
She bet that the titan looked kind. Despite all the scary rumours streets have spread.

-oOo-

Agent Locust personally came to the Graveyard to deliver the files regarding Biotechnica.
Genjiro saw as several soldiers parted way for the Spartan.
He had never… never really seen a Spartan with such intimidating visage - an eyeless skull.
A Gashadokuro, as Japan would’ve called him.
A giant skeleton born from those that starved to death in the times were war was rampant, and thus food was scarce.

And to know that the legendary Mercs that was the talk of the city was from UNSC… actually made a lot of sense to the newest employees and recruits. How else were they so good that they were gaining fame in just a couple of weeks?

It felt like an ill omen, but the way the Spartan’s treated him, and in turn how he responded, suggested that might’ve just been paranoia whispering into Genjiro’s ears.

Spartan Cell had patted Agent Locust on the back as he excitedly looked at the file on his table. Spartan Cell was just returning from creating the first batch of cows and pigs based on the samples Baba Yaga had delivered to them: the newest geneticists that used to work for Biotechnica and Arasaka had been staring in awe as Spartan Cell demonstrated how natural cows can be mass-produced.

“It’s all got something to do with a variation of Shotgun genoming. We sequence it, then we send that data into our computer over here, have this little quantum-circuit baby run several simulations on several mutations and scenarios - and voila, in just 10 minutes we have over 500 different variations of cow DNA that still cows, but just genetically different that they are complete individuals to each other, and is distant enough that they aren’t families. We just send that data into our machines over here that have Cow stem cells prepared from the cow blood, and now we have zygotes. Place these into the artificial wombs that I made before hand - that I’m finally using, thanks to our delightful little helpers in Night City - and now we have successfully dominated the meat market.” Spartan Cell had done a little jazz hand in front of the group, to which they all clapped their hand in unison.
There it was - complete stable cloning. Something Biotechnica and Arasaka was trying so hard to reach, trying so many different methods to accomplish for the past several decades and more.

And Cell just showed them the golden egg like it was nothing.

“Yes, yes. Thank you, thank you. I know this is a miracle in your eyes - it’s just another backyard project for me. Now, anyone that wants to take care of the livestock and monitor their health raise your hands… alright. The guys who raised their hands will be reassigned to the newly formed livestock group. The rest of you, go take a break. It’s been a long day. To anyone that’s curious I can show you guys how the program works, and let you guys have fun with it too if you guys want to. It’s an amazing program, mostly because me and Khyl’ made it. It cuts down time taken for simulations and decreases risks, so it’s good to have at least one of you guys know how to use it.”

Work ethic was all time high when your CEO was a considerate man, albeit with his most prominent flaw being his pride and god-complex.
Maybe his drive for science and technology fluctuating from one field to another, where he would immediately throw such responsibility to his subordinates once he got bored, may have been another problem.

But the scientists Reds and Blues had picked off from the badlands was always wanting to learn the technology under Chief Engineer Spartan Cell’s belt. So no one was really complaining about that.

Genjiro was in the Cell’s office for report, so was the others in different fields.
One of them had seemingly found a new life forming at the purified Laguna Bend - Tadpole shrimps and Fairy shrimps, floating at the bottom or around the middle region when the workers and Spartans had sent a drone to see the state of the town during their leisure time. Night City Megacorps would see this and scoff, most likely asking the workers why they tell them such useless information.

Cell would hear this and have hundreds of ideas flow through his mind, pat the people who discovered it on the back and try and research them more.

Megacorps like Arasaka and Militech punished and lambasted curiosity. Cell encouraged it, harnessed it and moulded it into a new direction of development.

Cell was informed by one of the new people about prosthetics and implants, and the general fear of Cyberpsychosis. Cell was now looking into chrome markets, and was trying to gather any information regarding Cyberpsychosis cases.

Cell listened. No matter who it was, and how new they were.
As he had said, ‘not everyone may have good ideas, but then again… good ideas can come from anyone, anywhere.’

When Agent Locust had long left, back to Night City, Genjiro saw as Spartan Cell’s posture changed as he flicked through the tablet. 
The workers next to him were already slowly backing away from the CEO. They’ve already seen this many times before.

That’s when Genjiro heard, as he looked to his colleagues, a loud sound of thick metal breaking in a single strike.
He flinched and turned back to Cell, who was now standing up from his chair. His desk had a giant hole punched through it.

Fragments of Cell’s desk littered the floor, and the Spartan turned around to his employees.
Spectral nodes on his Engineer Mjolnir helmet flashed red with rage. Genjiro could have mistaken it for symptoms of cyberpsychosis.

“One of you is going to get our most recent polls and send the data to me. Another is going to report to FireTeam Baba Yaga that I am sending them a new mission. I will send the volunteer the file for the Spartan group.”

Spartan Cell’s voice was strained. The tone in his voice shook, in disgust and anger.

One of the workers opened his mouth as he moved. ‘I’ll report to FireTeam Baba Yaga, sir.’ he said. The others were busy opening their tablets to inform Cell of the recent results.

“Genjiro.” Cell called to the executive as the workers all started to move.
He wasn’t just frustrated, 
He was furious about what he just read.

“Yes, sir.” Genjiro bowed, looking to the floor. He knew the Spartan’s wrath wasn’t directed at him, but it still radiated like heat, threatening to burn anyone close.

Cell handed his tablet over to Genjiro, who read the files.

Project Nightshade, Securicine…

“Is this true?” Cell asked with a shaky voice. “Is all of this true?”

Genjiro handed the tablet over to a former Biotechnica scientist, one who had to run away from the Megacorp in disgust and fear for their lives once they found tried to oppose the Corp and send the files to N54. A whistle blower, not a traitor Biotechnica would have wanted to have still living.

The scientist’s face grew pale, and nodded to Genjiro has they handed the tablet back.

“Yes, it does look like something Biotechnica would do behind the curtains. Our colleague’s answer confirms it too.”

Cell’s carefully tapped on the screen of the tablet in Genjiro’s hands.

“Send this file to the rest of UNSC. And I want the everyone to look at every product and ventures we have, and contribute to the data on which products are going to fuck Biotechnica up the most.”

Genjiro blinked. A slight chuckle escaped from his and the former Biotechnica Scientest’s dry throat.

Reds and Blues just opened for business, and they were already planning on sabotaging one of the biggest Megacorps in Night City.

But for some reason, Genjiro didn’t feel like the Reds and Blues would be losing in the fight.

“I’ll be on it soon, sir.”

Genjiro suspected that this might be the start of Fifth Corporate War.
… Cell knew a way to curb them completely before the fight even starts.
The rest of Reds and Blues will follow Cell’s orders to the letter.

Chapter Text

 
Baker was a high ranking executive in Biotechnica. He used to be a biochemist in charge of the Night City Department, and rose his rank until he ran the whole division.

And he was damn proud of it too. Sabotaged a lot of his ‘once-were’ colleagues to get the position.

“We’ve arrived at our destination, sir.” Baker heard his Aerodyne driver announce. Baker smiled as he placed his empty glass down in its place.

The door opened as he looked to the entrance to the Konpeki Plaza. Shining with neon lights and ambient illumination in all its glory.

The largest, most exclusive hotel of Night City.
Reserved only for people like him.

Baker fixed his tie as he felt rain hit the edge of his cheek.
He shivered, both at the cold and at the sudden fear that rushed down his spine.

Ever since those Boogeymen showed up in the city, rearing their grotesque metallic skulls out from the shadows, rain never felt the same for anyone in power.

Because being in power meant you stepped over a lot of people. Records, that while you could erase off of computers, you could never erase from the hearts of the people.

And if those people had enough eddies…

Baker cleared his throat as he first let his bodyguards exit out the vehicle.
Don’t think too deeply into it. It’s just rain. It’s just a short distance.

There’s no way they’d… you know. Come for him tonight.

… Right? Right?

Rain started to pour down heavier than before. What was a trickle was slowly becoming a downpour.

Baker didn’t like that. No one, liked that. In fact, they hated it. Hated it so much that they decided to make a saying.

When it rains, fear the shadows.
Baker could feel himself, and see his bodyguards actively avoiding the shadows cast buildings and bushes like they were some children playing games.

That’s when it happened - Baker was suddenly pulled up from the ground, sent flying up the motel wall.

Baker screamed, it happened in such a flash that not even his Bodyguards could react.

Hell, it took them a whole minute before they realised their priority had disappeared into the thin night air.

The rain hid his fading scream well.

Baker found himself dangling upside down, something grabbing his leg.
He looked up, and saw the eyeless skull staring down at him.

His ankle in the iron grip of the…
Of the…

“… Oh god…”

Of the fucking Baba Yaga.

The Baba Yaga tilted his head slightly, like he was observing Baker.

Then…

Then the Baba Yaga let Baker go.

Baker felt gravity pull him down,
He screamed again.

He screamed as he felt himself fall, until something pulled his leg again.

He stopped just in front of a window of an empty hotel room, dark.

Then he felt himself pulled back up to the top of the building.

The Baba Yaga gripped his ankle once more, eyeing him again.

“What… What the fuck do you want!”

Baker mustered out in some… pitiful act of defiance.

The Baba Yaga didn’t answer. It just let him go, let him fall again.

… And let him fall just a bit more than last time before it stopped his fall.
He was looking looking at the window of a lower floor, this time occupied.

Two Corpo couples making love. He wanted to shout at them for help. A futile attempt. They were… preoccupied.

And the Baba Yaga dragged him back up before he could open his mouth.

He fell down several times, at different intervals. Each fall stopping lower than before.

A total of 6 times was he dropped, each time the ground was closer to his face before he was pulled back up.

Baker was left a blubbering mess. The rain hid and washed his tears and piss away.

There was the wires of the grappling hook snaking across his ankle. He only realised that now when the Baba Yaga decided to give him enough time to properly realise the situation.

“BILL BAKER.”

The Baba Yaga finally spoke.
Oh god. Baker sobbed. The voice was horrifyingly distorted.

“That- That’s me…”

“WHERE ARE THE OTHER EXECUTIVES?”

“Wha-What…?”

“WHERE ARE THE OTHER BIOTECHNICA EXECUTIVES?”

Baker wasn’t allowed to answer yet as he was dropped for the 7th time.

This time he saw the cracks in the floor. That’s how close this motherfucker let him fall.

Oh shit, Oh fuck.
The Baba Yaga was crazy.

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

“We- We were told to meet on the the 17th floor! Room 1734!”

“WHY?”

“Bo-Board meeting! We had… We had a Board Meeting!”

“INFORMATION.”

Baker quickly ejected the shard out of his neck and presented it to the boogeyman.

The Baba Yaga took it, eyed it curiously, before turning to face the Executive once more.

“IS THIS REAL?”

“… Wh-What?”

“IS THIS THE REAL SHARD? NO TRAPS?”

“….I….” 

Agent Locust let the wire fall once more, causing the Biotechnica executive to fall down to the building at frightening speed.

He screamed. He screamed his synth lungs out as much as he could.

He was stopped just as his nose touched the floor, before being pulled back up just as quickly.

“IS. THIS. THE. ACTUAL. SHARD.”

The Biotechnica executive’s breath was already coming out quick, but at this point in time it was much, much quicker.

“Yes! Yes! It’s the real deal! It’s the real deal!”

“ARE YOU SURE?”

“Yes! Yes! I swear to god it-”

“SWEAR TO ME!”

The Biotechnica executive screamed.

“Yes! I swear to you it’s the real deal! It’s got all the info about our-”

And he fell again. Just like that.

He screamed again.
He screamed as he saw that the wires weren’t pull him back to stop his fall.
He was going to die.
He was going to die this time, for he no longer had any uses.

He clenched his eyes shut as he felt impeding dread of impact.

But inertia never came, he was stopped just as his head was about to hit the floor.
He slowly opened his eyes, seeing face to face with the puddle of rain water formed on the ground.

And the grappling wire let him go.
He hit his head and shoulders as he rolled on the floor, groaning.

… He was alive. Pissed his pants, sure. Soaked with rain, of course.

But he was alive.

Then another Baba Yaga, with a round helmet and giant stature, appeared at the edge of his eyes.

The bodyguards supposed to guard him were lying on the floor, unconscious.

“… He-HEEELP!”

That was all Baker to scream out as the giant hand grabbed his face and silenced him, dragging him into the shadows.

Agent Locust saw everything from the top of the hotel.

Noble 6 and Agent Leon was appearing from the dark, ready to move with Baba Yaga Leader.

“Fireteam Baba Yaga, going dark.”

-oOo-

[This is WNS World News. Just a night ago, Several board of directors of Biotechnica was meant to hold a meeting in Konpeki Plaza. Known for housing majority of majority of entertainment icons and world’s elite, as well as top-level managers, many who visited held the hotel in high regard for it’s tight security.

Not until tonight, when those very board of directors disappeared in thin air. No traces of them or their bodyguard to be found.
Many guests have been unsettled, but probably not as unsettled as Biotechnica’s very own CEO. As many of the board of directors were founding members or previous CEOs to the company.]

Genjiro saw one of the former Biotechnica scientists chuckle at the news.

While Biotechnica just saw a sizeable amount of their decision making assets get dragged into the shadows, Reds and Blues were onto finalising few of the products, and have Genjiro send them onto the market.

Perfect timing too. Genjiro suspected that this had to be the Cell’s work. Did he exactly know how? No.

Then again, it might just have been another Megacorp sabotaging Biotechnica.

Either way, it was a chance for them to creep in and take the space that Biotechnica was force to empty at such a heavy loss.

Genjiro stood next to Cell as they looked on at the small growth plant.

Water bodies, filled with algae. Special algae, as Genjiro was noted by the scientists that watched these green slimes grow in awe.

“What was the four highest priority for Biotechnica again?” Cell asked Genjiro without turning around.

“… Medications, Bioterrorism, Food and Crops, and CHOOH2 wheat, sir.”

Cell nodded his head.

“We’re finished with medications and food. Contact companies that are under the Biotechnica’s leash and present them with better alternatives. I’ve heard the news as well, the ones that disappeared can’t be so easily replaced- even if they promote people into the empty seats, the info that those Boards had are near-irreplaceable. Headless chickens, for the next year or so. We replace them here and replace them now- and they don’t have enough time to stop us.”

“Yes, sir.”

“… Oh, and I need you to find a way for us to buy the full rights of Laguna Bend and parts of the ocean of Night City. Can we… is that even possible?”

“With enough money and some persuasion, sir.”

“Perfect. Tell me what I can do to help. We really need it.”

Genjiro smiled.

“Of course, sir.”

Buying lands? Genjiro did it enough times for Arasaka.
It really wasn’t a problem.

“… By the way, sir. May I ask… what are these algaes for? Are they… food?”

“Hmm? No, not really. I mean, you could probably eat them. But they’re more important due to being able to produce fuel.”

“… Oh, Ooh…”

“Yeah, just grow them in water and they’ll automatically start producing fuel. Just… filter and collect them, takes up less space than wheat, produces twice the amount. Not to mention the fuel itself is way more efficient than CHOOH2.”

Genjiro blankly stared at the tubs lining the floors. Each one glowing faintly for photosynthesis.

Genjiro could only laugh.

“This, Genjiro, is what I consider the Coup de grace.”

Oh boy, Genjiro thought.
Biotechnica really stood out at the wrong time.

-oOo-

Sasha looked at the bottle in her hand.
A new brand of medication, released by the up and rising Megacorp ‘Reds and Blues’.

… yay…

Sasha rolled it in her hands.
She didn’t need the medication. Nor did her sister.

Yet she still bought it.

“Hey,” Stella, Sasha’s older sister, placed a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “You ok?”

“Yeah… yeah…”

The day after a night of rain was always sunny.

And the rain water left behind always made sure to bounce the light and make everything sparkle.

Sasha knew that Stella herself trying to keep herself in check.

They were…

They were in front of their mother’s grave.

Sasha put the bottle in front of Galina Valieva’s tombstone.

[Securi-fuck off, medication for neurodegenration]

What a name, Stella and Sasha thought. Stella had a different bottle in her hand, and placed it next to Securi-fuck off.

[Securi-get fucked, Pain Killer]

Never in their dreams would the sisters know that the product name was created by none other than Cell, the CEO and founder of Reds and Blues himself.

Sasha looked at the label and laughed.
She laughed until there was tears in her eyes and her nose was blocked.

Stella could only rub her sister’s back in comfort.

They wanted to say something to their mother’s ashes.
To say… hey mom, we did it.

Biotechnica’s stocks were sent plummeting after the several heads of the Megacorps were cut off.
And all their medications were slowly being replaced, one by one, by products that were better and cheaper.

Hell, they even managed to make profit off of releasing information about the side effects of Biotechnica's staple products, and then selling medications to relieve or treat them.

Biotechnica was slowly losing strength.
Those bastards were losing their seat.

But Sasha and Stella, for just that moment, didn’t know how to speak properly.

-oOo-

The past few weeks were going in a flash for Genjiro.

More and more Megacorp executives were disappearing off the face of the Earth. And for a moment Genjiro himself was frightened as well.

But then he saw them, The Baba Yagas personally dropping shards and info off to Cell.
Everyone that knew the news around Night City was scared, and then was left shocked and flabbergasted when they found out the Baba Yagas - the fuckin Boogeymen of the town, were Spartans.

Which meant they were part of the Reds and Blues.

No one in Reds and Blues had anything to fear.

“So… so you’re telling me, that you guys are willing to send us… actual- actual crops and natural meat at…” The company heads Genjiro managed to strike a meeting with skimmed over the contract once more. Twice more, before looking back at Genjiro in disbelief. “… at such a… such a low price?”

It was a giant table in the [HIGHCOM Facility DRAUGR-1], where several CEOs of Food Distribution Companies were seated.
All of them were dealing with heavy cut in products Biotechnica had supplied. They were current trying to… adapt and readjust managements. Which meant that some products weren’t produced as well as they once were when the Board still had it’s people.

And while they were desperate to keep their company afloat, they were still sceptical with Reds and Blues’ offer.
I mean, sure. The company made very good cars that were the talk of the Earth right now.

But they were ‘cars’, not… ‘porkchops’ and ‘potatoes’ and ‘beef steak’.

Then… then they tasted what the cafeteria was feeding the soldiers and workers.
It wasn’t anything special to the Reds and Blues. They ate this everyday. They got used to this.

To the CEOs?
They never tasted meat and vegetables like this before. Lack of those sour and foul aftertaste of chemicals and hormones that lingered if you didn’t sauce the ingredients liberally.

Lack of those slightly abnormal and stringy parts.

These were… in their own terms, ‘clean’. Cleaner than whatever Biotechnica had been offering.

At a much, much cheaper price.

No, that couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be true.
There had to be strings attached, some sort of… political trick and trap they were falling into.

They had to be, it had to be!

“The meat are not natural, but… they are indeed chemical free. The vegetables are indeed grown all natural. You may not believe our offer, but it is true. We also do not intend on increasing our prices more than double the original offer, ever in our time of contract.”

The CEO of All Foods, a 40-year old mexican woman with dyed blonde hair that thanks to her wealth and connections managed to get enough healthcare to make herself still look in her 20s, read the contract again, and again. Trying to find any sort of fine prints that would fuck her and her company over.

“… I…” She spoke first. “I want to see how these products are made.”

Genjiro raised his eyebrow.

“I want to know exactly how these products are made, before I sign any of this.”

The other CEOs looked to the woman, half nervous and half emboldened by her reasoning. Pretty soon they were all agreeing with her, nodding their heads.

“… One moment.” Genjiro touched his ear comm, and on instinct stood up from his table and bowed.
Of course Cell couldn’t see it, but what would Genjiro be to his knew Boss if he wasn’t respectful even if Cell didn’t see him?

“Yes, sir. The CEOs would like to see… yes, sir. Are you sure, sir? I… no, I don’t mean… oh, oh you were joking. Apologies. Yes, of course. I shall tell them that.”

Genjiro ended the call, and looked to his would be partners.

“We can agree to your request, on one conditions.” The door to the meeting room opened as employees walked in with a small tag.

“We’ll be disabling any sort of optics or recording devices. You can see, but it is only with your optics and memories only. No shards, no cameras. No recordings. Do you accept?”

“… Yes.” One of the CEO said.

The rest relented. They had no choice.

“Good. Now, follow me.”

Oh, oh how shocked they were when they walked past the cafeteria saw all the affiliates of Reds and Blues eat the same meal that they had just eaten in the office.

The same plate, the same food.
Same quality, same amount.

They thought the new Megacorps had presented something very special, just for them.

No, they just decided to serve the same meal everyone was given by the chefs.
They also saw the burly Spartans walk past, one of them (whom Genjiro called Caboose) cheerfully greet the high-standing members and just babble on about… ‘cotton candies’ and ‘soda pops’.

The All Food CEO looked particularly unnerved by how child-like the armoured titan was, as Genjiro gleefully engaged in a short conversation with Spartan Caboose, until Spartan Simmons dragged him somewhere else.

‘But they haven’t heard about my dream about flying puppies!’ Was all they heard in the fading distance.

Genjiro continued the tour, reaching the vast greenhouse where the Megacorp heads were bombared with… with…

Towers of dirt and soil, filled with lushous green leaves and oranges and reds fruits. Ready to harvest.

Vertical Farming, machines automated to harvest the crops and place them in baskets moved by conveyor belts.

Genjiro picked up a tomato and took a bite out of it.

“You can all take one and try for yourself.”

And they all did just that.

And god, the flavour. The flavour.

The juice and skin, clean and refreshing.
In all their lives, they never tasted tomato like this before.

And if they could taste Tomato grown before the drought, then they assumed it tasted like this.

The All Food CEO didn’t realise there was juice dribbling down her chin, spilt the very moment she sank her teeth into the fruit, expecting it to be as dry as the GMO.

“… You-you can’t…” Head of the Akaromi BioCorp muttered as he took one more bite into the tomato and started to wander around the greenhouse like a kid placed in a chocolate factory.

To the head of one of the greatest suppliers of food? This place might as well have been.

One of the farmers taking care of the farm walked up to him laughing, holding a carrot that was just washed off with clean water.

Akaromi BioCorp CEO took a timid bite out of it. And he swore he could feel the bright orange spread inside his stomach with warmth.

“The price for the contract did not change.” Genjiro spoke. “As per the contract, we just want to have control over the production and growth. Of course, the product produced by the greenhouse built in your area will all be yours.”

In other words, the food companies would just let Reds and Blues use the Megacorps’ land to grow food for them, at the low price confirmed several times to be ‘real and final’.

“… I’ll sign it.” The All Food CEO answered first. Headstrong business woman, knew the deal was a once-in-a-lifetime chance that could never come back. “We can negotiate which lands you can built the greenhouse in, but first I want to finalise the contract.”

“A-Akraomi Biocorp will sign it too! Th-The Reds and Blues can also grow rice, yes? I’ll pay double if you can grow rice!”

Pretty soon, the greenhouse was drowned with loud demands and further attempts of negotiation.

Genjiro could only chuckle. He hadn’t even shown the pork and beef farm and they were already convinced.

With how high the quality of meat they tasted, they didn’t believe Genjiro’s words about Meat products being GMO.

Until they saw the artificial wombs and cloning process.

No chemicals, sure. But… they were genetically modified.
Albeit as naturally as possible.

“GMO products, but they cannot be differentiated with naturally harvested meat. Perhaps better, by your reactions.”

‘… A super fake’, someone muttered.

Then they saw on the other side of the glass wall, the CEO of Reds and Blues.
The one that refused to meet the others in person, and would rather let his subordinate take his place in negotiating deals.

Everyone was at least slightly insulted by the audacity when they first arrived here.
Now? They could… they could take that audacity with stride if it meant they could have a hand in this Company’s product.

They saw as the hulking man with 4 spectral nodes glowing red carefully groomed the back of a cow. The healthiest looking one of the lot, the cow was. Quietly grazing on grass and hay spread throughout.

“That would be Marble.”

“… Marble?” One of the clients asked with curiousity.

“Yes, the very first cow we procured, that was the source of our GMO farm.”

All the cows you see here, originate from her cell. Genjiro added.

They heard more - how Marble was just another cow fed with chemicals and hormones in a broken down farm in Night City, procured and slowly fed back to proper health.

“Her cells tell us she’s 18 years old.”

“That’s… the cow should be dead by now!” All Foods CEO exclaimed.

“Normally, yes. If not the old age, then the amount of chemicals pumped into her. Healthy diet and care does wonders to an animal, as you can see here.”

The CEOs watched as the once frail and disgustingly thin cow head with peace. Fattened up more than any cow they had seen. Grazing, flicking her tail as Spartan Cell quietly pet her.

Then two Spartans entered the cow farm, and promptly hooked their arms under Cells’ armpit and promptly lifted him off the ground, dragging him out.

“NO! NO! I DON’T WANNA GO! NO, NO! NO I DON’T WANNA GN-AUGH!”

Marble mooed as her owner was forcefully dragged back off to work.

Those products needed finalising, Cell. You don’t have time to run off into the farm.

Genjiro cleared his throat as his boss made a pitiful display while exiting stage left.

He finished the tour before finalising all contracts and negotiating demands.
Even as they were signing contracts, the clients were trying to one up another, stab each other in the back.
They asked if they could buy more products, buy the patent to specific fruits or vegetables.

Akaromi BioCorp tried to monopolise on the rice, only to get a glare from the All Foods.
The Mexican cuisine would also like those rices, preferably grown clean.

“We do also want any sort of advertisement of all food products made using our agriculture to be… properly screened by us before they are released to the media, as per our Contract.”

Genjiro silently looked at All Foods. “We would not like our beef to have the slogan; ‘So fresh it wriggles in your mouth’ as a picture of a petri dish with mince turned into smiling worms is used like it is in EEZY BEEF.”

All Foods CEO smiled. “Of course! We wouldn’t think of doing that. We would like this product be our newest hit, you know. Wouldn’t want to harm your image. And you know… if you’re keen, Mister Genjiro. I could book a room in the finest Hotel in Mexico for us to discuss our contract further, privately… if you’re keen.”

Under-the-table proposition. By someone on the very top of the Megacorp food chain, no less.

Genjiro chuckled, turning the offer down as politely as he can.

“I’ll think about that offer, but not now.”

All Foods CEO just shrugged her shoulders.

All of them took their Aerodyne back, new products that could easily replaced the slowly crumbling kingdom of Biotechnica, and Reds and Blues a few rung higher on the influence ladder.

Genjiro looked at his datapad, contracts that more or less told them the major food companies were more than happy to jump ship.
Tomorrow, Genjiro needed to talk with both Petrochem and the Night City Government.

-oOo-

Lucious Rhyne and Lars Muhammed quietly waited for Reds and Blues’ Aerodyne to arrive.

Konpeki Plaza wasn’t quite the same after the Boogeymen struck, many guests checking out and never coming back again.

Baba Yaga had that sort of fear factor.

Petrochem wasn’t… wasn’t doing so well in the first place. The severe drought and famine meant that many of their products suffered record low yields. Among them being wheat that produced CHOOH2, soybean, and corn.

All 3 were primary components of CHOOH2. Their stocks plummetted 11% thanks to that.

The only reason why they were still alive was thanks to Biotechnica still giving them their share of patented wheat.

The problem? New management was struggling, ended up making a weird decision where they took 20% that Petrochem had and shared it to another company.

Many of the Companies once partnered with Biotechnica were pulling away, stocks were dropping like flies. They needed their influence and power to stay

Petrochem was fuming at the decision, but Biotechnica threatened them into submission.

Be happy that we still gave you the largest share, they said to Lars.

Bullshit, Sovoil had 35%. Now those Commie fuckers were neck and neck with Petrochem.

“Uuuhh…. Sir?”

Lucious’ secretary cautiously spoke,
And out the window they saw the biggest fucking jet plane hover down to the ground.

Missiles and machine guns installed, entire hull painted green.
A Pelican, UNSC would have named the vehicle. It was a Pelican.

They watched as it opened up to reveal Genjiro surrounded by 5 ODST and 2 Spartans.

Did he need that much protection? Not really.
But it was more about making a statement.

It took a while for Genjiro to knock on the door, the secretary of Lucious opening the door to let Reds and Blues’ highest level executive enter in.

“Apologies, hope I did not make the two of you wait too long.”

“… Not at all.” Lars muttered.

“As I have wasted a lot of your time, I will just cut to the chase: Mayor Rhyne, Reds and Blues would like to officially buy the full rights of Laguna Bend, and additionally, the coastal area of Night City.”

“… Excuse me?”

“We would like to purchase land, Mayor Rhyne. In the form of… oceans and lakes.”

Rhyne blinked a few moments.

“We… we can give you the Laguna Bend at a reasonable price, sure. You guys already… kinda, cleaned up the place. I’m smart enough to know that if someone else took the right, then you guys will just stop with the purification process… and… well, yeah. It would be useless again then. But the Ocean?”

“I know that there are many AI-armed sea mines in the Ocean, heavily restricting which areas are available to us. We would like to change that, albeit have starting Ocean for our business.”

Lars narrowed his eyes at Rhyne and Genjiro. If Genjiro wanted a fuckin’ artificial lake and the ocean, then why would he asked to come here?

Genjiro assured Lars would be very interested in his offer. But here he was, sceptical about that.

“…” Rhyne placed his fingers on his chin.

“… Are you sure you can disarm and remove those mines from our Ocean?”

Genjiro smirked, before pulling a small casino-chip like device from his suit chest pocket and placing it down on the table.

And soon, a holographic image of Spartan Cell flashed into life.

“President Cell, sir.”

“Awah- huh? Oh, Genjiro.”

“How quickly can we remove the Sea mines from the Ocean?”

Rhyne heard Genjiro click his tongue.

“Shiiiit, if Rhyne gives me the right to the ocean I can send Fireteam Titan to our new land. Get it all cleaned of explosives by the end of tonight.”

Rhyne opened his eyes and blinked.

“You better not be shitting me.” Rhyne curtly announced.

“… Hey, Bill?” Cell shouted to someone outside the holographic imagery. “Get Fireteam Titan in here. Tell them Rhyne needs some persuasion.”

A slight sound of automatic door opening and closing was heard behind the footage. Then again after a moment of silence, as Spartan Cell tapped lightly on his foot.

6 burly spartans, heavily armoured, walked into the image and surrounded Spartan Cell.
Dull grey and bronze colouration, Two of them wore EOD, One wore a Rampart, another wore Rockeye, one on the far right wore Torchbearers, and the Leader in the middle wore a reinforced Notus armour.

Rhyne and Lars stayed silent at the display. Fireteam Titan, definitely looked like their name.

Rhyne whistled.

“Shit, I’m already convinced.”

Travel fees for other Megacorps coming to Night City through the Ocean may be increased. Will they like it? Hell no.

But Rhyne would rather have more ocean available for them.
He was sure Militech and Arasaka would understand.

“And why am I here?” Lars interjected as Genjiro handed a contract form for Rhyne to sign, watching as the hulking figures left the the room the moment Cell saw that Rhyne was willing to sell them the portion of the Ocean and snapped his fingers.

“Because us purchasing land concerns your… problem at the moment.” Genjiro answered.

Lars furrowed his brow.

“And how…?”

“We know you are having some problem with… CHOOH2 production.”

Lars sneered.

“And? You’ve got a solution for us?”

Lars saw Genjiro smile.

“Of course, I can show you once Rhyne has finished with signing the contract…”

“Done, and dusted.” Rhyne handed the datapad back with a smile. Genjiro nodded as he took it, switching the screen from a contract to a blue print… a concept, of a new fuel source.

Lars looked at it, and slowly, his brow straightened before his eyes widened.

“… Oh, Oh. Holy shit.”

“Unlike the patented Wheat, this new fuel source does not require 3 different components, large lands, and significant time for harvest. Unlike the CHOOH2 wheat of Biotechnica, which once harvested needs to be regrown before it could be harvested again, all you need to do is simply pump filter out the fuel, keeping the Algae growing and producing more fuel. More efficient production, which can grow so long as there is a body of water. In fact, soil that crops cannot grow on and waste water that crops cannot drink- are all fine for the Algae. In fact, Waste water will make the Algae grow much faster. Send any fertiliser filled-water down to the Algae farm, and it will clean the water as it eats it up and spreads, while producing biofuel. Cultivation is much easier with algae than wheat.”

“… But, Biotechnica would use-”

“Their signature artificial plague? You have no need to worry about that. We have tested the algae before hand, they are highly resistant. In fact, with the conjuncture of our own design they can use the toxin as nutrient. Biotechnica cannot harm our products.”

Lars was scrolling through the blue prints, the sort of platform used for their growth and fuel production.

It was…
… It was so much more efficient.

“The fuel source, this… Plasmoil, is it… compatible with vehicles running on CHOOH2?”

“Of course, we have already tested it. It’s cleaner fuel too. And most of all…”

Genjiro leaned in, almost whispering to Lars.

“SOVOIL will not have any share of it. I know Petrochem is not doing so well against their rival. Now is the time to permanently one up them, leave them in the dust with Plasmoil in your fuel tank.”

Genjiro was a natural salesman, born into a Corpo family and trained under several years in Arasaka.

He knew which buttons to press to make these folks salivating at the product and sales.

Lars certainly was, licking at his dry lips.

“We can grow an entire starting batch at Laguna Bend and at the Ocean, ship them off to your areas and let them grow further there, patented exclusively for Reds and Blues… and Petrochem.

I will be honest with you, Lars. Biotechnica does not have much to live. It is a headless chicken, alive right now… but for how long, do you wonder? Will they recover from their losses? Or will they rot alive? They have already reduced your patent share from 60% to 40%. A poor decision from the surviving Board of Directors. Power hungry they are, they cannot make a good decision to successfully satisfy it.”

Oh god, Genjiro was just a devil in a suit.

“We also sell our patent at a much cheaper price for you. We can also negotiate further contracts regarding food products if that is also your concern. I’m sure you have already heard about Megacorps like All Foods and Akaromi BioCorp striking a partnership with us. SCOP is going to tank hits in sales when their new products using our agriculture hits the market. It will tank further when we start culturing fishes in the Ocean too.”

Lars’ eyes shook.
He was tempted.

It was tempting.

What was stopping him? The life long partnership with Biotechnica? The leading product being for Petrochem being CHOOH2?

Get a hold of yourself, the corporate side of Lars spoke. The one that managed to make enough financial decisions to allow him to become the newest CEO.
Biotechnica betrayed us first - look at us, grovelling at a 40% like we're still benefiting from the partnership.

Now was the time to move on.

“Now is the time to have courage, jump ship and find a new product. We assure you, that unlike Biotechnica, our partnership will not be altered unless properly discussed and both parties are happy with the change in contract.”

“…” Lars opened his mouth. “I’ll take it. I’ll take the patent to the Algae factory. We can… We can- we can discuss more about the food after.”

Genjiro smiled.

“That is what Reds and Blues wanted.”

Chapter Text

Jacqueline Broche looked in awe at the Titans sitting with her in the Pelican.
To the other scientist, working with Spartans was a common occurence. As a man born in a colony planet and working for UNSC Revenant for the past 5 years or so, he got used to these sci fi demigods quite quickly.

To someone that was a former Biotechnica scientist before being fired? These people were the epitome of what she wanted to do in Biotechnica - a perfectly modified soldier, shining example of Humanities’ next step in evolution.

A dream that she thought was impossible to achieve.

So please, don’t mind her grinning ear to ear like a fan-girl of Kerry Eurodyne meeting the singer in person.

“You guys got the defuser?” The leader of Fire team Titan: Spartan Abraham spoke through his Notus helmet.

“Of course we do, sir.”

“Good. When I go down that water and grab a sea mine, I want you two-” Spartan Abraham pointed at Spartan Rod and Bush, two who were wearing EOD helmets. “- to come down with the defuser. We’ve already got info that this is a rogue AI controlled self-replicating mine. If we want them to stop popping up in our sea, the defuser is the key.”

Spartan Rocke, the one wearing… the Rampart helmet, surprisingly, let out a gruff chuckle as he quipped.

“We get it, Dr Seuss. Let’s hurry up and stop a bang from going off in the ocean.”

Spartan Abraham let out a short snicker.

“… The assembly drones we have stocked up here will create a platform that will be Reds and Blues’ new ocean operating lab once ALL the sea mines in our territory has been deactivated. The rest of you are going to be taking those deactivated mines and safely dismantling them on the platform, ok? This is an important job folks -”

“““But it’s just another Tuesday in the end.””” They finished in unison.

The Pelican door opened, and Broche watched as Notus jumped into the ocean below.
Zipping down thanks to gravity acting on his massive weight, he caused a giant splash threatening to form a wave.

The other Spartans watched, waiting for their leader to surface back up.

There- one of the Spartans spoke as Notus came back up holding a sea mine
That was the signal as Rod and Bush jumped off the Pelican and into the waters.

Rod took out a defuser. It wasn’t anything corporeal or physical, no. It was-

<Accessing software- I’ve come across the rogue AI piloting the explosive. Shall I start the process?>

- a Dumb AI. RedWire, it was called.
Hilarious, I know. You can blame Khyl’ for that joke, it was one of his attempts at practising human humour.

“Do it.” Rod answered, as Bush opened up the sea mine panel to look at the interior at the same time.

This thing needed to be physically disabled if the AI was going to try the next step.

<Searching… my, I believe this would be a very easy task.> RedWire spoke as Abraham swore he could hear some sort of electronic scream resonate from inside the mine.

“RedWire, the hell was that?”

<Nothing much, sir. Just lobotomising the AI in charge of these mines. Best way to immobilise it’s attempt to arm the explosive without completely cutting it off. I was told that we would need this rogue AI scanned to remotely connect with the other mines in this area.>

“Jesus, no wonder it screamed.” Bush snarked as he dismantled a few circuits out.

“And… done. Charge won’t be setting itself off anytime soon.”

“Noted. RedWire, we can do a full scan of the software now.”

<Certainly. Let’s see how else this AI squeals.>

Rod and Bush let out a chuckle. For a dumb AI, RedWire had quite the sadistic personality.

<Finding… finding… route found, discovering 56 sea mine in our nearest area. Disabling them now.>

Simultaneously, the sound of mechanical screams were heard, but just as quickly drowned out by the sound of tides crashing into the water it was formed from.

It used to be programmed as Destroy enemy vessels, with a rogue logic causing it to go renegade and haywire.

Such is the painful and cruel fate for an AI when it decides to be disobedient: Lobotomised bit by bit, region by region, by the digital equivalent of their higher form.

And with that,

“Rocke! Tell them to make the Platform! We need you guys to help with picking up these bombs!”

The Ocean was theirs.

-oOo-

[Spartan Badger: This ad is sponsored by All Foods, one of our brand new partners that requested one of us in the Reds and Blues to talk about the ingredients that WE make that is now in THEIR product.

<Beeping noises steadily quickens before an announcer voice speaks in unison to Spartan Badger>

Spartan Badger & Announcer Voice: Let’s roll

<Spartan Badger pointing to a holographic picture of All Foods’ newest product: Round Meal, Macaroni and Beef. Made using Wheat and Beef specifically patented by Reds and Blues>

Spartan Badger: Round Meal? Oh man,

Spartan Heaven: Yeah

Spartan Badger: On the Round Meal, it says feeds THREE MEN. 

Spartan Heaven: MEN

Spartan Badger: Like, SPECIFICALLY.

<Spartan Heaven dramatically emoting his statement>

Spartan Heaven: WOMEN. CANNOT. EAT THIS.

Spartan Badger Off Screen: Hold on. HOL’ UP

Spartan Badger now On screen, with Spartan Heaven now Off screen: round meal.

Spartan Badger, slowly corpsing as he reads the labels: MACARONI AND… BEEF. Serves three men. How to dohoo it… BOIL IN BA-HAHA-G. OP-HE-EN AND ENJO-HO-HO-Y!

Spartan Geuce off screen: Oh my god.

<Spartan Badger falling to his knees as he’s laughing>

Spartan Heaven: I wanna… I wanna see… just like a line up of every motherfucker… who has ever purchased that-

<Spartan Badger back on his feet unleashing a power punch in the picture’s direction>

Spartan Badger: PROTEIN-BLASTED.

<All three Spartans laughing and wheezing>

Announcer: ROUND MEAL, BY ALL FOODS WITH THE HELP OF REDS AND BLUES. FEEDS THREE MEN. PROTEIN BLASTED. COMES WITH THREE DIFFERENT VERSIONS: MACARONI AND CHEESE, TACO AND GUACAMOLE, TERIYAKI BEEF.
AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL STORES RIGHT NOW.]

A remote flew into the screen, shattering the TV and cutting off the ad.

Amelio Loggagia stood in front of the giant TV screen mounted on his office wall.
His jaw was clenched and his veins were popping out from his forehead.

Fuming.
He was absolutely Fuming.

His late father Nicolo Loggagia was the founder of Biotechnica. And even when he had stepped down from the position of leader, he still drived the company into success with his colleagues in the board of directors.

Then the Konpeki Plaza mass disappearance hit, and Amelio was left with trusting his own guts.

His guts was very mad at making decisions. And the company was taking the full brunt of his decisions.

Reds and Blues was a new company. Hell, with how fast they were building and growing they might as well be called a Megacorp.

No one suspected that a company selling top of the line cheap cars would suddenly take away pretty much all of Biotechnica’s contracts.

All Food products made from Reds and Blue’s agriculture was selling at all time high. Just recently they had released Round Meal, and if the last two food products made from the ingredients patented by Reds and Blues told Amelio anything, it was that this was going to be a sure fire hit as well.

At the cost of Biotechnica’s stock and future, Amelio growled to himself.

The past few weeks had been hell. HELL. He was forced to run the company by himself (For the first time in his life), His biggest partnership with Petrochem went down the drain when Petrochem’s CEO decided to jump ship and get a special deal with Reds and Blues (Amelio didn’t even suspect that such chance may have arised in the first place thanks to him fucking Petrochem over by taking 20% of their patent deal and giving it to another company), and the other Food-production Megacorps were slowly dipping out one by one once they heard of a potentially better prospect with Reds and Blues and their higher quality crops.

To top it all off, Petrochem spies witnessed all these replacements be built in a single night, like they were 3D printed.

Reds and Blues forced Amelio to go for the drastic measure. The old company trick that always worked: Their signature artificial plague.

It did jack shit to Reds and Blues’ products.

Amelio had been grinning ear to ear when he first ordered the plague to be deployed on the Algae farms that Reds and Blues set up for Petrochem. He waited for the news that the Algae completely shrivelled up and died off, never to be grown again.
Oh how he waited for Lars to crawl back to his office on all fours, begging to keep the CHOOH2 patent deal. Amelio was already planning on cutting the share down to 30%, making Lars suffer for his decision to double cross him.

Then the results came in.

‘Sir, it didn’t do anything.’

‘… Run that by me again?’

‘The plague… their algae farm wasn’t affected by the plague. They… they’re still growing, sir. They’re not stopping, they’re not slowing down.’

Amelio threw the file at the scientist in frustration. No, fucking that could have… that can’t be happening.

That can’t be happening!

The other crops the Reds and Blues had under their belt was the same. Crops grew whether or not Biotechnica deployed airborne plagues on them. Nothing haltered their growth, nothing haltered their progress.

And to make matters worse, the Night City division of Biotechnica reported that grasses and soil was popping up in the badlands.
Land was getting restored, land that was ruined by drought - ruined as an aftereffect of their plague.

What-why? How? HOW?

The next thing Biotechnica did when the plague failed its job, was to target Genjiro instead. They heard enough - the former Arasaka executive, former hobo, and now the executive of Reds and Blues in charge of establishing connections and getting contracts under the Megacorps’ belt.

He was the main man that was shipping products left and right, stealing Biotechnica’s seat when they were on a ‘temporary’ set back.

Yeah, temporary. Temporary. Amelio convinced himself. It was only a temporary setback. It should’ve been a temporary set back. It should’ve been. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN.

They didn’t know if they wanted to risk another corporate war this early, but that didn’t matter. They just needed Genjiro dead, assassinated if possible.

They hired few of the best edgerunner crews they could find in Night City (For some reason, the gig never reached the Baba Yaga. If it did, Baba Yaga didn’t answer) to go after Genjiro.

All Amelio got in return was an XVD distributed around the streets: Edgerunner crew, attempting to either snipe the salesman from afar or running in gung-ho.

There was always these… these full’borgs and these team of military troopers, ready to shield him in a blink of an eye. Some yellow energy particle causing the bullets to bounce of harmlessly.

Just like… just like those two videos of the Baba Yagas.

Those giants dressed similarly to the Baba Yagas too. Not exactly identical, but few of the Megacorps were catching on to similar details.

They were catching on to how strong both of them were too, punting a heavily chromed solo across the desert like he was some… football.

Shots fired back at the assailants way too accurately. Eerily so.
Those titans of armour had to be full’borgs, and those soldiers had to be chromed with military grade implants.

Jesus christ, Genjiro was guarded by a group of Adam Smashers. Where did Reds and Blues manage to find them?

Amelio had to watch as Reds and Blues slowly replaced their empire, and everything they had achieved.

And the people just loving it.
It only took a couple of weeks for Reds and Blues to extend their influence worldwide just by making deals with All foods and Akaromi Biocorps and Petrochem.

Solid. Deals. Not one time off contracts, full on partnerships that meant their product was being sold and distributed worldwide without them even lifting a finger.

They can’t do that! Amelio had shouted in his office. DO THEY KNOW HOW MUCH THEY’VE SACRIFICED AND STABBED IN THE BACK FOR THIS POSITION?!

‘They’re saying that they’ll be trying for fish ranches next. Akaromi Biocorps is already giving Reds and Blues their full support in exchange for being the first client to receive the products.’

No, No no no no no.

Amelio slammed his fist down on his desk.
There had to be a way to sabotage them, slow them down if now stop them.

Yeah, yes. Slow them down. If they were just slowed down on their rampage of conquest, then Biotechnica would have enough time to recover, take back the seats and defend it against the new company.

But how…

An idea flashed into the CEO’s chromed brain.
He saw footages of former Biotechnica scientists meeting up with All Foods representatives.

The Reds and Blues were employing people that Megacorps were throwing onto the streets. Some sort of… recycling of assets that finished their uses.

If Biotechnica could contact one of them, offer them a deal they surely couldn’t refuse, then they had themselves and inside man…

Someone that could… steal some of the blueprints of Reds and Blues’ yet to be realised projects.
If Biotechnica could do them first, then they’ll be on even playing fields.

Amelio rang up his holophone to his still surviving board of directors.

He had a plant that would surely work.

-oOo-

Broche was taking a boat back to the coastal region of Night City.

Sure, aircrafts always worked. But she wanted to feel the salty wind fly across her cheeks as she rode the wave.
Some of the other workers thought the same thing as her. They wanted to properly travel across the ocean - something that was near impossible once thanks to the shitty AI going haywire.

For people like her, there was a benefit to swearing loyalty to Reds and Blues; picking someone like her off the streets and showing them a wonderland full of Sci fi dreams come to life.

Showing them something that many would write off as impossible, delusional even.

And then giving someone like her a chance to touch those dreams and try to build them in reality. To teach her how.

Broche closed her eyes and felt the ocean wave carry the wind across her face.

She felt like she was a child again, going through the restoration centre run by Biotechnica.
When her later mother filled her with hopes and dreams that she thought no longer existed.

She wanted to cry. She regretted cursing her mother as she grew older. When she believed those hopes and dreams to be nothing more than lies fed to her.

No. No. It wasn’t a lie.
With Reds and Blues, it never would be.

… Flowers. Broche muttered. Some flowers would be nice.
Her mother loved blue roses, right?

Could she ask Spartan Cell’s team to engineer them?
A shameful request, maybe.
But if there was one thing she learnt during her stay in Reds and Blues, is that all of them were nice enough to listen to requests.

So it wasn’t a bad idea to ask.

Broche felt her holophone buzz - while her implants were removed and upgraded, her old number was still kept. She rather have something that could keep her in contact with her family, after all.

Broche looked at the screen, and grimaced.
Biotechnica logo. The name of her former CEO buzzing up.

She didn’t need to pick up the call to know this was going to be bad news.
It wasn’t a call, just… a text message.

[Meet up at 174,164,44]

Short, simple. Coordinates and a demand.

Typical, Broche muttered. Too proud to even make it as a request.

Broche knew the current state of Biotechnica. Technologically staggering behind the newly up and rising Reds and Blues, and their questionable decisions to try and keep themselves afloat wasn’t being any help.

Broche looked behind her, into the vast blue ocean.

The giant futuristic platform, filled with rigs and buildings that looked like majestic monoliths.
Broche had watched the entire process of those nanomachines form and print buildings in almost an instance.

Beautiful. And Scary at the same time. Broche was both was amazed and terrified of the mind that managed to realise such technology.

Broche pondered about the message for a moment, before she relented.
Yeah, sure. She can listen to them talk their mouth of for a bit. If there was any info she can get from them, she was sure to report it to her new CEO.

She walked there, straightening her uniform and making sure the pistol she was given as part of her equipment was secure and loaded.

If they were planning some funny business, she wasn’t going to go down easy.

And Lo and Behold, an Aerodyne was parked at the location - a carpark of an apartment for the rich. A bodyguard was waiting outside, noticing Broche and opening the door with a nod.

“… Mister Loggagia. It’s nice to see you again.” 

“And miss… Broche. It’s good to see a familiar face. Please, step in. I insist.”

A soulless courtesy was met with soulless courtesy. What Amelio tried to veil as an offer was clearly a demand.

She tried not to frown as much, as she put a foot on the entrance of the Aerodyne and went in, taking a seat opposite to Amelio.

“Now, please. Have a drink.”

Broche complied reluctantly, grabbing a fancy wine dispensed by the car.

“So, do you know why I contacted you today?”

“No. I don’t.”

Amelio kept his calm facade up, tipping it off with a grin.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you. Biotechnica isn’t doing so well. You might have already heard this from whatever news outlet you’re interested in.”

“I do, I’ve saw it fall down first hand from my new company.”

“And that’s. Exactly. What. I’m… here to talk about.”

Amelio caught himself on his outburst, he forced the smile back on his lips as he tried to sit back in his seat, which he had jumped out of at the mention of Reds and Blues.

No, no. He had to keep his composure to make this work.

“You see, we… recently had a falling out with our head scientist. The former one in charge had signed a resignation just a week ago.”

Yeah, they did. Broche thought to herself. She herself and the rest of the team had seen the former head scientist of the Biotechnica waving their hand in front of the Graveyard, a tablet filled with data and their personal CV in hand.

There was some heavy interrogation and meeting with other staffs about the final decision.
Hell, they were still deciding on whether to hire the person or not. And of course, many staffs that were formerly associated with Biotechnica before getting thrown on the streets were vehement on disagreeing.

Be careful with how you treat someone, huh? Broche snickered, to which Amelio frowned only so quickly.

“Carry on, Mister Loggagia.”

“…Yes… Yes, so we need a new head of research and development. And we’ve seen your records, Miss Broche. Excellent projects you were part of, a fine example of the next head of the R&D department, we had agreed on.”

“I see.”

“Oh come now, don’t be like that. I’m sure such a position will be much more beneficial to you. Compared to just being some… grunt scientist. You used to be spearheading development projects, now you just a… one in a million. A dead end job, I assure you. I know how a Megacorp works, they’ll never give you a time of the day.”

Yeah, because they instead give me 6 days of the week. Broche snickered quietly.
Proper food, only needing to work 6 hours a day. Overtime was a choice and a passion, not a compulsory task.

“So, if you want… we’d be happy to welcome you back in charge of our company’s key products with open arms.”

Broche decided to poke and prod, try and act like she took the bait.

“And what’s the catch?”

Amelio smiled.

“Just something simple. We need… some files.”

“Files? What sort?”

“Just files about the Reds and Blue’s current projects that they haven’t announced yet. Things that you’re comfortable making at our lab, with double the salary that they are paying you.”

Broche nodded. Swirling the wine still left in her glass.
Yeah, right.

“Alright. Just, files? Nothing more?”

“Nothing more. We need you alive, after all. And if you’re going to stay alive, we decided that just shards would be excellent enough.”

“… Ok, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll contact you once I have the shards.”

Amelio’s grin widened.

“Excellent. I’m so happy that you are a smart woman, Miss Broche. Though I expected you would be. That’s why I called you over.”

Broche saw the Aerodyne land on the Roof of Biotechnica.

“Have a good look around at the new place you will be running on your way down, would you? It’s best if you familiarise yourself as soon as possible.”

Broche wore a fake smile as she turned to look at her former employer, before leaving the Aerodyne and taking the elevator.

She had to act natural.
There were still eyes here.

-oOo-

“Alright, rewire the wrist section here. The motor’s too strong. Remember, we want a reasonably strong wrist, not a goddamn arm of a Spartan on a normal civilian.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how’s the final testing of your newest product?”

“Soil restoration is at 85% in just 4 minutes, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll finish up the blueprint on the newest beetle models and we can sell them in tandem.”

“Oh, sir! President Cell, Sir!”

“Yes, Gary?”

“Could I present my… my version of the beetle blueprint, sir? As a proposal?”

One of the former Biotechnica scientists sheepishly raised his hand with a request.
If it was any other Megacorp, he would’ve been laughed off and ridiculed. A newly recruited low-class Scientist would’ve had better chances just shutting up and trying to complete the work in front of them by deadline. Heeding the orders of the chief scientist in charge.

But this Reds and Blues.

“Bring me the blueprint and your proposal. If they’re good, I’ll push it in.”

Gary smiled as slowly, slowly, other ears started to perk up. Many of these people in the biotechnological department had been using the labs in their free time to try out some small projects of their own. The software housed in [HIGHCOM DRAUGR-1] was an absolutely godsend for them, the smart AIs and 3D holographic interface made simulations of genetic modification simple, clear, accurate, and easy to learn.

Each of them slowly readied to bring out their own personal files. Most of them part of the restoration of aquatic animals, now that they had a sizeable area of the ocean with their Company Name on it.

And Spartan Cell caught wind of it quickly.

“Alright, Ok. Any blueprint suggestions, just send them over to me.”

“What if… we have it as a presentation… sir?”

“… Well, do you want to present it to just me, or to other people as well?”

“I… I guess just you?”

“Then just knock on my office in your free time. If I’m available, I’ll listen to it.”

Broche walked into see her colleagues fumbling through the 3D interfaces, opening up files to check that their own projects had no mistake, before sending it into their datapad.

“President Cell, do you have a moment… sir?”

“It’s lunch break right now, so I should be. Why?”

“I have something to tell you. In private.”

President Cell warily nodded his head.

“O…K…? We can both head to my office, then.”

The click clack from Broche’s shoes were synchronised with the thump-thump of Cell’s metallic mjolnir boots. Synched so well that Broche’s footstep was easily drowned out.

The door of Spartan Cell’s office opened and closed, Spartan Cell bringing a chair for Broche to sit on as he checked his datapad.

“Is it ok if we just do a quick scan, sir? Just in case I caught something on my way here.”

Spartan Cell picked up on Broche’s tone.
Wariness. Caution.

Oh, so it’s that kind of situation.

Spartan Cell stared at Broche, up and down. Spectral Nodes loaded with the Sangheili model Smart AI based on his friend’s cloned brain.

“Coming up with nothing, scientist. You’re safe.”

Broche no longer had any reason to hesitate.

“Biotechnica contacted me today, sir.”

“Of fucking course…”

Spartan Cell looked to the ceiling and shrugged.

“What did they want from you?”

“Data on Reds and Blues’ unreleased projects, sir.”

“And what did they offer?”

“A position as the head of the R&D department.”

“That’s a huge offer.”

“It really is sir, I was surprised myself.”

“They’re desperate.”

“What should we do, sir? I’ve told them I would contact them when I had the data. Should we… you know, try and counter with a cyber attack?”

Broche watched Cell tapped the datapad lightly on his head, before pressing the side of his helmet.

“Fireteam Smash. Could you report to my office?”

“…Sir?”

Broche was taken aback slightly at the mention of the spartans.
Was… was she in trouble?

Did she step out of line? Did she end up making herself suspicious to her new Megacorp?

“Cyber attack? No real need for that. I have a plan.”

Spartan Cell tapped a few times on his data pad, and she saw a several files pop up, before they all compressed into one small, bright digital sphere of light.

“Now, what sort of output interface did shards have again? This shape?”

Broche looked back to Spartan Cell, who was presenting several data chips.

“They look… more like this, sir.” Broche took a small shard out from her breast pocket on her coat.
The shard wasn’t anything of high value to anyone but her.
And that was because it had nothing but old photos and videos of her mother stored in it.

“Hmmm… alright then. So more like this?”

Spartan Cell muttered as he used his hands to shift and mould a 3d image into an imitation of a shard.

“The circuits had something more like this, sir.”

“Ah, primitive. Typical.”

“Umm, sir? You asked for us?”

“Oh, yeah. Wait a second.”

“Okay…”

“Hey Anthony! Look what I found!”

“Aw, dude! Don’t just pick something up and bring it here! That’s disgusting!”

“Alright, we’ve got the chip, we’ve got the data and… here.”

Spartan Cell popped over to his lab desk on the other side of a clear door, coming back in with a small shard.

“Alright, this is going to be Operation Prometheus.”

“Operation…”

“…Prometheus?”

“Tomorrow, you contact them back. Tell them you have data.”

“… Sir? Is that really fine?”

“Oh yeah. But here’s the thing, they’ll be sceptical at first. And I highly doubt they’re willing to keep their end of the bargain. So what I’m going to do is have these two dumbasses waiting nearby until you give them a signal.”

“Hey, we’re not dumb!”

“Yeah, who are you calling a dumbass!”

“… So you give them a signal, and they’ll respond by acting like they’re here to arrest and detain you for leaking company intel.”

“… Ok, sir?”

“They’ll run, you’ll be handcuffed and shoved into a truck. And then you’ll be placed under witness protection for the time being.”

“… What’s a witness protection?”

“Oh my fucking god.”

Spartan Cell breathed in deep, before clapping his hands and shaking them.

“Ok. So. Witness protection is what the law should be doing to people who testify. You testify, so you’re a threat, so the authority puts them in a place where they’ll be safe from harm until they’re completely convicted. Sometimes they’re placed under witness protection for a very long time. Sometimes relocated in a different area.”

“…Oh…”

“So, you will be protected. That’s the key here. Your job is to give them that shard, act like you’re in trouble, and then lay low here. Ok?”

“I… I-I understand, sir.”

“Ok, good. Let Operation Prometheus commence!”

-0O0-

Amelio was giddy already.
Holy shit, did he pick the right person. Data shard already? He knew that Broche bitch was greedy for a higher position. Who wouldn’t be? It’s Biotechnica for god sake.

Amelio waited in his car, Biotechnica military accompanying him.

Waiting, for Broche to arrive with the shard.

And lo and behold, turning at the corner into the alleyway here…
… was his newest lead scientist.

… or so she would want to hear, wouldn’t she? Amelio thought to him self as he sneered.
The soldier next to him turned off the safety of his Arasaka Senkoh LX, an audible click resonating within the car.

Grab the shard, dispose of the body.

That was the plan.

“Miss Broche, it’s so nice to see you.”

“Yeah, Yeah. I have the shard.”

“Good… now, before we continue, however, we just need to check for any daemons or viruses. Is that fine?”

Broche hesitated for a moment. Did Cell… Did cell put viruses on this?

He better not have…

She had no choice but to comply. Silently sending a message to the Spartans waiting just around the corners of one of the building.

She witnessed one of the soldiers plug the shard into himself, and quickly running a scan.

“… It seems clean, sir.”

“… Excellent.”

Amelio turned around, no longer even bothering to look at Broche.

The job was done, he had what he wanted.
Now, Broche was just a loose end to tie off.

And the moment the soldiers started to aim their gun on Broche -

“FREEZE!”

“THIS IS REDS AND BLUES, MILITARY POLICE!”

The Reds and Blues truck rushed in from the opposite end of the alleyway, Spartan Ian and Anthony jumping out from the back with an assault rifle and a pistol.

“Oh- SHIT!”

“Run! RUN!”

“GET THE SHARD! GET THE SHARD!”

“YEEE HAW!!”

The sound of automatic rifle shots rang out into the night, as Spartan Anothny open fired into the sky without any care.

A more of a… theatrical display of an assault and arrest.

“BULLSHIT!”

Unfortunately, Spartan Ian was more intent on making this act believable. He unloaded his pistol at one of the soldiers firing at him and his buddy.

Spartan Ian switched his firing stance, from trained professionalism to wildly waving the hand holding his firearm back and forth, firing the weapon every time he pushed his arm out.
He then turned around, bent over, his arm coming out between his legs, and open fired once more.

Through all that sequence, the biotechnica soldier taking was hilariously still standing, constantly taking all the shot fired from Ian’s pistol.
Almost comically so.

The Biotechnica military was returning fire at the Spartans, bullets bouncing off their energy shields as they stepped into the car and put pedal to the medal.

Amelio, amidst the panic and chaos, still saw Broche’s fate through the rear mirror.
Forced to lie on the ground, getting her wrist handcuffed and hauled away.

Amelio laughed like mad as he saw the shard in his hands.
He didn’t care. He got what he wanted.
In fact? Reds and Blues got rid of a pesky loose end.

It was two birds with one stone, for crying out loud!

As the car drived off, Broche handcuffed but unharmed, the Spartans got onto the Reds and Blues Cargo truck.

“… Do you think that tricked them?” Spartan Anthony asked cautiously as they watched the car disappear from sight.

“… Hell yeah!” Spartan Ian shouted.

Broche watched in slight disbelief as Spartan Anthony and Spartan Ian jumped out of their seats and into the air, high fiving each other while they were yet to fall down from the motion.

If this was some kind of comedy sketch, Broche was sure there would be a punchline flashing right below the two.

Maybe something along the lines of ‘Oscar Nominated!’

-oOo-

Amelio looked at the shard one last time before throwing it to the counter intelligence department.
The shard looked clean, sharp, sleek.
Shiny.

Though by the looks of it, it was only just slightly better than a regular shard. Amelio saw military-grade shards of even higher quality pumped out by Arasaka and Militech.

No viruses were found.
Which meant that dumb bitch really did give them the real shard. And she got caught for it too.

Oh, Miss Broche. Amelio muttered. You’re sacrifice will not be in vein.

The counter intelligence agent plugged the shard into the main server of Biotechnica.
And they let the Megacorp’s Net runner take care of the rest.

“Look at this…”

“Holy shit…”

“It’s beautiful.”

The bright orb that stood in front of them.

It looked like a miniature sun,
In the palm of their hands.

The amount of information that would be in this single file…
It made the netrunners salivate.

“Come on! Open it!”

“I’m trying! Unzipping… now!”

“…”

“…”

The simple command of unzipping and opening the file was…
… Was doing nothing.

“Well? Open it already!”

“I am! It’s not opening!”

“What?! It needed a password?!”

“No, it’s just not opening!”

“The hell do you mean by that, move! I’ll open it!”

One of the netrunner shoved the avatar of his colleague and stood in front of the small sun.

“…”

“…”

“… Well?”

It wasn’t opening.

Great, he muttered.

“… Hey, Frank?”

“What. What?”

One of the netrunners pointed at a small part of the Biotechnica’s data fortress.

“Wasn’t the icon for that file their suppose to be constantly moving?”

It was a water wheel, made to spin for all eternity.
And the wheel was frozen in place, not even budging a single step.

That was… weird.

Then the netrunners started to note even more strange occurences.

The data stream, the lines and buzzling particles that formed the information of this particular megacorp net.

They weren’t… they weren’t moving.

None of them were moving.

They froze.
… Froze.
Frozen.

…

…

The Netrunners all looked back at the file they were trying to open.
And in a flash, the file expanded, expelling it’s content.
Hundreds and millions of cars expended out in every direction, the 3D image going through and overlapping one another, growing to monstrous size.

Oh shit.
The Netrunners realised too late, and tried to run away too late.

The file was causing everything to freeze.
The data fortress
The Biotechnica’s net was buffering.

“What the fuck!”

“RUN!”

Walls and floors were glitching as the cars started to multiply and grow further.
Like a cancerous… digital tumour, threatening to ever expand, ever replicate, without interference or resistance.

Many of the netrunners had their backs hit by the front bumper of a Black Mamba, being pushed to the digital wall or floor and crushed by it’s rapidly expanding force and weight.

The intel in the real world was panicking. Amelio, was panicking.
They were all watching as the netrunner’s physical bodies squirmed and wriggled, before cables fizzled out with a spark and their netrunners ended up braindead.

“Shut it down… Shut it down! TURN IT OFF!”

“We can’t, sir!”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T?!”

“It’s- the computers, their not responding!”

“WHAT?!”

“They’re frozen! We can’t- we can’t input any commands in it sir!”

The server room temperature was shooting skyhigh, fans were slowly turning up as fast as they can before they too, started to buffer.

The motherboards, the memories, the CPU…
… they were…
They were melting under the heat the computers were generating from within.

-oOo-

“If… If I may, sir… What were in that shard?”

Spartan Cell looked up from his microscope, and turned to Broche. Who was also looking at a microscope.

Some of the beetle designs were quite innovative. Spartan Cell had whistled at the sight of them. They had the function he wanted, and while it wasn’t as efficient as his own design, after some thinking he decided to take their ideas instead (Of course, with few modifications and improvements of his own).
Because when was life efficient? Evolution, was never efficient. It was never an immaculate calculated and crafted design like a Sports car was. It just rambled and cobbled together whatever it could get its grubby hands on and if it survived? It stuck.
That was evolution. Going somewhere, just… with no directions.

And by Spartan Cell’s account, life should stay that way.
Because life-and by extension, evolution-was the very essence of chaos.
And it always found a way.

“Hmm? Oh, Operation Prometheus. It’s data from our computer. You know, the heavily advanced quantum one? That’s… connected wirelessly. Now, our computer can process data size that big, no problem! But it’s hard for classical computers like theirs. More so when they’ve decided to take a step back in computer technology thanks to all those disasters happening.”

“So what really was…”

“That? It was a 3D rotatable and detachable blueprint of the Black Mamba. Replicated and connected and overlaid and overlapped like… six hundred… and… forty times? And that was repeated 5 more times before being compressed down to 420 kilobytes.”

“… S-so what you sent them was a…”

“… A 554.4 Yottabyte Zip Bomb. I know for sure that those motherfuckers struggle to even process a zettabyte. Hell, I’d be surprised if they have no problem processing gigabytes.”

Broche stared in shock upon realisation.

“… Oh my god.”

“Yeah. Sometimes, to break down a fortress, you don’t need some elaborate schemes or long term espionage. You just need… a stone. Like, a really big stone. Really, REALLY, big stone.”

“… Their computers.”

Cell chuckled.

“Oh their computers are going to FUCKING melt and burn. Now, I believe these beetles are ready to be born. So, send these genetic blueprints to the team and have them modify the grub cells we extracted form the SCOP scraps we found in the trash hills. I have an announcement to make to Fireteam Badger.”

“… Of course, sir.”

-oOo-

[Spartan Badger: Hi, my name is Badger. Have you ever been fucked over by Biotechnica? Have your crops died to their plague? Their GMO plants overtaking your business? Did they force you to sell your lands to them and watch yourself get unemployed?

Well, we’re here to fix that! Introducing the injecto-soil! All you have to do is just stab any sort of dirt with this bad boy like so, push down and let the fluid seep into the soil, and have it form biofilms 6 feet under. And then in just a day or two… boom! Poisoned soil is no more, say ‘welcome back!’ to the clean, nutrient rich soil for your crops to grow on without a care!
For only 2 eurodollars, you can get a dozen these sweet little toy in a small little box!
… Actually, you know what? Fuck it- Until the next month, For only 3 eurodollars you can get two dozens of the injecto-soil, some of our crops seeds in a small packet, a tree sapling, and some beetle eggs that will help with pollination, soil enrichment and protection! All of these, in one package!
Only 3 eurodollars? Did you hear me wrong? No, of fucking course not!
It really is 3 eurodollars and I shit you not, this works.
These are all bundled up in the celebration of Biotechnica finally fucking itself over!
Go to the local mall or online shopping sites and search the ‘Get fucked, Biotechnica’ package!
Yes, you heard me right. It’s ‘Get fucked, Biotechnica’ package!
For only 3 eurodollars!

What are you waiting for, get the land you managed to take back from Biotechnica into the soil you want it to be!

Announcer: Reds and Blues - It’s not about the money, it’s about sending a message.]

Amelio looked at the tv monitor in disbelief.
The central headquarters of Biotechnica had fallen - all technology had seized to work.
Labs in other countries were completely cut off thanks to the main server shutting down.

Amelio was no longer in Italy.
He was sitting in the Night City Division of Biotechnica - in centre of the Corpo Plaza.
The window showed Militech and Arasaka tower. And when Amelio first bought this tower, he thought he could build something as tall as theirs.

Arrogance, in it’s finest form.
And as they said- twice the pride, double the fall.

Majority of the cybersecurity team had either died, critically injured, or resigned.
Too much loss had hit Biotechnica. And the downfall of the Main server was the final straw.

The server… the fucking main server stored everything. Every blueprint that was tested and finalised, ready to be punched into real products.
They were all in their.
And now… and now it’s gone.

It would take Biotechnica years to even stop it’s fall, and even that’s not accounting for all the damage they would have to climb back out of.

And Reds and Blues? They’d have taken over everything Biotechnica owned.

All the lands, all the technology.
All the market…
…

Even Amelio wasn’t blind to the future.
There was no place Biotechnica in the world of tomorrow.

They stumbled and fell, and now they had to watch as Reds and Blues whizzed past them.

The sound of the elevator door opening echoed through the room. Heavy footsteps echoed outside of his office, and Amelio turned to see the hulking mass of metal and synthetic muscles walk in, it’s four red eyes glowing menacingly.

Genjiro was walking right behind the titan. And Amelio knew who he was.
That was the CEO of Reds and Blues.

Amelio instinctively jumped out of his couch, stumbling back until he hit the window.

He just stared in shock and disbelief.

“… Yeah, so once the renovation is finished you can place whatever furniture you want here. I guess this will be your new office.” Spartan Cell was busy turning to Genjiro and talking about something.

“Wh-what do you mean renovation? New office…? The hell do you mean new office?!”

Spartan Cell turned to Amelio, and let out a small ‘oh’

“Yeah, we’re here to buy this tower.”

“… What?”

“Yeah, we’ll be buying this from you, if you won’t object.”

Amelio stared at the giant.
And he felt the gears in his head turn slowly.

“You… you’re here to buy… something from me?”

“Oh, yes. Surprise, surprise. Look, we were really looking forward to having a Night City division. And other Megacorps were too. While I do love the outskirts, apparently it has more appeal to the other CEOs if they can meet with Genjiro in a more… what did they say again?”

“A Corpo-lifestyle fashion, sir.”

“Yeah the Corpo-lifestyle. Whatever the fuck that means. Anyway, how much do you want? Name it.”

“Wait, wait… before we say anything else, how about… we negotiate.”

Genjiro raised his eyebrow. If Spartan Cell’s face was visible, he’d be doing it too.

“Negotiate?”

“Yeah, look. President… Cell? I’ve heard? President Cell, you and I both run a Megacorp specialising in genetic engineering. Bioengineering and science - that’s what our companies have in heart!”

“Yeah. We just do it better.”

Amelio grit his teeth and forced his smile to stay.

“I was told… that the man running Reds and Blue was very curious and ambitious man. A man of science… with a dream. I believe we are alike in that way.”

“…”

“If you are, who I think you are… you should give me another chance.”

Another chance.

That was another word for ‘let’s work together.’
Strike a partnership. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

It was the only way for Biotechnica to survive.

Spartan Cell understood that. Genjiro understood that.

And for once in his life on Earth, Spartan Cell was slient.
Then in a calm voice, he answered Amelio.

“I don’t think we are alike at all, Mister Laggagio.”

“… Loggagia. It’s Amelio, Loggagi-” 

“You are not, a curious nor ambitious man at all, Mister Laggagio. Your ethic in business is left much to be desired, and your ethic in science even more so. But that’s to be expected, you are not a man of science at all, Mister Laggagio. Your father might have been, but you are not.”

“My name… President Cell, is Ameli-”

“I’ve ignored you the first time, because it does not matter what your name is. I cannot care less, and I cannot respect it at all. Your ethic towards a fellow being is poor, and I’d rather not waste my time trying to win a respect that isn’t even worth anything. I do believe you cannot say the same for me. But that’s something for you to ponder on, and me to dismiss.

You and your board is inefficient. Your apathy, your cruelty, your greed for power. It’s inefficient. Among the many inefficiency I look upon in high regard, your sloth is… far from one of them.”

Spartan Cell sat on the sofa, heard it creak under his weight.

“I am a man of science. I strive for excellency of research, and I enjoy the art of discovering the unknown or the forgotten. Do you know why?”

Amelio had too dry of a throat to speak.
So he instead shook his head.

“It’s because I enjoy our advancement. The advancement of humanity. Do you know why we were so overjoyed on landing on the moon in 1969? Why should we? It was the scientists that launched the rocket, anything could be in that ship and land on the moon. It could have been a dog, a monkey, or a hamster. But we still rejoiced when mankind landed on the moon.

That is because it wasn’t a body that stood on the surface of the sliver soil - no, it was the human will. If you realise that, you realise everything. That humanity had advanced it’s willpower to the point where it can no longer be contained within Earth, and it even reached the moon.
Our willpower, grew.

… And that’s why I loved science. For with each invention, we discovered new secrets of the quantum and atoms…. Of space, of reality. And with that knowledge, we strengthened the human spirit!

LOOK AT US, LOOK AT ME!! WE WERE BORN TO INHERIT THE STARS!! TO CHART THE VAST ABYSS WITH OUR DREAMS!! TO GO BEYOND THE BOUNDARIES OF SPACE AND TIME! TO VENTURE, AND VENTURE!! AND VENTURE!!!”

Amelio was taken aback, sticking deeper and deeper into the corner he back himself up into.

“TO FIGHT IF WE MUST, FOR WE HAVE PROVEN THAT WHILE WE WERE MADE TO BREAK, WE WERE NOT MADE TO BEND!! 
AND THROUGH SCIENCE!! THROUGH DISCOVERY!! THROUGH TECHNOLOGY, WE ADVANCE! ONE MAN STRIKES THE EUREKA, AND LEADS THE REST TO A HIGHER PLANE! TO SOW THE SEEDS THAT WILL LATER GROW FURTHER KNOWLEDGE THAT THE NEXT GENERATION, OR THE NEXT MAN THAT STEPS FOOT ON THAT SOIL TO PICK AND EAT!! TO DISCOVER FURTHER, TO DISCOVER CLOSER! JUST LIKE HOW ARMSTRONG AND ALDRIN HAD STEPPED FOOT ON THE MOON, TO LEAVE THEIR SPIRIT ON THAT ASTEROID FOR THE REST OF US TO PICK UP AND CARRY AS WE PUSH INTO SPACE!

SCIENCE!! IS TO DISCOVER ORDER WITHIN CHAOS, CHAOS WITHIN ORDER, SO THAT HUMANITY CAN WIELD IT IN IT’S PALMS LIKE A CHILD WITH A TOY AND CREATIVE IMAGINATION!! TO PUSH UPON OUR LIMITS AND REALISE WE HAVE NONE!! AND KNOW THAT WE ARE FREE IN THIS VAST UNIVERSE!! I KNOW MY CRAFT, I KNOW MY PROFESSION AND I AM DAMN PROUD OF IT! I AM DAMN PROUD OF THE TIME I INVESTED, THE SACRIFICES I MADE! THE SWEAT AND TEARS AND BLOOD I SPILT FOR MY KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM! PROUD OF ALL THE EFFORT I PUT INTO MY DISCOVERIES!!

THAT SCIENCE, IS FOR THE MAN! NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND!!
AND YOU AND YOUR PETTY LITTLE GROUP YOU CALL MEGACORPS, THE ONES YOU CALL ARASAKA AND MILITECH… YOU DARE DESECRATE THAT IN FRONT OF ME?! YOU THINK WE ARE ALIKE?! YOUR SCIENCE ISN’T FOR THE PEOPLE, IT IS FOR YOU! AND YOU ONLY! YOUR GREED AND YOUR LAZINESS! YOUR MONEY TO FILL IN YOUR POCKETS!! THAT’S WHAT YOUR SCIENCE IS FOR!”

Spartan Cell slammed his two fists down on the table, and Amelio watched as the metal slab caved in until the level of the surface of the table matched the surface of the floor.

Cell huffed. He huffed and puffed.
And then he stood up.

Amelio felt fear.
Visceral, primal instinct blaring in his head.

Amelio doubted even Adam Smasher could do this to him.

“… So that’s why, we cannot work with you. We cannot… in your words, ‘give you another chance’. Because quite frankly, there is no place for you. Not here, not ever again. So long as I live. And trust me, even amongst the zealous religious groups hellbent on the genocide of our entire race, led by - let me make it clear-power hungry fuckers like you... I survived. I fought, I lived, I won.

... So...

Stay out, of my territory.”

Amelio slowly crept towards the elevator door, and once he had enough distance away from Cell- he bolted.

He went in and furiously pressed the button.
He was too scared to look at Cell and his four red spectral nodes.
For he doubted that he would survive staring into the eyes of a mad god.

Chapter Text

“Ok, back it up people! Back it up, back it up!”

Genjiro and his newest teams of salespeople looked in amusement at their CEO waiving a traffic signalling baton lighting up orange.

Normally those would be used to send clear-read messages to the construction workers, operating cranes and wrecking balls. Cell was using none of those equipments - the baton signalling purely for his own amusement.

There were no manual construction done on the old Biotechnica building in Corpo Plaza - in front of all in the Arasaka Tower, Militech, and those walking through and around the memorial centre was witnessing a monstrously divine and alien act of… a single blue holographic sphere - a mimicry of the Forerunner’s design seed. Codes that are drawn with hard light filaments and coded with quantum commands.

Normally used as a short preview of the design and material before feeding it into the multiple Cell-Khyl’ Vats, Cell and Khyl had further developed (and even had help from the Huragok trio safely rescued and hid away in the UNSC Revenant) it into a new functioning prototype.

Starting with a small batch of the Cell-Matter nanotechnology, it would use nearby environments as construction materials.

Luckily, they had a sizeable material right in front of them - the now defunct Biotechnica building.

N54 channels and other news sites smelling new meat were rushing to Corpo Plaza, surrounding the Reds and Blues staff members.

Think about it - a never before heard Megacorp, technology advanced beyond what was in current stagnant Night city, environmentally positive to boot?

Either they were seeing a someone that people will back for hundreds of years to come, or they have something with the largest conspiracy to boot.

Either which, it was views.

“Excuse me! Mr Genjiro? My name is Fiona Hayes from Network 54! If you could give us  some time for interviews!”

One of the news casters managed to outrun their competitors, rushing towards the former Arasaka Executive and threatening to shove the camera in his face.

For Genjiro this was a sudden slight. Just a second ago he was watching his president and his personal crew aggressively remodel the newly acquired Biotechnica tower - and now he was getting bombarded by flashes and questions.

“We’ve heard from your former colleagues- about how you had been fired from your position as an Arasaka Executive. Tell us: What made you decide to build your own start up company? And how in god’s name did you manage to build it up such a powerful corporation in such a short time?”

Soon other reporters started to arrive, barge in and shoving each other aside.

“Please tell us: what made you decide to compete and drive Biotechnica out of business?”

“Some people had told us that you had created this start up company with support from Militech! And that was how you managed to gain extraterrestrial technology! Is this true?”

“Is it true that this company was built from the moon? Were there any alien contacts?”

Genjiro looked at the all the microphones shoved into his face, then at the lenses of the camera drones.

He smirked. Almost chuckled - at the Reporter’s misinterpretations and confusion.

This was sent all throughout the newsfeeds live. The blinking red lights told him that much.

Genjiro took a step back.

“I wish I could answer as if your suspicions were true. But I am not the CEO.”

The reporters looked at each other in silence. Confusion growing clearer on their faces.
Genjiro put up a finger - a silent and respectful request to remain here and wait for a moment. He then walked over to Spartan Cell, bowing respectfully as the weird armored full’borg (or that’s what the reporters assumed) holding the signalling batons snapped his head back to Genjiro.

The CEO had lurched forward so that Genjiro had a more comfortable time trying to whisper something into his ears.

Many of the viewers - including David Martinez- watched all this through his TV. Saw how the metallic titan turned to look behind his shoulders with those 4 glowing eyes the moment Genjiro finished whispering about the situation.
How the Spartan-IV stomped towards the newscaster ready to interview the highest man available for the newest rising megacorp.

“Yes, hello. This is the CEO of Reds and Blues.”

The reporters remained in shock and silence.  They had just seen what would have been a much more sleek and preem version of Adam Smasher walk up and announce himself as the actual head of the Megacorp.

The appearance of the CEO resembled the descriptions of the Baba Yagas, which only added more to the fears of these reporters.

During this moment of frozen silence, no one from the reporter’s and journalist’s masses were willing break, Spartan Cell zoned in on the reporter at the front.
The first one to arrive here and try to interview Genjiro.

“You.”

Spartan Cell pointed at her, and she reflexively flinched, pointing a finger at herself for confirmation.
Cell nodded.

“Yeah, you. What was your question?”

“I… well…”

Fiona had ran here with the assumption that Genjiro was the CEO. Background research was done solely on him, and the questions were all constructed around the former Arasaka executive.

Fiona didn’t even realise that this man standing right here, pointing at her existed until 5 minutes ago.

But no matter - she wasn’t just some amateur radio podcaster. She was a reporter of N54 news, and she was a goddamn professional in her field of work.

This wasn’t the first time she would have to improvise questions, and if she had her way in the news media, it wouldn’t be the last.

Fiona cleared her throat, trying to drag back some confidence.

“Yes, I just had some few questions regarding your Megacorp!”

“Go on.”

“What was the reason for building your own start up company? And how in gods name did it become strong enough to overthrow a core Megacorp like Biotechnica?”

Spartan Cell shrugged his shoulders.

“I already made a start up company before. And I wanted a proper platform of influence when I came here. So, I just grabbed what I had from my previous company and came back. Turns out that whatever I had left was strong enough.”

“So… you’re saying…”

“I’m from outer space, as your news have speculated. Yes.”

Oh, well… wow.

Honestly, Fiona had expected the CEO to at least make up a more altruistic response. You know, for positive image. Then she’d have to make more questioning to try and sort out the real reason.

She didn’t really expect the man to plainly talk about a less altruistic reason right off the bat.

But hey, at least the guy was honest.

“And I made it strong enough because half the Megacorps technology is slow and stagnating, and pretty much a troglodyte wielding an iron pipe and thinking itself to be a genius.”

Fiona blinked.

“I… see… so was there a specific reason to target Biotechnica?”

Fiona heard the Spartan let in a frustrated breathe in, and a deep sigh out. Almost resembling a guttural growl.

“There ethics in science and business were lacking.
And thus, there existence and continued preservation…
… mocked me.”

Fiona blinked. That… that was certainly an answer. She barely had time to process the bluntness of his response before Cell continued, his voice dripping with derision

“I mean, really,” he went on, gesturing with one massive, armored hand. “You call it overthrowing a Megacorp. I call it doing the rest of humanity a favor. If anything, you should be thanking me for putting Biotechnica out of its misery.”

Fiona couldn’t stop herself. “You mean—like—literally?”

The Spartan tilted his head slightly, the four glowing eyes of his helmet narrowing. “I mean dragging the dying dog into the back of the barn and pulling an Old Yeller. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. Somewhere behind her, another reporter muttered, “Is he for real?”

Fiona exhaled sharply, deciding to let that line sit for the record. Right, so she was talking to a high-functioning CyberPsycho. Good to know.

“What’s the next question.”

Fiona found herself choking on thick air for a moment, clearing her throat as she tried to think of another question that can prod this chrome titan and see what makes him tick further.

“What… oh, ok… so… what- we’ve already seen how you have broken into the industry and made a name for yourself with cars, natural food products and crops, and even land restoration. There’s also been reports of your ocean rig being built. Could we get an answer to what you are trying to do with the ocean rigs? And if you have any plans for further advancements using Reds and Blues.”

Cell didn’t really waste anytime thinking. Of course he didn’t, he’s being having these thought live rent free in his mind for the past week, banging on the exit door, shouting for these ideas and plans to be brought to reality.

“Ocean rigs are for ocean restoration projects.”

“Ocean restoration?!” One of the journalists shouted in disbelief.

“Ocean restoration!” Spartan Cell shouted back in response, with much more confidence displayed both in his voice, his tone, and his outstretched arms. “That’s right, we saw the shit show Arasaka left behind with those self-replicating bombs filled with rogue ais! So we’ve bought the plot of the oceans to steadily get rid of their bullshit! Mines floating into the shores, Oil, Fragmented ships - all of it, gone! So we can make it a little cleaner than the rest!”

Many of the people hearing the interview murmured. Ocean restoration sounded more like an overtly ambitious pipe dream than a business venture. There was a reason why even Arasaka gave up on trying to clean up their own product.

But then again, the man speaking into the microphone right now was the same man that effectively replaced Biotechnica with his own business, detoxifying the soil back into farmlands and currently turning deserts back into forests as he spoke.

“And what are you going to do with the area of the ocean you own once you do so?”

“Restore the fish. If we can clear enough of the pollution and mines, I’m sure we can start to culture fish from the DNA we’ve collected.”

“Do you truly think that’s possible?”

“DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING LAGUNA BEND? THAT’S MY WORK!”

“…”

“…”

“… So it… it really was…”

“Does that mean the building next to the lake is…”

“Legally our plot of land, yes. We bought it from the mayor and built our water plant on it. Feel free to take a dive in it, it’s pretty much free of pollution now.”

The reporters and journalists were already starting to make some noise.
Few were looking into the cameras and talk, while others were busy writing notes and recording audio logs of Cell’s interview.

“And will you be opening this ocean for travelling and transport from other Megacorps?”

Spartan Cell actually took a moment to answer, looking back to Genjiro, who in response - and as the faithful subordinate to the Spartan - quickly shook his head with his hand performing a curt cutting motion across his neck.

Spartan Cell looked back to the reporters.

“No.” 

More chatter from the crowd, more questions - like how was Reds and Blues going to get samples for restoration of fish?
Would Reds and Blues think about opening part of their company for tours?

Are Reds and Blues thinking of extending to other countries, or are they perfectly happy to just have partnership with other corporations while staying in Night City?

“Are there any new ventures you’re thinking of exploring? It may not be right now, but just for any viewers to wait for in anticipation!”

“We’re thinking of venturing into implant technology.”

“So you’re… going to overthrow them like Biotechnica?”

“If they get on my nerves. Otherwise I’m just happy to strike partnerships with them and send them our stuff to add onto.”

“I see! And what exactly would you like to improve for implant technology?”

“I want to see the reduction in cyberpsychosis. I’m sure it’s possible. Although it will take some time and a lot of effort going into research and data collection. Until then, we might as well open up clinics in company-owned areas for repairs.”

Curiosity had taken over the majority. Many already knew that just having Cell talk was going to be enough revenue.

But one group moved forward with questions spiked and sharpened to cut.
They had enough money stuffed in their pockets by the Japanese Megacorp to try and slice the image of the Reds and Blues down a few peg.

“Hello, Mister Cell- An interview for the Arasaka Network please?”

The Reporter for Arasaka Network barged in with the camera drone and a microphone.

 “How do you respond to claims that Reds and Blues’ aggressive actions—like collapsing Biotechnica—have cost thousands of jobs and destabilised   the economy? Some say you’re nothing more than a warlord disguised as a CEO.”

"Sure, the original stockholders and Biotechnica Boardmembers would be left with empy air filling up their market and bank, but I do assure you that I do not intend to leave the workers without a job just because they happen to be employed by a failing company. Sure, we'll be doing background checks and interviews to make sure they're not corporate spies. But we do intend to give them the chance to... 'readjust' to the new company."

Few of the former Biotechnica workers watching the interviews widened their eyes. Just today, they had lost their jobs, no thanks to Cell and his business.
Some of the few were very keen on spending their remaining incomes on a beer and a bullet.
But here they were, listening to the very man that caused the downfall of their careers openly talking about giving them another shot at life.

False hope? Publicity stunt? They didn’t know. But the nonchalant confidence Cell held in his voice had power.

Power to convince.

“I, see… Ahem.” The reporter cleared he throat, confidence slightly wilting under Cell’s response. But she still pushed on. “Speaking of readjustments: While companies like Arasaka have ensured decades of stability and order, Reds and Blues has disrupted entire markets in mere months. Don’t you think this kind of unchecked ambition will cause more harm than good?”

Cell made a mocking gesture of putting his hand next to his ears. 

"I’m sorry - what? You say that as if the stability of Arasaka isn't doing more harm than good already. We know that the destabilisation of majority of Japan results from Yorinobu Arasaka's reign. Heard about how there's still orphans and street urchins running around, barely a support or aftercare given by your so-called 'stable corporation' as a way to recognise and acknowledge the sacrifices they were forced to make. For all his claims about making Japan the power country with his Megacorps, Japan sure looks frail right now. When’s he gonna start backing up that claim, huh? There’s… Look, have you gone to the supermarkets recently? There’s reason why Japan’s biggest food megacorps shook hands with us and are willing to buy our agriculture. Have you seen the stickers on the rices? If you didn’t, take a look at it while you’re buying your dinners tonight, then look at this new tower right here on your way home."

The reporter faltered a bit more - cameras zooming into her face to catch the sign of weakness.
The others didn’t care who was right, or who was winning.
They only cared that this was making views skyrocket as they speak.

The reporter flipped through her notes as she tried to recompose herself.

“Y-You claim to restore humanity’s progress, but who’s benefiting from your ‘advancements’? Many fear that Reds and Blues’ technology—like the ocean rigs or the Laguna Bend project—will only be monopolized by your company. Isn’t this just another version of corporate greed?”

Cell sighed out in frustration, scratching the back of his helmet.

"If you've seen my goddamn products, brainless fuck, you'd realise that majority of the products that you call 'monopolised' isn't hoarded in our fucking storage room. 1.50 eurodollars per kilogram of beef. 10.50 eurodollars for each 10 by 10 by 10 meter square box of potatoes. Does that sound like a fucking monopolisation to you? What, you want a full blown tour of the insides of Laguna Bend? Go grab a diving suit, go grab a truck, and ride to the lake and take a dive yourself! You'd be surprised to see how much cleaner it is just by looking at the green patch growing around the lake. Which- you're fucking welcome, by the way. So, let's start back from the top. Who's benifitting? Of FUCKING Course we benefit most, ya daft bastard! What do you think I'm running, charity? But that doesn't mean I'm a greedy prick, do I? So let's flip the question - who's not being benefitted from my advancements. Arasaka? Militech? We all know for shit that Biotechnica certainly didn't benefit. Am I right?"

The reporter frantically tried to regain her footing in the interview-turned-argument.
"But don't you think it's an overexertion of a starting company that doesn't look like they have the technology to withstand all this ambitions?"

Suddenly, Cell didn’t answer.
No, he… he stood up straighter.

And was now dead silent. Save for the fact that hums of the camera drones and tension from held breath were filling the air.

Cameras started to zoom onto Cell’s helmet now.
Did the reporter win this time?
Did she find the gap in Cell’s defence?

Genjiro quickly shot his eyes up to Cell, and slowly turned his head.

Last time Genjiro saw his president this angry, was when Cell was reading Biotechnica’s reports.

At least both were lucky that Cell, for all his mad rantings, didn’t get physically violent with people.

"... I'm sorry? I don't... I think I didn't hear you correctly. Because what I just interpreted, was that you think my technology, is as subpar as Arasaka, or Militech, or any other of your shitstains of a company, advertising their half-baked quality of a product on neon signs and building monitors like the cheap whores you bombarded and saturated the streets with. Can you... can you repeat that for me?"

"I'm... I'm just saying even with the extremely creative approaches from Reds and Blues, your company is still pretty much like the rest of the Megacorp's-."

"No."

"-Don't you think it's a little too ambitious to declare such claims against Arasaka or Militech or-"

"No."

"Look, we do appreciate the cheap products, but many of the products you give could easily be replicated by other-"

"Ha! HAHAHA! HA! No. Is that what Arasaka reassured you with? That they can pull a monkey see monkey do?"

Few of the Cameras slightly shook - the cameramen and the reporters were slowly shuffling back, the Arasaka Network reporter was visibly shaken. But her experiences and muscle memories forced her to poke and prod just a little deeper.

Provoke him further, show how much of a newtimer he was compared to other standard businessmen and corporate CEO.
Show how he was more of a madman hellbent on unchecked progressions and destruction than actually helping people.

Arasaka needed to put that kind of image on Cell. To show that he wasn’t to be trusted.
Recent events already had the civilians looking up to Reds and Blues in positive light - and Arasaka was paying their reporters to make Cell break that image down himself.

"Sources say that many of your decisions are questionable. Aggressive, and flamboyant, but at the same time almost naive choices that might as well be considered mistakes in the eyes of the market-"

"No. No. No.

Arasaka lied to you back then. They did.
I don't make mistakes. I'm not just like the rest of you.

I'm stronger, I'm smarter! 
I… I'm better!

I AM BETTER!

I'm not some weak kneed fucking corporate chairman or some- limp-dicked politician that makes flukes all the time! And why the FUCK would you want me to be?"

The Reporter had enough. She didn’t feel safe to be here any longer, and the responses weren’t something she was getting paid for.
The reporter quickly turned to her cameraman.

"Go to commercial, Kento. Go to FUCKING commercial-"

Cell pointed a finger at the one specific camera.

"Don't you dare, stop rolling, Arasaka Network fucks!"

"..."

"... All my life, I've seen people try to control me. My whole life. Rich people, powerful people. Leash me, sabotage me. Keep me impotent, and obedient - like I'm a fucking puppet!

And you know what? It almost worked! It almost, fuckin' worked.

Because I allowed it to work!
And guess what - if they can control me, then you can bet your ass they can control you.

They already do, you just don't realise it yet.

... I'm done. I'm done apologising, I'm done being persecuted by my advancements and progress. 

YOU people, should be THANKING CHRIST, that I AM who and WHAT I AM, because YOU NEED ME! YOU NEED ME TO SAVE YOU!

You do.

I am the ONLY ONE, who possibly can.

Arasaka? Militech?
They're not the real heroes.

I'm the real hero.

... I'm the real hero."

-oOo-

<Arasaka? Militech?
They're not the real heroes.

I'm the real hero.

... I'm the real hero.>

The Arasaka Executives of Night City department were busy rewinding the interview, trying so hard to look at every details of the new Megacorp CEO’s MJOLNIR armour.

“What do you make of it.”

One of the Arasaka executives asked, her optics fixated on the more advanced optics of Cell’s.

“He’s dangerous.”

“Of fucking course he’s dangerous. I’m asking- do you think he’s related?”

“… To the Boogeymen?”

“Who else?”

“Yeah, I can see the resemblance.”

“Not to mention that tech he has… he turned the Biotechnica building into some silver monument.”

One of the executives looked out the window. What used to be the monolith built to house their cooperators were now turned into a silver blocky building with green hue.
It looked alien, surreal.

And it only took Reds and Blues 30 seconds to replace.
The entrance were lined with cars - both pristine (or ‘preem’, as the civilians here called it) and battered down vehicles were waiting their turns going into the building.

The reason was clear - former Biotechnica employees, getting interviewed and background checked.

They didn’t just beat Biotechnica Black and Blue… Or Red and Blue, they were actively absorbing whatever was left for them to use.

Just like the trash heaps.

“So, what do you want to do. Sabotage them?”

“Can’t. They’re too thorough.”

“Nonsense, even networks have holes-”

“They’re not using a fucking network, Carlton.”

“… What? Impossible!”

“At least not the ones we can find. We’ve already had Netrunners try to access the old Biotechnica servers through the route we had made.”

“And? Don’t tell me it’s gone.”

“…”

“… What the hell do you mean it’s gone?!”

“I don’t fucking know! Just yesterday, just before the building was bought out, we were still having access to it! Trying to scavenge whatever data that wasn’t decimated or corrupted by that… cyberattack Biotechnica was hit with. Then just today the netrunners told us that it just fucking disappeared! Gone, just empty space! Like it never existed!”

“And any other Networks nearby?”

“… None. We couldn’t even detect any. To anyone with digital space, that Reds and Blues tower is nothing but an empty void. It doesn’t exist.”

The executive touched his metal chin implant.
That didn’t make sense. Company that advanced? It was bound to have some sort of software.

It just didn’t make sense.

“But never mind that. We can focus on Cell another time - what we need to focus on now is this.”

The Kate threw down a shard on the table. And every other executives looked at it with confusion.

“And this is…?”

“A gig.”

“A gig, for what?”

“For luring in Baba Yaga into Adam Smasher.”

Arasakas looked at each other.
Kate and her team were trying to find dirt on this city’s newest Boogeymen, yes.
But they didn’t realise how serious she was in trying to get them.

Majority of the executives were uncomfortable with this decision.
Just a few weeks ago, they were fine with this.
But when Biotechnica executives started to disappear in Konpeki Plaza.

Never mind the heat that Arasaka got during that time, now many high-ranking employers of Megacorps were having second guesses about walking so nonchalantly in the open.

Not that secluding themselves in closed-spaces stopped the Baba Yagas from getting their targets.

If the Baba Yagas ever found out that Arasaka was behind this…

They all might wake up 6 feet under.
If they ever wake up at all.

“And you sure you have a proper plan for this?”

“Of course I do. The so-called ‘queen of fixers’ are already on our payroll. We just hand this gig over and she’ll do the rest.”

“… I see. And any way to trace it back to us?”

“Not with Rogue. She’ll cover it up if she knows what’s on the stake.”

“…”

One of the executives sighed out.

Kate better be right.

-oOo-

“… You want me to do what?”

“Mix this gig in with whatever other gigs you get regarding a Konpeki Plaza.”

“What if I don’t have a Konpeki Plaza-related gig?”

“Then make one. And make sure they don’t find out it’s from Arasaka.”

The Arasaka employee stood up then and there, walking out of the club.
Rogue pinched the bridge of her nose - she didn’t like working with Arasaka. Not one bit.

But what could she do right now?

They had specifically ordered the Baba Yagas for this job. And Arasaka was right - whether this gig failed or succeeded, she needed to layer another gig on top of what was originally here if she didn’t want to lose her cred.

Actually, forget the cred - she needed to make sure that gig was properly layered if she didn’t want the Baba Yagas to find out she was willingly sending the top mercs into a death trap.

Luckily, a recent gig had came in.
A Doll by the name of Evelyn Parker had asked for a heist in Konpeki Plaza.
A chip, in the top of the tower reserved only for Yorinobu Arasaka.

It was almost a miracle, which made Rogue even more scared.
… No, Baba Yaga were skilled enough to pull this off. Probably even give Arasaka the finger for her.

She called Locust from her holophone.

Just like always, it took the phone to ring three times before he picked up.

[… Rogue.]

“Hey, Locust. I got a gig for you.”

[Details and Location.]

“It’s a heist in Konpeki Plaza. Client named Evelyn Parker wants something called ‘the relic.’”

[…]

“…”

[Send the rest of the details. Tell them we’ll be there in 5 minutes.]

Locust hung up. Rogue took a sip of her whiskey by the bottle and breathed harshly out through her nose.

Did she like how everything was going?

No.

But she didn’t have a choice, did she?

If she wanted to survive in a place called Night City, this was something she just had to do.

Chapter Text

“I…”

Wow, Shit.

Evelyn Parker was a woman who’s ambition far outweighed her abilities.

But that didn’t stop her from selling info she got from the Voodoo Boys.
That didn’t stop her from having the galls to pull the rug from under the Pacifica gangs to fill her own pockets.

After all, it was her that managed to get the location to the Relic.
She knew that all she had to do was get the Relic, sell it over to Netwatch for a new life. A new life, a new identity.

She was originally planning to send it over to Dexter DeShawn… but with him dead, Evelyn had to end up paying more cash to get the better alternative.

She didn’t really expect much. She just wanted some good mercs to be sent her way and for her to inform how the heist was gonna work.
She didn’t expect to Rogue to send the fucking Boogeymen her way.

Agent Locust and Agent Ram walked into the bar without even stopping to oggle the workers here even once.

Rita had told them the rules, sure. But the amount of silence they replied with made her feel like she was talking to walking corpses.

Hell, maybe they really were Full’Borgs.

The bouncers and Moxes were failing at their job by just backing away slowly and watching their movement, but no one was give them shits for it.

No one wanted to approach the Baba Yagas, even if it was them off their job.

Evelyn Parker gathered her thoughts and the air of enigma back, watching the two Spartans stand in front of the bar.

“And what would the two of you gentlemen come here for?”

The Bartender had asked.

“Evelyn Parker.”

God damn the voice. Distorted and digital - it sounded more like a synth-wave mimicking a voice using several frequencies plastered together.

“Sorry, never heard of her.” The Bartender deflected. Sure, he was trying to look out for his old friend.

“That’s fine.” Locust replied. “She told us to meet her here.”

Evelyn rolled her chair around to meet Locust in… whatever optic he had over his helmet.

Evelyn felt her own eyes roll around trying to find his eyes, but decided that it was a futile effort.

“You’re right, I did.”

Evelyn Parker, that’s how she introduced herself.

-oOo-

Adam Smasher was reassembling the cleaned parts of his Ba Xing Chong.
He was informed about the traps. Through one way or the other, the Baba Yagas would be rolling into Konpeki Plaza.

Two gigs pulled in one - one was a gig from outside sources, but the other was from Arasaka themselves.

Data regarding the Relic, pulled from the Server Room just below Arasaka Yorinobu’s room.

They would sneak in from whatever entry point they could find, but they’d have to end up going there.

And as Head of Security for Arasaka, all he had to do was sniff them out from inside the room and have fun.

Oh, and he will have fun.

Before they came along, he was the first and only NC Boogeyman.
Before they came along, it was him that everyone feared.
Well, everyone besides Morgan Blackhand… but that’s only because Morgan Blackhand was every much of a living legend himself.

And now that the Baba Yagas grew to be legends in the flesh, Adam Smasher wanted to try ‘talking’ to them one to one.

Personally.

-oOo-

“Ram.”

“On it.”

The two Spartans refused to go through with the Brain Wave. Evelyn and Judy chalked it up to hesitation, but then again if they had underwent a full-body replacement, then they doubted the Wreaths would work as intended.

Ram pulled his laptop out from the case holding inside his shoulder pad, plugging in Judy’s edited shard to look at the data transfer.

BD was one of the leading technologies in Night City, using the cybernetic implants in the brain that every citizen pretty much had these days to record the physical sensations, emotions and thoughts. These were placed into raw chips for people like Judy to edit. And then briefly imprinted on another person’s.

Judy peaked over Ram’s shoulders-and Jesus Christ.

At least Judy looked and edited BD by looking at the footages or going through them herself with the Weave.

Ram was just looking at graphs and pure data, numbers flooding the screen and Ram simply scrolling up and down - how the fuck is he even going to-

“There, Locust. Do you see that?”

Ram tapped on his screen, towards one of the huge spikes.

Locust stared at what Ram was pointing at before looking to Ram himself.

“I don’t look at numbers like you do, Ram.”

Ram looked up to Locust briefly before looking back at his screen.

“Right. Forgot you guys aren’t like Cell. This is the neural information sent through the parietal lobe. This one here is the hippocampus.”

All three of the people inside the room stared at Ram.
Judy and Evelyn especially blinked a lot. Did the guy just say Cell? As in the Reds and Blues CEO?

“… They map the 3d space. These are coordinate graphs. Here’s the X axis, Y axis, and Z axis. Here’s audio, visual, and… here’s temperature.”

“And you couldn’t go video?”

“Video is too inaccurate- numbers down to decimal lines can show even the subtle changes. If you see it here, the temperature range falls near 0. That’s most likely where the Biochip is stored in. We’ve also got security here and here as well, according to visual and audio logs.”

“And what’s that number walking across the screen? At the start?”

“A person. Something big, judging by how the numbers decrease and increase. Limb movements.”

“That’s Adam Smasher, Arasaka’s head of security. And former Merc. He’s like you guys, more machine than man, his brain is the only organic part left of him, and I doubt that’s even intact with all the implants jammed into it.”

“… Right. Like us.” Locust replied curtly.

Ram looked over more of the numbers, trying to find additional details.

Judy was just perplexed there was someone like him.

“Do you really see something from the numbers…?”

Ram looked at Judy over his shoulders, body language showing that he was looking at her incredulously.

“I’m more surprised that you guys don’t.”

“Not everyone is like you and your brother, Ram.”

“Yeah, well not everyone has an ego the size of a Halo ring like Cell does.”

Ram closed his laptop.

“Right, I think I found everything. Thank you for letting us borrow your chip, Judy. We’ll be on our way.”

That Spartans had enough manners to walk back out the proper exit of the facility, the Dolls and the Moxes all staring at the hulking figures as they went out to pull the heist.

Evelyn Parker sighed out the breath she was holding once they disappeared. They were never actively aggressively or threatening - keeping it professional.

But the size and shape were naturally intimidating.

Judy also looked at the two as they disappeared. It was a little too late for her when she recognised the designs of the armors - the big soldiers that were protecting the facilities pumping and filtering Laguna Bend.

She had pieced the two and two together, with a little help of Ram talking about Cell.

She realised where these Baba Yagas came from, but was too scared as of the moment to push further about it.

-oOo-

“We’re splitting into two teams. One is tasked with going after the Relic’s data in the server room. The other is going after the Relic itself.”

“You want me to go through the server room?” Ram asked while reloading his shotgun. He wouldn’t need to use it, but it was better safe than sorry.

“No. You and Noble 6 is going after the relic. Data extraction is something all of us do - trying to maintain the safety and integrity of a biochip is your task.”

“Understood.”

“Me and Leon will be undergoing data extraction. Killshot, Jim - you’re our back up.”

“Got it.”

Jim wordlessly nodded while handling his revolver.

The entry route was clear - the security would be tougher than most, but it wasn’t any harder than the Militech heist.

In fact, it would be a little easier.

“I got through the system. Making entry point… now.”

Locust turned on his cloaking device, and the rest of the Baba Yagas soon followed.

“Time to move.”

The only thing that resisted the wind on the top of the building on the other side of Konpeki Plaza was Killshot and his rifle.

-oOo-

Noble 6 and Ram were taking the less orthodox route - jumping across balconies of the highest level of the Konpeki Plaza before they landed on the helipad reserved only for the Arasakas.

The difficulty of their side of the mission was less about stealth and more about weight control.

Thank god the GEN3 armors had thrusters built into them. The short bursts were more than enough to both have the Spartans perform longer leaps along with the grapple shots for quick movements - and also for weight distribution so that neither of the two ended up breaking a hole on the roof and falling down flat, alerting everyone and their mother to their presence.

Locust and Leon were performing the harder task of the double-sided espionage- the server room was an enclosed space - which meant unlike Ram and Noble 6’s route, the only way in was from inside.

The two were looking at the map displayed on their hud- there was an emergency exit the two could take to get in.

Locust reached out to transfer his Dumb AI BUTLR to the security network.
Make it Covert.

[Understood, sir. Just like the old days, isn’t it?]

Locust and Leon waited for a moment, before the Exit hatch unlocked seemlessly.

Locust went in first, Leon on the look out for eyes.

Then he too disappeared into the building.

Ventways and pipelines were lining the halls and soon the two Spartans were walking out and into a floor filled with glass, traditional paper and bamboo walls and plant decorations.

Guards and hotel employees walking around.

Locust and Leon walked around, sticking to the walls.
Nothing more than slight trembling of the air to notify that they existed.

It wasn’t a problem, finding and walking into the server room.

Security and netrunners were plugged into the network, sure. But BUTLR made sure that anything made to get these two Spartans in, it was nothing more than a slight spasm of the code.

Something probably happening when the Netrunner’s avatar accidentally bumped into a vase icon.

BUTLR was briefly recalled back to Locust until reaching the main computers.

Then it was time to access it once more.

“You think it’s going to be hard, BUTLR?”

[Last time I checked, I was invading Forerunner technology. You think this will be hard?]

“I mean going in without getting yourself notified.”

[I repeat - I invaded Forerunner technology. Do you think this will be hard, Spartan?]

“… Duly noted.”

Leon chuckled next to Locust.

“For a dumb AI, the BUTLR models sure have a lot of personality.”

“Not enough to join the Created.”

“And thank god for that.”

Something was stomping up behind the two, and the Spartans went quiet.

Adam Smasher couldn’t see them. No.
Cloaking was too perfect - curved light around that even infrared didn’t catch on.

But Adam Smasher could see doors opening and computers whirring a little harder.

And that was enough.

Rocket mounted cannons unflipped without a word.

Adam Smasher was authorised to go loud and clear.

Fuck collateral damage - Arasaka wanted Adam to fight.
And Adam wanted these new Boogeymen.

Locust and Leon rolled to the floor - missiles landing on the ground and nearby server computers.

Konpeki Plaza rumbled from top to bottom, ceilings and floors caved down.

“Come out you little fucks. I know you’re here.”
Adam Smasher growled as Konpeki Plaza lights flickers.

People were starting to panic - but the security stayed far away from the fight.
They were given orders, informed enough about what was going to happen.

But they weren’t really told about the scale of the fight.

Locust pulled out a knife and aimed at Adam’s shoulder - the thick blade lodged into the plates and cut a sizeable chunk out from the arm.

Adam didn’t exactly know how much were here right now - not if they didn’t take the cloaking device out.

So Adam did what he was best at - he turned on his Sandevistan and open fired in all directions with his chain gun - jumping up and stomping down on the ground so that the floor properly gave out and let the Spartans fall down with him.

[This is Ram - what the fuck is happening down there?!]

Leon groaned as he looked at the mess being made.
This was so fucking unprofessional.

“This is… Leon. We have a problem.”

[Yeah, no shit. What is going on - details, we need a situation debrief!]

“We’ve been found, the stealth is compromised on our side.”

Locust had whipped out a pistol and shot at Smasher.

Adam used the trajectory to find the invisible enemy and launched ballistics in the designated direction.
Locust dodged and ran, held his fire long enough for Adam to lose his location, before he fired into Adam’s back.

[Do you know if we’re found as well?]

“Negative. Keep stealth on your side until confirmed.”

[…. Roger that. Going for the Relic now.]

Leon gripped one of his blades, rolled it in his fingers until he was holding it by the blade - aimed, and threw it into Adam Smasher’s eye.

It was lodged in for a couple of seconds - Adam stumbling back and roaring in frustration as he pulled the knife out.

It didn’t go in as deep as Leon hoped, but it still did the trick.

Adam felt a kick land in his torso by Locust, and he had enough.

He connected to the network, and decided to go for a more simpler way of finding his enemies.

He activated the fire spinklers - water fell down from all floors except Yorinobu’s floor.

And there they were - the two Boogeymen.

Now Adam had targets.

“…Shit…”

He opened fired, using retractable arm cannons and Missile launchers. He wanted them in metal paste. Of course it was wishful thinking, considering the durability of the MJOLNIR particle systems and the MJOLNIR itself - but it was enough to force the two Spartans off their feet.

Adam jumped up - smashed down, and tackled the two Spartans.

Locust held up his wrist out towards Adam Smasher’s face.
And activated the repulsor.

Adam was sent flying, crashing back up 2 to 3 floors and leaving a new holes before coming back down.

Adam used the moment to fire his Chain Gun at the figures outlined by the falling water droplets.

He opened fired the HMG .31, before the several rockets shot at their feet launched the Spartans forced them to smash and run out a glass window, Adam Smasher quickly chasing tail.

Locust and Leon shot out their grappling hooks as they were falling out of the building - firmly planting into the gaps between the motors and artificial skeleton within Adam Smasher, both sides were equally being pulled into one another.

Adam tried to counter, but the electric surge sent through the wires were shock his motors out of control.
The outside plating were coated to reduce electricity to prevent this, sure.
But the hooks were piercing through such defenses, and the surge itself was too strong for the circuit brakes to handle.

These things were built strong enough to shut down a wraith, for crying out loud.
What the hell could Adam Smasher do?

“First off, he’s going to be our biggest obstacle!” Leon Shouted as he pulled his arm back.

“Then we’ll have to keep him busy.” Locust replied as he too pulled his arm back.

The two Spartans momentarily slowed down, before quickly crashing into Adam Smasher.

Both Spartans punches caused the air to ripple and repel with a deafening crack - a shockwave going through Adam’s entire body, from it’s metallic plates bending to form the surface down into his frame. Sparks and shards of glassed scatted like meteors and fell down like hail in the night sky.

Adam smashed into the building once more, breaking through the glass and rolling on the polished floor, leaving skid marks and deep gouges as he collided with several furnatures.

His parts were spasming from the high voltage. His limbs twisted violently, servos whining under the strains as he ripped at the cables embedded in his frames. Mechanical roars echoed out from the gaps in his speakers. Yet even as few sparks flew, Adam Smasher laughed.

Yes, yes… this was the fight he wanted.

Adam looked back at the hole he smashed in from - and jumped back out.
His eyes, covered with optic equipment, were searching for his adversaries. Enhanced optic implants where whirring with stress and digital calculations until the focus locked onto the two Spartans.

Arasaka had risked almost everything to trap them in this plaza with him, and he was not going to let them walk out of this fight that easily.

Mechanical joints hissed - Adam Smasher was forcing them to work double time even after being electrocuted. He crouched, and leaped down from the building to continue his pursuit.

The Spartans had used their grappling hooks to swing safely down to the surface, rolling across the pavement as they looked up to the falling Full’borg.

Oversized shotgun blasting at the two.
Both Baba Yagas whipped out the rifles from their back - Leon used one hand to throw three grenades, Locust used the falling trajectory to shoot at it the moment Adam Smasher accelerated into the blast radius.

Shrapnels and EMP - they weren’t meant to kill Adam Smasher. No- the Baba Yagas were just peeling him down one by one.

Bullets were flying through the sky and peppering Adam Smasher, and in response Adam’s shotguns launched pellets at the Spartans - bouncing harmlessly off the hive-patterned particle fields cloaked around the MJOLNIR.

Fireteam Baba Yaga had better things to do than to waste time on the floor.

Taking care of Adam Smasher was Jim’s job.

As Adam Smasher fell to the ground firmly planting his two feet on the concrete, ruthlessly powering through the distractions - a truck crashed right into him.

Spartan Jim kicked the door to the driver seat firmly off the hinges and walked out, as Adam Smasher lifted the truck off its six wheels and threw it out of the caved in entrance to Konpeki Plaza.

The truck skidded on it’s side as sparks flew and panic voices and screams filled the night air.

Adam Smasher looked at Spartan Jim, as Jim cracked his neck. The Arasaka merc slowly focused on the white titan in front of him, wearing a much more simplistic armour compared to the 2 Spartans he had tackled out of the window.

-oOo-

“If I am correct… here it is.” Ram pushed the button next to the table - the elevated floor in the corner of the room rising up to show a secret compartment.

Ram quickly plugged the wire in both of the sockets from his laptop, working through the codes.

If anyone from the Night City saw this, they’d be advocating that Ram’s finger was faster than 70% of the Netrunner’s minds.

They were wrong - his fingers and eyes were faster than all of them.

The small panel opened just as the Comm-link flared back to life.

[We’ve got Adam Smasher hot on our ass!]

[This is Killshot, I’ve got Adam in my sight.]

[Negative, Killshot, we need you to be our eyes for a safe escape route, don’t compromise your location. Jim - keep Adam Smasher company. Leon and I will find another vehicle for us.]

“We’ve found the Relic. What do you want us to do?” Noble 6 asked through the Comm-link

[Stay put in a safe location until we get a new vehicle - get ready to jump down and ride once we give you the signal]

Gas from the frozen hydrogen were rising up once the case was revealed.
More rumbling rose from below and the sound of something crashing into the building- what the hell was happening down there?!

Ram quickly grabbed the case and walked back out the way the two came from, only to witness

“They didn’t see us.” Noble 6 quietly noted as he reactivated his cloaking device.

Ram looked at the open door and sighed.

Why was this mission going south for?

Ram petted the Iguana, looking at the two mindlessly before he too disappeared in thin air.

-oOo-

“You’re a Boogeyman too?”

“…”

Jim didn’t answer, as he grabbed the truck on its side and swung it down on the Full’borg walking out through the crater like he was using nothing heavier than a sledgehammer.

Adam’s fame and body shape was similar to that of a Brute - top heavy, burly, and plated across the shoulders and chest.
Even his behaviour - aggressive and straight forward, was similar to the Jiralhanaes.

Adam gripped the front end of the truck closing down on him, and noticed that the previous 2 Baba Yagas had disappeared somewhere.

No matter, he still had someone to fight against.

Adam’s grip slowly crushed the truck, before the Full’borg pulled.

Motors and rotors where screaming as the truck was separated into front side and back - metal shredding like some sort of cardboard replica.

Adam threw the damaged truck to the side as he once again aimed his Ba Xing Chong.

Like before, the smart projectiles weren’t even bothering with homing in on the Spartan.
They really were invisible to the digital enemy.

No matter - Smasher sneered with the screech of artificial muscles. He’ll just fire it point-blank.

Jim saw where the Shotgun was aimed, using the leftover parts of the truck still within his grip to block his body from Smasher’s sight.

The projectiles tore through the sheets of the truck, but went out the other side only to hit thin air.

Spartan Jim had disappeared briefly, before Adam felt his shoulder cave in.

Spartan Jim had jumped around, throwing his fist down like a hammer.

The predictive module of the Mirage IIC Erinyes variant had told him where to aim as the Spartan fell back down on to the ground.

Meanwhile, Adam’s software was going haywire for a brief moment, until it re-calibrated the trajectory of the White Titan’s fist. Was this possible? Did the software’s calculation make sense?

Adam faced mercs with heavy implants and speed-enhanced cyberpsychos - and all of them crumbled in the Full’borg’s Dragoon model hands.
This was different. This really was different.

Adam quickly turned around to shoot Jim, as Jim rolled and dodged the bullets.
Adam was savvy enough to know that it would be impossible to hit Jim - and the moment Jim gripped Adam by the hips to pile drive him down on the pavement, Adam activated his Sandevistan.

A rudimentary implant, but it was reliable because of it.

Rainbow hue separated Adam Smasher into several colourful layers as he whizzed out of Jim’s reach and around his surrounding. A kladeoscope of movements as Adam Smasher both opened and closed the distance.

The shoulder mounted rocket cannon opened up. Adam chuckled - Jim should’ve aimed for the other shoulder.

The rocket fired, as Jim quickly snapped his head around and grabbed the missile flying towards him, crushing the explosive projectile in the progress before quickly throwing it to the side for it to fizzle out or explode.

He didn’t care which.

Adam Smasher took this as an opportunity, weaving left and right as he threw his good shoulder out to sock Jim in the helmet.

The hive-patterened particle shield flashed briefly on contact, but the force still caused Jim’s head to turn the other way.

But Jim was still standing. More than that- he was unfazed.
But he was annoyed, judging by the frustrated growl rumbling out from the helmet resembling an astronaut's.

Jim turned around, and nothing more than raindow layers were left in the audience’s optics.

Boom - another shot hit in the back and a fist launched into the chestplate. It sent Jim skidding across the pavement, Jim was still on his two feet and his shield was still up and kicking.

The pavement had caved in from Jim’s weight. But Jim was still standing.

By average Merc’s standard - Smasher was fast.
Too fast - state of the art Sandevistan technology meant that nearly no one would be able to react accordingly to the reflex speed. They would end up panicking.

But Jim wasn’t an average Merc.

He was a goddamn Spartan. And Spartans didn’t panic - they calculated and adapted.
And they overcome.

Mirage IIC had it’s distinct ups and downs - it was a cheaper, simpler product compared to standard MJOLNIR. But that meant it had less functions. Lightweight by comparison, meant that it was lacking in many technological equipments.

But one thing that made the Erinyes variant triumph in one aspect was the forerunner technology reverse engineered and built into the armour.

A predictive algorithm, which when combined with Jim’s abilities as a Cat-2 Spartan III of the Gamma Company, and his experiences as a Headhunter - meant that the synergy would result in this fight between him and Adam Smasher as no more significant than a drunk bar fight in Jericho II.

Jim sunk his knife into the necks of Elite Majors and shot bullets into the foreheads of Brute Chieftains.

Fucking hell, he was sent to kill a prophet and came back with a Praetorian guard’s head.

To Jim, Adam Smasher was just another Brute.

The algorithm showed a layer of the Full’borg to Jim 5 seconds before Adam moved into it. It fed him the next possible locations, the way this Head of Arasaka’s security would carry himself after placing himself firmly into the predicted coordinates.

And by god, Jim analysed the HUD and realised one thing - this guy was predictable. Movements were linear and brutish. Pretty much circling around, or weaving left to right as Jim was shooting at the guy.

He would mix in a jump and a ground pound, or duck back when Jim telegraphed a punch. Almost trying to grab the Spartan’s hand as it pulled back.

A wrist-mounted rocket launcher from the distance, before dashing back in with a shotgun.

He fought exactly, exactly like how a Jiralhanae would.

Which meant Jim had experience.

Jim ended up dodging and weaving too, throwing grenades where Adam would dash to as Jim shot at the Full’borg.

Sometimes Adam lost his footing, and ended up with a foot caved into his pseudo-clavicle before he jumped back.

Those around the two looked on in fear.

To their eyes, the two boogeymen of Night City were neck and neck. It was almost like watching a gory chess match between a black knight and a white knight.
Those that thought were too close were running backwards as concussive balsts of metal on metal and metal on concrete rang in their ears - those that were far away still backed away at the horror before them. They couldn’t decide what was more terrifying - the unrelenting ferocity of the original NC boogeyman, or the unshakeable precision and controlled force of the NC Baba Yaga?

Spartan time had already kicked in when Adam Smasher started to show his hands and up the playing field, but Jim didn’t really need it.
He didn’t really need to try and out-compete the reflex - he just needed to outsmart a brute.

He was already making Adam frustrated about the lack of progress.
The Full’borg sneered at how Jim was dodging and weaving - sure, the Spartan was equally quick to notice Adam’s game - but the Chrome-dome was still confident in his speed, surely the velocity coupled with the Sandevistan would overwhelm the white titan.

But confidence wasn’t invincibility - it was a trap that made one believed they were so.

Spartan Jim pulled a feint, acting like he unconsciously moved closer to the calculated trajectory of Adam Smasher’s route.

Adam took the bait, hook line and sinker. The motherfucker overextended.

Much more easily than the Elites and the Brutes.

It was just one small movement that the Full’borg caught onto.
But it was just one small movement Jim needed to consider it an opening for his attack.

Adam jumped into the sky before falling down as he fired his Ba Xing Chong, and Jim quickly rolled around it - left arm outstretched to catch Adam by his neck. The left hand held his knife, which dug into the other shoulder by the gaps between the plates. Blade digging further into the rotors.

And Jim over exhausted his muscles to pull Adam off his feet, crashing the hunk of black metal into the pavement like it was all some coordinated wrestling move.

But this wasn’t scripted.

Neither was Jim’s customised heavy revolver.
Jim fired into the limbs - the force itself, coupled with the previously damage whittling the armour of the Full’borg, was enough to rip the mechanical joints from sockets.

Every shot damaged some part of Adam.
From his implants to his basic functions.

Adam would've gloated, or at least exchanged a few words to whoever survived a fight this long.
Jim didn't have any.
Didn't have any time, didn't have any reasons.
Didn't even have any effort left in him to even put up an act that this was an even fight.

To Adam, this was one of the best fight he was ever in.
To Jim, it was just another Gig.

Adam was left with nothing more than a motorised right thigh - sparks were flying from the torn off parts, leftover wires were burning.

[This is Spartan Ram. We’ve got what we needed.]

[Roger that, this is Spartan Locust - we’ve acquired a vehicle for transfer.]

[This is Leon - Don’t ask us where we got the limo.]

Jim heard the Comm. He holstered his revolver and walked over to the Limo skidding out from the lower parking lot, mixed in with other vehicles quickly evacuating out.

A heavy thump on the limousine implied that Spartan Ram and Noble 6 managed to get on while under the cloaking device.

“What the fuck are you waiting for… Finish it…!”

Jim turned his head over his shoulder at the sound of the distorted voice coming out of the damaged merc.
He could here the drones of the overworked and dying motors, the wheezing sound of the wires perishing. Flames were whizzing out and trickling into the air.

Yet Jim could see through the distorted metal acting as flesh, that Adam was smiling. Almost tauntingly so.

Adam wanted to end this on a high note, for gods sake. This is what he lived for.

[Jim, what are you waiting for? We’re waiting on you!]

The voice of Fireteam Baba Yaga’s leader was ringing from the Comm link.

Jim didn’t have time for this. He pulled out the cloaking device and disappeared from Konpeki Plaza’s light.

The limo, slowing down ever so slightly around the curve, tipped a little to the side.

All Adam saw was the speeding Limousine that disappeared into the night.

Chapter Text

Baba Yaga watched as all the news channel were flooded with Jim’s fight.

For all the hype it was getting, for all the hot responses - Baba Yaga were not happy.

Fixers told them about how much street cred they had earned, about just how many mercs were both pissing their pants and wanting at least one of them on their crew.
Hell, even Fixers were clambering to have the Boogeymen work for them.

That didn’t matter. To Agent Locust, they had failed.

They needed this to be covert - grab the relic and the data, and run back out before anyone noticed.

They weren’t there to cause a scene.

Locust looked at the biochip.

Evelyn Parker was never to be heard of again.

“What are we gonna do with the biochip?”

Leon asked cautiously. It’s been 4 days since the fight, and Ram had already looked through the Relic file they had copied.

“… Send it over to Cell. He’ll know what to do with it.”

Ram snickered.

“Of course he will.”

Agent Locust rolled the remote in his hands - too small for his palm.
He sighed in frustration before softly handing the remote over to Leon.

The gesture was appreciated, but there wasn’t any channel Leon wanted to watch.
With every single one of them focusing on the recorded footage of the fight- all of them were the same.

-oOo-

“YOU TOLD US, THAT YOU HAD IT UNDER CONTROL!”
 
“I DID!”

“OH, SO ADAM FUCKING SMASHER SMASHED TO BITS AND WAITING TO GET HIS ENTIRE BODY REPAIRED IS HAVING IT UNDER CONTROL?!”
 
The Executives of Arasaka was quick to shout at each other.
And it wasn’t only the middle management group - the Arasaka Clans had watched the entire recorded footage of the fight.
 
Film and streamed live - how Adam Smasher ended up as a talking torso in a matter of minutes, and the other side not even worse for wear.
 
There were already plenty of reasons to fear the Baba Yaga. And when live footage of their actual fight was shown to the world loud and clear - they had one big fat reason more.
 
Arasaka wasn’t just scared, they were panicking shitless.
 
Of course they did - the reason for Adam Smasher as their head of security was because of his brute strength and skills. His presence, as a living legend, was enough as the face of Arasaka’s might.
 
Then Adam Smasher got himself aggressively dismantled by what could be called the living opposite of him - a hulking figure of white plates. Controlled and reserved in his actions, which made it all the more impactful.
 
And just like that the Baba Yaga had disappeared.
 
Several factions of Arasaka had already been arguing with each other - About the current state of Adam Smasher, about the rash decisions of the middle management, about the future of Arasaka’s might.
 
Meiko Arasaka Sanderson had to follow her mother Michiko to this meeting. Quite honestly, she didn’t really know why they were trying to come up with an answer right now.
The biggest problem she saw was that they didn’t have enough information to come up with a coherent judgement.
 
“It’s more of an ego problem - they had relied on Adam Smasher a lot, and something came that challenged him and the Arasaka by extension.”
 
Michiko had told her on their journey back home.
 
“Like Johnny Silverhand?” Meiko asked.
 
“Worse than Johnny Silverhand. At least Adam Smasher apprehended Johnny Silverhand - we don’t even know the whereabouts of the Boogeymen.”
 
The videos were already circulating, watched and rewatched by different streams and networks.
 
For the past week, all the news networks have been talking about it. And every word spread online was a hit on Arasaka’s image.
 
‘We called them the Baba Yaga, but now we know that they’re not quite the Boogeymen. No, if we’ve learnt anything - they’re the ones we hire to kill the fucking boogeyman.’
 
‘If they can tear Adam Smasher’s ass from the rest of his body this easily, I’m… I’m not going to say anything bad about them *chuckles* look, I know they’re professionals. You can tell by their work methods and results. I think that really is one of the things that separates the new Boogeymen from the old - that they only focus on the mission. Not an inch more. Adam? We know the collateral damages he caused. Massive, Massive numbers that were silenced and left unattended due to pressure. But, but- we don’t know enough about them, and I don’t want to find out that they have a breaking point by talking shit about them. I definitely don’t want to see them walk out my closet or from out under my bed. *laugh from audience*’
 
Not to mention, that apparently the Reds and Blues were going to do an emergency conference. They had announced it a week ago - exactly 24 hours after the fight had been streamed live.
 
People already took note of the armour of the assailant and Cell’s own during the interview. Reporters were snooping around Reds and Blues facilities and taking footages of the similar soldiers talking and playing baseball in the badlands with the marines and workers.
 
People were already correlating the similar features and started to speculate.
Conspiracy theories were already rushing through - aliens? Fully customised cyborgs? Whatever it was, many were sure that the Baba Yagas and Reds and Blues were connected.
 
Everyone was waiting with baited breath for the conference.
 
What was President Cell think?
 
-oOo-
 
“An emergency conference?” Washington asked.
 
“Yeah. How did negotiation go with New Mombasa?”
 
Washington and Cell were sitting in lawn chairs, looking at the night sky in the bad lands with a couple of cold ones.
 
The wheats fermented were from the vertical farm - A small research group of former Biotechnica and Zetatech researchers had decided to propose their Passion project today. Genetically modified wheat to increase fermentation rate - faster production of beer.
 
Cell had to ask about the preservation management and flavour before pushing for it - you know, just smoothing out the rough patches.
 
“This beer is awfully nice.”
 
“New product the employees pitched. They’ve got huge potential.”
 
“The beer or the workers?”
 
Cell chuckled.
 
“Yeah.”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Yeah, both.”
 
“I’ve seen the employment rates. It really skyrocketed.”
 
“Yeah, It’s a pain in the ass to maintain safe work environments though - lot of them were still thinking like it was their former work environment for the first 2 days.”
 
“How about now?”
 
“They’ve relaxed. They’re taking in the new work policies really well.”
 
“Of course they do - a maximum daily 3 hours of compulsory workshift, 5 days a week. I’m more surprised there aren't people lazing around to impede your company’s progress.”
 
“And how am I gonna counter that - put more work hours on them? They’ll just procrastinate after 3 hours anyway. You see this beer?”
 
Cell held it for Washington to see.
 
“This didn’t come from the 3 hour work shift. This came from them using the remaining free time to chill out and work on their own passion projects. These guys just came together, decided to make better beer and proposed the prototype to me.”
 
“Huh.”
 
“It’s cool, isn’t it? I’m just acting as a supervisor for this.”
 
“Like you weren’t doing that kind of shit in the UNSC Revenant. You worked on a project, got bored, sent whatever blueprints you had to your research team to finish it while you jumped over to the next project.”
 
“Apparently that’s actually a successful R&D method. There’s someone here that’s bound to take interest in the project I dump on them. Speaking of which - apparently buying Biotechnica means that I own the other facilities that they had. We’ve recently used Smart matter to reconfigure a hospital owned by them.”
 
“You mean renovate. And yeah, I heard the news.”

“God, the inside state was awful. Blood and weird science experiments everywhere. That was another scandal for Biotechnica.”
 
“And you renovated it into…”
 
“A clinic with cybernetic implant repair facilities.”
 
“Let me guess- you made the implant repair service free?”
 
Cell looked at Washington.
 
“Yeah? Why shouldn’t I?”
 
“I mean, is there a particular reason you made it free?”

“Because we’re dealing with potential future customers, clients, and employees? If I’m dealing with them, I’d rather deal with them when they’re healthy and guaranteed to live long. I’m frankly quite tired already to hear that someone signed up to deal with our product distribution until they suddenly die from a faulty implant and we have to try and bring the new contract dealer up to speed on what we agreed on… and then find out the new replacement died from cholesterol build up leading to cardiac arrest. Not to mention one of the farmers that were happy to have our vertical farm facility installed, but right when he was about to sign the contract the amount of lead poisoning from polluted water caused him to die the next morning. We had to waste about 3 to 4 more weeks before we had the contract signed because the family was grieving and it was too awkward to just walk up to them during the funeral and say ‘hey, we’re terribly sorry about your pa. Here’s a contract he was about to sign before he kicked the bucket by the way- wanna sign it for him instead?’. 4 weeks, Wash! I could’ve built that shit in 30 minutes and moved on!”
 
“...You’re not wrong, Cell. But you’re a weird one. That’s for sure.”
 
“Hey, as long as it works.”
 
Washington looked into the horizon briefly before he quickly shuffled in his chair and looked at Cell.
 
“Wait, Cell…You didn’t say that shit word for word in an interview. Did you?”
 
“...”
 
“Oh my god, Cell.”
 
“And what, you want me to lie? I can’t improv speeches, Wash! You know that!”
 
“At least- Cell, soften your words! You sound like a psycho!”
 
“... I’m not a psycho.”
 
“... Yeah, sure.”
 
“Wash, come on. I’m not a psycho.”
 
“Of course you’re not, friend. Oh hey, did you also make the health care free?”
 
“Not really? Healthcare for kids are free, but not for adults. Polls in the office told us a lot a reason why it shouldn’t but most of it was just aligned with making sure Reds and Blues is known as a megacorp, not a charity group. The monthly health check up is free, though.”
 
“Uh huh. And the cost for adults for healthcare?”
 
Cell quickly grabbed the Compad on the round beer table next to him, scrolling through the screen.
 
“... 50 eurodollars for the standard treatment. That was the largest vote on the poll.”
 
“And the payment method?”
 
“10 dollars upfront, and the rest of the 10 dollars taken out from the account each month. If they’re low on cash, we’ve also got an option to take 5 eurodollars each month off their income. Like a tax.”
 
“Surgery cost?”
 
“I said 30 additional eurodollars. Exactly the same payment method. We’re still working that out, though.”
 
“Ok. Yeah. Weren’t people asking why organ implants are so cheap?”
 
Cell shrugged his shoulders.
 
“Yeah, I just showed them the flash cloning technology we installed.”
 
“... You are an absolute riot.”
 
“I want them to live long enough to make it not a hassle to talk about the same thing to a different person. This is worth it when I don’t have to deal with my clients suddenly dying from high cholesterol or liver failure.”
 
“I’m sure your clients will say it’s worth it too.”
 
UNSC Revenant was still floating around the orbit of Earth - Captain Church was busy on the other side finalising negotiation with New Mombasa.
 
You know what? Washington thought to himself, not my problem anymore.
 
“So, you sure you wanna talk about the Spartans in the emergency Conference?”
 
Cell shrugged his shoulders.
 
“The cats out of the bag, isn’t it? Everyone watched your boys beat the shit out of like, the strongest guy they know. Then we’ve had cameras flying over here too. Apparently one of the paparazzis managed to take the photo of Simmons hitting a homerun in a baseball game. Then everyone started drawing strings from Simmon’s MJOLNIR and Jim’s MIRAGE IIC”
 
“Oh shit. Who won?”
 
“Blue team.”
 
“Huh. Caboose?”
 
“Caboose.”
 
Cell and Washington sipped more of their beer.
 
“Honestly, I just thought this is a good opportunity to reveal ourselves.”
 
“It’s good timing, yeah.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“... You know the other Megacorps are going to watch you more closely. Probably try to sabotage you.”
 
Cell snickered
 
“As if they’d do it better than ONI.”
 
“We don’t need more insurrectionists.”
 
“And insurrectionists came because the UNSC was oppressive.”
 
“And they persisted once we let them do their own shit.”
 
“Not as powerful as before the Covenant war, though. Most of them just left after they got what they wanted. The rest were just pirates.”
 
“...”
 
“They were unified because of that. Worst of all, ONI’s Smart AI collectives were the one behind most of the Insurrectionist groups' creation and why they were still so splintered apart. Did you know that?”
 
The hand gripping the beer can trembled, Washington staying silent for a bit before opening his mouth.

“... What?”
 
“... Oh.”
 
Cell looked at Washington’s confused body language, a chuckle was slowly coming out from Cell’s helmet.
 
“Oh, Oh-ho shit! You- you didn’t know?”
 
Does he know? Cell started to clap his hands.
 
“Oh my god! You didn’t know!”
 
“...”
 
Washington looked at Cell.
 
“The Assembly was a collection of ONI Smart AIs that autonomously came together, that was the Mind Assembly- Washington, the reason why the insurrectionists still persisted for that long was because of them!”
 
“Wait… wait, what?”

“Wash, they’re the ones who keep making insurrectionists!”
 
“... Wait, no… no-”
 
“I mean, yeah. UNSC’s oppressive draconian regime was most to blame for colony dissatisfaction, but most of the rebellions were driven by the AI.”
 
Washington felt like his world was falling apart.
 
“... You’re lying…”
 
“Oh fuck, I wish I was. When you have time to go back to UNSC Revenant, search up the file 1977-Zeta Epsilon.”
 
“... We don’t have a file 1977-Zeta Epsilon…”
 
“Not without a clearance password. It’s AKL1603.”
 
Washington stared at his beer can, then back to Cell.
 
“... How do you know that.”
 
“How do I… Wash, I was an ODST under ONI. My father was also an ODST, and my Mother was Catherine Halsey’s assistant and apprentice. How the fuck would I not know this?”
 
Washington stayed quiet. In disbelief, and in shock.
 
“So, long story short - the mind assembly was centred around guidance and survival of humanity. They literally called themselves the shepherds. They were the ones that developed insurrectionist groups of different kinds.”
 
“... Why? Why?!”
 
“The record logs show that they wanted to prepare humanity from external forces! They calculated and predicted the likelihood of hostile encounters, and wanted humanity to prepare for them. That’s why they intentionally underestimated the danger of insurrectionists in official calculations. They directed UNSC away from stopping them so they could… you know, let them grow. Pretty much each of those factions were like science experiments for them. Like uhh… Radical factions were made because they wanted to see what would happen if the rebel movement became radically aggressive and hostile. I mean, they’re assholes, sure. But when you realise that we had a 30 year war with Covenant forces they weren't that wrong. I mean, they were the reason why the Spartan Project got greenlit. Before the insurrectionists happened, UNSC rejected Halsey’s proposal because of morality issue-”
 
“My parents died because of AI manipulations… My parents fucking died because AIs wanted to pull a HAL 9000… I- the insurrectionists… they killed my parents… But they were just fucking puppets…”
 
“Oh.”
 
Cell stopped his rant.
 
Well, shit…
 
Washington was gripping the side of his helmets, hunched over in his chair.
 
“... Fuck, so that’s why you were so paranoid about insurrectionists…”
 
“... I… my parents were nothing but a science experiment for them…?”
 
“I mean… more like collateral damage to a science experiment, considering they died to the hostile invasions and takeovers, right? but-”

“CELL!”
 
“Yeah- I know, bad timing.”
 
Washington stared at Cell in disbelief.
 
“... BAD TIMING?!”
 
“Ok, more like a poor choice of words. I’m… I’ll drop it.”
 
Washington went back to grieving in shock.
Cell sighed.
 
Guess he wasn’t taking the revelation well.
 
“... Need a blanket?”
 
That was the best thing Cell could offer to Washington for comfort.
 
“... I need more beer…”
 
Washington asked for the second best option.
 
-oOo-
 
Reporters were already crowding the space in front of the podium. Camera drones were flying around the sky.

People on the other sides - watching on their phones, their TV, their monitors - even on the big screens on the buildings centred in streets, were watching with anticipation.

Yet for all the anticipation, President Cell nor any employees of Reds and Blues were to be seen.

“Come on… why are you blue-balling us like this?” One of the Journalist muttered under their breath.

Then the sky briefly darkened, few of the reporters looked up and gasped.

A pelican was flying down from the sky - blocking part of the sun and casting a large shadow.

It didn’t land - only hovering over the podium as the back opened up.

None of them were marines nor ODST.

Spartans, all of the 10 passengers that dropped out and fell down.
The reporters recognised one of them.

“Shit - focus on the one on the right! It’s him!”

Jim growled at the sights of all camera moving to face him.
Leon chuckled

The last one to fall down from the Pelican was none other than Cell.
Walking up the podium and tapping on the mic to confirm that it was working.

“Right, sorry about taking my sweet as time coming here.”

Camera shutters waved through the air, but Cell ignored it. He continued on.

“Before I talk about why I announced an emergency conference, I just want to explain something to you guys - questions after I finish talking, Ok? I just want you guys to listen for a moment. It’s probably going to answer most of your questions anyway. Everyone agree with that? Yes? Perfect.”

Cell cleared his throat.

“Now, you may be wondering why the so-called Baba Yagas are here… Fucking look at their armours and then to ours, I think that answers most of it… You need verbal confirmation? Fine - Baba Yaga is part of our military.”

Cell pointed to the 9 Spartans behind him.

“First off, yes - we’ve come from outerspace. No, we’re not aliens. We’re human. We’ve also heard a lot of speculations about the Baba Yagas being Full Borgs. I am here to clarify that. They are not Full Borgs. They are not even Cyborgs.”

Cell gestured behind him, twirling his finger in the sky.

The Spartans that came here today all came here to agree to one thing-
These were among the Spartans perfectly happy to reveal their face in public.

Each of them removed their helmet. Revealing human heads, with human hair and human faces.

Cameras were starting to focus on all of them.

Murmur and hushed discussions rippled through the crowd with each faces revealed. Disbelief and gasps filled the air.

“… They’re human…”

One of the people from the back whispered.

Cell took off his own helmet. Revealing that despite his unorthodox methods and thought processes - he was human too.

“We’re what are called Spartans. Super-soldiers, augmented biologically through the use of genetic modifications, hormones, chemicals and physical surgery. However I want to make it clear - none of them were from cybernetic implants. Despite the augmentation, there has been no replacement of organs or limbs.”

More cameras started to appear, and journalists were getting busy recording. Reporters were looking into their cameras - equally shocked and excited.

Cell decided up the ante - he pulled out a hologram projector and placed it callously on the table - the projector lighting up to show several recorded footages of the New Mombasa fight.

“People who know about the New Mombasa will know of us - yes, we are from the UNSC. The forces that were defending the city from the extraterrestrial forces. Spartans were created to serve as elite forces for the UNSC, and have been serving under the Spartan Operations division. I’m sure those that watched footages of New Mombasa has seen some of us at work.

Why did I suddenly decided to reveal this? Because Reds and Blues are a company built from the UNSC, and the fact that we’ll be more in contact with you guys meant that people will connect the dots soon. If you guys are going to connect the dots, might as well clarify things so misinformation doesn’t spread.

Yes, the Baba Yagas were a Spartan Fireteam sent by the UNSC as undercover mercs to gather intel on Night City’s situation. From the city infrastructures, to political situations and to surrounding companies. And also to gather enough fund for us to use when we interact with your market and economy”

Cell rolled his eyes around his head and thought for a moment. Breathing out in frustration - his expression, usually covered by his helmet, was evident for all to see and record.

Did he forget anything else to say?

Cell looked to the crowd.

“I think that’s all I can think of at the moment. I’m open to questions now.”

The crowd took this with an uproar- hundreds of questions suddenly flooding to Cell from the crowd.

Cell took this moment to gesture back at his fellow Spartans.

You guys can put your helmet back on now.

“Are all of your Spartans capable of winning against Adam Smasher?!”

“I’d say that’s an average baseline for Spartan Candidacy.”

“You told us Spartans are genetically modified- does that mean all of you were ‘grown’ as super soldiers?!”

“No. The official first lines of Spartans were created during 2021. During that time UNSC had a controversial method of kidnapping 150 candidates: the ages ranging between 6 to roughly 14 years old. This news spread after the Human-Covenant War and majority of the ones leading the program were persecuted. The second line of Spartans were created during the war, this time war orphans volunteered in order to take revenge on the Covenants. The most recent line - which I came from - finally had enough of a technological advancement to use fully consenting human adult soldiers as candidates, as UNSC had intended during the concept development of the first Spartan Program. Most of it comes from genetic modification of both somatic and germ cells, as well as surgery and chemical augmentations.”

The rate these questions were asked were accelerating. Before it diversified- some asking about the capability of Spartan’s sexual reproduction, some asking about the validity of some of the Spartans playing baseball or soccer with their employees and local civilians.

Some wished to really clarify if there were no mechanical enhancements made during the surgery.

Some also asked about if Spartans were still capable of ingesting normal food.

Soon it was chaos, something Cell was trying to answer, but slowly failing.

Until he heard with clear distinction, a question that questioned his capabilities.

“Does this mean majority of your product are actually developed with alien technology?”

“And you think Fucking Arasaka could make this shit? It’s obvious, people! You’ve fucking seen me renovate the Biotechnica Tower!”

The questions slowed down, several blinking at the sudden outburst.
A few who already experienced his rant from the previous interview could see the anger rising already.
Now that his helmet was off, it was easier to see, but still just as intimidating.
Cell gripped the bridges of his nose, holding his hands up to the crowd.

“Look - buddy, look- listen. The main reason why I wanted to talk about this is because I really, really just wanted you tell you guys that no matter what I build for you guys? This shit right here, is the magnum opus.”

Cell briefly tapped his foot on the ground before hurling towards his comerades - arms outstretched to display them like they were a new car model.

“I mean- how the fuck do you top this shit, man?! This shit is 38 years of augmentation and modification that constantly updated and upgraded over the course of it’s existence!”

Cell leaned on the podium and chuckled, before opening his mouth again.
Cell had clear frustration etched on his face.

"... Do you guys wanna know why Spartans were made? We had rebellions in colony planets. Do you know what UNSC did? They made the first line of Spartans to deal with it. Children - for crying out loud, kidnapped children. Augmented with invasive surgeries, genentic modifications, pretty much brain-washed into soldiers. All for what, riot control? To act as fucking military polices? Strong arm people? That was our intended use. Our superiors were called many things - dogs, weapons. A fucking tool. They got spat on, had junk thrown their way. Feared.

And then the war happened. And then Spartans started pointing their gun not at people, but at the Covenant.

... Spartan IIs were made as Oppressive forces. And they ended up being the vanguard of humanity. Not their intended uses, I know. But then again we're all fucking stupid enough to ignore the 'don't use it for unintended uses' sign labelled on the fucking front.

Do you know what people called them now? Heroes. Fucking, heroes. A symbol of hope and a shining beacon for the injured and the scared.

Spartan IIs and Spartan IIIs.

That's why we continued on to Spartan IVs.

I don't know what the future will bring to us, but if it turns a man’s nightmare into a kid's dream? Fucking hell, I know I don't want to let my senior spartans' efforts down.

Because these Spartans, for all their appearances, aren’t machines made to be unbreakable. They were people who bled, broke, and sometimes didn’t even come back. They knew this, THEY KNEW THIS! THEY KNEW THE COST! And they still walked! Still fought! Because it was the only thing they knew, and that was what a Spartan was.

… Sorry, I’m ranting again. Fuck, it’s just- I wanted to address at least this clearly - you will see us. You will see us with guns, guarding our facilities - walking down the street stomping around like fucking gorillas. Isn’t that right Jim?”

Cell looked behind him to Jim- the Spartan III simply groaned as he turned away from Cell’s gaze.

The Spartans around him chuckled.

“Yeah, we know how you walk. You oversized silver gorilla. I just… I’m repeating my rant from the last interview - I just don’t want to be leashed or controlled so willingly again. And I just wanted you guys to see-“

Cell sighed, gathering his thoughts a bit longer before reiterating.

“So when you see us, I know you guys will see the danger and the horror. That, I understand. I’ve seen your faces when we were jumping down here.
I just wanted you guys to also see what the other planets saw in us. Someday.

I just wanted you guys to see the legacy our seniors sacrificed for us. For you. For all of us.

Because I’ve been on the short end of the stick. The one people use to poke other people. Let me tell you, I’m just tired.

Look, I get it! Some of you are skeptics- as you should be! Even good intentions die with bad results. Don’t trust everything that’s fucking fed to you on a silver plate and golden spoon! Dig through it yourself with your own hands! Explore it on your own two feet and with your own two eyes! AS. YOU. SHOULD!

So it’s entirely understandable if you think ‘oh great, another megacorp with a big promise.’ Yeah! It is a big promise! It does sound like a propaganda! BECAUSE IT IS A PROPAGANDA! It is, I’m tired already trying to lie to you that it’s not.

Call me radical! Call me dangerous! I know who I am, and what I am! I am dangerous! I am a lethal force! I probably am crazy, judging by my recent medical tests! I am a menace to society- I’ve actually heard that shit so many times by my former higher ups, by the way. Apparently my ideas are ‘symbols of insubordination.’ Funny little words, they probably threw that shit around to everything they didn’t like.

And you fucks should be thanking Christ that I’m not worse than that.

The point was- I know what you guys are saying about me. Polarising on the network. I’m aware.
Keep talking. What you think, what you heard.

Just as long as it’s the conclusion you’ve reached with your own judgement. I’m not that mad.
And I’ve got bigger shit to clean off my plate than to silence it.

Because we’re not here to control you.
We’re here to build and rebuild.
To venture more on what we found, what we have discovered, for science! For humanity!
And most of all- We’re here to clean up your shit because apparently some of you weren’t educated manners and basic human common sense.

And I think I let my actions- our, actions. The Spartan’s actions, shout that out enough times.”

The crowd remained silent for a noticeable while.

Each looked and lingered on the Spartan’s helmets.

Even the ones people were too scared to look into when they saw them in the Afterlife, or when they were talking to them when they were clients hiring the Baba Yagas as mercs.

One of the reporters finally opened their mouth again.

“Will you be disclosing full history of the UNSC?”

Cell puffed up his cheeks in thought.

“Shit, I might. Probably not now though. You’ve seen how this conference went. Hell, you’ve seen how the surprise interview went. I rant, a lot. I probably need to schedule a time to just sit down with one of you guys on camera and just talk about it. I’ve got files about it too. Recordings that I can show you while I explain. It’s gonna takes some time though. It’s… it’s a long history.”

“Do you all have full names?”

“Yeah, we do. My full name is Tony Klein. But I’ve been called Spartan Cell more times than I’ve been called my name.”

Cell looked back at the Spartans, move aside from the mic and pointing at it.

“Any of you guys comfortable enough to tell your full names?”

A few remained in their spot, but other few were walking up to the podium.

“Richard Simmons. People just call me Spartan Simmons.”

“Kim Kilwhan. Better known by most as Spartan Leon.”

“… Jim Cranston. Jim-G199.”

“Spartan Killshot.
… Arasaka Kenichi.”

… Wait, what?

All eyes looked to the one standing on the podium - the sniper of the Baba Yaga. The reporters saw the asian male with short hair, and the barcode tattoo on the left side of his face clear his throat after the bombshell he had just dropped.

“Could we ask you to repeat that sir? About your surname?”

“… Arasaka Kenichi. My Great-Great-Great Grandfather was Arasaka Hosei… Nephew of Arasaka Sasai.”

People’s eyes were slowly growing wide.

“… For your information, I’m just one of the Spartan IV. It’s not as high of a rank as you think. More of a middle management.”

Killshot briefly turned his face to Cell.

“Hell, I barely even work with this guy - his twin brother? Yes. Him? Not so much.”

Cell grinned awkwardly at Killshot nonchalantly pointing a finger at him, looking into the cameras.
He could already see the jaws dropping to the floor- some figuratively, some literally.

Boy, sure hope Saburo doesn’t get a heart attack from this info.

“I’ve barely met my extended family, though. I’ve been with the UNSC more than them. I mean… fuck, I’ve only found out that my extended family has a megacorp with our family name plastered on it when I landed down here.”

“Shit, I was going to ask if you guys have any more questions on Reds and Blues… but I guess this is more of a hot shit to you guys, huh?”

Cell chuckled before putting his helmet back on and slapping Killshot by the back.

Killshot, in turn smirked. His expression distorting into one resembling a scheming fox.

“Be lucky you didn’t have me talk about Operation Shield World 9 - you know, the first mission we met.”

“We don’t talk about Operation Shield World 9.”

The reporters and journalists were slowly rising to an uproar once more.
However, now it was for a different reason.

“Mister Kenichi Arasaka! Sir! Can we ask more about your history?!”

“Is it really the same Hosei Arasaka famous for suddenly disappearing into thin air during 1972?!”

“Have you been in contact with any of the Arasaka here on Earth?!”

“Do you have any evidence that supports the legitimacy of your claim of heritage?!”

Killshot sighed, but soon smirked as he turned away from the camera, winking at Cell.
Cell scoffed as he waved his hands at Killshot before walking off the podium.

For a sniper, he was goddamn useful as a diversion.

“Oh boy.” Killshot replied. “Those are a lot of questions. Hard to answer all of them-”

Kenichi gripped at his neck to pull out a necklace.

No, not a necklace- a dog tag.

A worn dog tag- the lack of rust despite the wears told everyone that it was still well looked after.

Yet one detail was distinct - most dog tags came in pairs of two.

This only had one tag.

“Everyone focus on this.

Great Uncle Arasaka Saburo, I’m sure you know what this is.
And I’m sure you still have the other dog tag lying around in your room somewhere.”

It was Hosei Arasaka’s dog tag.

One of them shared to his cousin as proof and a memento of both of their survival in WW2.

“You’ll have questions about it. I’m sure.
Don’t know if I can answer all of them, but if you want to at least ask…”

Killshot looked behind his shoulders and pointed his thumb at the CEO of Reds and Blues leaving, whistiling in his helmet while doing so.

“You know who to contact to set up a one to one talking session.”

-oOo-

“Holy shit…”

“Did great-grandfather know about this?”

“Probably not. But if he didn’t, he’s going to find out soon enough…”

Michiko Sanderson and Meiko Arasaka muttered as they watched the conferance live.

“Holy shit!”

“That’s what the fucking NC Boogeymen were?!”

Maine cried out in disbelief, as the rest of the edgerunners watched in shock - jaws dropping just as wide as the reporters.

Dorio and Rebecca had been mimicking the fight between Adam Smasher and Jim behind the couch, but even they had their eyes on the conference the entire time.

But Dorio was grinning the most. 

No Chrome.

As a former member of the Animals Gang, she knew that her friends in her former affiliation were just going to worship these people.

“… Wow.”

Sasha muttered as she watched the news with her sister.
She thought back to the Biotechnica heist, when the rain was hitting down on Noble 6 before he disappeared.

Guess there really was a face to picture behind that helmet of his.

“… Holy shit…”

David muttered at all these revelations.
He was sliding from his couch - these were a lot of revelation to take in all at once.

But he grinned.

The anticipation and the hype for the past week were worth it.

Chapter Text

[Good evening, Agent Washington. Welcome back to UNSC Revenant-]

“File 1977-Zeta Epsilon.”

The Smart AI in the UNSC Revenant went quiet. Washington was tightening his jaws - the AI never went this quiet, no matter what situation.

[Apologies, Agent Washington. But that file does not exist.]

“File 1977-Zeta Epsilon!”

[I repeat, Agent Washington; that file does not exis-]

“AKL1603.”

The Smart AI froze in place, her head slowly nodding before she finally opened her mouth again.

[Very well. Opening File 1977-Zeta Epsilon.]

“Oh my fucking god.”

Cell was right- there were files hidden behind clearance levels.

Several folders were opening up and being scrolled through automatically- videos, audio logs, communication records between the Smart AIs.

The Mind Assembly- and evidence of them intentionally fostering and setting insurrectionist factions free.

Research and experiment logs, and the UNSC technology approved because of Insurrectionist activity.

Blue light from the holographic renditions of the biggest conspiracy were bouncing off his helmet.

As of this moment, he didn’t know what to say.

So he said nothing.

He just observed.

-oOo-

Cell held up the biochip. To the window of the fading sunlight.
The grasses carpeting the ground just outside was still lush, but not much. The desert and dried soil still dominated the area between the headquarters and wall.

The relic, as the data his twin brother sent him had labelled this… thing.

“What do you think of it?”

Ram asked. The twin brother had taken his helmet off and drinking water. An Iguana (from who the fuck knows where) perching mindlessly on the Spartan 4’s shoulders.
He was evidently pissed at his brother for revealing the face they shared to the public without his consent, but... he knew enough that being angry would not fix anything.

Cell sighed a little, dropping his head before shaking it. Chuckling.

The development team around them were just staring at the two in awe.
There was their president, Cell… and another Cell.
With the exact same haircut.

They had been introduced to Ram an hour before, but they still couldn’t fully grasp the idea that Cell had an exact moving replica.

Maybe he did perfect cloning.

Or the easier answer being ‘they really were twins.’

Cell himself had taken his helmet off. Brandishing the shard in his hands like it was switchblade. He turned his chair around, showing the shard to his employees/

“Any of you from Arasaka?”

Few of the researchers and engineers slowly raised there hands. Cell and Ram started to count the hands before both exclaimed ‘Wow!’ in unison.

“That’s a lot!”

“You guys all seriously get kicked out? What for?”

“… Apparently they didn’t need us anymore.”

“Well, shit. More losses to them, am I right?”

“Probably.”

“… Yes, sir.”

““See?””

Cell and Ram gave each other a look and a smirk before turning back to the chip.

“Any of you guys know what this is?”

“We’ve… we’ve kinda, heard about some of the development department working on it with Anders Hellman, sir.” One of the researchers spoke up. “It was mostly rumours, about saving consciousness of rich and influential people until they were ready to be uploaded.”

“Saving is stretching it.” Ram commented bluntly.

“Is it…”

““Hmm?”” Both twins reacted in unison from one of the researchers speaking up.

“Is it… like those Smart AIs maintaining our network?”

Cell softly nodded, wobbling the chip in his hands like it was a pen.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?”

The researcher stammered when Cell pointed it out, using the chip as a makeshift wand and twirling it in his hand.
Some of the researchers gave each other the side eye at Cell’s surprisingly fluid performance. Was it even safe for the chip to do that?

“I… um… I just.”

“It’s okay, I’m not trying to antagonise you, just trying to see where your thought process led to that conclusion.”

“You’ve put the man on stage, Cell. It doesn’t get more antagonising than that.”

“I dunno, Ram. Could definitely think of more antagonising ways.”

“Like?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Shouting at them, calling them names, insulting them, having them at gun point.”

“Right.”

“The brain…”

The twins turned to the researcher, who had just enough courage to spit out the first train of thought but not courageous enough to stop his voice from crawling back in the moment it touched the air.

““Pardon me sorry?””

“The brain… I- I remember you answering our questions in how a smart AI was created, and what was the difference between them and a dumb AI. I… I remember being mesmerised by both kinds that you and the UNSC had perfected- the, the brain… take a brain and scan and replicate the neural pathway. The complete pathway, which destroys the original brain tissue. The…. Superconducting nano-assemblage was used, which generated a virtual neural network known as the Riemann matrix- the core and the brain of the AI. You said it was still inefficient, and was trying to find out how to improve it.
Would… would the Soul killer be a similar thing?”

Cell had a look through on his compad again as the researcher nervously looked at the two.
Cell nodded his head.

“Yeah, somewhat like that. Good critical thinking, spotting similarities. Yeah, you’re right. It is like creation of Smart AI. The biggest difference is that it’s very… primitive in it’s approach, even through the inefficiency and relative primitivity of Smart AIs themselves.”

“Could we… get an elaboration?” One of the other scientists spoke up, who was in the middle of going through the Smart AI design models to see what it exactly looked like.

“For Smart AIs, the full neural pathway is replicated. You effectively force all of it to activate when you send a high electric pulse. Kinda like how you force concrete into an anthill to see all the tunnels and rooms it branches and connects with. That’s why it completely destroys the brain. The biggest problem with that is the neural pathways copied like that is still inefficient by AI standards. They don’t need neural pathways for arms, or organs. So they reroute it, which naturally becomes this one spaghetti code that forces UNSC Smart AIs to have a lifespan problem.

My current research that I HADN’T just dumped on the research team is using forerunner technology to improve the process. You see, Forerunner technology had mastered and employed mind transfer technology to great extent. They even had the capability of translating an organic being’s mental content into machine data through a technology called a composer, and back to organic material. Which meant they had seamless transitions between biological and digital states. They could upload an entire city into a computer, or upload a population into these robots. Or complete transfer a mind into a new clone. We call… They… They, They called it a… pattern transfer.”

“Cell?”

“I’m fine. We- they, they! They because they found the mental content to be a complex series of patterns.”

“Do you think Arasaka is capable of that too?”

Cell whipped his head around.

“No, that’s a stupid question with an obvious answer. Forerunner technology heavily relied on quantum foam-based information storage and processing methods to even pull something like that. The only reason why UNSC considered my proposal in Smart AI improvement is because we only just managed to reverse engineer a forerunner durance to implement quantum foam-based computers in small numbers of UNSC carriers. Which, luckily, UNSC Revenant was one of.

Arasaka still relies on electricity of data transfer. UNSC had one of the most advanced binary computing and still had trouble building a full consciousness in computer material- do you think Arasaka’s analog method could fully upload the full information of a human brain and consciousnesses?”

“I… well, if you say it like that…”

“Doesn’t sound very viable, does it? Don’t worry, you learnt something new today. But that’s the problem. A consciousness is not very powerful in terms of electricity, true. But the patterns themselves are way too complex and subtle. Dendrites and neural synapses… If we were capable of knowing all the ins and outs of what makes a consciousness through just electricity, we wouldn’t need these devices to map it and replicate it for us- we can just have a computer design it without all the hassle. But we can’t, and that says something.”

Cell held up the biochip. The relic…
That contained an engram taken from an individual the file reported as ‘Johnny Silverhand.’

“This? This doesn’t have much. Not as much as Arasaka expects. Memories and the most basic personality derived from the brain, sure. But that’s all there is to it. It failed to capture more than 20% of the human neural pathway itself. But apparently they got the right 20% to fool these dumb asses that they can store consciousness.”

Cell flicked the Biochip to the floor and turned around, the act alone inciting screams and a couple of “whoa!” and “Wait!”

“Oh relax, the Smart AIs already transferred the data in the biochip, that’s just a husk.”

Couple of looks among the group, the one researcher that had explained the possible connection to Smart AIs to the relic carefully picked it up.

“They’d think they copied the human brain. But electricity and analog systems can map a brain only so deep. You’d need quantum mapping techniques for that.”

The researcher held the biochip up close to his face. It looked… so tiny, so… intricate,
Yet so hollow, for some reason. Deep down.

“But what about netrunners?” The researcher asked.

“What about them?”

“How can they be fine with, you know… moving through the network like it was 3D space, with only analog and electrical methods?”

“Ah.” Cell exclaimed as he brought up a 3D map. The researchers shuffled up close for a more detailed look at Cell at work. Ram, on the other hand, leaned further back into his chair, taking a couple more sips from his glass of water, before pulling up his own 3D map of quantum foam to take a look at what Cell was making.

A Riemman matrix. A very basic one, no memories or predefining personalities.
A blank slate.

“Now you’re asking the smart questions. But that too, has a rather simple and clear answer.”

“Does it have something to do with the implants?”

“Of course. Specifically the implants connecting whatever wires are going to the electrical net to the still living brain. Most of the visual processes, I’ve heard from a couple of you who experienced going through the net, is like… series of dots of varying colours forming walls and floors and icons. Am I getting that right?”

“Yes, sir. It… it felt like waves, and some forming faces or objects.”

“How clear are they?”

“I… not… not too clear? It mostly just forms the outlines.”

“And when you get out of the net, do you still remember what you saw clearly? Or do you just remember the key informations?”

“The latter, sir.”

“I see. Good. What other natural processes can you tell me that does something similar?”

“… I don’t really know sir.”

“It’s easy, but to whoever answers it first, I’ll throw you in a chocolate bar for your dinner menu’s desert.”

“A… dreaming?”

“Langstrom, expect a chocolate bar to be served for you along with whatever desert we’re having for dinner. Most of the implants on the neural pathway sends electrical signals to either enhance certain brain functions or, in the case of net runners, induce imagery and functions similar to a brain under REM sleep. Only thing different is that it also induces signalling to keep your brain conscious. The result? Lucid dreaming, counting electric sheeps.”

Cell then brought up the transferred details of the relic- a digital matrix, that when placed right next to the Riemman matrix looked so basic. Way too little in the neural mapping caught, distinct and sizeable patches missing on what looked like the outline of a brain.

Cell was wading through the matrix to connect the relic’s copied neural pathway.

“Cell, are you sure you know what you’re doing.”

“We both went through the composer prototype, reached the Domain and had the sheer miracle to come back without getting absorbed by it. I… think I know what the fuck I’m connected.”

“You forgot to connect this part to here.”

Cell turned his chair around to face Ram’s 3D mappings.

“… Which part?”

“This part and here.” Ram pointed. “You’ll be wiring the wrong parts if you leave gaps here.”

“… Right. Forget you saw me fucking up.”

Ram snickered as he brought the glass to his lips.

“Like hell I will.”

Cell sighed as he turned his chair back towards his table, following what Ram had pointed out and fixing it before his work went south.

And soon, the neural maps were completed. All it needed was for that 20% to find the new quantum mappings of the brain and imprint it’s patterns.

“The more recent net seems to have modelled its remains after such experience. Good for them, because it now makes it less taxing on the brain to go into the net through implants. Electricity has its uses- it can input functions, but it’s quite terrible at the current state to capture the outputs. That’s why most of the data you do get is stored in the implants, not the brain. Hard to get it out of that grey matter.”

A cloud of quantum, pictured visually as a hologram.
Soon the quantum mappings of began to take shape.

Smart AI technology had a significant step forward with Cell, Ram, and the acquired Huragoks’ contribution to the quantum foam network.

The Smart AI, wearing sunglasses, a bulletproof vest over a sleeveless shirt and a robotic  right hand, looking disorientated as he started to walk in his hologram body.

“So Arasaka’s claim of selling immortality to rich and influential people…”

“They didn’t improve their technology for the past 60 years or so. Hell, they didn’t even make this product themselves, according to files and records recovered, it was a single individual named Alt Cunningham that designed everything from scratch.

Do you know what that is? That’s crushing dried weed, squeezing out toad oil and grabbing buttercup extracts and placing them in a boiling cauldron. Whatever goop coming out having the labels ‘cure all medicine and tonic’ on the front of the bottle and sold for 5 thousand coin. They’ve barely stepped a foot into the field of practice, but came back out immediately with some quick cash grab. This isn’t just incompetence- it’s a scam. A fraud. It’s weaponized incompetence for profit.

I’d commend them on at least showing me the first significant progress in their technology… but like I said, it’s not even fucking theirs.”

Cell was reading the compad as the newest Smart AI started looking around his surroundings. He soon threw the compad on the table and smashed it with his MJOLNIR gauntlet in frustration.

At least Alt Cunningham had been looking in the right direction.
But she apparently didn’t measure the right distance, for whatever reason.

[… Where the fuck am I? Who in the fuck are you?]

Johnny Silverhand expressed with frustration and annoyance.

Articulation of speech and clear signs of a personality. Good.

At least whatever was in the biochip was enough to form some sort of coherent and functional Smart AI.

“Welcome back to life, Johnny boy. This is my Kingdom Come.”

[… Fuuck… I need some fucking nicotine for this shit. Does your place at least have some Cigarettes?]

Cell snickered. At least there was a reason why Arasaka thought his 20% was their 100%.

This thing looked human enough with his responses.

“Not in the quantum foam. You can ask your friends to code one in for you later.”

[A quantum what? What kind of nerdy mumbo jumbo are you spouting out of your ass?]

Cell stood up from his chair, tapping a bit more on the holographic panels before a he opened a drawer and took out crystal data chip.

Johnny Silverhand’s matrix was downloaded and imprinted onto the quartz crystal, almost like he was sucked into it in a blink.

The data chip glowed brightly, like a small star.
Completely different to the steel and plastic biochip it was previously imprisoned into.

Cell turned to Ram.

“Can you go get Locust for me? I heard the Baba Yagas were temporarily pulled of from Project Freelancers and on a break.”

Ram already knew what Cell was planning, but he could do nothing but chuckle and sigh.
After all, it was them that brought the chip and data here. Guess it was time to own what they stole.

-oOo-

Locust heard his Comm-link spark up while he was finishing up his steel plate clean in the cafeteria.

God bless the meat, Locust thought to himself. The beef was far better than whatever emergency rations the Rakshasa variant MJOLNIR was supplied with.

[Hey, Baba Yaga Leader. It’s Ram.]

“I heard you were meeting your brother.”

[I am. He needs you for something.]

“… I’ll be there in 5.”

Locust didn’t really need further questions. He was told that he was needed, and so he would go.

Most of Fireteam Baba Yaga had separated into several smaller groups right after they were notified that they would be put on break after the emergency conference.

Jim had went off to the new bunkers for rest, Leon had gone to see the city as a civilian.

Then there was Killshot and Noble 6. Now without armour, and now no longer needed as a merc for the moment- had gone off on their own mission.
To find Leonard-131’s family.

Locust had no problems with that. He didn’t exactly know what to do either.

He thought about joining Leon on sightseeing (which in Locust’s perspective, could effectively double as intel gathering), but had decided to prioritise getting used to the new UNSC base.

Locust stood up, the cafeteria was bustling with new faces. From simple employees to new engineers and researchers, to new marines.

The tables were perfectly placed and aligned, and each seat filled.

Locust took his plate and placed it on the bin as he left.
He was still in his armour, sure. But at least he could take off his helmet without worry now.

Turns out, according to the employees- his face was just as intimidating as his Locus helmet. He traced his fingers across the several scars he had acquired throughout his life.
Figures. Though Leon’s scars were just as worse.

He ignored the eyes focusing on him and his face, his scars, as he stopped in front of Cell’s personal office and lab. He knocked on the door and waited.

“Locust?” Was that Cell’s voice? Or Ram’s? Despite their differences in personality, their speech pattern and inflections were still too identical for Locust to differentiate.

“Yes.”

“Yeah, come in. It’ll be quick.”

Locust opened the door to be met with a glowing data crystal chip on the table attached to the right wall.

His eyes drifted from the light to Cell and Ram, slouching in the corner as they ate chips and watched the 2020 news of the Arasaka Bombing. The iguana had been placed in his own makeshift enclosure that was probably set in better living conditions than Yorinobu’s penthouse. Ram had fed him the grubs and larvae Cell had created from genetically modifying the genetic materials of SCOP remains.

A shocking sight, the radiation had apparently killed thousands. A terrorist, they called Johnny Silverhand.

“Sup.”

“I heard you need me.”

“I did. Want a chip?”

Locust shook his head, and Cell shrugged before he gestured to the table with his chin. “Your loss. You see the data chip over there?”

“I do.” Locust picked up the data crystal chip as he answered.

“Good. That’s going to be your newest Smart AI.”

Locust blinked a couple of times before he turned to completely face Cell.

“I already have BUTLR.”

“Which is a dumb AI.”

“I don’t need a Smart AI.”

“More like you don’t trust a Smart AI. That’s made with the biochip you brought to me. Johnny Silverhand, he calls himself.”

“And?”

“Do you have any new missions from Agent Washington?”

Locust sighed as he shook his head. 

“He looked busy.”

“Probably because of the revelation. Then here’s a personal mission I can suggest to you. You can find out what exactly happened to Silverhand.”

“The reason?”

“You got something better to do? You’re gonna sight see Night City, right? Might as well try and find out the thing you stole and just dropped on my lap until you get your next job from Wash.”

Locust thought about it silently. He flipped the crystal chip around in his fingers and palm.

… Locust sneered at himself. Guess he really didn’t have much to do himself.
And the final heist had way too many inconsistencies and itches that lingered in the back of his mind.

Wouldn’t hurt to hunt for the truth.

“Are you sure that you want to just hand over something like this?” Locust asked the final time for some confirmation.

Cell only returned with a snicker and a blunt answer.

“You ask me that like it’s something important.”

“It’s important for Night City.”

“But it’s not important for me.”

Locust wobbled the chip between his index finger and thumb a size much smaller than his thumb, before he plugged the chip into his neural interface.

[What the fuck is this shit…]

Locust could see the holographic avatar of Johnny Silverhand walk across the room, completely invisible to all by Agent Locust.

[Gotta get out of here…]

Johnny Silverhand was briefly glitching out, walking back and forth restlessly like an animal before hitting the back of his head against the wall he was leaning on.

[What did you fuckers do to me…]

Was this Smart AI even safe? What was the risk to benefit ratio? The Smart AI looked too volatile to use.

The Smart AI was shuffling up to Cell, trying to punch him - only for the body to completely phase through the man.

[What the fuck-]

Johnny felt the back of his head, then touching the rest of his body, before touching a table.

Of all the things he pushed against, the last one seems to have caused his avatar to effortlessly give way, phasing through like before.

[… Fuck…]

The Smart AI was starting to glitch, in and out in blue rectangles and pixels.

[I can feel our minds connecting… fucking chip.]

[Like mold on a fruit… except, I can’t creep further.]

[It’s just a copy of the engram - I’m out there somewhere, gotta be…] 

“What’s the function of the Smart AI?”

“Doesn’t have one. We just imprinted the remains on a blank slate. Though if the record and his personality tells me anything, most likely for combat support.”

Locust breathed heavily out his nose in slight frustration.

“That’s honestly something for you to figure out. Now, you can do your own thing.”

Locust nodded at Cell, before looking at Ram.

“I’ll call you when I need you.”

“Hopefully I won’t be in a difficult position to answer.”

Locust knew Ram enough to know that was positive confirmation on his part.

Locust nodded at Ram before he walked out the door.

-oOo-

Sasha rocked her shoes back and forth on the Metro getting the muscles in her calves to relax after running around for so long in her previous gig. The rattling 

The sun was setting in the horizon behind her, bouncing the light off inside the metal bars that supported the seats.
It was still bright.

Sasha looked over her shoulder into the window behind her.
The Metro had travelled enough distance for the sun to be covered by the newest Reds and Blues building.

Compared to the deteriorating concrete plastered with neon advertisments lining the distance between the Metro and the Reds and Blues Tower, mixed in with the more  industrial and neon futurism designs of the surrounding tower, the new Tower built was sleek. Silver, with glowing blue lines faintly tracing the edges of the tower.

The only thing close to its design was the Arasaka tower to the right of it, and even then despite how similar they were in architecture and aesthetic it was ultimately contrasting- Sasha didn’t know that silver monoliths with blue neon lights subtly placed could make it look so inviting and intimidating at the same time.

Then she realised why. Both had used blocky, angular designs. But only the silver monument had decided to factor in strategically place in curves which overall- made it look more like several small blocks of buildings combining into one.

Then again, there was that funny little logo of theirs. A red Spartan helmet with a flaming blue ball stuck to the back of it.

‘Because these Spartans, for all their appearances, aren’t machines made to be unbreakable. They were people who bled, broke, and sometimes didn’t even come back. They knew this, THEY KNEW THIS! THEY KNEW THE COST! And they still walked! Still fought! Because it was the only thing they knew, and that was what a Spartan was.’

Sasha sighed a little as she saw the light bouncing off the tower, each flash of sunlight shining around the outer edges of the architecture brought a few snippet of Cell’s rant she heard with her sister on TV.
Last time she went there, she almost failed the Biotechnica heist gig by spreading Securicine out into the public.

And quite possibly the last time she met with Noble 6 face-to-face.

The distant siren going below them, was it NCPD or Trauma Team this time? She didn’t know, but her bets were on Trauma Team. Only one of them put the siren on for cash, after all.

Advertisement of Nicola busted through one building that the Metro travelled past, the funky J-pop music in the background saturating almost everything like the neon.

“Look at that, Randy. Reds and Blues.”

Sasha overheard the conversation within earshot, maybe a couple seats away and opposite to her.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think? About what, the Spartans? Scary, big… hell, one of them beat the ever living shit out of Adam Smasher in front of an Arasaka-owned motel! I ain’t fucking with them.”

“True. Turns out that gang activity had fallen in areas that have Reds and Blues facilities.”

“But what makes you think that’s what Reds and Blues want, right? ‘To protect us’, sure. I bet they’ll uphold that until they get one bad day, or one profit loss. I’ll bet you 50 eurodollars that they’ll just turn into a new and stronger Arasaka the moment they got what they wanted.”

“That’s why they give us free health care?”

“Yep. Think about it, what other way to get big amounts of support and fame than giving away that kind of stuff for free? Just one big coordinated publicity stunt. I swear.”

“Man, whatever. I’ve already heard him rant on live TV, at least he’s honest about himself, calling his own stuff ‘a propaganda’. Besides, my 8 year old baby girl was fixed right up cuz of them. For the past 4 years, do you know what Biotechnica-owned hospitals told me? That she won’t live long without their medications and treatment… they sucked me out of 10,000 eurodollars each month just to keep my daughter alive. She can walk again, Jimmy! I woke up early for work today and saw my daughter playing hopscotch with the other kids! I don’t care if it’s a publicity stunt, at least their idea of an effective marketing method is helping someone else out with no strings attached.”

“… Yeah, actually… can’t argue with that. Guy’s definitely one of the most unstable gonk I’ve seen on a CEO seat, but at least he’s honest. Makes him a lot more unpredictable and scary, though.”

The Metro briefly stopped as people stood up and walked out, and at the same time more crowds came bustling in.

Now that they mention Spartans, the Afterlife had been buzzing all about the Baba Yagas.
Ever since the fight, more clients and Corpos had been vying for their service, and by the sound of it the fixers were pained to let them go because the star of the show just wouldn’t pick up their damn phone.

They were silent, almost as if they disappeared. Why? They completed the heist, one way or the other. No one on their side died. So what was the problem? What made them all disappear like that?

Then the conference made it clear- Baba Yaga was just as much like Adam Smasher or Morgan Blackhand- mercs directly working for companies.

In some way, that was cred in of itself- only legends worked personally for Megacorps, the fact that you managed to get a position like that meant a lot about your skill.

The Boogeymen weren’t as identical to Morgan and Adam’s situation, but it still showed off their skills nevertheless.

The Metro started to get cramped - Corpos of different affiliation were standing up, facing the window and grabbing the yellow handrails.

But among the crowd, Lucy’s netrunner experience guided her eyes to blinking green lights on some of the Suit’s neck.
And out from the socket, came the shards shooting out and into someone’s hand.

Picksocketing, rudimentary forms of a quick hack and netrunning skill. Unlike big heists, these barely fetched enough cash to be a worthwhile business.

Still, if you were lucky- and knew exactly which target to pick- the data on the shards you stole could be made as hefty money on the black market.

Sensitive information, compromising data… all kinds of things.

Few of the crowds blocked Sasha’s view on who the picksocket was, and she naturally brought her hand over her own neck socket.

But when she saw who was going around swiping shards, she snickered.

White hair and red make up, with a kitsch mixed with neomilitaristic netrunner outfit.

Sasha knew who it was, and despite the picksocket also being part of Maine’s crew, she still couldn’t believe that the netrunner would still spend her free time doing something like this.

Lucy quickly swiped the final sharp as she speed walked through, before her own eyes landed on the cat-like netrunner sitting on the bench.

“Hey, Lucy.” Lucy smiled at Sasha as Sasha waved at the younger netrunner.

Lucy looked at the shards collected in her hands, all from Arasaka suits, before pocketing them in her coat and sitting next to Sasha.

“Heard you and Maine went on a gig today. How was it?”

Sasha puffed up her cheeks a bit before sighing.

“You know, same old: I try to quick hack in with stealth but the moment it takes longer than expected for me to find something, Maine comes in guns blazing through the front door and make a mess of our plan.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried that stuff on the Biotechnica heist. Now he’s just antsy and worried over you pulling something like that again.” Lucy replied with a snicker and a smirk.

“I know… Had to take a break for a while to keep things back down.”

Lucy leaned forward, resting her chin on her palms and her elbow on her thighs. She turned her chin slightly towards Sasha.

“Oh yeah, and how was it?”

“Relaxing, I guess.” Sasha answered while stretching her arms. “Visited our mom’s grave. Told her what happened to Biotechnica. How was it on your end while I was gone?”

“Kiwi had to step in. You know how she is.”

“‘Never trust a soul in Night City’, right? She still saying that?”

“Yep, despite teaching me how to quick hack and dumping me on Maine’s edgerunner crew. Doesn’t really like to be an official part of the group, would rather just get called now and then for some extra ennies in a gig.”

“Guess she can relax again now that I’m back.”

Lucy stayed quiet as she observed Sasha.

“You still trying to find that one Boogeyman?”

Lucy’s question caught Sasha off guard. The black bob haircut flinching slightly as Sasha looked to Lucy with an expression mixing 50% of guilt and 50% of surprised.

“You… caught onto that?”

“That’s what Dorio and Pilar kept saying. ‘Miss Main Netrunner’s currently taking time off to chase her knight in shining black invisible armour’.”

“Goddamn Pilar and Dorio…”

“Guess that’s true, huh?”

“I… it’s not easy.”

“I doubt it would be. I’ve heard from other netrunners about how hard it is to find anything about them. Not to mention how the Arbee’s networks are virtually invisible. Like it doesn’t even exist. Can’t hack into it, can’t even scan it. One of netrunners tried to go into the Arbee tower in the middle of Corpo Plaza to scan for any entry points. Nothing. Like it was just wood, or air. Optics couldn’t even pick up the details of the walls or floors. They said it was scary how cold it looked, but honestly? Kinda figures. They came from outer space after all, got their own thing going on.”

Sasha snickered. “Arbee?”

“Reds and Blues, R&B. R.B, Arbee. That’s what everyone is calling them.”

“Riiight, right.” Sasha lightly mumbled as she nodded her head.

“And? Did you manage to find anything about them?”

Sasha shook her head, edges of the bobcut swaying in momentum.

“None, nada. Except for the few footages catching them fighting, which went wild after the Adam Smasher fight. Most of the things I found on Spartans and Reds and… Arbees, were just Cell’s interviews and compilations of his rants. Other stuff were just baseless rumours turned into massive conspiracies theories.”

“Right, so the usual corpo treatments.”

Lucy leaned back on the seat, crossing her arms.

“Honestly, is there a reason you want to find out who and where the guy is? Curiosity? Potential profit?”

Sasha avoided Lucy’s gaze, instead finding the ceiling to be surprisingly elegant and interesting.

“… Personal reasons.” Was all Sasha could muster in public.

“Personal reasons?”

Sasha scoffed as she briefly turned to Lucy.

“You want me to say anything more specific than that?”

The corner of Lucy’s lips curled up.

“No.” She replied curtly, before adding in something- “But the Solo of Fortune Bodypillows are thinking about making the Baba Yagas into their newest merchandises. You know, with both the helmets on and off. I’ll send you some of them to see if any of them’s the one you’re looking for.”

“Lucy!”

Lucy only giggled when Sasha anxiously and weakly slapped her shoulder.

If Lucy had to pick between Sasha and Kiwi as a Netrunner duo, she’d sure pick Kiwi.

A large aircraft flew over the Metro, heading to the directions of the bad lands.
The logo on the side, printed with the Red Spartan Helmet with a flaming blue ball stuck to the back told the two everything.

“… You think they’d really change Night City?” Lucy quietly asked Sasha.

“… That’s what most people are expecting, really. Free and cheap healthcare that’s triumphing other medical centres, increase in employment rates, cleaning up the trash mountain in the outer edge of the city, cleaning the ocean from pollution and ‘Saka mines, cheap naturally grown food. You tell me a year ago that All Foods would suddenly turn good and start printing out food with natural grown materials, I’d go deep dive into their net to see what they’re hiding.”

Scepticism was still present in the public opinion, but that seemed like something Cell was actively acknowledging and fostering rather than silence.

He was a strange man, but he had enough abilities to start gathering people’s hopes and fanning them ever so subtly.

The Metro stopped one more time- people stumbling out to walk back home, while newer people walked in.

Some of the people had the Arbee worker uniforms still worn over them. Unlike the other suits, they looked more comfortable. Combat-ready. Sometimes they just a simple blue shirt with armour weaved and fused into it, and cargo pants at the bottom.

Looked more militaristic than the standard neo-militarianism the Corpos favoured for their outfits.

And unlike the standard Corpos, they still looked alive and energetic. Talking to each other, laughing, sharing a cup of coffee or a can of sodas compared to the silent passengers.

It was easy to know why. They weren’t overworked and underpaid.

Local interviewers had asked people in clinics and Corpo Towers about the work condition. No one believed them at first when the workers replied that unless it was essential jobs like soldiers or paramedics, most were only required to work for 3 hours. Rest of the hours were break time- they could go out and chill, meet their family, or start on passion projects in the lab.

5 days a week, 3 hours a day. Also having paid holidays.

Militech and Arasaka representatives were quick to scoff at their work ethics, calling it lazy.

But results showed that productivity was all time high for Arbees. In fact it wasn’t that far off from the other Megacorps.
Considering how much they forced their suits to work, that was huge difference, and evidence that Arasaka and Militech would rather cover for their own sake.

A few gang tried to touch them- as per usual. Mercs were hired to kidnap some of them for interrogation or for hostage.
Or assassinate for quick looting and specific Megacorp agendas.

Boy, did Arbee respond quick. Marines and ODST were dispatched in the area quick, didn’t help that there was no way for the gangoons and gonks to jam the signal coming from the internal neurofaces. Installed too deep and materials too tough for standard equipment to remove, not to mention that whatever outfit they had been given for a uniform acted as bulletproof vests, dampened most of bullets that tried to hit them.

Rescue and neutralising threats were done in a flash, these people were trained to fight, and most that came from the stars had enough experience to deal with hostiles 10 times more deadly and aggressive as the standard grade A gonks roaming the streets with guns and chromes.

If those two weren’t enough (and as of yet, those two were more than enough), everyone knew that Spartans would be sent out. That was the reason why they were often patrolling Arbee Facilities.

Every worker, every employee were accounted for. And according to interviews, that wasn’t even part of the contract- no additional costs for getting hurt and being rescued by Arbee’s private military force.

They had their own Trauma Team, and they didn’t have to pay anything.

Morales for the company were all time high thanks to that, many had been severely injured at the start, true. But there had yet to be casualties.

Everyone in Arbee were accounted for. Once that was found out by Scavs and Maelstrom the hard way, barely anyone touched the workers now. It just wasn’t worth it when it was all-risk and no-rewards.

If they did- like one of the Tyger Claws did on this metro, harassing a worker as the Arbee employees gripped the handgun in their holster tighter,
They’d be used to teach their chooms the hard way.

Tyger Claw member whipped out a mantis blade and tried to swipe the Arbee employee. Anger on the Gangoon’s face visible and prominent.

But their chromed-up arm was caught mid swipe by a man roughly 2 metres tall, burly and looking down at the Tyger Claw member in his optics.

Tired half-closed eyes and short hair, barcode tattoo on the left side of his temple.
Everyone in the Metro knew the guys’ face- it was caught on camera for all to see.
Especially Saburo Arasaka.

The worker pulled out their gun in response and fired at the Tyger Claw member.

Forced backwards by the firepower, the surrounding Tyger Claw members attacked, only to be swiftly getting kicked in their stomach until their backs caved out, knife brandished from inside the Nylon coat of Kenichi Arasaka- aka Spartan Killshot- quickly drove into a skull of another.

Another was hit with a spinning back kick- a crater was left as facial implants were torn off by the boots before they were sent flying outside the Metro and down 800 metres below to the floor. Spartan IV could bend steel plates and crush concrete with their bare hands, without their MJOLNIR. And against most of threats in Night City, that was enough.

The last one wasn’t even dealt with by Killshot. The Spartan just watched as Noble 6 crept behind silently and smoothly in a matter of 2 seconds, before a punch to the ribs gave way to internal puncture and bleeding, and a knife smashed between the shoulder and neck finished the deal.

Tyger Claw would miss them, but they would know that any further retaliation can end in the death of the entire gang in Night City.

The Gonks had what was coming for them when they decided to assault an Arbee.

“… You know I had him too.” Killshot muttered to Noble 6 as he cleaned his knife on shirts of the dead gang members.

“I know.” That’s all Noble 6 replied with. Killshot chuckled as he turned to the Arbee workers, dusting their shoulder.

“You okay?”

The worker blinked, their eyes darting from the barcode tattoo, going pass the sunglasses and down to Killshot’s clothes. Nothing but black Nylon jacket and black graphene techwear pants.
What sort of fashion was this? Kitsch? Neomilitarianism? Entropism? It was a subtle blend of the three into one black mass of killing, that’s for sure.

The worker had only seen these titans in their armour. Even without it, they were still intimidatingly big. Augmented muscles and blood vessels bulging popping out from the back of Killshot’s hand. 

“You’re a Spartan…” The worker muttered.

“I am.” Killshot replied with a smirk.

“… I was saved by a Spartan…”

“As expected. Right?” Killshot grabbed the edge of the worker’s uniform, running his thumb across the emblem of Arbee.
Killshot couldn’t help but snicker and chuckle again. Even now, the stuck emblem was an inside joke among the Spartans.
Killshot shook his head as he tapped on worker’s shoulder. Even now, him and his fellow Spartans couldn’t believe Cell would make an inside joke as the face of Project Freelancer.

“You didn’t get hurt, right?”

The worker, as if snapping out of the trance, looked back at Noble 6 and Killshot, and quickly did what he had learnt from the UNSC marines and ODST.

He saluted. A shoddy imitation of the standard one, sure. A clear sign that the worker never really tried a UNSC salute until now, definitely. The worker’s hands trembled slightly. Were they doing it right? They were unsure, they only just watched it as soldiers performed it to the ODST, and ODST to Spartans. And Spartans back to the Soldiers and ODSTs.

But the heart was there, and clear. Killshot’s smile softened, and returned the salute in a more shoddy way.

Was it mockery? Of course not. It would just be embarrassingly clear to the worker that the angle of the elbow and hand were terribly off.

It felt like a lifetime’s worth of respect for the worker, all condensed into one. This was what it was like to be part of Reds and Blues.

“Thank you…” Was all the worker muttered.

“What for? Just doing my job.” Killshot looked back to Noble 6, gesturing him to grab onto the handrail.

Noble 6 walked past the workers, giving the same salute to them as he went past. The workers were too busy staring at the two Spartans, slowly turning so that their gaze can follow the Spartans as they moved.

Just 5 cm taller than Killshot, the young man stood right next to the Spartan IV, ignoring the whispers of the passengers as everyone stared at the two like they were heroes.

“Holy shit, so that’s a Spartan…”

“I genuinely thought Cell was lying.”

“Did you see his arm? It’s thick!”

“So that’s how they fight…”

“You think they fuck?”

“Katie!”

“What? You’re curious too, right? Not bad on the eyes.”

Killshot and Noble 6 briefly shared a glance together, deciding to ignore how the comments were quickly degrading into rather vulgar material.

“Did you find out you were looking for?”

Noble 6 asked.
Killshot sighed as it turned halfway into a chuckle.

They had been spending the previous three days going around all sections of Night City just to find any possible leads. Hell, they even went to Reilly, shared a few drinks, talked about what had happened.

‘Wait- wait wait, so you’re… Killshot? Really? I-I mean, I saw you on TV and everything and… fuck, an Arasaka, a Boogeyman, and a Spartan all rolled into one…’

She was still resting both her feet up on her table like last time, room wafting with smoke. Orange sunlight peaking through the blinders and hitting the desk, fan on the ceiling working slowly and did nothing to drive out the smell of tobacco.

She was in the middle of sending a merc on a gig, and had ended up taking a selfie with the merc.

Celebrity taxes? Yeah, of course Reilly charged the merc for it. But the guy was more than happy to pay, 5 eddies to take a picture with a living legend? That was evidence for a story he could tell his friends and crew over at the afterlife.

Noble 6 had been waiting outside when all of this went down, and Killshot had immediately rushed for the Metro once his and Reilly’s conversation was finished.

Killshot brought up a phone with a shard plugged into the side.

“Yeah, I finally found David and Gloria Martinez’s location.”

Reilly pulled some strings. The network of fixers and mercs she managed to build all thanks to the reputation of Baba Yaga’s first fixer had been very effective. Effective enough that such a small favour would have been 5,000 eddies for other fixers, but was free of charge for Killshot.

It was a series of guy knows a guy, who knows a guy, that knows a guy, that knew what Killshot was looking for.

It all ended up alternating between Mercs and Fixers before reaching a single Solo named Maine.

[Yeah-Yeah? Gloria Martinez? I know- know her. She’s my Chrome dealer- dealer, finds chrome and implants at cheap price. I can hook you up with her for a deal- deal.]

‘He’s saying he can get in contact with Gloria Martinez. Though I never thought a Spartan would want chrome.’

‘Because it’s not the chrome. Tell him that I’m hear to meet Gloria Martinez in person, and private.’

‘…’

[… What? Not about Chrome? Then I’d need some reason- reason why it’s in person. I don’t want it to be someone trying to bust- bust our ass.]

‘Tell him it’s family matters- I’m on behalf of Gloria Martinez’s husband.’

‘Oh, shit. Hold up, let me tell him that…’

[… Oh shit… Fine, I’ll try contacting her. But if she says she doesn’t want anything to do with it- it, no deal. Ok, Reilly?]

‘He said he’ll give Gloria a call, but if she doesn’t want anything to do with it, no deal.’

‘Tell him fine by me, but please tell her that I’ve got her husband’s final words, that it’s important for both her and her son.’

‘Shit, I feel like I’m listening to something I shouldn’t. Hold up…’

[… Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll send- I’ll send you the deetz the moment I finish.]

Maine had hung up, but it didn’t take more than 5 minutes for Reilly to get the text.

‘Oh shit, that was fast. Damn, Gloria gave you her address, huh? Here, I’ll put it on a shard since you don’t have anything I can really send over to.’

Noble 6 nodded his head as he looked through the details.

Santo Domnigo, Arroyo, Megabuilding H4.

“Guess where this Metro’s heading.”

Noble 6 looked out at the window of the Metro station.
The more subtle architects and empty roads, coupled with the train crossing over a big dirty river. Worn concretes and asphalts, half-melted Tar.

“Santo Domingo.”

“You mind accompanying me a bit more? Could use some help if I happen to run into speed bumps along the way.”

Noble 6 looked down on the dog tag in Killshot’s hand. If he didn’t know Killshot enough, he would have thought Killshot was an avid Dog tag collector.

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Sweet, thanks for the assist.”

Sasha looked at Killshot, she knew him. She knew that it was Killshot, which meant he knew where Noble 6 would be.

But just as Sasha tried to stand up, the Metro station came to a halt. And just like that, Noble 6 and Killshot disappeared through the crowd both going in and out of the Metro.

“Wait!… Shit…” Sasha had no choice but to sit back down next to Lucy, and take the remaining route home.

For 2 metre tall giants, these guys knew how to blend in effortlessly.

Chapter Text

[Goooood Evening, Night City! My very special guests tonight are actually people we had to pull some strings into joining with us! They’re Cell and Genjiro Kurosawa of Reds and Blues!]

*Cheer from the audience seat as Genjiro walks in with a smile, firmly shaking Ziggy  Q’s hand while Cell comes in completely confused where to look. Purple Engineer variant MJOLNIR seems to have become an icon, judging by how many people were clapping in response to Cell entering the stage.*

[Welcome, to the two of you! Tell me, did you try looking at the streets you made cleaner? Or did you prefer to fly here on your space ships?]

[Oh, Genjiro took the military truck from the Reds and Blues tower to here. I took the Pelican.]

*Genjiro smiles at Cell and the camera in response to Cell’s nonchalant light response.*

[Haha! Spoken like the man from the stars! Right, right. And have you saw how your actions influenced Night City? I mean, free health check up and health care for kids, and much cheaper health care for the adults! Not to mention the free cybernetic implants repair! Tell me, what were you thinking when you decided on that?]

*Genjiro was the first to open his mouth, as Cell was checking if the couch was safe enough for him to sit on.*

[Well, Ziggy. Most of Reds and Blues were thinking about successfully renovating the properties we had brought from Biotechnica, and most of the work ethics and politics within the Biotechnica-owned facilities did not fit the vision of Reds and Bl-]

*Cell finally sits down on the couch, the cheap material giving way the instant Cell let his weight be supported by the couch. Genjiro visibly bounced up by the force before falling back down and sliding next to Cell, the Couch having been bent all the way until most of the frame touched the floor. Cell looked at Ziggy as Genjiro was interrupted by Cell sitting. Audience laughs at the display.*

[I was thinking that a good potential client is a healthy potential client.]

*Genjiro looked to Cell. He was his saviour and president, sure. Definitely was someone Genjiro will stay loyal to. But god damn wasn’t the CEO frustrating to deal with in public sometimes.*

[A good potential client is a healthy potential client! That is… surprisingly accurate mindset for a Megacorp, isn’t it? Efficient at least.]

*Ziggy Q played along, gesturing to the audience.*

[In fact, could anyone from the audience seat who had gotten the free health check ups, tune ups, and health care stand up? Let’s show Cell who benefited from the Starman’s grace!]

*Few starts to stand up, some with the repaired implants, others who stand up holding their toddlers in their arms. Soon enough, nearly half or more of the audience are standing up, looking at Cell.*

[15, 20, 25… Well would you look at that! Nearly over half! Now tell me, among these people, do you see anyone that’s Spartan material?]

*Genjiro couldn’t answer this. Reds and Blues products? Those were his expertise. But Spartans and ODST weren’t Reds and Blues products. That was solely Cell’s field of expertise.
Cell shrugged as he sank into the half bent chair.*

[Wouldn’t you like to know, Ziggy boy. I’d have to see them fight to get the general gist.]

[Are you sure? Why not that toddle over there?]

*Cell snickered under his helmet.*

[Too young to be a soldier, Ziggy. What do I look like to you, Arasaka?]

[Well, with how you carry yourself, I could’ve mistaken you for a robotic version of one! Now, speaking of Spartans- why do you have them and your soldiers patrolling around the streets? It’s not like you own Night City, right?]

[No, but I own the facilities they’re patrolling around. Not to mention my Company’s workers coming day in and day out. Or to the ones that chose the night shift, night in and night out.]

[So you’re saying it’s for safety? To keep your workers safe?]

[What the fuck else would they be for, Ziggy? Do you ask this to Militech and Arasaka too? About why they have their fucking two legged robots having their laser sight pointing everywhere while the Militech soldiers are fiddling with it, or having their finger on the trigger every time a civilian walks a little too close? At least our Spartans and ODST takes pictures with the kids and the adults whenever they ask nicely. When did Adam Smasher do that for people?]

*Ziggy was nodding his head in a subtly mocking manner, smirking as he tilted his head. Genjiro looked at Cell and gestured lowering his hand repeatedly. Cell understood what that meant and held up his hands in defence and agreement. Fine, he’ll tone it down.*

[And do you think it’s working? Your patrols?]

*This time Genjiro spoke up.*

[We’ve had some shootings occurring due to gang members and mercs trying to infiltrate our facilities and attack our workers, true. But as of it, workers may have been injured but none were casualties, and many are back to full health and working again on their own terms and-]

[Hang on, hang on. You say that none of your workers died. But what about the mercs and the civilians caught in the shootout?]

*This time Cell spoke up.*

[None of the civilians died either. That’s why we have Spartans and ODSTs.]

[Really? Even with videos like this?]

*Ziggy Q directed his arms to the giant screen behind him, playing security tapes of a Maelstrom attacking the streets in front of the facility. The ODSTs and a Spartan responded quickly, but stray bullets still hit some of the civilians too slow to run out from the cross fire. The video cut soon after. Gasps from Audiences waved through.

Cell however, chuckled as Genjiro sighed.*

[You still have civilians getting shot from the fight between you and those gangs, and you still say that it’s safe?]

[That’s a classic slandering tactic. I’ve seen shit like this before.]

[What do you mean?]

*Cell brought up his wrist and tapped on a few holographic screen that popped up from up-armoured wristplate. Soon the screen buzzed back to life, replaying the video footage. However it showed the footage longer than what Ziggy had just shown- showing the Medics and Paramedic ODSTs rushing to the Civilians, throwing down hand-held equipments that soon opened up into a bubble shield that blocked the oncoming shots from the gang members. They soon started working on emergency treatments- some of the hand held devices were spraying green glowing particles as the ODST medics removed the bullets and had the marines quickly shove a biofoam canister into the wounds, injecting and sealing the bleeding. Painfully groans were screamed out from the civilians that were still conscious but soon turned into faint moans. The spartan rushed into the civilians still uninjured by pinned down by the cross fire, using themselves as a human shield as they carried the civilians to safety.*

[I uhh… well…]

*Ziggy did not have this as part of the script, and the response made it evident.*

[I was hoping you’d try some shit like this. Those people are fine, even ones you got shot in the face. Skull was fractured and nerve damage was evident. It’s a stressful situations, we will admit. But Biofoam is good for keeping damaged organs in place and stops bleeding and haemorrhaging while we take them to emergency facility. The Repair field is also good for regenerating nerve and tissue damage to keep even people who got shot in the face to stay alive for us to operate on. And yes, we do take care of our own fuck ups, even if we didn’t start it. But most of you people aren’t fortunate, are you?]

*Cell stood up, not letting Ziggy recover from the shake of power balance to talk to the audience and camera.*

[Trauma team is there for you, sure. But that’s for a price, isn’t it? A high price at that. Not to mention that due to the NCPD being privatised and thus most of their work being forced to prioritise those with Megacorps breathing down their neck, many of you- yes, you. You who’s watching Night after Night, and to the poeple sitting in this audience seat.]

*Genjiro picks up what Cell is trying to do, and quickly motions the cameramen to turn the camera to the audience seat. The cameramen smells views rising, and quickly follows Genjiro’s orders despite not being owned by him.*

[You people. Normal people, low to middle wage group people. People with families they would like to grow up safe. People who wants to make sure they don’t have to hide a gun in their coat until they see someone with one too many glowing optics and scars while they go to the mall. Those who are driving with fear that one moment they’ll be driving through Santo Domingo, then the very next second have to crawl out of their flaming car because you accidentally got into a traffic with Tyger Claw on the front and Animals at the back. Many of you people, have to live with that fact that one wrong shot to the gut or neck, and you’ll have to watch as everyone ignores you bleeding to death on the streets. Well, you can kiss those fears goodbye. We’re currently working with the Mayor to have not only our workers and facilities have the opportunity to be protected by the ODSTs, the Marines, and the Spartans if push comes to shove. Do you know what that means? Much like how MaxTac is specifically sent for highly destructive criminals and cyberpsychos, we will have ODSTs and Spartans be part of the Police force for Night City. A military police, you could say.]

[But President Cell, wouldn’t that be corporate interference in Night City’s government work?]

*Genjiro asked as his own posture slowly started to relax- leg crossing over and his hands grabbing his knee. Ziggy tried to say something, try to cut them off at that moment, but Cell snapped his fingers as he turned around- camera back to focusing on Genjiro and Cell.*

[You are right! But that’s not the case if the government is simply hiring the Reds and Blues for their government work, right? Danger Gal seems to be a private firm for investigations, why can’t we? And we’ll be testing the waters with our own version of Trauma Team. As part of Project Freelancers, we have Project Caduceus: Marines, ODSTs and Spartans specialising as Medics and fast reaction units. From gang violence to car accidents, to even buildings burning down and exploding, we will respond. You’re not paying for our subscriptions? Don’t worry, we didn’t build any prescriptions! You didn’t hire us? Don’t worry, no one hired Caduceus! You’re afraid we’ll force you to pay you every bullets we fired and every time you spent in our emergency vehicles? You don’t worry about that, because we’re not charging you.]

[Why, President Cell? Why not just charge us? Why risk this without potential profit?]

[Because, Genjiro! There is already profit! A good potential client, is a healthy potential client! We already have several of the hospitals and medical centres that we bought and renovated from Biotechnica, that’s still quite empty. So, might as well use this for that kind of situation, right? After all, we don’t even have to pay anyone to maintain those facilities! All of it, from the electricity to equipment, are all built and maintained by us and us alone!]

*Cell sighs, walking to the edge of the stage and sitting down. Camera chasing Cell and zooming in on his helmet.*

[Look, we can just… plug a few bullet wounds, take you to the hospital and call it a day when you’re near our facility, but the Hippocratic- the goddamn hypocritical Hippocratic oath dictates that ‘I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of over treatment and therapeutic nihilism, that there is art to medicine, as well as science and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemists’s drug. That we’re not treating a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being that illness may affect the person’s family and economic stability. To prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure. I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings.’

I had my subordinates, part of the medical division of our company, ask us as I bought those hospitals and made it our own. ‘President Cell, what about the people who can’t bring themselves in these hospitals even if they want to? What if they’re bleeding?’ Do we… ignore them? Do we… just write them off as potential clients that never made it? It was a young guy too, recently discharged from Trauma Team and was recruited by us, that asked me that. Medical professionals of the UNSC were taught that oath and that oath had stated that they are not treating a fever chart, a cancerous growth, a fucking number on the statistics table!! They’re human, sick humans! They’re people bleeding out, not fucking- platinum subscriptions or silver subscriptions! People! Don’t you all realise that? What use is a hospital if those we built those centres for cannot come in! I’m sure Genjiro thought that too when he saw people lie on the floor, just dying slowly because Trauma team couldn’t give a rats ass to someone who could pay for their service!]

*The camera moves to Genjiro as the executive solemnly looks to the floor and nods softly. The camera switches back to Cell.*

[So, in a way… you’re welcome. Because? Because I’m the goddamn ceiling for the minimum human fucking decency. I told you all, that I wasn’t here to control. That I was here to clean up your shit, because some of you people, didn’t get educated on common sense and basic decency. I meant that. So we’re starting our service… now.]

*Cell flicked and tapped on more on his wrist plate, turning to the monitor to show the blue map of Night City. Soon, red lines from several hospitals and medical centres were slowly travelling to different parts of the city.*

[Wow, look at them go! See those red lines? Those are the first responders of Project Caduceus. How do we know there’s people needing our service? We had our partnered company Petrochem pull some strings. Turns out giving 80% share of the profit of the car petrol goes a long way. Don’t worry, most will be fixed up and ready to walk out by tomorrow morning. We’ll be talking about the police force with the mayor some more, and implementing Project Caduceus in other parts of the world, starting with New Mombasa once our negotiation with them finishes up. Genjiro, I’m terribly sorry about making you talk with more politicians and what not. Remind me to give you a blank check for your raise. Oh, shit. Speaking of which, cyberpsychosis attack around the Corpo Plaza. That sounds like a Spartan and ODST job. Fingers crossed we can save all of them.]

*Crowd started to cheer and clap as Genjiro and Cell stood up and walked out of the stage, Genjiro making sure to stretched out his hands to Ziggy Q, who shook it without a word. People started to chant ‘Reds and Blues! Reds and Blues!’ or ‘Arbees! Arbees! Arbees!’ as the Spartan and the executive left. Ziggy Q, now left alone on stage as the screen went back to black, only smiled his signature smile to salvage the situation.*

[Wow, what a CEO, huh? Cutting bullshits and getting to the point! That was Reds and Blue CEO Cell and Executive Genjiro! We’ll see you tomorrow night, same time! Good night, Night City!]

David saw as the recording of Night after Night ended. He looked back to his mother, sleeping on the couch and grasping at her Meatwagon coat uniform tight in her arms.

To most civilians, Project Caduceus would be a godsend. A much more effective alternative than even Trauma Team.

But then he had to wonder… what about people who worked for Trauma Team? What about people like his mom, who worked as a paramedic for Meatwagon?

Will there be any jobs for them? To those that used on-ground ambulance?
Times were already tough, the laundry system stopped halfway this morning due to not enough eddies slotted in.

David sighed as he gently covered the falling MeatWagon coat on his mother, only for her to jump up.

“Morning, mijo.”

“If you keep sleeping on the couch like that, you’ll get early onset arthritis.”

Gloria could only smile softly at her son’s worry.

“I know. Just dead after my night shift, is all.”

“You and the washing machine both. Forget to reup it?”

“Eh, yeah… I’ll take care of it later, ‘kay? Oh, money, right! You mentioned a wreath update for class. That happened yet? When did you say you need it?”

David looked at the city as he grabbed his school jacket.

“No, no. It’s fine. Got Doc to handle it.”

“… What do you mean ‘handle it’?”

“I’m good. All set.”

Gloria sat up straighter, gripping the edges of her work jacket.

“Don’t go cutting corners, Dee. Already cashed my paycheck. You’ll get it updated right. Hear me?”

David put on his school coat- and that was the only thing up to Arasaka Academy standard. From his shoes to his shirt, his baggy pants. All screamed out below Arasaka’s expectation.

“Mon, seriously? Just feed the washer, alright?”

“I forgot this time, I told you. Promise me you’ll buy the update.”

“Okay, okay.”

“And you’re really going to school dressed like that?”

David pointed to the laundry.

“Uniform’s soaked.”

Soon enough, the holographic Television soon changed to N54 news.

[A military-grade implant was found missing from the body of Lieutenant Colonel James Norris, shot dead by a Spartan from patrolling the Reds and Blues tower. Majority of the injured were stabilised and rescued by the paramedic group ‘Project Caduceus’ that only went only 12 hours ago, but Lieutenant Colonel James Norris was transported by the Meatwagon paramedic response team-]

“Mom, you’re on TV! Nova!”

“No, not nova. David. A bloodbath. Go on, off to school.”

David sighed, walking to the door.

“Bye.”

“Love you, mijo.”

David walked out of the door, turning to the right corner as the doors closed.

And just like that, a holophone gave her a call.

[Maine? I was just about to call you.]

Gloria responded as she looked in the inside of her coat- the smuggled sandevistan taped on and concealed.

[I got you a new product. A sandevistan, military grade.]

[Nova, but uh… we’ll talk about the product later.]

[Are you calling about something else?]

[Yeah-yeah. Reilly has a guy that wants to talk to you.]

[About what, implants as well?]

[No, about your husband.]

Gloria blinked.
Leopold Martinez?

What… what about him? That man disappeared one night out of thin air, the moment the alien invasion on New Mombasa was streamed on the news.

Still had some part of love for him, yes. She still remembered the way he treated her, and how he treated their son. How hard he worked for the family, how hard he tried to raise David into a good, smart, strong kid.

But the fact that you up and leave kind of diminishes some of the nicer memories, doesn’t it?

[What about him?]

[He says he’s… on behalf of your husband. Got your husband’s final words. It’s important for you and your kid to hear.]

Gloria hugged her coat tighter.
She closed her eyes, remembering the last thing she and her husband had talked about.

‘I’m sorry, but.. They need me to be there. It’s for you and our son… Gloria, I’m sorry. But I still love you. I love David.’

She still remembered the tears in his eyes. And her tears. And how she shouted that he was a coward as he ran out. Moments after kissing their son on the forehead.

He never came back.
Angry? Definitely. Even still.

But all the memories that floods back couldn’t force Gloria to hate her Leo. Even if he might have been living in luxury on the other side of the world. Living as a suit in a megacorps, probably in Militech or Arasaka.

Maybe that was some reason why she wanted her David to rise to Arasaka Tower Top floor, to show Leo how his son grew, to at least talk to the kid if not her.
Even if he wasn’t in Arasaka, he’d still know by how successful David was.

[Fine… tell them my address.]

[… Nova. I’ll do just that. We can talk about the Sandevistan later. I’m buying it, just making that clear.]

[Preem. I’ll get it packaged and ready, after I talk with the guy you’re sending my way.]

-oOo-

David was physically gifted from a very young age.
Athletic build just came naturally even if he had a lean frame, not too mention the fast hand-eye coordination.

He jumped down to a trash heap with no problem, and ever since he played sports with the kids in the neighbourhood he would always come out on top.

Any kinds of sports. Any sports. All sports.

He was good at running, parkour, throwing baseballs.
Not to mention the fact that he recovered from the neural implant much faster than the rest of the people.

That was probably how he managed to get into Arasaka Academy so easily, despite his family’s socioeconomic standing in Night City.

His mother told him that it was his dad’s influence. That he was just like his father.
Apparently he was a natural at all sorts of things too, not just physical. Ranging from fixing engines to education, to saving people under fallen rubbles.

A pretty good shot too, Gloria told him how quickly his father made work of the gangs and cyberpsycho without even a weapon.

And funnily enough, he didn’t have any implants. Everyone just thought he was a former Animals member.

Until he suddenly walked out of his and mom’s life, anyway.

David didn’t really have much memories of his father. Most were just the final time they saw each other, kissing David’s forehead as he ran out the door and into the night.

No news of Leopold Martinez since.

Other memories were less drastic but just as taxing to remember. The times he was piggy back riding on his dad’s back, playing baseball or soccer with him and the rest of the kids. Cooking David dinner when Gloria was still at work.

Watching a movie and falling asleep together on the couch.

Fucking grade A gonk, David thought to himself as he walked up the stairs filled with violence and drunk people into the metro.

Maybe he was just like his dad, as his mother had said. Maybe not.

The train drove across several buildings of worn concrete, which contrasted with the silvery materials of the newly build Arbee facilities.

A few gaps showed that across a river, a rocket was being launched into space.
Back a few months ago, that would have been the biggest sign of progress in Night City.
Now, it was the flying Pelicans that continuously went up and back down to the giant gunship, who’s silhouette would frequently appear and then disappear from the top of the atmosphere like a moon in daylight.

The D82-EST vehicles quickly blocked the rocket launching, almost symbolically so. Painted white and red with a mix of forest green, these were what UNSC called ‘the Darter built in the Reds and Blues headquarters for Project Caduceus. As such majority of the space within the ship used for carrying large numbers of supply crates at once were modified into the top of the line medical emergency and intensive care unit. Enough to comfortably fit at least 10 patients

<Emergency evac underway, please clear the AV.>

To Night City citizens, it looked more like a flying turtle.

David got off the metro, walking through the pedestrian cross and going by the Petrochem tower. Where the crime scene had occurred.

“Did you see the Spartan fight?”

David overheard the NCPD within the yellow holographic tapes talk.

“That cyberpsycho had some top of the line implants that zeroed our guys… and then that 2 metres tall giant just comes in and smashes the choom by himself.”

David continued walking, going up the stairs and staring at the holographic model of a fish.
He saw a sparkly white hair in the corner of his eyes- a girl, smoking cigarette.
But she was gone by the time David finished walking up the stairs.

David quickly dashed to the Arasaka Academy, having one final look at the silver tower of Arbees before heading in and throwing his back onto the chair.

-oOo-

“Is this the place?”

“According to the address Reilly sent, yeah.”

Killshot and Noble 6 looked at the apartment. Half rundown and filled with people that can’t even afford a room, and therefore left themselves to rot in the stairs and hallway.

It was a sad, sorry sight.

“Uh, excuse me, sir… Would you two be Spartans by any chance?”

Both of the Spartans turned around, hand slightly resting on their guns just in case.
What they didn’t expect was a UNSC marine walking up with a smile on his face.

“Oh, sorry! Crewman Moris Grant, part of Project Caduceus sir!”

The UNSC marine did the standard salute, which the two saluted back with a nod.

“Spartan B312, Noble 6.”

“Spartan Killshot. You’re part of Cell’s new project, right? Must be tough.” Killshot asked with a warm smirk.

Moris shook his head.

“Oh, not at all, sir! Compared to my time with Militech, this feels way better! More meaningful and worthwhile, to be quite honest. Actually feels like I’m making a difference.”

“Heard a lot of people saying that in The Graveyard. Cell still treats you properly, right?”

“Of course, sir! He’s been the best leader I’ve ever met, sir!”

Moris grinned, he meant every word of it.
Killshot smirked as he glanced at Noble 6.

“Heard a lot of people say that one too.”

“Why wouldn’t we? He saw us on the streets and decided to recruit us! Gave us food, shelter, water, new flesh and bones if we needed them. And a purpose! Hope, sir. He gave us all hope. We’ve actually been trying to recruit people here as well. But unlike most of us vets from the unification war 7 years ago, a lot of people here doesn’t seem too interested in joining and enlisting as such. We’ve been thinking about making enlistment posters, but President Cell doesn’t seem to be too keen on propaganda materials.”

Killshot chuckled.

“He’s a strange Spartan, that’s for sure.”

“Would you know him personally, sir?”

“Somewhat. I’m in the same Fireteam as his twin brother.”

“Aha.” Moris exclaimed softly as he nodded. He looked back, seeing how his main mission just a few minutes ago was patrolling the area until the emergency patients were lifted into the Darter. “I should go back to my post, sir! Thank you for your services!”

“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t finished it yet.”

“Yes, sir! Understood, sir!”

The voice and the force, the energy it carried in Moris was much much clearer and stronger than when he was living on the streets and badlands.

He had been patrolling the facilities and posts assigned to him with eager glee and fierce loyalty.
And once he had the chance to do what he considered much more meaningful- chance given to him by the Arbee CEO, he took it.
He wanted to prove to himself how much his actions can help influence Night City.

And he really felt like he was making a change, too. Carrying and protecting the injured, using the equipment he was taught during training.

Practice really did make it perfect.

Killshot rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, as if trying to remember something.

“Wait, Moris Grant was it?” 

“Yes sir, Crewman Moris Grant, Marine! Sir!”

Noble 6 gave Killshot a glance.

“Ringing bells?”

“Yeah, heard it from Washington… oh yeah.” Killshot snapped his fingers. “You’re one of the candidates for ODST promotion.”

Moris blinked. “… I… I am? Sir?”

Killshot grinned. “Yeah, Washington was showing us the War games training results and pointing out potential candidates for ODST among the marine recruits. Yours was one of them. I guess having experience in war and surviving counts a lot, doesn’t it?”

Moris felt his chin slack a little at the shocking news. He was part of the ODST candidates? Really?

He quickly remembered who he was in front of, straightening up. Especially his salute

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“Yeah, Cell talked about your enthusiasm as well. Keep it up, you’ll hear the official news in no time.”

“Thank you, sir! I’ll return to my post now, sir!”

He saluted to Noble 6 and Killshot, turning away the moment Noble 6 and Killshot saluted back and looking to the apartment.

He didn’t want to show the Spartans the tears stinging his eyes. It really did feel like his loyalty and his hopes were getting repaid in some way.

“Moris, we’ve got the patients stabilised and ready to go. We’re just waiting on you!”

One of the UNSC medic team shouted at Moris from the Darter. She was one of the newer recruits too, formerly part of the Araska’s private military before being discharged without as much of a formal goodbye message.

Moris dashed into the ship, ready to take off to the nearest Arbee-owned hospital.

“I’m on the ship!”

The people shot during the fight between Tyger Claw gangs and the NCPD were breathing into air masks, having biofoam filled in their wounds and the repair field active inside the ship for healing.

One looked at Moris, still in the bed.

“Am I… Will I really live?”

Moris lightly grabbed his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, you’ll live. You’ll be fine. Just stay awake for a bit longer, you hear?”

The civilian slowly blinked, looking back to the ceiling. He didn’t know what that green light emitting from the object stuck to the ceiling, but it was one of the calming things he had ever since.

“Oh thank god… thank you…”

It was nothing but two words from the Civilians, but it meant everything to what Moris was trying to live for.

-oOo-

“Even if I do graduate, they’ll never accept me. No kid from Santo will ever be a suit. I don’t wanna be one anyway.”

David looked out to the window, their cheap car going through the highway after the accidental damage David had caused in the Arasaka network.

“So you tell me. What have I been busting my ass for then, huh?”

David moved his glance to his mother.

“Everything I do, I do for you, Dee. Don’t you see that? You’re breaking my heart, mijo.”

David looked to his mother, and in disbelief stood up straighter in his seat.

“Wait. What?”

Gloria Martinez had tears starting to well in her eyes.

“My Sweet baby boy. So smart, so talented. Just like your father. You’re… everything to me.”

The eyes couldn’t hold the tears any longer, and whatever was welling up fell down and ran down her cheeks.

“I want to give you a fighting chance in this city and a good education. It’s why I put in all of those hours. Why I’m never home.”

David looked at his mother, at relented.

“I… I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have brought it up. Don’t cry, Mom.”

“Think I don’t know how they treat you? Think I don’t get treated the same way?”

A car, black and sleek, obviously for one of the suits, were passing by Martinez’s left, while a pink car was driving right behind the two.

“But that’s why you have to prove them wrong. You have to work hard and rise through the ranks! My son at Arasaka Tower top floor! I can just see it. You’ve got this, Dee. You’re my son. You’re his son too. You can do it.”

“Yeah, well, easier said than do...”

David’s eyes widened when he took a glance to his right- a yellow minigun loaded in by an Animals gang member.

Soon the windows of Martinez family’s car smashed as bullets flew from right to left, aiming at the Arasaka suit’s car.

David and Gloria was just collateral caught in the crossfire.

“Fuck ‘em up!”

Gloria flinched as she tried to handle the steering wheel, while David used his reflexes to lean his chair back.

Sometimes, when his anxiety reached top level and adrenaline kicked in, his reflexes would heighten to the point that bullets looked like they were slowing down.

It seemed like it was enough to even out-speed standard Sandevistans, according to the fights he had with Arasaka academy students who decided to pick on David after whining to their father about better implants.

He saw each and individual bullet whizzing past every time the nozzle flared.

The black limo sped up, apparently the person inside still alive and well.

“Don’t let ‘em get away!”

“Suit’s limo’s titanium plated!”

The pink truck followed hot on the limo’s tail.

“The hunt’s on, my beastbros!”

The animals laughed as one aimed a rocket launcher, missile whizzing and whistling before hitting the limo.

The limo landed on its front, four wheels broken off and rolling the highway.

“Noone fucks with the animals!”

“Ara-suckers!”

“Ha, ha!”

The smoke cleared, pink truck steered to the side and drove off.

It was only the Martinez on the road.

“Mom! Brake! Brake hard! Watch out!”

-oOo-

David woke to flames erupting on the road, him strapped in his seat still, upside down.

The car had turned over, and his mom was on the side of the car.

“Mom! Mom!”

Gloria moved, and there were red lines lighting up into a rectangle.
Her lower half crossed over, the line overlapping on her clothes.

A Zetatech Atlas, painted white, orange and mint, landed.
Two men armoured in black running over to Gloria.

“Is that Trauma Team? Oh, thank Christ…”

One more ran up to David, scanning him with a tablet.

“He’s not a client.” The Trauma Team replied.

“Neither is she.”

Trauma Team ignored them.

“Hey, wait!”

“Secure the policyholder. Leave them to the city meat wagons.”

“Copy that.”

“What?! What the hell! Hey! Where are you going!” David shouted. But no one listened.

They did as they were told, leaving the unsubscribed to wilt in the accident. They took their client, and was about to head off.

“Mom! Momma!”

“Can’t lift off- turbulence just increased like crazy!”

Voice echoed out from the Zetatech Atlas.

Sure enough, there was a slightly bigger vehicle floating down from the air.
One of the Trauma Team sighed.

“It’s those new guys from Arbees. Fucking Project Cad-whatevers.”

The Darter stayed afloat, to the side of the highway.

David looked at the aircraft open up- 3 soldiers, 2 ODSTs and a Spartan jumped down.

“Secure the injured!” The Spartan shouted- white Locus variant Raskhasa armor with a Project Encoh up armor made it look actually like a skull with an air mask attached to it. As if Death himself had signed up to be a medic. “I’ll kill the fire!”’

“One found injured!”

“Searching for more injured!”

The Darter was flying off to the side, finding a suitable place to land.

The Spartan was huge, using the fire hydrant attached to the back of his hips to coat the flame in foam.

One of the ODST held up a small device, emitting blue light like a bar code scanner up and down Gloria.

“Scanning injuries: Broken ribs, ruptured the spine. Broken left leg, too. Bullet wound in right shoulder.” The ODST took off one of the giant canisters attached to his chestplate. “Stabilising the injured with biofoam!”

“Setting up the repair field!”

“Asking if situation requires Bubble shield!”

“Negative, we don’t need the bubble shield yet!”

They were all working swiftly, in unison. This was all happening in a matter of seconds in David’s perception.
The Spartan had finished dousing the fire with foam, and soon walked over to the car, crouching down and looking at David in the eyes.

“Found another injured! His stuck inside the car! Pulling him out now!” The Spartan turned around to shout at the back. He faced David again and talked in a much calmer, smoother voice. “I’m Spartan Bones. I’m with Project Caduceus. I’m going to get you out of there, so stay put. Ok?”

The moment the ODST injected the canister, Gloria flinched, groaning.

“Shh… we’re disinfecting the wound. It’ll hurt only for a moment. Bare with us.”

Spartan Bones walked around and grabbed hold of the door on David’s side, ripping it off the car with ease. The Spartan rested one hand on the back of David’s neck and used his other hands to rip the seat belt off, quickly grabbing David as he fell.

David watched as the soldiers brought stretchers, and some device started to emit a mist of green light.

Spartan Bone softly placed David on one of the stretches, as the ODST made sure to place Gloria on the other without further damaging her.

The scrapes on Gloria’s face were already healing under the green light.

“We couldn’t find any more injured. It seems like these two are the only ones.”

“We’ll search for more while the two stabilises.”

“Spartan Bones, can you move that car far away from us? I don’t like how there’s flames around it. It could blow.”

“Understood. Hoping wherever I move this doesn’t end up as collateral…”

David watched Spartan Bones grab the car with one hand, and flip it onto his shoulder with ease, carrying it like it weighed nothing.

They all wore white with red highlights. Even the vehicle.

“Confirming there’s no one else.”

“Patients’ been stabilised. Moving them into the Darter to move to nearest Med Centre.”

“Copy that.”

David felt as the stretcher was lifted and moved into the aircraft.

“Patient needs IV fluid, her body’s exhausted badly. Needs more nutrient.”

“Grabbing and injecting IV fluid. Hand me the bandages.”

They worked like they have been doing this for a long while. Poking Gloria’s wrist with a needle after tapping any potential air bubbles out, and bandaging the wrist to secure the IV fluid.

“Hey, kid. Stay with us. Can you see the light?”

One of the soldiers brought up a pen torch and pointed to it.

“Look at the light, follow it. Can you follow it?”

David did as he was told, but he could only stay conscious long enough to finish instructions he didn’t remember anymore. Closing his eyes and letting voices fog out.

He was exhausted. From the physical, mental, and emotional stress he had to endure today.

Chapter Text

Killshot rolled his eyes from left to right.

Seems like even their own UNSC marines never really saw the Spartans out of their armour.

Killshot brought his hand up to his sunglasses and took them off with a sigh.

“I knew today was going just too smoothly…”

Noble 6 only chuckled.

They looked to the window. It was a miracle that their neural interface picked up on one of the Darter Pilots for Project Caduceus announcing the names of the injured from the highway.

Noble 6 and Killshot had looked at each other when the names Gloria and David Martinez had been one of the list.

They ran to the nearest Darter picking up injured citizens, and had helped them stabilise the few in exchange for taking the two Spartans to the medcentre of Santo Domingo.

“There’s the building.” Noble 6 noted as the Darter landed on the helipad, Killshot looking at the opening door to see several Spartans and medical officers stationed and ready to carry the injured in for proper treatment.

Noble 6 and Killshot helped a few stretchers out, before they walked in and asked for the room David and Gloria Martinez was placed in.

-oOo-

David woke up on a bed much more comfortable than the one in his own room. Sheets were silky smooth and the pillow was soft.
Temperature in the room was well moderated, and the walls and floor and ceilings were sparkling clean.

Rectangular doorways had near militaristic shapes patterned below the door window, soft light-blue lights lining the corners that buzzed softly, creating a sort of soothing white noise for David to drown out.

It was different to even the richer hospitals he had seen during his study at Arasaka Academy, when his classes had several blueprints of various architecture to look at to analyse the designs and functions. No, not just different- better. Safer. Compared to the near hostile environments of run down hospitals or high-end corpo interiors.

It looked more like a space ship than a typical Night City Med Centre, really. Especially compared to the near-rundown hospitals that his mother had to work at.

None of it smelled of disinfectant or artificial filtered oxygen. Yet it was clear the air was devoid of contaminants and dust. It was way too clean.

David shook his head, for the moment his memories came up blank in how he ended up here.
But then he remembered everything: the car crash, the flaming aftermath…
He jolted up, looking left and right.

Mom- she was…

She was sleeping in the bed right next to his. To his left.

Unlike him, she had IV fluid still plugged into her. Yet with the shallow but stable breathing indicated by the rising and falling blanket and the heart monitor showing a steady rhythm of her heartbeat, she was fine.

David sighed in relief.

They were saved.

They were safe.

David looked at himself. Unlike his mother, there were no fluids or wires attached to him.
As if he didn’t need it. And honestly, he didn’t feel like he needed them either.

He didn’t feel any pain, no saw any bruises on himself.

“… Mijo…?”

David heard his mother’s faint voice and looked back. Gloria was awake, only ever so slightly. Eyelids only opened halfway, and voice sounded she just woke up.

“Yeah, mom. It’s me…”

David said with a smile. Gloria simply looked left and right, just like how David did when he first woke up.

“… Where… are we?”

David answered the only way he knew.

“I don’t know. We were saved by the Arbee guys, though. So probably in a hospital their company own.”

To be quite fair, with the end of Biotechnica: there weren’t any other proper company capable of filling that part of the niche. He can attest how easily and quickly the position was changed from Biotechnica to Reds and Blues.

Gloria stayed quite for the moment, simply drinking this all in. She blinked a few times, before looking out at the window.

It was early midnight- the Darters were still flying up and down the carrier pads, transferring patients and going back out there to gather more after getting the news that people were getting hurt.

The light pollution was still bad with all the buildings, electricity, and neon saturation. But that was the Night City Gloria remembered.

It was a near endless job, sure. But Reds and Blues had gathered a lot of homeless war vets that were more than willing to throw themselves back on the field to save human lives.

And all of that, starting from just a small kindness.

Gloria smiled.

This was far removed from her usual work environment.

“I guess they really do keep their words, huh? All that talking and ranting.” Gloria said as she lied back down on her bed.

“Yeah, we’re lucky. I guess.” David could only reply with a smirk.

They were saved, swiftly and securely, by Reds and Blues. David still remembered the entire situation. How gentle the Spartan was for his massive strength.

David and Gloria looked at their surroundings, pristine and clean and as the two would call it, ‘nova and preem’. Silver floors and walls that shined under the neon lights bouncing into from the window. However, the door soon opened before they would be completely left in their own surroundings and both mother and son looked to see who was coming into their room.

A Spartan, with purple Mark VI armour- a shade lighter than Cell’s- walked in while waving at the two.

“Hi! I’m Medical Officer Frank DuFresne for Reds and Blues. But you can just call me doc if that’s too hard to pronounce. Most of my friends call me doc too, anyway.”

David nervously waved back at the surprisingly cheery Spartan as Doc tapped through his compad.

“Right, so you must be David Martinez and you must be… Gloria Martinez? Is that right?”

“I… yeah…” David answered.

“Ok, great! I’m in the right room. Well, first off let me just check you guys’ health.”

David and Gloria flinched when Doc grabbed a strange looking chrome white device from his holster and pointed it at David. The shape of the device had bent into a weird blue C-shape, both the upper and lower end glowing blue.

Doc looked at the scared David and Gloria and laughed, pointing at the device with his free hand.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. This is just a medical scanner, standard issue equipment. Just gonna check if you have any withstanding injuries.”

Doc casually waved the device up and down, and read the holographic screen popping up just above the handle.

“Mhmm… Mhmm… Yep! Seems like you’re all fine and good to go! Wow, normally we have to do some more treatments to get rid of the bruises and torn muscle fibres. You heal up really quick! Almost like a Spartan.”

“I… I can leave?”

“If you want to. You can also stay and wait for your mother to heal up and be discharged from the med centre together. Speaking of which,”

Doc turned over to Gloria, waving the device up and down just like how he did with David. A new holographic screen replaced David’s results.

“Yeeep, this is something more to what we expected. Bit of torn muscles, bones realigned but cracks haven’t fully sealed up yet, not to mention the amount of malnutrition and overexhaustion. You’ll probably have to be here for about 3 to 4 more days.”

“3 to 4 more days?! But I can’t just leave my work!”

Doc sucked air in through his teeth sharply.

“Yeah, we heard about standard work conditions on Earth… Not, a good environment. Unfortunately, even if we discharged you now, you wouldn’t be able to walk or handle anything. Still god a broken shin and shoulder to deal with. Your details say you’re a paramedic, so you probably know how bad those are without me explaining furrther…”

Gloria ran a hand down her face in frustrating, exhaling strongly as she pushed her head further back into the pillow.

“Look, we’ll do our best to speed up the healing, but no promises.”

David looked to his mother. It looked like she needed him, and he was perfectly willing to stay here with Gloria. Didn’t have anywhere else to be, and no one else to stay with for the next 3 to 4 days anyway.

Gloria, however, had other vehement ideas.

“Dee, you go to school.” Her problem was her own. Not her son’s.

“But-”

“Mijo, I want you to go to Arasaka Academy. Okay? Don’t worry about the money or the medical bills. I’ll handle it.” David wanted to say something further, but the conversation he had in the car, and his mother’s quite stern tone cut this argument short.

Doc cut in, holding a finger up.

“Actually, we don’t charge you medical bills for this. Just that you leave once we check and have you healthy to be discharged.”

Gloria blinked.

“What do you mean no bills?”

Doc shrugged.

“Cell just didn’t want to have a hassle with charges and arguments about helping someone and having them angry or sad about the fees. Just easier to fix them up and throw them out without asking anything more from them.”

Gloria blinked again. And again, each time faster than the last.

“But didn’t adults have to pay for the health care?” She asked.

“Oh, that! Yeah, those are for those that came in here themselves and requested for medical care. For those that were rescued in Project Caduceus, bills kinda fly out the window.”

She breathed in and out. Really? No bills? Trauma Team and Meat Wagon would jump up and down in frustration and disbelief at such a claim. Hell, Gloria herself was taking time coming to terms with that. Well, that takes care of one worry.

Another knock was heard from the door, which opened up soon after, not even waiting for a reply from the other side.

Two men walked in, both clearly 2 metres tall, or even slightly taller than that. One wearing what could be considered a blend between Kitsch and Neomilitarianism, coupled with plain looking sunglasses. Another just wore plain grey shirt, black jeans and a jacket. Doc waved at the two, and the two waved back in return.

“Oh! Hey Killshot! Good night, Noble 6!”

David and Gloria’s eyes widened. Gloria knew the two because Maine kept talking about the ‘newest NC boogeyman’. David knew Killshot from the emergency conference. Hell, he was the talk of Arasaka Academy.

A Spartan, and an Arasaka combined into one will never not be a hot topic. Especially so when the dog tags were shown that made his words carry weight.

Did Killshot know that Arasaka was doubly cautious than normal because of Killshot’s ties to his extended family? He probably did, and was probably vouching on it to act as an emergency deterrent.

All David knew from the words around the academy was that Saburo was preparing to get in contact with the CEO of Arbees to talk about Killshot. He didn’t exactly know when, however.

“Sorry, Doc. I had something to talk about with David and Gloria Martinez. Should we wait outside, or…”

Doc shrugged.

“Honestly, bit too late to ask that after you just barged into the room. But I’ve finished most of my work here for now. Just make sure they get some rest, okay?”

Killshot nodded as Doc waved at Gloria and David before walking out of the room.

Uncomfortable silence fell on the floor. Gloria and David looked at Killshot expectantly, and a bit nervously too considering this Spartan right here specialised in making people disappear without a trace at this time of night.

Killshot, on the other hand, was thinking up how to break the ice and break down the news.

Guess he should start with making sure everyone was comfortable.

“It’s going to be a bit of a long story. Would it be okay if we turn on the night lights?”

David complied without a word, turning on the clean lamp above his bed. He didn’t know where the button was, but quickly found out that just touching the lamp was enough to light it up.

Now the room had a serene atmosphere, almost like the inside of a plane, or a space shuttle with how the orange and yellow light softly illuminated a quarter of the room.

Killshot grabbed a chair on the side of the left wall and lifted it to be directly between the two beds. Noble 6 remained standing next to the back wall. Killshot had silently gestured to the other chair, offering to move it for Noble 6. Noble 6 only shook his head and lifted a hand in decline before crossing his arm.

“Right… so…”

“You’re the guy Maine told me about? The guy who knew my husband?”

Before Killshot could properly speak, Gloria cut to the chase first.
Killshot sighed and chuckled, nodding his head.

“I had to pull some strings through Reilly… but yes. I am here… on behalf of Gloria Martinez’s husband… and David Martinez’s father.”

David’s brow furrowed a little. That man disappeared for who knows how long, and now that he zeroed, he suddenly has a will for them? That’s it?

Just like that?

David kept quiet, because just as he was about to shout something, he heard his mother breathe in deep, close her eyes for a moment and open her eyes, talking first.

“And what did he have to say.”

Killshot shuffled in the pretty spacious metal chair, ruffling something from his techwear coat.

“First off, if I ever went to Night City, and I could find the two of you: He wanted me to tell you two about how sorry he was for just running away and disappearing.”

Gloria sat up in the bed, using the pillow to rest her back on.

“And how would a Spartan know a man that disappeared 7 years ago?” Gloria shot back with a bit of bite in her tone. Killshot knew that’s how she would react, and just nodded at her words.

Killshot pulled out something that neither of the two could make out in the dark. So much for Killshot asking the room to be illuminated when he positioned his seat to be on the edge of the light.

“Because roughly 7 years ago the Covenants managed to find Earth through sheer mistake, and invade New Mombasa. I wasn’t a Spartan then, just an ODST dispatched to help civilians and fight back the Covenant forces.”

Gloria furrowed her brow, frustration and confusion wrought over her face.

“And why would Leopold Martinez be in New Mombasa?”

David looked to his mother. David himself wanted to ask what exactly the connection between New Mombasa and his runaway dad was about.

Killshot held something in his hands, running his thumb over with an expression hidden well by the shadows and sunglasses. When he held enough courage, he leaned forward in his chair and stretched out his hand towards Gloria. Something shined in his hands through the light of the orange and yellow lamp as he casted long shadows over the room, framing Killshot’s figure in a surreal glow as he extended the object. Gloria’s eyes widened and took the object without further questions or biting back.

David himself was confused what it was, but Killshot’s short sentence explained it for David in the most confusing way possible.

“Because Leopold Martinez's real name was Leonard-131.”

In Gloria’s Palm was Leopold Martinez’s dog tag. Or rather, the UNSC dog tag that Leopold hid in the house until 7 years ago.

“I told you two that this would be a long story. Still willing to listen to it?”

David looked at the dog tag, and then to Killshot, before looking back to his mother.
He saw how Gloria’s eyes blinked, before her pupils started to shake.

Killshot didn’t push the two, and simply waited patiently for their answer.

David didn’t know what that meant. What do you mean dad’s real name was Leonard-131? What did that mean? Was he a test subject? A fugitive? A criminal?
Frustration was bubbling up, but there was no way for him to vent it out. Who would he vent it out to? The confusion was in the end, in his mind. The only closest thing he could do would be to shout at Killshot to clarify ASAP, but he couldn’t dare do that when his mother was busy recollecting herself.

Gloria herself was in disbelief, yet the dog tag with the symbol of the Eagle with its wings outstretched, perched on top of the globe of Earth stamped on it with the UNSC insignia told her enough that her husband was a soldier.

And not just some soldier in Arasaka or Militech. A UNSC soldier, which when pieced together with the war of New Mombasa told her enough story about why Leopold had left.

Yet she wanted to know more. About what sort of man she had married and lost.
She loved him so much, laughed so much time whenever he had hugged her and their son, yet she didn’t even know what happened to him for the past 7 years. And only just realised that she essentially knew nothing about him.

Gloria wiped her cheeks with the uninjured arm, she had just realised the tears falling down and making stains on the blanket. And even before that she had the gist of the emotional outburst when the dim glow of the nightlights became blurry, the world beyond the hospital bed reduced to vague orange and yellow streaks, coupled with the pink and sky blue neon lights coming from the window.

She nodded. She felt her throat close and twist, and she realised she probably wasn’t in the condition to vocally express her thoughts.

Killshot saw the nod. He sighed, breathing in as he brough the chair closer to the two.
He had thought about this moment long enough, ever since he saw the Spartan hand him that dog tag before jumping in, shooting at the Covenant with the Plasma Rifle ripped out from the hands of the elite he killed.

He vowed as he survived through the hell that was the Human-Covenant war, that he would follow through with Leonard-131’s last request. The Spartan deserved that much at least.
Killshot finally crossed over the border between the light and shadow, framing in fully in the lamp light as he took of his sunglasses to properly meet with the family of his hero eye to eye.

“Cell would be talking about this in this week’s documentary interview, and I got confirmation from Captain Church to go through with this. But please remember, this is only for your ears for the time being. At least until the documentary is out. Can you two promise me that?”

The two nodded. Yes, for christ’s sake, yes. Just… please, answer them about what kind of man Leopold was, and what happened to him.

Killshot looked to the floor, blinking twice before he looked back up to Gloria.

“In 2027, UNSC had kickstarted the Spartan II program in secrecy. They had identified 150 candidates throughout the UNSC-owned Colony planets. Among these candidates, 75 of them were kidnapped. Those that were kidnapped, quickly replaced with a flash clone that died soon after. Technological limitations and complications during that time… these… 75 candidates were ranged somewhere around 6 years of age.”

David’s eyes widened.

“I’ve heard about that, in the conference… Cell said that.”

Killshot nodded with a grim expression- lips stretched tightly in distaste of the dark history of his predecessors.

“He did. And it’s true. Among those 75, only 33 candidates survived the procedure. Those were the Spartan IIs. But… among those 33, two had escaped. One committed suicide after meeting their flash clone, while another one had escaped to Earth. We could risk our identity to Earth at that time, so we had no choice but to let it go. After all, the escaped Spartan II didn’t make any noise, and disappeared from even our sights. We wrote him down as KIA. Thought he just committed suicide… Until we found him again in New Mombasa.”

Killshot pointed to the dog tag.

“That was Leonard-131. Or as he called himself to you, Leopold Martinez.”

David felt his tongue dry, and realised that he had his jaw slack.
Gloria didn’t blink either, and only realised she needed to when she felt her eyes sting against the air.

David actually felt his heart race, he felt as if time slowed again- like he could see how slowly the Killshot’s hair bristled, or how the reflection of the light moved across the sunglasses Killshot held in his hand.

“… He seemed like he was living the way he wanted. Like a human. Meeting someone he could love without strings attached, having a child that looked like him in every way. But he knew the moment news about New Mombasa arrived on his TV monitor, that when the chips were down: He was who he was made to be. A Spartan, a soldier… a father. He told me he didn’t want to be involved. This wasn’t Earth’s problem. But then he saw his friend on the screen. John-117. Master Chief, as we called the Spartan II that saved humanity.

He saw his friend, and he knew he had to step up.” 

Killshot chuckled as if he remembered a good joke, but the tears glistening his eyes told the two that it was nothing more than a light moment in a very, very dark situation.

“He didn’t know the full gist of the situation either, we had to brief him during all the barrages of plasma shots and hot lead whizzing through the air. About the Covenants, about why we were here, about… about what was at stake. He nodded, told us that it was a good choice to come to New Mombasa after all.” Killshot rubbed his index finger under his nose as he briefly cupped his palm over his mouth.

“… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have chuckled like that.”

Gloria looked down at the dog tag.
Leonard-131 glistened as the light filled the imprint stamped mechanically on that small metal shard.

“… And Leopold?” Gloria finally spoke, pushing through the pain in her throat. Yet she wasn’t strong enough to push through the choke.

Killshot couldn’t answer for a good minute or two. Simply looking down at the silver floor. Too scared to break the truth, no matter how clear and obvious it was to everyone in the room.

“… What happened to dad?” It took David speaking up as well for Killshot to finally open his mouth, to ready himself.

“… After the New Mombasa conflict was over, we gathered all the bodies of our fallen we could find. Master Chief… Master Chief himself carried the body in his arms. An old mark IV, barely… barely even working, barely maintained. Like it was left to rust and rot in a shed, to help Leopold forget that he was ever a Titan from the stars.”

Killshot looked Gloria and David in the eyes. His voice, shaking, was still firm. Enough training? No, it was enough loss experienced. Just… not experienced in telling this to anyone that wasn’t part of the military. His fingers interlocked into a single fist tightly, yet he restrained himself from breaking all ten of his fingers into each other.

“He was a hero, Misses Martinez. He was a hero that fought to keep his wife and his son safe. And I’m sorry it took 7 years to clarify to the two of you, that he wasn’t a coward that ran away from his family to live a better life.”

David looked at Killshot. He looked at the Spartan, and even when he heard the sounds of sniffling and sobbing to his right, he couldn’t take his eyes of the Spartan IV’s eyes.

“He… gave up his life, so you two could keep yours.”

Half-opened, like he was perpetually tired. Maybe he was, of fighting… of carrying. Yet even then he came here to tell this truth, and to look at David and Gloria in the eyes while telling so.

Gloria on the other hand, failed to meet the bearer of bad news in the eyes. For years she had thought that he abandoned them, that even if she loved him so much, that was something she wouldn’t forgive him for.

Of course, she wouldn’t forgive him. But for a different reason now.

She wouldn’t forgive him, amidst the tears that she couldn’t stop or the sobs she couldn’t silence, she wouldn’t forgive him for never telling the truth. She wouldn’t forgive him for never coming back in their arms.
The room’s white noise seemed to have been drowned out by emotions from both parties. Even the silence of Killshot deafened the room.

David’s own dam broke soon after. Tears falling down, and mutters of ‘god damn it’ and ‘fucking hell…’ echoing out in the room.

He had tried to drown out all those memories, of his father lifting David up on his shoulders, of him teaching David how to play ball, how to ride bicycles, how to cook rice, how to eat Spaghetti… All because he thought his father was a piece of shit that chose a richer life than what he had now.

He couldn’t face his father’s acquaintance in the eyes anymore. Not after David realised that his father had already chosen the richer life- with David and Gloria. And he went to fight tooth and nail for it.

Killshot sat silently to let the two let all of their emotions out.

-oOo-

Killshot handed the two a tissue box from the small table on the corner of the room. David and Gloria took it without hesitation to blow their nose and wipe their tears.

“Thank you for telling us about Leopold…” Gloria muttered as she closed her fist around the used tissue. Guess Killshot was like the tissue, keeping her grounded and tangible in her pain.

Killshot only grimaced, lips revealing teeth that expressed guilt, fiddling with his sunglasses as he replied, looking down at the floor.

“There’s nothing you need to thank me for. It took me 7 years to finally deliver the message, after all. You just happened to get the shittiest mailman in the universe.” Killshot moved uncomfortably in his seat. “Besides, there’s… something else I needed to talk about. About David specifically.”

Gloria and David looked at each other. David didn’t know what else there was that they needed to talk about, but Gloria had caught on quickly when she remembered about the Spartan II program.

Killshot was about to tell this to Gloria, but decided it was better to move around to David and talk to him directly about it. After all, David may have been Gloria’s son, but he was in the end, David.

“David.” Killshot spoke a bit more curtly. David blinked a couple of times at being directly addressed by the Spartan, and nervously coughed before he spoke.

“Yes..?”

“Ever since in your childhood, were you… physically and academically gifted? I’d say specifically… top of your classes or sports?”

David looked to the wall in thought and nervously nodded.

“How about… diseases? Did you ever get sick easily? Injured easily?”

David shook his head this time. Now that he thought about it, when most of his friends got sick from drinking the water of Santo Domingo without medication, he was the only one unaffected.

“How about… recovery? I’ve… gathered that neural implants for communication and those…” Killshot turned around to Noble 6 for assistance in memory while snapping his finger.

“Shards.” Noble 6 assisted with a single word.

“Yeah, Shards.” Killshot said as he turned back around. “Anyway- after surgery, how quickly did you heal?”

David rolled his eyes around, trying to jog his memory.

“2 hours.” This time, Gloria answered. She remembered everything about David’s childhood like it was yesterday. “Even the doctor said it was near supernatural recovery time, said that 7 year olds would normally take an entire day to heal from their first implant surgery.”

Killshot sighed as he blinked, folding the legs of the sunglasses in and out repeatedly, the rhythm of the plastic snapping echoing out like a metronome before-

“Shit. That pretty much has everything point to it…”

David was about to ask pointing to what, but he was a smart and talented kid.
Spartan II,
His Dad,
All these questions…
It wasn’t hard for him to piece three and three together.

“Doctor Catherine Halsey is currently charged and scrutinised for the invasive procedure. Among them were genetic modifications and augmentations. Which included the germ line of the candidates, and even other factors that can be passed down as epigenetic factors. Stick to the bases of the chromosomes in the gametes. I believe the two of you can understand what I’m inferring.”

Gloria’s eyes blinked before widening. She was quick to accept it, But David was… David’s own age had resisted the information going as quickly into his mind as his mothers.

“David, you’re a son of a Spartan II. Quite possibly the only offspring we have from the Spartan II candidate. While you may not have gotten all the features of a Spartan II… I mean, it’s hard to pass down ceramic exoskeleton coatings and enhanced muscle fibres- you most likely got a significant amount of it. From recovery speeds of the cells, to general hormone control… resistance to contaminants. So on. Most likely heightened reflex times.”

Killshot lifted the tissue box, gesturing silently at David with his head and eyes that non-verbally screamed he was going to throw that at faster velocity than one could normally react.

And before David could even respond, he followed through with half of his Spartan IV strength put into it.

The box struck the wall like lightning at the sound of cardboard crushing in echoed like thunder.

Yet even then, David had dodged perfectly out of the way last millisecond. Crouching down low on the bed before rising back up and looking to the back. The box had landed where his head would have been.

David scoffed with bit of sweat running down his forehead at the sudden fright.

“Maybe give me a second next time?”

Killshot shrugged his shoulders.

“Then it wouldn’t have worked. I’m really sorry for startling you two, but this pretty much confirms it… unless- David, do you have those…” Killshot snapped his finger again, looking back at Noble 6. Ignoring the wide eyes of Gloria.

“Sandevistan?” Noble 6 asked.

“Is that the one that heightens reflex time?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah- Sandevistan. David, you don’t have a Sandevistan implant, do you?”

David shook his head. “Don’t have the money for it.”

Killshot nodded and shrugged his shoulder. “Then yeah, it pretty much confirms it. David Martinez, you’re… like a Spartan 2.1.”

Killshot stood up from his chair. David and Gloria had forgotten how intimidating the build and stature of this man was when he had spent most time speaking to them in quiet calm tone and vulnerable posture of slightly leaning forward.

Yet Killshot had decided to take one knee in front of the David, helping Killshot properly meet with David eye-to-eye.

“My superior officer had requested me specifically to take you with us. Considering how much of a danger you could be if any Megacorps on Earth caught wind of your father’s… identity. But I don’t want to kidnap you back with us. After all, all risk and no reward with that kind of method, and it would only worsen your relationship with us. But just… please. To you, and to Gloria.” Killshot turned his head to also look at Gloria in the eyes. “Think about what I’ve told you. Keeping David exposed under Arasaka might only be detrimental to the two of you in the future.”

“And what about you being part of the Araska’s extended family?” David asked. It was less out of spite or anger, and more about curiosity and worry himself. Killshot’s expression changed to acknowledgement as he nodded and tilted his head.

“Touche. But at least I’m capable of putting a bullet in between the eyes of anyone Arasaka sends to try and stab me with a syringe. Besides,” Killshot continued as he stood back up, placing the sunglasses back on. “my family’s the ODST and Spartan Division of UNSC, not Araska.”

Killshot looked at the window, still neon-saturated midnight.

“… Would any of you two be discharged from the hospital? If you want, I could take you guys home?”

“No, it’s fine. Really-” David try to say with a smile, holding up his hands. But his mother interjected.

“David was told that he was fine to leave by the medical officer named Doc. He should know the address, so if you can. Please take him back home safely.”

“Mom!”

“You still have school tomorrow, Dee. The doctor said you’ll be fine. And to be quite honest… the way you moved? You’re more than fine to go back.”

David looked to Killshot for assistance, to at least have the Spartan help him convince his mother that he should stay the night with his mother.

“Sorry, David.  But Killshot’s reply was those of relent and acceptance. 

“Oh come on! You said that I shouldn’t be exposed to Megacorps for my own safety!”

“I did say that, touche.” Killshot nodded in agreement. Then he added in more. “But I’m your father’s colleague. And last time I checked, under normal circumstances mothers far exceeds a father’s colleague in ranks.”

Killshot walked over and tapped David on the shoulder.

“Come on. I’ve got a guy here that’s more than willing to lend me his car. Ever wanted to sit in a Black Mamba? Now’s your chance~.” Killshot smirked with his sunglasses on.

David heard the name of Arbee’s first car models. The one that’s still considered ‘Nova’ above all other vehicle models. Heard about how some of the Automobile companies like Arasaka and Herrera was trying to follow them.

Arasaka Academy outright told him in one of the lessons that the complexity of the engines and steering meant that production cost would far exceed the profit at their current technology level, so it couldn’t properly compete.
Then again, Arasaka also told that to add ‘any student that can figure out a technological breakthrough to make this work will be promised an executive position upon graduation’.

David relented, stilling acting hesitant on surface to make sure it didn’t look like he agreed just to take a ride in the most Preem car of Night City.

As David got out of the bed to grab his belongings folded neatly on the table to the right of Gloria, Killshot turned to Noble 6.

“Thank you very much for accompanying me, sir. I appreciate.”

Noble 6 nodded as he walked to the door first. But not before he turned around to Killshot for the last time tonight.

“Call me, when you need me.”

Killshot smirked as he nodded. Not ‘if’ you need me, ‘when’ you need me.
Killshot couldn’t deny that clam, however. With David’s situation, he most likely needed all the help he could get.

“I’ll call you when I get home.” David said to his mother as he put on his jacket.

“Take my uniform with me too. I’ll probably have to go explain to R.E.O Meat Wagon about the situation before I can continue my work.” Gloria replied with a sigh.

David smiled a little bitterly about their current situation. Especially since this accident would make the family tank a few hits on their eddies.

David looked to Killshot waiting patiently for him, apparently calling someone while he was getting ready to leave.

At least he and his mom finally find out about his dad. And knowing his dad had friends like the Baba Yaga? David thought as he walked up to Killshot, telling him he was ready to go and ride the Black Mamba.

Shit, maybe life wouldn’t go as badly as he thought.

-oOo-

David blinked and cringed hardly at how bright some of the lamps in the hallways were. And it showed just how good the walls were at keeping down voices when the hallways were bustling with people- ranging from the standard Night City Civilians, to ODSTs, marines, medical officers, and Spartans.

Some people were finished getting operated on and moved into rooms to rest up. Others were already getting discharged, casts being removed and helping to them walk before they were capable of holding balance on their own two feet.

Many of them were smiling, something David rarely saw in this city.

“Come on, Bones! We went over this! The locus helmet is too intimidating to be used in hospitals and medical centres!” David watched as Doc, the Spartan that were treating him and his mom, weakly argue with the Spartan that had saved the two from the crash.

The bone-white colouration of his armour was a lot scarier than when he first saw him, something that Doc was protesting about.

Bones was on his way to start his night shift, and stopped in the hallway to shrug his shoulders and chuckle.

“Sorry, Doc. I like this aesthetics. Besides, lots of gangs stop firing at our patients when they see the mask. Better to have them run away than look all cuddly, right?”

“Damn it, Bones! You’re going to give our patients heart attacks!” Doc cried out in weak frustration.

As if the world was timing for a moment to prove Doc wrong, a family of three walked up to Spartan Bones.

“Excuse me… would you be the Spartan that saved us?” The father carefully asked.

Bones tilted his head before casually point it finger at the father.

“The family caught in the shoot out between 6th street and Valentinos at Arroyo?”

The father and mother shook their head quickly in response.

“Yes! Yes! That’s us!”

“Aaaah.” Bones looked around the family. “And how’s the wounds? Healing up?”

The father laughed, and the Spartans could pick up that it was to hide a sob coming up his throat. “Yeah…” The father answered, voice straining from pushing through the choke forming inside. “Yeah, we’re… we’re fine… Our baby girl’s fine because of you, I… we… we thought we wouldn’t make it… we… oh god…” The father’s voice faltered as he looked to the floor, ashamed to show tears in front of a stranger, even if he admitted that the stranger was their saviour.

“We didn’t have enough to pay for Trauma Team’s services and I… I saw our daughter bleeding and I… We… I…” The father stopped when Bones gently placed a hand on his shoulder. The Spartan medic tried his best to ignore the mother already grabbing her daughter tightly, sobbing. For her sake.

The daughter didn’t know why her parents were crying. The eyeless skull man had saved them from the car crash. Shouldn’t they be happy? 

“Seriously. It’s fine.” Bones finally added through the voice distorted and modifited by the Locus helmet and the PROJECT ENOCH Up armour. “I signed up to Project Caduceus specifically to keep my skills honed. You have no reason to thank me.”

The father stared at the eyeless skull-like helmet, face cringing from the fact that he was already failing to hold back more tears. He quickly scrambled into his pocket, fishing out what little pocket change shards he had.

It wasn’t enough- not for a man who had saved their lives- but it was all the father currently had. The thought twisted in the father’s chest like a scalpel.

“This isn’t much and I know it isn’t much, but this isn’t all of what I’m willing to repay you, sir. I’ll make sure to pay for-” The father was rambling, but a cupple of ‘whoa, whoa, whoa’ from Bones as the 2 metre tall titan put his hands up in subtle and gentle decline cut the father off.

“I can’t take this. It’s fine. You don’t need to pay.”

“…No, no! I have to pay! You saved our life! It’s- it’s Night City! I have to pay-” Bones placed both hands on the father’s, softly but firmly.

“Seriously. No. I can’t take this. Cell will beat my ass. Really: He’s capable of beating my ass every Spartan training session. I don’t want to get my ass beat by him out of training. Please don’t make Cell beat my ass.”

Bones chuckled when he heard Doc snicker.

The father and the mother really looked like they were going to fall down on their knees and cry. Barely keeping composed because the Spartan was gently holding the father together in his hands.

The daughter escaped from her mother’s arms, walking up to Bones and pulling on his Rakshasa MJOLNIR undersuit.

Bones looked down and took a knee, trying his best to lower himself down to her eye level.

The daughter smiled as she fished through her dress pocket and pulled out a piece of old, battered up candy.

Bones cautiously raised his hand into a raised palm, and the daughter placed the candy in the giant palm in front of her.

She smiled, opening her smile wide enough to show her white teeth.

“Thank you for saving us, Mr. Angel.”

Bones quietly regarded the candy in his left palm, rolling it around before carefully using his right palm to grip the tip of one of the candy’s wrapping.
Then he used his left hand- now free- to grip his helmet and take it off, laying the helmet down on the floor.

For an intimidating helmet, the face held within was… surprisingly unremarkable. A very short hair, with quiet soft eyes. A scar running vertically across the chin had long faded into a darker patch of skin.
The daughter held her breath, finding out that Mr Angel here looked nothing like the robotic skull she had imagined.

Bones smiled, pulling the wrapper with both hands and popping the candy into his mouth. Still grinning as he rolled the candy around in his mouth.

“Thanks, kid.” Bones spoke, voice undistorted. “I didn’t have any lunch today.” 

The daughter giggled as Bones ruffled the daughter’s hair. Grabbing the helmet and putting it on again as he looked back to the father, showing him the wrapper.

“Honestly, if the thought of a debt is still tugging the back of your mind- your daughter paid the debt. So forget about it. Rest easy for a couple days here and go back working and loving your family. For all of us working here. Okay?”

The father couldn’t stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. Didn’t bother wiping them either. He just sobbed, grabbing the Spartan’s chestplate and dragging himself into the Titan.

“You’re an angel…” The father sobbed, the mother slowly walking forward to hug Bones too. “You’re a goddamn angel sent down from the sky…”

Bones sighed, but still reassuringly tapped the parent’s back.

“Honestly, I came from Space so you’re not too far off. I guess…”

David blinked at the sight. It was… it was so different to what he saw from the footages- of the precise aimings, the raw destructive strength shown when crushing Adam Smasher into the cold asphalt…

“… Shit…” Killshot muttered next to David, David looked up at Killshot. To his surprise, Killshot’s expression was less of crying, and more worrying.

David knew why when Killshot spoked further.

“That’s the guy I need ask about borrowing the Black Mamba. I’m sorry David, we’ll have to wait a bit until he finishes handling the patient.”

Chapter Text

“Wow, nova!” David exclaimed right next to Killshot. 

Killshot chuckled as he pressed the keys to the Black Mamba… which was painted white by Spartan Bones.

David was too busy running around, crouching down to look at the wheels, exhaust pipes, and then back to the front of the car.

“Can I…” David asked nervously as he pointed to the front of Black Mamba, the second half of his question dying quietly in his throat.

Killshot understood what David wanted to ask about, and just smirked.

“Go ahead. It’s not my car, anyway.”

David snickered a little as he opened the car up, revealing the high-quality engine revving up. The engine itself ran on CHOOH2, like the rest of the vehicles in the automobile market. But David’s knowledge picked the smaller parts apart, the hydraulic presses looked way too durable, then realising that the gears and chains were made to triple the cycle of a standard racing car. Then there was the main engine- it had turbines, which made David realise how the car could be so fuel efficient. 

“This is preem…” David muttered as Killshot walked to his side.

“Cell wasn’t too excited about the engine. He’s seen better ones be used on our Warthogs.”

David looked to Killshot.

“A Warthog?”

“Our main vehicle in the military. Has way stronger engine than this, but uses hydrogen injection combustion engines instead. Though if you take us Spartans words for it, it looks more like a Puma.”

“A Puma?”

“A big cat. Anyways, he was more proud of his application of the nanolaminated alloy sheets used for the cars. When force is applied in a car crash, the kinetic force weakens the bonds between the nanolaminated alloy sheets, making the sheet layers slide towards the direction of the force and expel it out the opposite end of the impact through the nanometre gaps and small air vents on the side. Handful of the portion also turns into heat from the friction between the sheet layer. Thus, the nanolaminate sheet layer structure makes them dynamically elastic, bounce backs into shape as soon as the force is expelled. Makes the car durable while keeping the passengers and driver safe from the impact. It’s better than having the car easily crumpled when crashed, because it can take further crashes and impact that normally happens in particularly nasty car accidents. Helps with withstanding bullet shots, too.”

David stared at the metallic material of the car, running a hand across it.

“Wow… nova…”

“It’s something Cell had came up with while looking at the nanolaminate structure, and then seeing pencils.”

David coughed, before chuckling.

“A pencil?”

“The graphite in Pencil lead is a carbon structure made like sheets stacked upon each other, with the bonds between the layers being really weak. It was his own creative approach to the nanolaminate alloy layers. There’s a reason why he’s our chief engineer.”

“Ha!” David laughed as Killshot walked over to the Driver’s seat, opening the door.

“Now hop in. I’ll drive you back to your house.”

David closed the front of the car, running to the passenger seat, opening the door and jumping in.

Killshot twisted the keys into the ignition, the Black Mamba roaring to life.

The Black Mamba exited the rather filled underground parking lot of the Medical centre, driving around the Santo Domingo streets. Rather contrary to the streets of City Centre, most of the Santo Domingo streets were riddled with run down factories, half broken sheds, and sometimes several tents lined up on the sides of the dirty and dusty roads.

Then there were several empty spaces with abandoned construction frames left to rust, which only made the newly-constructed corpo factories stand out in the centre of the district.

“Hey, Killshot?” David asked as he looked around the inside of the car, feeling just how comfortable the seats were.

“Yep?” Killshot replied as he stuck his eyes to the road in front, and to the sides.

“Can I turn on the radio?” David asked, pointing the device in the middle of the car’s counter.

Killshot shrugged.

“Sure, choose a channel.” David grinned, turning the dial after pushing the power button to carefully switch between channels.

Some of them were playing songs newly released, while others were something he was familiar with.

Just has he found the Body heat channel, the song had finished- a short intermission playing before the radio host played the next song in queue.

[The newest documentary of UNSC, now in-development! UNSC: Titans from Space. Part one will be released 6/24!]

David turned to Killshot at the news.

“6/24? Isn’t that 3 weeks away?”

“Yeah, offers from various media company was flooding into. Genjiro and Cell was suffering just from choosing.” 

“Damn, that’s quick.”

Killshot sneered as he took a turn to the right, going down and into a small tunnel.

“Tell me about it. We all had a footage of us talking about one part of the war that stuck with us. He’s set to meet the media company for the interview added into the documentary.”

“Who’s going to be the media company in charge with making the documentary?”

“A company called DNS.”

“DNS?! Seriously?”

“Why?”

“That’s like the second best media company there is! Right after N54!”

“Huh. Guess that’s why they were desperately offering more than whatever N54 was offering.”

David looked to the side as the intermission ended, and moved onto Night City by Artemis Delta. The window showed the Darters flying through the sky from the Hospitals and back. They were running harder than both Trauma Team for even less profit.

David was about to wonder why, until he remembered Spartan Bones.

Maybe they didn’t really need the profit.

“Where do we go from here?” Killshot asked David.

David knew the streets, he was familiar enough.

“Turn right from here, and then go a bit further before taking left on the second crossroad.”

“Right. Oh, and David?”

David looked at Killshot as the Spartan focused on driving.

“How much of those cybernetic implants did you install?”

David held his hand up to his eyes.

“Just the neuroport and kiroshi optics.” 

Killshot sighed.

“Ok, good. That’s not much.”

David slouched a little more in his seat.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you installing any more implants into you.”

Killshot saw David’s brows furrow in confusion and slight defence through the corner of his eyes.

“You’ve inherited part of the Spartan II’s genetic materials, which means that your body will naturally grow to be stronger than whatever cybernetic limbs or parts you’re going to replace your body parts with. I know you still haven’t decided whether or not to join UNSC, but I just want you to know that installing implants to replace your body is going to be a waste- you’re body is capable of performing much better than standard implants.”

David raised one of his brow.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Killshot exasperated slightly as he made a left turn. “You’ve seen Spartan Jim and Adam Smasher fight, right?”

David nodded his head with a grin etching on his lips.

“It was preem.”

Killshot sneered. The street lamps slowly becoming sparce, replacing yellow light with neon lights as Killshot drove out into an open space. Killshot could see the apartment David silently pointed out to in the distance. He knew the rest of the way now.

“Well, that’s standard for Spartan IIs.”

“Jim’s a Spartan II?”

“No, he’s a Spartan III. But he’s part of the Spartan IIIs categorised as Cat 2, who are Spartan IIIs that met the genetic criteria of Doctor Halsey’s Spartan II procedure. In other words, the Spartan III augmentation made him just as strong as a Spartan II.”

“Right…”

“So, can you promise me at least that?”

“What, about not getting more implants?”

“Yeah. I get that the optic replacement and neuroport was important to live in Night City, but just no further implants. It’s just going to make your body worse in the long run. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can promise that.”

Killshot nodded.

“Thanks, David.”

David remained quiet, before he opened his mouth.

“Speaking of implants… Killshot?”

“Hm?”

“Can you teach me how to fight?”

Killshot blinked as he slowed his car in front of David’s apartment.

“What’s the sudden request for?”

David shrugged.

“I’ve got this one guy in class, Tetsuo. Son of the Arasaka Academy’s boardmembers. Snobby little guy.”

“David,” Killshot cautiously replied as he turned his upper body to face David. “Are you… getting bullied?”

David clicked his tongue in frustration.

“It’s not bullying, it’s just… I don’t know… kinda, being an ass about someone like me joining.”

“David, that’s called bullying. How often did this happen? Did you tell anyone?”

“It’s just me getting shit on by the blue suits! Nothing serious.”

“And you’d have me teach you how to fight because you’re getting beaten up in school?”

“He’s not beating me up! It’s just… he keeps talking about having his dad buy him a Kung Fu chipware. And knowing him, he’ll probably use it on me if I keep staying in Arasaka Academy.”

David grabbed the door handle, but didn’t open the door yet.

“Since you’re a Spartan and all… If I’m not gonna get implants, I thought maybe I’d ask you to teach me some moves and what not.”

“David…” Killshot took his hand off the steering wheel, place the stick to park and looked at David. “You’ve naturally got Spartan Time. I’ve seen you use it when I threw that tissue box. You could probably beat the shit out of him with that alone before he could react.”

“I know that! It’s just… I wanna make sure, you know? He probably has some chromes decked out thanks to his dad being a suit and… I don’t wanna get blindsided when the suit kid pulls some Kung Fu moves.”

Killshot recognised the body language, and what David really wanted.

Maybe he didn’t want to be part of UNSC, sure. But judging by how much he brought up about this bully’s dad providing for whoever was giving David shit, maybe he was…
Maybe the kid was just jealous.

Killshot sighed. He was here to send Leonard-131’s final messages. Was it even in his position to step further into boundaries like that?

Killshot blinked. He had to admit the facts- David was a son of a Spartan II. Agent Washington and Captain Church had tasked him with trying to bring David in before another Megacorp secured him.

Maybe this was the best approach for Killshot after all.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

David smiled.

“Nova, thanks.”

Killshot and David both opened the car doors and walked out, closing the doors and locking the car behind them.

“Which floor?”

“7th. Hold up, I’ve got a call…” Killshot looked to the side as David started to walk with both his and Gloria’s stuff in his arms.

Killshot looked up at the apartment building. It was pretty unbalanced, the lower part of the apartment being narrow than the top, which looked more like blocks of buildings glued on. It almost resembled a tree, with the holographic red caution signs and red lamp lights making it all the more ominous.

“Yeah,  hoop chip. Version back… Is that all? You low-balling me? Huh?”

Killshot overheard David’s conversation as both went inside and walked up the stairs, avoiding the homeless in the narrow stairs and hallway.

“Nah, forget it, choom.” David ended the call, shouting ‘Damn it!’ before looking at what his apartment room’s front door said.

[Access Denied. Rent Overdue.]

“What the fuck?!” David exasperated before kicking the door.

David sighed as he tried to go around to the vents in the back, but Killshot grabbed the kid by the shoulder and stopped him.

“David.”

“Hmm?”

“You can stay at our place for tonight if you want. Make sure to tell your mother about the current situation, though.”

David grinned.

“You sure? Nova! Where’s your place, anyway?”

“The Graveyard.”

Killshot saw David take a step back with a faltering grin, blinking twice before realising the misunderstanding.

“Oh, right. I forgot that only UNSC and Reds and Blues call it that. It’s our headquarters in Badlands, where most of the Spartans are in.”

David rolled his eyes around before remembering seeing it through the news. The giant silver building that would look more fitting in Corpo Plaza instead of the outskirts of Night City.

“Ooooh, that place. You said that’s where most of the Spartans are, right?”

“Yeah, you can say hi to them if you want. They’re nice.”

“Is Jim there too?”

“Last time I checked, he was. We could also go over teaching you how to fight, if you want.”

“Sweet! Oh, shoot! I still need to go grab my uniform for tomorrow.”

“Right, so we still have to go in there. Hang on. I got just the guy.”

“… Huh?”

Killshot touched the door before David properly responded, the hologram disappearing and the door automatically opening.

“How did you do that?!” David shouted in surprise, ignoring the fact that the homeless were all looking at him with annoyance. He was being too loud late at night. “You can quick hack?!”

Killshot looked at David with confusion as he wore his sunglasses.

“Quick hack? Is that a Night City Slang? I’ve got a buddy in the back of my head that can open controls like no problem. Specialises in it too, thanks to my main job being deployment for espionage and reconnaissance.”

“In… your head?”

Killshot walked into David and Gloria’s apartment, showing the neural interface implanted in the back of his neck by tapping on it.

“Dumb AI named BUTLR. Anything digital, he can handle it.”

“Wow…” David muttered as he followed in. “So you’ve got an AI in your brain?”

“More like an AI in my Neural interface. We don’t tamper with the brain. Go grab your stuff, I can lock the doors on our way out.”

David did just that, grabbing his school uniform out of the washing machine before grabbing extra clothes. Some were gym clothes (since Killshot did just promise with teaching how to fight), some were Pajamas. He was rummaging through the shelves just in case he was staying in the place longer than necessary, until he saw something slip out and fall to the ground.

“The hell is this…?” David muttered as he picked it up. It was cyberware, wrapped in a plastic bag.

“What is it?” Killshot asked as the Spartan walked up and looked over David’s shoulder, David looking up to Killshot and showing him the cyberware clearly.

“Oh, I’ve seen Ram and Cell tamper around with that. That’s what a Sandevistan looks like, I believe. Though it looks bulkier than the standard ones we saw.”

“A Sandevistan? Why would mom have a…” David tilted his head as he flipped the chrome around.

“Maybe you can ask her when you tell her what’s happening. For now, though. Maybe pack it in your bags along with the rest of your clothes. You’ve got your toothbrush?”

“I… right, right. Ummm… Yeah, do you guys have blankets and toothpaste?”

Killshot outstretched his hands to the side and shrugged his shoulders defensively. 

“Of course we do. What, you think we sleep without blankets and brush our teeth without toothpaste?”

David heard the heavy sarcastic undertone in the reply. He laughed as he responded just to poke some more fun into Killshot.

“I mean, hard to imagine you guys sleeping and brushing your teeth at all.”

Killshot frowned through his sunglasses, his brows visibly upset in David’s eyes.

“Well that’s rude to say. Why, did my breath smell bad?”

David chuckled as he packed the rest of his luggage and hoisted it on his back.

“Nah, nah. Choom. You’re fine.”

The two walked out of the apartment, Killshot sending out BUTLR to once again close the door and set everything back to how it was.

“Well, now you just made me conscious for no reason. You can sit at the back, now.”

David chuckled as they walked back down the stairs and to the Black Mamba. Still unrobbed, no thanks to its durability making it really hard to be car jacked.

“Hey, come on! Killshot, Choom! I was just joking!”

-oOo-

“Wow…” David looked around, slowing his steps as he got out of the car and into the silver hallways. The left side of the wall was made entirely of glass, showing the grass covering the soil between the Graveyard and the wall built up to surround it.

Everyone stared at David- the few Spartan IIs especially. To them, David Martinez looked exactly like Leonard-131, down to the hair and the face. Who knew Spartan genes were this strong?

It almost felt like they had Leonard-131 return to them.

David even saw how clear the starry night sky was, free from the standard night pollution of Night City.

David had even forgotten about the reason for coming here when he started to run around the windows looking into the labs from the hallway.

He saw how some of the employees were hard at work, talking to each other while making a 3d model through the hologram showing up on the desk.

Some of the employees were chuckling with each other, holding a can of beer in one hand and playfully testing out a holographic simulation of a pistol at each other with their other hand.

He heard some of the Spartans chuckle at the boy’s excitement at technology being developed.
It didn’t sound condescending, however. The tone was significantly different to the snickers he received in Arasaka Academy.

One of the Spartans walked up to David, who was still looking through the R&D department of the Graveyard.

“You’re David Martinez, right?” David turned to the contralto voice right behind him, looking up to a huge Spartan in a ARDENT-Class helmet towering over him. “Leonard-131’s kid. We’ve heard about you.”

David laughed nervously and awkwardly looking at Killshot in the back for help.

Killshot was talking to the Spartans with a can of soda in his hands, before noticing David’s silent plea and shouting back.

“That’s August-099, she’s a Spartan II, leader of a six-man Spartan II team called Spartan group Omega.”

David awkwardly laughed as he raised a hand for the Spartan to shake.
But he didn’t expect the Spartan to bring him into a hug.

“Welcome to the Graveyard, kid.” That’s all August-099 said before releasing him from the hug. “You look just like Leonard. Did Killshot ever tell you that?”

David looked back from the ARDENT helmet to Killshot, August following David’s gaze as Killshot looked to August-099 with a shrug.

“Killshot!” August-099 protested. Killshot only grinned cheekily

“What? I never really had a chance to tell him that. I mean, why would I? He probably heard that enough times from his mother anyway.”

August-099 groaned as the Spartans around them laughed.

August-099 shook her head as she looked to David.

“I knew your father, David. All of the Spartan IIs did. Personally.” August-099 added as she placed a hand on David’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

David looked to the floor.

“It’s fine.” He replied with a smile. Really, he meant it. At least he finally knew that his father didn’t die a coward, and there was still people that remembered him for who he was.
It was a tragedy. David will admin that. But at least he finally got closure. And some sort of feeling of vindication.

August-099 nodded, before lightly slapping David on the shoulder.

“Come on, I’ve heard the general situation from Killshot. Let me introduce you around the place.”

David looked to Killshot as August-099 was marching off down the hall. Killshot waved at David as he talked to the Spartans.

‘And you’ve checked the records?’

‘Yeah, the last thing I managed to find was their address and contact. Records dug out from the government files showed that Gloria Martinez had a partner called Leopold Martinez, disappeared 7 years prior. Birth of David Martinez was also recorded. Matches everything down to a T. You guys better thank Noble 6 for sneaking in and extracting data.’

‘What about the Spartan II enhancements? Did David really inherit them?’

‘Inherited some of it. The genes and epigenetic factors. I tested it myself.’

‘… how?’

‘… I threw a tissue box at his head.’

‘Kenichi!’

‘What? What? It was the most effective method at hand!’

David snickered at the conversation before he followed August-099.
Catching up just in time as August-099 looked back to check Leonard-131’s son was still right behind her.

August-099 pointed to one of the engineering room, where the employees were trying out new car models on a holographic simulation. Their tables scattered with Compads and a miniature holographic model of Night City on one of the desks.

“Those guys are former Militech engineers, using their free time trying out new car engines and wheels.”

“And do they all use holograms?” David asked as he watched the engineers grab the holographic model of a car and place it on the Night City model’s streets. Before they all cheered and clapped with the car whizzed around the districts with no complications or difficulty.

“Yeah, easiest way to test out if things will work properly.”

“Nova…”

“… Nova? That slang for something?” August-099 asked, confusion evident in her tone.

“Oh, right- yeah, it’s… it’s uuh, street slang for Awesome or Cool. Kinda like Preem.”

August-099 tilted her head, before nodding along.

“… I see, alright… moving on, here’s the vertical farm and- what are you doing here, Grif?”

August-099 walked to a bigger room, filled with columns, rows, and shelves of crops ranging from cabbages to lettuces to potatoes and carrots.

August-099 threw her hands to her sides in frustration, however, when there was an orange Spartan IV crouching down behind one of the columns, peaking his head out before hiding back.

“I’m trying to hide from Sarge- go away!” Grif snapped back in a hushed tone.

August-099 looked to David, before silently gesturing to him that they should move on. David nodded as he looked at the orange Spartan for the final time.

And just as they walking across the hallway, David saw a Red Spartan Sprinting with an M90 Close Assault shotgun close to the Spartan’s chest.

“Sarge?” August-099 called as the Red Spartan stopped just in front of August-099.

“Petty Officer Second Class August-099, Ma’am! Have you seen where Grif went?”

All of the Spartans here were part of the Spartan Division, which meant that there were no solid hierachy among the Spartans. But to someone that had considerable time spent in a (somewhat false) hierarchy, he was some of the few that still addressed to their own rigid system.

August-099 turned to look back at the vertical farm- and so did David. August-099 looked back to Sarge and replied in a hushed voice.

“He’s behind one of the columns in the vertical farm. Try not to ruin the crops there, though. Okay? I know Grif did something stupid again, but I don’t want to see you guys get chased through the desert by Cell with a Scattershot.”

Sarge looked to the sides of August-099’s shoulder and straight at the entrance of the vertical farm, before looking back at August-099.

“I’ll try, ma’am. But no promises.”

August-099 just sighed, waving a ‘good luck’ with her hands as she gestured David to follow her. Sarge rushed past the two and dived straight into the Vertical farm.

All David heard behind him on his way forward was the sound of Grif screaming, before the two orange and red spartan IVs ran out of the vertical farm, Sarge now pumping his shotgun.

“GRIF! I TOLD YOU NOT TO CRUSH OUR WARTHOG!”

“AND I KEEP TELLING YOU, THAT THING HAS 6 PEDALS! HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW WHICH ONE’S THE BRAKE?!”

“Now, that there is the cafeteria. You hungry, David?”

David felt his stomach growl a little. Oh yeah, David realised. He didn’t really get to eat anything today, considering the car crash and all. David lightly patted his stomach as he looked to August-099. The hunger was nothing he couldn’t handle right now.

“A bit, but I can go after the tour.”

August-099 nodded as she moved on. “Don’t worry,” August-099 added. “We’ve only got 3 or 4 places to go.”

David found himself taking a right turn and an escalator up to the second floor, this time the hallway had a glass wall that looked into… a complete replica of a city, with palm trees and car roads.

David pointed to what he was looking at in confusion, turning to August-099 in confusion.

“Oh, that’s War games. It’s what we use for simulated training for UNSC soldiers. I think Killshot was planning to bring you here to teach you how to fight. Seems like someone’s using it for a match.”

August-099 only barely managed to finish her sentence before 24 spartans, split into 2 12-man teams, whizzed into the arena with gravity hammers, energy swords, and other power weapons.

“… or in this case, for just some bullshit fun.”

David heard the voices of the Spartans within bombard the field and overlap with each other, Spartans attacking each other in humorously obscene ways.

“““OOOOOOOOH”””
“OOOH MY GOOOOOD”
“OH YEAH”
“OH GOD.”
“WHY?”
“LET’S FUCKING GO!”
“WHY DID YOU DO THIS?”
“SQUID GAME”
“WHY?”
“SQUID GAAAAME”
“SQUID GAME”
“WHAT-”
“SQUIIID”
“SQUID GAMES”
“SQUID GAME”
“SQUID-GAME”

August-099 recognised the voices quickly.
Yeah, those were Spartan Badger and his fireteam in there.

David watched as one of the Spartans (judging by the red and yellow CQC armour, it was Spartan Badger) used his grappling hook to fly across the street, only for a gravity hammer to smash into his helmet and have the poor Spartan IV’s body flying across the entire map, slamming into the glass window as David flinched back.

“Don’t worry, the weapons and maps are all holograms.” August-099 reassured David.

“Even the body that just flew across here?!”

August stayed quiet, before continued walking.

“It’s… it’s a hologram.”

David was equally perplexed and shocked. And the more he watched the case that was War games custom mode, he didn’t want an answer anymore.

He just dashed across the hallway, catching up to August-099 as they came across a door.

August-099 knocked on the door, before the voice on the other side answered with a ‘come in.’

David watched the door open to reveal someone that David knew- the purple Engineer-class MJOLNIR, with the four nodes on the helmet.

That was Cell. That was President Cell, the CEO of Reds and Blues.
Right in front of David’s eyes!

“Do you need me for something, August?” Cell asked as he was busy fiddling with a microscope, not even bothering with looking up to properly face August-099.

August-099 turned to David.

“That’s our local egotistical megalomaniac. If you got something you wanted analysed or fixed, he’s your guy.”

Cell flicked his left wrist before closing it into a fist, bringing up only his middle finger to flip the bird at August-099.

“Love you too, August. Love you too, ma’am.”

“Come on, let’s move on to where you’ll be sleeping for a while.” August-099 said to David as she snickered.

Cell finally looked up, and realised that he had a guest.

“Oh shit.” Cell stood up, walking up to the door and crouch down slightly to look at David at eye level. “David Martinez?”

“I…” David stammered as he shook his head rapidly to snap himself out of awe. “I- yeah! David, I’m David Martinez.”

Cell clasped David’s hand and shook it firmly, David felt the force of the Spartan’s grip.

“David Martinez, hi. So nice to meet you, a lot of the Spartan IIs were happy about your news.”

“Uh… Nice to meet you to, sir. It’s… it’s actually an honour to see the Reds and Blues CEO personally, since your Project Caduceus saved my mom and all…” David smiled anxiously, before his eyes caught the microscope.

Cell followed David’s gaze, and looked back at David, caught on to what he was curious about.

“You want to try looking into the microscope?” Cell asked as he pointed to the microscope, letting go of David’s hand.

David himself turned to August-099, asking for permission to take a moment. August-099 chuckled.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead, take your time.”

David and Cell walked up to the microscope, David looking in through the eye piece to see cells rapidly dividing into a globular shape.
An egg, David recognised the pattern of cell replication.

David was witnessing the development of life.

“Wow, Preem…!” David muttered as he continued watching.

“It’s cool isn’t it?”

“Yeah! What is it?”

“It’s a fish.”

“A fish?”

“Yeah. More specifically a tuna. I talked about ocean restoration, and now that the mines were nearly gone in Night City ocean thanks to Fireteam Titan I was thinking about restoring fish population. Then suddenly Akaromi Biocorp leader comes in with a surprise request about getting Tuna. 
I said ‘why tuna?’ and the Akaromi Biocorp replies ‘the rich and influential people in Japan heard about the high quality of Reds and Blues food products. So people like really high Arasaka board members would like to taste proper tuna, rather than the ones they have right now. You know, the ones without synthetic after taste. 
Tuna sashimi, Tuna sushi. Grilled Tuna, all sorts of food for them to eat. And I said ‘is it only going to be available for those guys?’ and the CEO replied ‘god, I hope not! I’ll pay you quadruple the amount we pay for the beefs!’ and he kinda gave me a lot of money up front for the specific tuna commission, and I said ‘I don’t need this much, you could probably just give me half of this and I’d have already released Tuna on the market for the public to get’, and then he says ‘It’s a show of good faith, and hopefully enough incentive to release the first batch of Tuna for us to supply to the Arasaka clan.’ And so he tries to pre-order the first successful Tuna products restored, and he thinks it’s an auction where the highest bidder wins, I call him ‘a fucking idiot for giving me this much already’ to his face, but he was smiling when I said I’d do it. 
Honestly, though? He gets first batch and briefly monopolises it over other food corporations, and I get to restore Tuna in the ocean so it’s a win-win for both of us? I guess? So I’m happy with it.”

David had drowned out half of Cell’s rant-like rabble as he watched the zygote become larger. It sounded like Reds and Blues’ partnership was going strong and steady.

“And how long were you on this tuna restoration?” David asked Cell as he took his eyes away from the microscope.

“Oh,” Cell exclaimed as he looked to the artificial Tuna ovary being created in the giant water-filled cylinder behind him before turning back to David. “I started it this evening.”

David looked back in surprise. “What?! No way, Choom!”

“Uuuh, yes way. That was the offer that came in during the afternoon, so…” Cell shrugged, gesturing to the artificial ovaries and then to the Tuna egg being developed on the microscope. “… I started it this evening after planning it out. We’ll probably have the requested batches of fully grown tuna by like… the end of this week. End of next week if we want to keep it steady and not overdose the tuna on growth accelerants.”

“That’s quick!”

“I mean, I think quick and I work quick. What do you take me for, I’m a workaholic. This morning, I was taste testing grapes and grape juices some of my employees made for their own passion project.”

“Grapes?”

“Oh yeah, some of the former Biotechnica biologists and bioengineers wanted to continue on the project they were forced to stop. And make it less… illegal? It doesn’t have any shady chemicals they had to rely on anymore, so that’s finally good. They wanted to make wine, you see.” Cell looked around the room, and to the window on the back of room that looked down on the factories and lab rooms, before turning back to David. “Don’t… tell the guys, but I personally think they got a little competitive after hearing the other group’s passion project about wheat genetically modified to be brewed as beer had dazzling responses from the workers that taste tested it, and ended up with a brewery megacorp wanting us to utilise the licensing rights of that passion project to them. Lots of cash paid up front already, too. Huge success.”

David chuckled as Cell finished explaining in a hushed tone, standing a bit straighter as he made a gesture across his helmet akin to zipping his mouth shut.

David nodded as he laughed, before Cell took the microscope slide out and sucked the egg with a syringe, loading the needle up with the egg before he carefully lined up the end to the artificial sack inside the water-filled cylinder tub and injected the egg sack.

“Now, we wait a while before the artificial ovaries finish replicating the egg I injected.”

“And then?” David asked expectantly.

“And then we wait until the ovaries takes the cell and multiplies the eggs throughout the germinal epithelium. And then we wait for it to become fertile, have the ovaries release the egg. In the mean time, I have to develop the tuna sperm so we can fertilise the released eggs without wasting time.”

“That’s… you’re really prepared for this, huh? And you started this not too long ago too.”

“Oh please.” Cell exasperated without looking at David, simply tilting his head to the 17-year old as he stared at the artificial tuna ovaries. “I’ve already replicated the cows with enough genetic diversity to refill the bovine population. Tuna is nothing to me.”

“…Nova…” David muttered.

This… really was different, compared to Arasaka. He remembered the tour he was given by the academy, of all the rigid and stressful work environment he saw. All the shouting and mocking that the Academy AI had tried to cover as something positive as a corpo.

David was smart enough to tell what really was positive. He just looked at it now during the tour of the graveyard, didn’t he? He had just watched roughly three to four different people that were making actual progress, and looked happy doing it too. Looking relaxed.

“This is really Preem, you know that?” David said to Cell as he walked a little further to the window. Sure enough, there were more labs down there. One of them was working on tending to a pot of grape vines, one of them was squeezing grape juice and plotting them on paper, probably to see the chemical reactions.
It was far from the suffocating environment of Arasaka and its academy.

“Honestly? I’m just happy to have workers passionate about what they’re working on. Look at those guys over there. That’s the beer wheat I was talking about.”

David furrowed his brows at the cans being emptied into the scientist’s mouth, some of the ones that were standing were slowly swaying side to side, visibly losing balance.

“Aren’t… aren’t they drunk?” David asked as he pointed to them, Cell leaning forward.

“Oh shit, I guess they are.” Cell softly exclaimed as he walked over to his desk and pushed the button on the microphone.

David heard Cell’s voice echo out the labs, seeing how the drunk scientists flinched at Cell’s voice.

“Lab C-7: I can see you from the window of my office. You’re drunk- go to bed.”

David saw the drunk scientists laugh, one of them throwing their head back so far that he ended up tipping over the chair and rolling on the floor. Other two were slapping each other’s arms as they tried to pick up the empty cans and leave the lab.

David almost felt jealous- he was working his ass off of attending Arasaka Academy and trying to endure the scathing comments some of his classmates left him, not even sure if graduating the academy would lend him in a good job and a good life. Meanwhile these guys over here were free to pursue what they liked together, in a healthy environment. And their passion was successful ventures, too.
It was almost unfair.

“I swear to god, some of them are way too passionate than necessary.” Cell muttered.
David chuckled at the comment as he walked back to the office door.

“Thanks for showing me the tuna.” David called as he waved to Cell. Cell chuckled as he waved back.

“And thank you for showing interest. I live off of validation of my work.”

August-099, who had been silently leaning on the door frame in the back, finally started to walk again, nodding to Cell before leaving with David.

David saw August-099 point to the window outside, which had a much more open space than the other places.

“That’s the testing ground for vehicles and sometimes weapons. Though by the looks of it… they’re using it to hold a barbecue.”

True to August-099’s comment, David watched as some of the soldiers were firing up a grill and cooking steak, pork, and bacon while the ODSTs and Marines and part of the Spartans all sat around a campfire, singing. A blue Spartan even had a banjo in his arm, strumming it along with the voices. A UNSC Marine- Moris Grant, was joining shoulder to shoulder with the other soldiers and Spartans. Evidently drunk.

David couldn’t help but smile at the sight. UNSC sure knew how to have fun.

August-099 and David continued walking to their final destination- the barracks. They had walked across a branching hallway made with hardened glass walls and ceilings into a smaller building.

“Here’s the worker’s barracks. Killshot contacted us before you arrived, made sure to give you an empty suite. You can leave your stuff here. And uuhh…. That’s the end of our tour. Hope you enjoyed looking around. If you’re hungry, feel free to go to the cafeteria. You want me to take you there?”

David shook his head, bringing his hands up.

“Thanks, but I should be good. I memorised way to it.”

August-099 nodded her head.

“That’s all good, then. If you do need help though, feel free to ask the guys walking around the hallway. Everyone’s nice and willing enough to show you the direction. Oh, and I think I already heard it before, but… your father was a really good man.”

David nodded shyly, scratching his head as August-099 patted David on the shoulder before leaving. 
It was weird, that he was finally being compared to his father by anyone other than his own mother. People that knew his father, no less. He felt a little pride, that his father was being acknowledged… but at the same time, he felt a bit of pressure on his shoulder. Weight, from knowing that he was a son of a super-soldier.

But for the first time ever, he didn’t feel any shame at all when being associated with his father, Leopold Martinez. Leonard-131.
Because he finally knew his father for what he was.
Not a coward, not someone that ran away from his family.

A Spartan, that may have deserted to start a family, but in the end came back to keep them safe.
Besides, if you were kidnapped at the age of 6, wouldn’t you want to run away?

David wiped the edge of his eyes before the tears came out. He didn’t want to cry.

David walked into his room, placing his bag down. There was even a door to the private bathroom, looking more like a luxurious hotel room than a standard worker’s barracks.

Each of the workers here were practically living better than a standard Night City Citizen. In the Badlands, no less!
David chuckled as he threw himself onto the bed, feeling himself bounced back up from just how comfortable and soft the blanket and mattress was.
Shit, it really was unfair.

Chapter Text

David only managed to unpack his clothings, putting whatever he managed to grab and hold in his bags on the shelves and desk, before someone knocked on the door. He was about to go try out the dinner menu of the cafeteria, a lucky timing.

“David. Are you still up for that lesson in fighting?” David watched as Killshot revealed himself when the young boy from Santo Domingo opened the doors. David grinned ear to ear, enthusiastically said yes and followed Killshot out of the barracks and back into the hallways.

“I heard from August-099- thought you’d be hungry enough to go wander into the cafeteria.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about that.” David answered back with a nervous grin.

“Well, I’d say save the eating after the training. If you eat first, you’ll probably waste most of the training time hurling food on the floor. Trust me, I’ve had a lot of soldiers do that during their training.”

“In here?”

“And during the war. Weak gravity is a bitch when it doesn’t hold the food to the bottom as much as possible.”

David chuckled as the two entered into the War games field. Now that Spartan Badger and his friends were finished with their shenanigans, the metallic field was empty. Intimidatingly so, with so much space unfilled with holographic imitations of buildings or plants. Unlike the War game he had seen just an hour ago, Killshot didn’t turn on the holograms, instead taking off his coat and throwing it to the side.

David witnessed what Killshot looked like wihtout the MJOLNIR armour or the polyester coat. Muscle. Pure muscle sculpted so naturally. It wasn’t grotesquely oversized or prominent, but David could see through his optics just how dense the fibres were.

“Okay, tonight we’ll just start with some of the basics. No flashy moves, just how to hold your ground. Fare enough?” Killshot announced. David grinned as Killshot stood upright, shifting weight into his right leg which made the Spartan stand at a slight angle.

“Yeah, choom! Come on, teach me! I’ll bet your ass I’ll learn them in a flash.” David shouted excitedly, and watched Killshot scoff at David’s claim before the Spartan IV suddenly changed stances- fists up, knees bent, shoulders raised. Suddenly, the entire weight of the Spartan shifted, redistributed.

David didn’t realise just how effective Spartans were at being intimidating, just from shifting their body to appear more balanced. David flinched a little, as Killshot simply stood there, holding his position. David heard Killshot snicker, his mouth being obstructed by the fists raised up to his nose.

“Come on, David. I thought you bet my ass you’d learn in a flash.” Killshot commented with a smirk. David took a moment before realising what Killshot had meant- quickly mimicking Killshot’s stance to his own.

“Raise your fist more.” David flinched at the sudden shift in Killshot’s tone, doing exactly as he said. “Good. Now it’s time for me to test exactly how good you’re at fighting. I’m going to start punching at you, try your best to not break that stance, and not get hit.”

Up until now, Killshot’s tone may have been drab, but at least had warmth.
Killshot’s voice now was just… cold, threateningly so. “Like… this?” David asked nervously, trying to gain confirmation from Killshot. Killshot only nodded, as he slowly took steps forward, inching closer to David.

David didn’t know how to react. The last time he got into a serious fight? It was against a son of a 6 Streeter- the kid had pinned down David and punched until he finally broke his own hands. The 6 Streeter’s son promptly started wailing and crying in front of everyone. David thought the kid was a little bitch, and laughed while he was covered in his own blood.

No one in his neighbourhood every picked fights with him again after that.

But the back of David mind told him that if Killshot managed to pin the boy down and punch him like that 6 Streeter’s son did? David won’t be conscious enough to laugh like before.

David took a step back every time Killshot took a step forward, the pressure was already crushing him before the Spartan even did anything to him.

“Don’t let your guard down.” Killshot coldly snapped the moment David tried to bring his hands down even just a little. Jesus christ, David thought. This guy picked up on  everything.

Who knows how long they just stood here in this empty metallic field, David felt cold sweat run down the side of his face before Killshot rushed in. David lurched back when he realised what was happening- time was slowing down, that familiar feeling he felt when Killshot threw the tissue box like an artillery cannon was coming back to him. Spartan Time, Killshot called it. Right?

David watched as Killshot threw a left jab, his posture was still solid and stable. David used the momentum of flinching back to dodge it the jab, looking at the fist rushing past, just nicking David’s cheek before pulling back. He was so focused on it that he didn’t realise there was another fist flicking the back of David’s head. The sensation of knuckles rapidly rapping against his skull caught David off guard, he was stumbling forward and breaking his stance.

That was the end of the first attempt. Killshot took a single dash back to his original position, keeping his hands raised for a few more moment before throwing them down to his side. Killshot wasn’t saying anything, but it was clear to David that the Spartan was unimpressed. David looked up, straightening his back in a little hint of embarrassment as he looked at Killshot in the eyes before the Spartan let out a short huff.

“I see your biggest problem: you really don’t know how to fight.” Killshot started his evaluation, just as soon as David showed signs of coherence and focus. “You’re looking at my hands. I’ve seen how much your eyes followed the first fist I jabbed out. That’s bad. I take it that most of the fights you did get in were just people throwing haymakers?”

David groaned as he scratched the back of his head. “Haymakers?” David asked, watching as Killshot stared at David with that unblinking gaze, before nodding his head.

“Right, so people that didn’t even know how to fight. That makes a lot of sense. Well, what can I tell you, kid? At least you were right.”

“Huh?”

“If that rich kid would use the Kung Fu chip, you’d probably be waking up on the sidewalk. I don’t know how else to tell you that.” Killshot’s remark was scathing. Sure, it was David that told Killshot that, but to get that confirmed by a supersoldier? That cut deep in the Santo Domingo Kid’s ego and heart- whichever one was bigger.

Killshot shifted his weight and stance, looking at David as he opened his mouth to explain more.

“Look, David. Do not focus on my hands. That’s the fastest way to get caught in feints, and get blindsided.”

David kicked the metal floor in slight frustration, clearly annoyed.

“Then what am I suppose to look at? Thing’s coming in like a fucking bullet, no way I can’t dodge it without looking at it…” David muttered under his breath. Killshot huffed in frustration as well, blinking once before he made a slightly more exaggerated pose to better show David the workings.

“But you can- the minimum base requirement of a soldier is to be able to do so. CQC’s fundamental, don’t focus on the fist: you focus on the area between the chin to below the chest. That should give you enough in your periphery to look for kicks and grapples. Punches? Look at their shoulder, not their knuckles. People can only punch in an angle so out without moving their shoulders, which means 90% of the punches and their direction can be predicted by looking at how their shoulders moving alone.” Killshot explained. David was still a little frustrated, but the more he listened the more he found his anger receding. He was learning something, properly this time. 
He was learning from a professional.

“We’re going to go again. This time, don’t look at my fists. Got it?” That’s all Killshot said before he took up his stance again. David gulped a little, copying Killshot’s stance. He watched the Spartan IV’s shoulders roll back, fist rising to his face. Stance of the Spartan was solid, grounded, and looked damn unshakeable. David needed a reminder that this was just training, because in his eyes? It wasn’t. It was just a metallic war god staring him down.  

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” David answered back halfheartedly, trying to graft what Killshot had just explained to him into his habits. He caught himself looking to Killshot’s left fist, still closer to him than the Spartan’s right. But he reminded himself to go back to the area from the chin to the bottom of the chest. Eyes on the shoulder, look at how it moves.

Killshot repeated the same attack as the first attempt- dash in after a moment, left jab in. David watched how Killshot’s shoulder moved, with Spartan Time kicking in like a military grade sandevistan, David moved to the side just quick enough to dodge the jab faster, ignoring the fist flying right next to his cheek and focusing on the shoulders and chest.

He watched how the left shoulder rolled, pulling back the jab he had just thrown. This time, David also watched the movement of the right shoulder- rolling forward in quick smooth tandem with the left shoulder, like really well oiled pistons, throwing a right hook that would’ve caught the back of David’s head.

Ooooh, David thought. So this was what caught him lacking on the first attempt. David moved to the left, dashing out to see the right hook caught nothing but empty air. David saw Killshot’s left arm brought back up to the guard and at an angle just as his right hand was being pulled back.

Killshot waited a few more seconds, walking around the field before dashing back in.

This time, the fists were rushed out in a flurry. Some were stopping just short in front of the David’s eyes, while others hit David in the shoulders. The amount of fists hurling out was obstructing David’s vision. Feints mixed in with real jabs and crosses and hooks was keeping him off balance. David quickly picked up on the fact that most of the fists were landing on the guard he naturally kept with his stance- nicking the elbows and forearms and shoulders. Getting dangerously close to his face, however. David picked up on the silent reminder- keep your guards up. This was why.

David focused his eyes on the shoulders, and realised during the moments time did slow down about how the speeds of the shoulders rolling to throw out punches varied. The throws that stopped just in front of his guarded face had smaller shoulder rolls, while punches that were definitely going in for the kill was rolling fully out.
Not only that, the ones with real crosses and hooks had the torso turning - extra distance, extra force. The shoulders themselves were moving first for the more powerful punches.

That moment, David watched an opening, between the jabs and the feints. He rushed in just as he saw when the punch was thrown but the shoulders only rolled ever so slightly and the chest never rotated.

He threw a punch, right into the middle of Killshot’s pecs. The force definitely wasn’t enough. If anything, his own fists hurted more from the force. But it did stop one thing- Killshot stopped throwing the flurry of blows, staring down at David’s hands in contact with his chest.

David looked up from his own fist to Killshot’s face- the Spartan was smiling.

“Good, good!” Killshot spoke while slightly chuckling. “You’re learning! And you’re learning fast!”

David smiled at the comment. Soon enough the smile turned into a cheeky grin of triumphant glee.

“See! What did I tell you! I’ll learn them in a flash!”

Killshot chuckled as he slightly tilted his head, before nodding a little. He rubbed an index finger under his nose as he took a step back from David.

“Yeah, but remember- learning and mastering are to different things. You have to keep at it to be good at it. Understand?”

“Course I do, choom! Come on, let me practice it!” David shouted back as he got back into his stance. Success really was all the boy needed, now he was ever more eager.

He was always eager for something like this, that was just his nature at birth. Gloria had made sure her little boy was raised safe from all threats. She sure did her damnedest to raise her kid that way. First with Leopold, who agreed with her- then by herself when Leopold went to New Mombasa to save Earth.
But David? That kid from Santo Domingo never liked that. David knew what he was capable of- what his father was capable of. Growing up, he felt that he was destined for something big. Now? Knowing what his father was? He didn’t just feel it- he KNEW it. Believed in it.

Didn’t help with this gut feeling when he saw something dangerous happen in his neighborhood.
Didn’t help with this gut feeling when he pestered and talked the ears off of any Edgerunners he came across.
Didn’t help with this gut feeling when he visted local ripperdoc clinics to stare and ogle any new cyberware coming into the market.
And it certainly didn’t help with Killshot over here teaching him how to fight like a Spartan either.

The more he stood here, looking at what he just did in this metal training pit of sparkly clean and silver shine, the more he was sure of it. I mean, honestly? He thought.
What could be a bigger call for destiny when you’re the son of a super soldier from outer space? A hero at that?

He was nervous, sure. Nervous about suddenly learning about his father’s secret identity and the life he ran away from. Nervous about suddenly being thrust into this new and alien part of world. Nervous about meeting these metal giants that could pummel down Adam Smasher in under two minutes.

But the moment he got used to it, used to seeing what they looked like under the helmets and armour- the more he felt a bigger pull.
A pull he never felt when he woke up everyday to go into Arasaka Academy, never feeling like he belonged in the same room as his fellow classmates with rich backgrounds. Ending up selling XBDs to them for quick cash.

He never got praises from Arasaka. Never felt accomplishments for going into some corpo school for future suits. Learning absolutely nothing, always going into some brain dance meditations and making social networks with other teens. Arasaka Academy never felt like home- more like a warzone where he had to stay on edge.

Here? He was here for only an hour now, and he felt like he found a place he finally belonged. 

Killshot shouted “Again!” as he took his stance back up, David following the Spartan  just like before. Only this time, things went differently: David looked to the shoulders as the punches came in, but there wasn’t any flurry of blows and jabs forcing him to keep his guard up.

No, this time Killshot was dashing around the room, before throwing jabs. David was only moving his eyes and head, until he realised that if he didn’t want to fall flat on the ground face first, he had to do exactly what Killshot was doing. He had to move around the field like Killshot was. David dashed in the opposite direction of Killshot, continuously keeping a certain distance away.

“Good! You’re picking up on it.” Killshot smiled as he circled clockwise around David, who tried to get out of Killshot’s pace and distance by doing the same thing in the counterclockwise.

Then Killshot dashed in, throwing another jab that David dodged out of, focusing on the movement of the shoulders to see if they’d be any crosses or hooks. And that was David’s next mistake- David started to look at the shoulders, when Killshot specifically instructed him to look at the chest as well.

Killshot caught that with the movement of David’s gaze, and as David circled around a jab and a hook and get out of Killshot’s range, Killshot shot up a leg, using a kick to hook one of David’s legs. He made sure to not put force into the kick, but the impact was enough to catch David off guard. Killshot dashed in to close in on David, outstretching a fist that David watched in Spartan Time, raising his guard up in reflex.

But the fist didn’t hit the forearms- it switched directions, fist outstretching into an open palm- a grip on David’s shoulder that Killshot used his core and legs to turn into an overhead judo throw.

And that was the end of the third attempt, the force of his own back colliding with the floor left David winded and groaning on the ground. Rolling to the side and reaching for his back in pain.

Killshot chuckled as he threw down his hands to the side once again.

“I told you, eyes between the chin and the bottom of chest. It’s good that you learned to look at the shoulders, but don’t just focus on that. You didn’t catch me kicking your legs because it wasn’t in your peripherals. Don’t go tunnel vision, you won’t see them kicking and grappling you.”

David stumbled back up on his two feet, glaring at Killshot as he raised his fists again, nodding his head in affirmation that he heard the advice.

“Don’t tunnel vision… don’t tunnel vision, got it.” David forced out between the wheezing and heaving.

Killshot was more than happy with repeating this practice until David said it was enough. After all, it was David that’s getting tired, not him. David himself was still raring to go for a few more practice until he finally felt confident.
Each time Killshot started to spar, David adapted. He adapted until Killshot started add more layers of attacks, ranging from pushing to kicks and tackles. And every time David landed on the floor, he would get a short lecture that he was forced to integrate.

Despite everything throwing him to the ground, David learnt. His mind turned fast enough to do so, to catch up the pace.
But an unaugmented body had its limits, and David’s depleting stamina quickly became visible.

“You ready to stop now?” Killshot asked David when he finally couldn’t get back up, the Spartan crouching down to meet David properly in the eyes. David tried to get up, see if he had one more practice left in him.

He didn’t. The fact that he couldn’t lift his body up properly was enough of a sign. Killshot chuckled when David only nodded in response after trying to get up and fail, grabbing David by the sides and lifted him over his shoulder effortlessly, the 2m tall giant of muscles and thickened bones carrying the kid out of the War games field like he was a sack of rice.

-oOo-

David was busy shovelling food into his mouth. Killshot was right: it was better to spar before eating. The cafeteria was starting to get filled in with Soldiers taking night shifts to guard the Graveyard, laughing and chuckling as they had a meal before winding down and taking a break.

The cafeteria itself was huge, spacious, and most of all atmospheric- the back of the cafeteria wall was made of glass, showing the outside environment which helped set the mood.

Killshot himself was eating light: simple tomato stew with lightly grilled beef chopped into cubes.

“Thish ish ghoodh!”  David spoke through his food-filled mouth, using his spoon to point down on his paella. The lack of seafood was concerning, but considering most of the restoration effort for food was still underway, it was enough with eggplants, greenpeas and mushrooms.

Tuna was the first to be commissioned, and soon other food companies would be sending orders with money upfront if the results were satisfactory. Cell would laugh at that decision- the beef was already flying off the shelves and into household kitchen’s counter every 5 minutes, of course it would be satisfactory at the minimum.

Killshot nodded at David. “Please, don’t talk with your mouth full.” He added as David nodded sheepishly, munching away at the rice. David nearly caught some rice on his uvula, coughed and drank down some water. Killshot had to laugh and ask him to slow down, since the food wouldn’t be going anywhere.

As David was halfway through his food, the sun was slowing starting to rise on the horizon, causing the dark sky to slowly turn a gradient of deep violet and orange. Between the fact that the cafeteria was filled with laughter and the smell of hot food, the various Spartans and ODSTs and even common marines all sitting in the same space, sometimes even the same table- all laughing with their helmets off and to the side… it made the entire place feel warm and alive.

David didn’t stay up this late before, so it was all the more eye catching to just stare at the sun as he slowly put a spoonful of paella into his mouth. Drown himself into the white noise that made him at peace.

“Sup, champs.” A voice spoke out from behind David, before he felt the bench thud. Spartan Leon sat down, still in his MJOLNIR but had taken off his CELOX helmet.

David coughed a little in fright once more at the sudden entry of another Spartan-IV. Especially when this one had a noticeable scar running across his left lip and cheek.
Leon was shaking his left leg, tapping on the table with his two index fingers like he was playing an improvised drum, which sharply contrasted with how silently and still Killshot was in his seat. Killshot blinked back at Leon grinning wide, looking to David as Leon wagged his eyebrows and jerked his chin up in a non-verbal ‘hello’.

“Saw you fighting Killshot. Did you managed to land a hit on him, at least?” Leon asked, David’s eyes widening in response and realisation that his sparring session had audiences. Leon caught on, chuckling. “What, you didn’t know? Pretty much a tenth of the Spartans were watching it from the second floor when they heard Leopold’s kid was sparring with Killshot!”

David blinked. Oh, the second floor… right. He had forgotten about the fact that he watched the War games on that very spot.

“I, well… I got a punch into his chest?” David replied with a nervous but slightly proud grin, Leon only chuckled in response as the Spartan looked to Killshot on the opposite side of the table.

“That’s good at least, considering this guy was going real easy on you.” Leon commented, David’s face went a little blank. He blinked several times before nodding in realisation and acknowledgement. Yeah, probably.

He did try the brain dance of the dead Tyger Claw gang- watched how quickly Noble 6 moved around and dispatched the gangoons. If Killshot was capable of moving like that, David sure as hell wouldn’t even had time to keep standing on his two feet.

“Besides,” Leon added. “Killshot’s ranked on the bottom 10% among the Spartans here in CQC. Which means you, my little friend, have a long way to go. Congratulations on surviving that long though, definitely shows that you’re Spartan material. Clear as glass who you’re daddy is.” Killshot glared a little at Leon, eyes narrowing with annoyance but still holding onto the grin. David looked to Leon, and then to Killshot with a silent ask for confirmation to Leon’s claim. Killshot nodded with the grin stretching thin on his lips.

“Wait… then he’s like… weakest in combat?” Leon snickered at David’s comment, smacking the table lightly as he looked to Killshot.

“No, no. You misunderstand- he’s part of the bottom 10% of CQC, just means he’s not too good on the Kung Fu bullshit compared to the other Spartans. Weakest? You can tell him he’s weak if you managed to dodge his bullets. Though trust me, actual Wargame rankings will beg to affirm only a few Spartans managed to. What this guy lacks in hand-to-hand? He makes up all of it and beyond with his aim. Which means- good luck even finding him in the battlefield. 9 times out of 10, he probably found you first, and won’t give you time to notice it.”

“Oooh, riight… right… a sniper.” David responded.

“Yeah. But to be honest? Every Spartan at least excels in basic CQC. We’re Spartans- we trained our asses off. The Spartans IIs and IIIs especially. The baseline minimum for us excels the average soldier’s CQC capabilities. Just… relatively? There will be a lot of variations and differences. Doesn’t mean you won’t be getting a good lesson out of CQC from Killshot.”

David looked between the two Spartans, one on his left and the other right in front of him. Killshot smiled a little as he pointed to himself.

“Consider me the beginner’s course for Spartan level CQC. If you can beat me in CQC, you’ve already proved you’re as good as a Spartan in hand-to-hand combat.”

David nodded before asking. “And Leon?”

“Leon’s intermediate to expert. Don’t expect him to snipe a can out of someone’s hand while he’s flying in a pelican, but you can sure as hell expect him to dice someone up in a flash.”

David nodded, before looking up at Leon. The Spartan was leaning his arm on the table, resting his head on one of his hand. “Don’t expect to learn how to fight under me until Killshot thinks it’s time, though. I unfortunately don’t have patients for fighting new bloods.”

“You’ve heard the guy.” Killshot commented as he grabbed his bowl of tomato stew and drank the rest of it down. David looked around the cafeteria, looking at all the Spartans before one armour caught his eyes: the white MIRAGE IIC, cheaper and simpler than the rests. But David knew that armour, everyone from Night City did. That was the Spartan that beat Adam Smasher with ease.

“What about that one Spartan?” David asked as he pointed. Both Spartans looked where David directed his finger to, before both let out a chuckle.

“Spartan Jim?” Leon spoke. “Expert. Definitely experts even for me. I can’t beat him.” Leon’s answer made David raise one of his eyebrows.

“Even for you? Whad’ya mean by that?” David asked. However, it was Killshot that answered instead of Leon.

“Jim’s a Spartan III Cat-2. Which means he’s as good as a Spartan II. He was a headhunter, sent in as a two-man team to go for covert spec-ops like assassination of high-value targets, or sabotaging highly-secured Covenant bases. One of his highest achievement being death of 4 Sangheili Honor guards after he failed to assassinate one of the Covenant’s leaders.”

David stared at Spartan Jim before whispering out a small ‘Wow…’ at the information. He didn’t really know about the covenants, but it still sounded like the guy came out of a tough fight- David himself currently unaware how much that was an understatement.

“Why were you guys suddenly sparring for, anyway?” Leon asked after he saw David having a quarter of his paella left to go. David hesitated to answer, so Killshot answered for him.

“Kid’s getting bullied in school. Some rich kid asshole who recently got that Kung fu chip from his Arasaka executive dad.”

“Awww shit, kid! You’ve got your ass beat by a kid with a fight autopilot?”

“I’m not getting bullied!” David shouted, protesting. “And I didn’t get my ass beat by that gonk!”

“Yet.” Killshot replied curtly, stirring the soup with his spoon to get the flavour that sunk down to the bottom back up. David turned to see Leon shuffling back from the bench, putting a bit of distance between David and himself. The Spartan soon cheekily made some of those high pitched kiais one from those Chinese Martial Arts films would make, before making a flurry of blows that covered David’s front view.

David recognised it- it was one of the many things Killshot had made him learnt to deal with. Instead of focusing on the hands that dipped in and out of his vision, David instinctively looked to the area between the chin and chest, and soon started to dodge the real punches popping between the forest of feints.

David remained planted on his bench, but what he learnt from the intense sparring was already grafted into his muscle memories- dodging and weaving all the punches before he saw the opening and flicked out a counter punch. Unlike Killshot however, Leon grabbed the punch with ease and gently threw David’s fist aside. He didn’t continue the onslaught of fists, however. Leon Looked to Killshot with a vibrant grin.

“Oh, he’ll do fine against his bully alright.” Killshot only shrugged at Leon’s comment. Leon looked back to David, who was slightly huffing at having to counter the sudden attack coming from his flank. “Yeah, kiddo! If you know how to counter that, you’ll definitely have easy time dealing with autopiloting dumbass.”

David’s eyes lit up at the feedback.

“You serious?” David asked, voice rising in excitement and hope. Leon chuckled as he shifted back into a more comfortable position on the bench.

“Yeah, most of those executives we kidnapped had those chips set in for self defence. Know what the problem with them are?”

“What is it?”

“They’re limited in capabilities. Sure, it can let someone who barely exercised in their life suddenly become proficient, but nothing more- I’ve fought them a lot, all of them were the same. Same kicks, same punches, same attempt to parry or block. It’s literally nothing more than pre-programmed moves played over different situations, like a music playlist put on a shuffle. They can’t adapt or improvise, which means same old tactics, same old ways to counter them. Ones you fought one guy with a martial arts chip, you’ve fought them all. Not a single one of them better than the other ones relying on chips for fighting.” Leon pointed to David as David put a spoon in his mouth. “What I just tried was what 90% of them used as an opening move- if you can counter that without getting hit just like now, you’ve got more than enough under your belt to beat those motherfuckers black and blue and red all over.”

David hummed in thought, mostly content and the dopamine from achievement. He really did feel like he had nothing to worry about now. Or at least had less things to worry about.

Leon tapped on the table a couple more times, before slowly starting to turn around the bench and stand up.

“Anways, I’m gotta go try out some of Night City’s fashion looks. David, nice meeting you for the first time. Killshot, I’ll send you some pictures of clothes I managed to buy, give me some proper feedback this time, alright?”

“Looking like a 40 year old trying to fit into a crowd of 20 year old young adults is a proper feedback.”

“Man, fuck you. I’ll see you at work.” Leon had the last words to say before the Spartan IV stood up, waving to David and Killshot as he turned around to walk out of the cafeteria. He grabbed a bread from Jim’s plate- the Mirage IIC didn’t even look up, just let out a deep, annoyed grunt that somehow carried the weight of years of patience being tested. Leon, naturally, ignored it entirely as he sauntered off with the bread in hand.

“That’s… a Spartan.” David added, finishing up his meal as Killshot stood up as well, grabbing his empty bowl and utensils.

“Yeah, but he’s ranked in the top 15% of Spartan’s CQC list. He’ll know 50 ways to kill a guy bare-handed. 256 and continuously increasing if he has a knife. When do you have school? I can drop you on my way to the Night City division of Reds and Blues.”

David grimaced as he stood up with Killshot, carrying the tray of empty plate and cup to the bin area, dropping the utensils and bowl exactly the same place Killshot did.

“I got mine in the afternoon, I could sleep now and wake up for it. Why do you need to go to the Reds and Blues Night City division for?”

Killshot held up a small data crystal shard, David could only let out a small ‘wow’ at the sight of the middle matrix of the data chip glowing brightly.

“Cell apparently had us do a small interview. For a documentary of UNSC, needs to send it over to Genjiro for him to check on it.” Killshot notified before he slipped it back into his pocket. David walked with Killshot out of the cafeteria and back into the glass-walled hallway.

“And what are you gonna do after?” David asked, Killshot rolled his eyes around in thought before shrugging.

“I’m currently on break, and I’ve seen enough of this place around. Maybe I’ll have a walk around Night City, see what’s actually here without needing to focus on a gig or black ops.”

David nodded quietly before his eyes widened.

“You were doing black ops in Night City?!” David shouted.

“Yes.”

“You have to tell me what you did!”

“No.” Killshot grinned as he saw David deflate in disappointment. “Go get some sleep, kid. You have school today, listen to your mother.”

-oOo-

When David had woke up, he had expected to take a ride back to Night City on the Black Mamba.
David looked around to see Cell still in his purple armour, surrounded by scientists and engineers and ODSTs all sitting idly inside the Pelican.

This was not the Black Mamba.

 “You’re going out?” Killshot, sitting calmly next to the quite energetic and nervous David, asked Cell. Cell only shrugged.

“I have some work to finish in Night City.” Cell replied casually, to which Killshot responded with a sigh and holding up the Data Shard.

“And you couldn’t have delivered this to Genjiro yourself?”

“I’m not going near the Night City’s tower today.”

“What, you don’t have the time?”

“No, I don’t. But you do.” Cell responded curtly, before the Arbee CEO stood up from his seat, walked over to the entrance and flipped a lever to open it mid-flight.

David felt the wind gushing out as he looked out of the entrance and down below- the Pelican was flying over Santo Domingo.

Cell jumped- falling through the air before activating his thrusters to break the fall with ease. Aiming for the giant river that separated Santo Domingo from the City Center.

David watched as the purple Spartan took a plunge and disappeared into the river, several people watching in shock and awe at the sudden entrance accompanied soon after with a huge splash of the toxic waters, before they stared at Cell casually surface and walk out to the streets as casually as stepping out of a corpo limousine.

David himself blinked several times at the sight.

“Guy’s a show-off. A natural-born one at that.” David heard Killshot mutter to him. One of the ODST stood up and wordlessly pushed up the lever, closing the entrance for the rest of the flight.

David wondered what the Academy might think, a student of theirs walking out of an emerging rival company’s vehicle. Definitely nothing good, he realised. But it was too late, and he couldn’t find it in himself to give two shits about what the principles or Arasaka suits would think.

Let them think he’s become a corpo spy, he didn’t really want to be in the Academy anyway, and them apprehending him about it would only give him excuses to tell his mom why he’s decided to throw the uniform in the bin.

David walked out of as the Pelican Landed right in front of R&B’s Night City Tower. Several of the scientists and engineers, bodyguarded by the ODSTs, were escorted out and the R&B tower in front of them, with Killshot waving to David before following the crowd.

David looked to the tower, the vibrant crowds going into the tower, and the Pelican that had finished dropping off employees rising from the floor and flying back to the Graveyard.

Several Arasaka Academy students were staring at David in shock and disbelief as he walked across the streets, around the park and heading up the Arasaka Tower. Some right next to him, some at a distance. David didn’t care, he decided to look at the holographic 3D model of the swimming orange Koi fish before he felt one particular pair of eyes burning into the back of his skull.

“…Huh? Ah!”

Maybe it was that girl he saw last time, the one that disappeared the moment he arrived on the top floor and looked around for.

David turned around in hope, only to look at Katsuo Tanaka in the eyes, visibly looking at the Santo Domingo native with disgust and annoyance.

David clicked his tongue and groaned.

The feeling was mutual.

Chapter Text

[Look, I know it’s not a good timing to be on an emergency leave but I was in an accident! How would I know if the highway would- hello? Hello?] Gloria heard the other end of the holocall empty and silent, and soon enough she received the final text message from REO Meatwagon HR:
She was fired. Her final pay will be out this Saturday and due to the reason for dismissal being her failure to uphold her end of the contract, the care package would not be sent.

Gloria threw her pillow to the opposite wall, grasping her forehead with her other hand in frustration and anger. All those years she had worked for them, all those lives she had saved with the best of her abilities! She worked her ass off and pretty much sold her sold to keep herself stable as REO Meatwagon’s Emergency MedTech, and what do they do the moment she was put in a pickle? Fire her. Cut ties and tails and say ‘goodbye choom, thanks for slaving away to us like a gonk but we don’t think we need you anymore’.

She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fucking believe it.

It wasn’t easy for her to keep this job, with all the constant discrimination and harassment in the workplace. Hell, it wasn’t easy for her to get the job as an EMT in the first place. Most of Santo Domingo residents wouldn’t have been able to get some sort of stable job at a Megacorp, and it was a miracle to Gloria that she managed to become one of the exceptions.

She had tried to stay as clean as possible, safe pay and safe job for David.
Now she had debts to pay to Arasaka Academy for the damages David had caused, and she didn’t have a proper income to pay it. She didn’t have enough for the Arasaka Academy course fees either, barely enough to pay for the electricity and water bills and the rent. Gloria was already planning the future out with her head, trying her best to stay calm and look for a way out. She could still try smuggling cyberwares, except it would be harder to do so now that her source of it was cut off. Maybe she could use her expertise to become a ripperdoc- but where was she going to get the standard cyberwares, let alone a place for her operation?

Gloria shouted in anger, smacking the blanket in sheer feeling of helplessness. She planted her face in her hands, trying to think up of some solution. Maybe… maybe Maine could help her out a bit, find some connections for her to start with.

But Gloria knew Maine. As much of a softy he was, he was still a bit brutish and loud- which meant most of the people he knew properly were all part of his crews- the edgerunners themselves not in a position of large connections or influence to be able to pull that kind of strings.

This was hell. This was Night City for those who slipped up and fell off the edge.

Gloria heard a knock on the door, which broke her depressing concentration.

“…Come in.” Gloria answered, the door opening a moment after. Gloria’s eyes widened at the sight of the individual walking in. Water and disinfectant was sliding down just above the purple armour of Spartan Cell- the particle shields still working excellently. Cell was holding a couple of things in his hands- a pen, paper, and a compad. As Cell was scrolling through the compad while entering into the room, he looked up to see the pillow slumped defeated in the corner of the wall and quietly looked to Gloria.

“… Is this a bad time?” Cell asked while pointing at the pillow Gloria had thrown. Gloria shook her head as she looked back up at Cell.

“No, no… just, something I have to go through. Is there a reason for the visit?” Gloria answered, trying to calm down and put up a respectable 

“… Riiight. Well, guess I should quickly get to the point, aye? I’m here because we’ve got your file here due to needing to know who are patients are and if there’s any sort of accidents or complications we need to be aware of during their treatment. You know, standard information the medical centres get. Occupation, age, family history, and all those what nots. And we’ve come across your occupation as a… what do they call you- a med tech? Was it? A paramedic.”

Gloria blinked, huffing with a grin that stretched out just enough to make it visible it was made out of frustration as she rested her forehead on one of her arms. “I used to be, yeah. Up until a minute ago.” She answered in a harsher tone than before.

Cell looked back to the pillow, and then back to Gloria. Letting out a short “Ah.” In realisation of what had just happened. “Then the rest of might be easier. I’m going to be blunt with you here- do you have any future plans at the moment?”

Gloria sighed. “I wish… I was just trying to find new job prospects while healing up. Why?” Gloria watched Cell punch his finger onto the compad screen as he slowly walked backwards, leaning his back on the wall before flipping the compad over for Gloria to see.

“Well, because Reds and Blues would love to have someone already with experience to be part of the hospitals we own and run now. Also because of your relations to Leonard-131, which makes you one of the people we’d like to properly secure and have stick to us for safety.”

Gloria stared at Cell before she sneered.

“So you want to have me and my Dee stay on a short leash?” Gloria heard Cell suck in air through his teeth in response to her quite scathing summary. Yet he didn’t seemed to deny the claim, tilting his head before bending his knees and bringing his own head down to her level.

“I mean, harsh way to say it but I guess you’re not wrong. UNSC doesn’t really like the fact that there’s a Spartan’s wife and a half-Spartan just running around without their proper knowledge, more so when you guys are closely associated with… you know, ‘them.” Cell said as he pointed out the window to the Arasaka Tower in the distance. It wasn’t hard to miss the black monument, noted to be one of the tallest building in the city- Reds and Blue’s own Night City Headquarters rivalling it with both width and length like it was some architectural cock-measuring contest. “A lot of the higher ups were actually panicking at the news of you and David’s existence, not that we had the time to address it properly. War and everything blowing up in our face was pretty hard to ignore, you know?”

“And what if we refuse?” Gloria asked, a little on edge as she tilted up one of her eyebrows. Cell only shrugged in response.

“I’ll be honest with you, we’ll not force you to choose. But I do know that according to what one of our Spartan has told us about David- he’s not fitting into the Arasaka Academy anyway. What’s this about ‘property damage’ and ‘large repair bills’? Not to mention him being bullied in class.” Cell’s dry remark and comment about David’s personal life certainly made Gloria’s brow furrow. Her logical side understood what was happening: David had already called her, about how their place was under eviction notice due to not paying the rent before the deadline, and how her mijo had stayed in the Arbee HQ in the Badlands for the night.

But the side representing her as David’s mother got the better of her in that moment. Because to her, what Cell said sounded like the Spartan was subtly threatening the mother and son into complying. The way Cell spoke about David and his struggles- her mijo- like a file in a database set her on edge.

“And what are you implying?” Gloria responded with a sharpened tone, on edge and cautious. Like an angry pregnant cat hissing at the sight of the giant human hand reaching down. However, Cell was not unfazed. This certainly wasn’t his first rodeo of negotiation under hostile atmosphere, and if he had his way- it won’t be the fucking last.

“Nothing sinister, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know what it’s like to be forced into a life you never wanted to be part of. If David wants a quiet and safe life? We’ll stay clear away from him. Last thing we want to do is re-enact the whole Spartan II recruitment shenanigan. That affected Leonard-131 deeply, we have no intentions of repeating that for his wife, nor his son. That, I can assure you.” Cell answered, making his tone calm and constant. Trying to make sure it didn’t sound threatening to Gloria. “However,” He added. “I know your current circumstances and situation. And both of us are aware that both David and you have been dealt short ends of the stick, and are now trying to find a way to survive the whole mess of a City. You can correct me on this if I’m wrong.”

Gloria briefly glared at Cell, but let her gaze fall to the floor. Unable to object or deny. Her emotions wanted to, but it also gave her compulsion to acknowledge what was the truth: Her heart told her to shield David from whatever danger would come to her sweet little boy. The blood and sweat and tears she had gone through, patching up mercs and gangoons and poor civilians, smuggling chromes to sell to Maine, just so David could go to Arasaka Academy, live a safe life as a corpo of the greatest Megacorp there is. Rising to the top of Arasaka Towers, she could just picture the boy. David in a sharp Corpo suit, walking confidently through the gleaming halls of Arasaka Tower, the kid’s name etched on a plaque by an office door. Arasaka Executive wasn’t just a job; it was a title, a position, of safety and stability.
And then there was his father, her husband: Leopold. Whatever UNSC had done to him, all she knew was that they took him away, stripped him of his old life and made him suffer so much that he flew all the way down here to hide. Only for him to go to New Mombasa to fight with them, sacrifice his own life. Gloria loved Leopold… or Leonard-131, whoever the man was- she loved him. And she loved their son, David.
But god forbid that David goes down even remotely down that path, she wouldn’t allow it. So long as she breathed- David will not end up like his father. She had done so much just so David could live a longer, happier life.

But she wasn’t dumb- she knew what David was up to. How couldn’t she? When David came back with a bloody face, she freaked out so much over it. Gloria wanted David to stay in Arasaka Academy, and of course she knew what he was going through. That’s why Gloria told him that’s why both of them needed to prove those suits wrong.
But Gloria was already aware of what her son felt about it. She just wanted to tell him to endure, for his own sake.

“I can kinda see what’s going through your mind right now.” Cell interrupted, pointing at her. “Kinda… written all over her face.” Gloria only stared at Cell as the Spartan chuckled.

“Yeah, Arasaka Academy, for the talented and… what not. Safe place to put your son in, no? Forget about all those attempted sabotages and assassination from your own colleagues. The fact that one wrong word, one wrong hand shook and all that effort goes down the drain.” Cell muttered out as if he was the one who experienced all this. Gloria only blinked in disbelief, and slight denial of the harsh truth of a corpo life. Cell recognised it too, and his shoulders slumped in disapointment.

“Come on. We’ve been recruiting nearly everyone that was down on their lucks, militech soldier, NUSA veterans, former Arasaka Executives- for fuck’s sake, you’ve seen one already! Genjiro! The one who’s running Reds and Blues towers over there! He used to be an Arasaka Executive! A good one at that! Do you know what his life was like? Much better than the two of you, that’s harsh but for fucking sure! Look, Mrs Martinez- Genjiro came from a prestigious family in Japan, his own parents were high ranking Arasaka members. He went to that very prestigious Arasaka Academy in the original Japanese Headquarters, and passed first in his class. Do you know what they did to someone like him? Tried to kill him because one of his so-called friend sabotaged him. He was on the streets for a year before we found him. He’s a very talented guy! Of course, he’s no scientist or engineer- he’s got good enough knowledge on basic concepts and understands it well enough to know how it could be presented to the market. Really good at that! And do you know what Arasaka did to someone as talented as him? Used him as a fucking toilet paper to clean up their horse shit, wipe their ass, and throw in the bin. A. Fucking. Disposable.” 

Gloria blinked a couple of times before her eyes widened. Cell only chuckled as her expression changed.

“Yeah, yeah. Gears are turning in your head now? Let me make it obvious: You’ve been busting your ass as a paramedic for REO Meatwagon. Scraping every bit of cash possible to invest in a better life for your kid. But if Arasaka can think of someone as loyal and capable as Genjiro as some one-use bacterial wipe, what will they think of your son? Hmm? If… if your kid, made one shitty mistake, one thing that can be fixed and addressed with a one-to-one chat. What do you think they’ll do? In fact, let’s beg this question- what the fuck did you bust your ass for if all that ends up for David is back to Santo Domingo slum?”

A pregnant pause filled the air- the silence crushing and ironically deafening for Gloria. The silence had helped with Cell’s question to sink into her mind. No matter how much she tried to deny it. She was emotional, but she was also smart. All she heard was Cell lightly breathing, waiting for his words to sink in before he fires off another logic bomb.

Gloria blinked. Looking out the window, to Arasaka Towers.

“… Genjiro told me that one of his subordinates was a board-member of Arasaka Towers, had him send a confidential statistics of Arasaka Academy and its students. Do you know what the first thing Genjiro did when I asked him about Arasaka Academy last night? He fucking grimaced. I asked him why, and he told me over the phone why: They thinly veil it as a constructive competition between students, it’s really just a toxic environment. Several quitting, mental breakdowns… students committing suicide. Rates increase in those that didn’t come from wealthy families who works for mega corporations. Sounds like a horrible place to study in, and getting absolutely fucking nothing in return. That’s not what you want for David, right? He’s a strong and smart kid. I’ve… I’ve actually talked to him last night. He was given a tour of the Graveyard and he walked into my office, I showed him the restoration process for the Tuna fish and he looked so excited to witness it. He’s a good kid, I’ll tell you that. You want him safe and happy, and we all want him safe and happy.

“… We?” Gloria asked with a slight shaky voice. Cell looked to the floor, giving her a moment to recollect herself and her emotions.

“We, Mrs Martinez. The Spartans. To you, his your son. To us Spartans? He’s our nephew. Especially to the Spartan IIs. Every one of them missed Leonard-131, he was their brother. No matter what. They all love the kid, and for good reasons too. Trust us when I say this: We all want what’s best for David. Arasaka is… anything but.”

Cell sighed a bit, realising how much he’s been gone off tangent again. He always did this- he always fucking ranted in some way. He took the paper and pen, walked up to Gloria, and placed it gently on Gloria’s lap.

“Like I said, we can’t force you and David to do anything. But just know that we will be monitoring David, circumstances forced us to do so. And if it makes it any better, the people previously in charge of UNSC, the ones that spearheaded Spartan IIs and other unsavoury projects are no longer with us. None of us likes them enough to repeat that path either. A lot of us are victims of it, after all.”

Gloria looked down at the paper placed on her lap, picking up the pen and reading the page.
It was a contract- an employment contract.

“Make sure to read all the fine prints, especially the pay-rate we’ve offered you. You can negotiate it with us if it’s unsatisfactory.”

Gloria’s optics nearly bulged out at the numbers. Those were almost 4 to 5 more zeroes added in than her pay-grade in REO Meatwagon.
Gloria quickly snapped her gaze to Cell, who was waiting for Gloria’s answer. Gloria tried to speak, but found her own panic and disorientation catch the words in her throat. Cell understood with no problem when Gloria was pointing at her offered salary.

“I mean, yeah. You’ll be working as a paramedic. With possible night shifts under emergencies. Of course we’d have to compensate you properly for it. Though you should keep reading the fine prints- this one here says that you’ll have to remove your cybernetic implants and have it replaced with ours.”

Gloria looked to the fine print Cell had tapped on, and honestly? It wasn’t that bad of a deal. In fact, this single contract could change both her and her mijo’s life drastically. All it would take was just a single flick of a pen on the bottom of the page.

“… Why?” Gloria finally forced out in disbelief.

“What do you mean why? You’re a paramedic- a trained one at that. We’ve got people lining up to be soldiers and scientists and engineers and sales teams, but Project Caduceus needs more paramedics. Just now I’ve had to go to former Trauma Team employees and offer them the same job as you. They’ve already taken it- but you can take your time to decide. The offer isn’t going anywhere.”

Gloria silently stared at Cell walking around her bed and back to the door, turning around just as the door slid open and showed the hallway.

“Oh, and no matter what you decide on… we will compensate you and David heavily for Leonard-131’s tragedy. You have our word on that.” Cell announced before he handed Gloria a compad, a single video feed of a broken down city filled with flaming cars and shattered concrete chunks littering the floor… not to mention the corpses of elites and grunts littering the streets. A single man clad in armour, helmet placed on the side, was sitting up against a rubble. Gloria recognised the face, looking back up at Cell.

“This is…”

“The final moment of Leonard-131.” Cell confirmed with a grim tone. “It was recorded on the security feed in New Mombasa. It might be cruel, but I thought you’d at least wanted to know what your husband was doing in his final moments. Maybe now, or maybe later with your son. Or not, we understand if you don’t want to watch it at all.”

Cell stood up and walked out of the room, the door sliding down to leave Gloria all to herself… until the door slid back out again for Cell to quickly pop his head through.

“Oh, and probably not my place to say this but… for Christ's fucking sake, have a proper chat with your son about his life and decisions, will you? It’s his fucking life, not yours.”

Gloria blinked a few times before her frown started to form. Clearly a little miffed and offended at the Spartan sticking his nose into family business- and it only frustrated her even more when Cell disappeared from her view before she could even properly retort.
Then again, she wasn’t in the mood to get angry when she had this compad right in front of her.

-oOo-

“Little piece of advice, Martinez. Learn, to take a hint.” Katsuo had dragged David to the underside of the Corpo Plaza, a little away from Arasaka Academy.
The only people here were Katsuo, his lackeys, David, and the few homeless that didn’t take up on Arbee’s offer.

“About what?” David replied with a dry and exasperated tone. He was already sick and tired of this, and hated that Katsuo and his goons were blocking the only entrance out.

“Our class. You’re not welcome. Got it?” Katsuo announced apprehensively.

“Huh? If this is about yesterday-”

“Who said anything about yesterday?” 

“What?”

“You probably figure I give you a hard time ‘cause you’re poor. Simply untrue. I’m rather charitably inclined, not your fault you were born on the wrong side of society. There’s no rule that a street kid can’t make it at the Academy, provided they pay their way.” David was getting even more disinterested in what Katsuo was saying each syllable, looking at the wall he was leaning on and just sighing in exasperation.

“What cracks my chrome is something else entirely. Know what?”

“Look, choom. I haven’t understood a single thing coming out of your mouth.”

“That right there!” Katsuo shouted, pointing at David.

“Hmm?”

“Time to get gone. Just drop out, why don’t ya?”

“Huh?”

“You’re a misfit, an anomaly. Human, but trash. And there’s nothing that can change that. Rot in you runs as deep as your bones, Martinez. Best you can do is not spread it to the rest of us.”

Beggars and homeless were looking at the two students as they rummaged around trash or puked out moonshine they had last night.

“Did I just short-circ? Said you didn’t care as long as I paid tuition.” David replied tensely.

“I heard your mommy came in to see the principal,” Katsuo replied back with a little sneer in that mocking tone of his. “Ask forgiveness for your little stunt.”

David glared at Katsuo, who was tilting his head all the way to his left shoulder in an insulting gaze straight back at David.

“Caused quite a scene crying for her baby boy, begging for him not to get expelled. So shameless. You know, since we’re chatting, I’ve just always wondered. How could she afford to send you to Arasaka Academy anyway? Care to explain, Martinez?” Now David was looking straight at Katsuo with anger, breathe becoming heavier and filled with emotion, just waiting for it to light a fuse within him. “Go on. Tell us. How does mommy pay your way?” Katsuo still went on, needling David. “What’s any Night City bottom-feeder do to make a quick eurobuck, huh? Oh! A couple of pretty salacious things come to mind.”

That was it. David heard enough of it. 

“Tire of this shit!” David shouted as he stopped shaking his right leg, ready to just push through Katsuo and leave.

“Hold on, choom. Who said we were done?” Katuso had no intention of letting David leave, blocking his way.

“Fuck off!” David shouted, ready to go around Katsuo. The suit’s son bumped his chest at David, forcing the Santo Domingo kid to take a step back. A smiling was creeping up on Katsuo’s as he continued to push the kid back, his hands raised up in the air.

Before the creases in Katsuo’s hands started to glow red, David stumbling back. Katsuo had activated the functions of his Strongarm 400

“H-huh? Are? A…re? Arerererere~!?” Katsuo taunted David, wagging his hands in a mocking tone at David like he was calling a dog over.

David’s anger got the best of him, flying a punch out at Katsuo.
And Katsuo’s Kung Fu chipware activated, letting his body go on autopilot as a hand chop blocked David’s fist.

Katsuo looked at David with a sinister grin, Corpo Kid’s eyes turning red as the slotted chip ran the pre-programmed moves.

“Got anything slotted? MMA freeware maybe? Hmm? Hmm. Aww!” Katsuo sarcastically asked as he used his Strongarm cyberware to push David’s hand out of the way, before the next move on the Kung Fu chipware playlist began running.

David looked at Katsuo. David indeed did not, but he had something better.
He had Spartan CQC slotted directly into his muscle memories, no thanks to Killshot.

Katsuo flicked his jacket back and took up a stance, dashing in with both of his fists in front of the David’s face.

David’s own instinct kicked in, reflexively stepping back and taking the stance Killshot made him copy and learn.

Katsuo started to rush his fists in David’s vision- series of feints. Just like Killshot and Leon had done.

Holy shit, David thought. The titan chooms were right. These gonks really did start with that move!

And what was better to David (and not so much to Katsuo) was just how much slower Katsuo’s fists were. David would not have time to read the move if he hadn’t practised and learned.
But here he was, following Killshot’s lesson down to a capital T: He focused on the area between Katsuo’s chin and chest, looking at the shoulder movement.

The fists started coming in for real, David predicting it from the movement of the shoulders. He quickly dodged and weaved all of them without breaking a sweat.
Compared to Killshot and Leon, Katsuo’s own moves had much more opening, no doubt thanks to being slower and having a more predictable body language. David took advantage of that with ease, a punch in the ribs and uppercutting right under the solar plexus.

‘David, remember when your punching a cross or a hook: aim the fist behind the target, not directly on the target. Most people just target the target itself, and instinctively stops as soon the fist touches it. Not a lot of force carries in for that, that’s why martial artists tries to punch through it. Visualise your punch going past the point of contact, okay?’

‘And a jab?’

‘Jab’s are for setting things up. Calculating and controlling the distance, check response times, defence manoeuvres that keeps the other side at bay, disrupting enemy rhythm, setting up the rest of your attacks. Relatively, not a lot of force needs be behind a job compared to the others. Though if you’re strong enough, you could probably knock a guy out with just jabs. I saw Leon do that once in a bar.’

David remembered Killshot’s lessons regarding punches too, letting the force send through Katsuo fast and serious. Corpo kid was coughing up dry air and heaving at the impact, the two goons of a student he carried with him quickly looking grim and worried.

Katsuo glared at David as he continued the moves the Kung Fu chipware was running, flurry of blows that David dodged and blocked, and an attempt to grab his necktie or jacket soon became an overreach that allowed David to punch the forearm away and make Katsuo lose balance. David’s fists hurt like hell when the punch came into contact with Katsuo’s Strongarm 400 cyberware, but at least it was enough to agitate Katsuo even further.
A dash in and a jab to Katsuo’s nose made Katsuo grab it and jolt his head back in pain. Katsuo was feeling several mixed emotions. Anger, frustration, and utter confusion at how someone with low-grade chrome like David could be a better fighter than the Martial arts chipware his father had bought for him.

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make a lick of sense that this piece of street rat would be better than him.

Katsuo jumped and performed a flying back kick, expecting David to be caught off guard and allow the corpo kid to retake the initiative of the fight.

Killshot taught the CQC basics and fundamentals really well- David didn’t have a force or experience of a soldier, but he sure as hell got enough to outskill some kid that never fought in his entire life.

David dodged, dashing in when Katsuo couldn’t even dodge or react, and punched him squarely in the face, sending Katsuo flying to the wall and crashing into a portable toilet, breaking the door and the bowl as Katsuo rolled out, screeching.

David hissed and grabbed his wrist, rolling it in pain at punching so hard. Blood was dribbling out and down Katsuo’s nose. Katsuo’s two goons were already scared shitless at how good David was at fighting, and not wanting to get into David’s line of sight- quickly made a dash for it.

“What the fuck…! Those are ‘ganic knuckles!” Katsuo sputtered out of the mouth he was covering along with his nose, blood now driblling down to his chin. Tears welling in Katsuo’s eyes. “You broke my nose! You Asshole! I scanned you with my optics, you don’t have shit!”

David stood there, looking at Katsuo. His breathing was heavy after the sudden workout, but it was already becoming calmer. It helped looking at what a pathetic mess Katsuo had become after all that shit the suit kid had talked to him.

“You’re done, you know who my father is? An Arasaka exec on the Academy’s board! You’re so fucking gone! Do you know how easy it’d be to have you expelled? You should’ve quit while you were ahead, you rat bastard! I’ll-”

David started to zone out of Katsuo’s rant. At this point, Katsuo was just like that Six Streeter kid that broke his own wrists punching him- a little bitch.

“Whatever, Choom. Like a give a shit.” David muttered as he walked out of the place, and away from Arasaka Towers.

David walked across the glass bridges, thinking about what to do now. Clear as day that he was no longer welcome in Arasaka. But that was fine- he had another place to go.

He looked right next to Arasaka Towers, what used to be the yellow building of Biotechnica HQ was a oak and silver tower of Reds and Blues.
Yeah, bet he’d feel more at place there than in Arasaka. Maybe hang around there a few more hours till he goes to see his mother.

David walked into the HQ, met with a large lobby filled with benches and chairs, with a couple small open terrarium filled with grass and lemon trees.
Cafes were also peppering part of the wide open lobby, several people taking breaks by ordering coffees and sandwiches or cakes. Talking with each other, or playing with holograms that lit up on the tables.

Few of them were just kids that came here to play, others were clearly taking note of the place, by the looks of the floating drones and audio recorders.

A few Spartans and ODSTs walked past him, clad in their combat gear and with disciplined trigger fingers, aiming their gun to the floor.

David walked up to one of the terrarium, in place of a plaque was instead an audio player. David tapped on it, only to be met with a sound of heavy cellos.

[So I just found out that apparently, a lemon… isn’t naturally occurring. And, is a hybrid by CROSS breeding, a BITTER ORANGE, AND A CITRON! WHICH MEANS, LIFE NEVER GAVE US LEMONS, WE INVENTED THEM!!! ALL BY OURSELVES!!!]

It was the voice of Cell, shouting over the orchestra of Symphony No.9 in e minor from the new world. David took a step back, staring at the Lemon tree as near-triumphant scores were being played almost dramatically over this small tree.

David heard a few snickering next to the terrarium.

[AND JUST SO YOU KNOW- A BITTER ORANGE, IS A HYBRID BETWEEN A POMELO, AND A MANDARIN! WE HAVE BUILT THE VERY FOUNDATION, THE LEMON STANDS ON!]

David couldn’t help but laugh as the Symphony increased in volume. Many CEOs would like to put up an authoritative, near god-like persona to uphold the images of their company and for the workers within.

Then here was perhaps the smartest idiot alive, making a fool of himself for all of the lobby to see.

The took a few steps back, only to realise that there were more eyes on him than before. Or more specifically- eyes on his uniform, the Arasaka Emblem emblazoned red on the black  material.

He stood out like a duck among the pond of Swans.
He decided to cough a little and walk up to the receptionist area- a spacious desk with protective clear shielding for the safety of the receptionist should there be any possible dangerous altercations.

“Hello! How can we help you today?” A young lady in Arbee uniform cheerfully answered as David arrived, although she quickly sneaked a look at the Arasaka emblem on his uniform before looking back at the kid in the eyes.

David scratched his head, he didn’t really think this through but… no harm trying, right? If he has to leave, then he’ll just go see his mom.

“I’m here to see Spartan Killshot, told me he’d be here to deliver something to Genjiro. Wondering if he was still here?”

The reception blinked, before clearing her throat with light coughs.

“Of course! Let me just have a check.” Normally, Receptionists in other institution would use their implants for calls. Arbee receptionists, however, used a physical device installed on the desk to call someone. She waited a few moments, before whoever was on the other end picked up the phone. “Mister Genjiro?” The Arbee receptionist asked in confirmation.

“Yes, is there something the matter?” Genjiro replied from the other line, calm but worried evident in his tone, as he was not expecting to be called.

“We currently have a guest for Spartan Kenichi Ara… Apologies, Spartan ‘Killshot’, and the guest told me he would be with you right now?”

The call had a pregnant pause, before Genjiro cautiously asked back. “He is. May I get the name of our guest?”

“Of course! Sorry, I should have got your name, mister…”

“Martinez, David Martinez.” David answered, seeing the receptionist bow in gratitude for the quick answer and immediately relaying the name to Genjiro.

Another pause, clearly talking about this to Killshot, before Genjiro answered again.

“Thank you, Mary. May I have you call someone to escort our guest to my office?”

“Will do, sir! We’ll escort the guest to you and Spartan Killshot right now!” Mary, the receptionist, immediately followed through as soon as the call had finished, walking out the door behind the receptionist area and appearing back around.

“Please follow me! I’ll take you to Spartan Killshot!”

-oOo-

David stepped out of the elevator to be met with a view of a large office occupying the entire floor, the reinforced glass wall looking down on the memorial park below, Mary bowing to Genjiro as she closed the elevator door and went down.

“Wow, Nova…”

Genjiro, who had been sitting on his desk, only smiled as he got up and walked to David, Spartan Killshot was sitting on the couch with a glass of soda with ice laying on the table.

“David Martinez, it is good to meet you.” Genjiro spoke sincerely, extending out a hand for David to shake. David nervously laughed as he gripped the hand and shook it. Genjiro was eyeing David’s uniform before he used his finger to point at it.

“Student of Arasaka Academy?” Genjiro asked.

“I… yeah, haha…” David answered with an awkward grin. He understood how he looked, an Arasaka Academy in the middle of Reds and Blues headquarters.

But Genjiro only chuckled, yet David notice the slight pain and sadness in Genjiro’s eyes.

“I was an alumni of Arasaka Academy too- I was in the Japanese Academy, in the main HQ of Arasaka.”

David blinked. He wasn’t expecting Genjiro to tell him that.

“How is it? Arasaka education?” Genjiro asked further as he poured David a glass of carbonated drink with ice.

David clicked his tongue and kicked the floor lightly.

“Total ass. It’s bullshit.”

Genjiro only chuckled as he handed David his soda, nodding in agreement.

“It is indeed, total ass. It took me too long to realise the same thing. After I was robbed of my life, my job, and my effort. Meeting Cell had only cemented my thoughts so. For that reason, I admit that you have learnt much faster than me. And I commend you for it.”

David looked a little longer at Genjiro, and realised that he had seen him before- during his first day at Arasaka Academy. He was one of the Arasaka Execs presented on stage to congratulate the students.

“Speaking of,” Killshot interrupted the two as David took a sip of his drink. “Why aren’t you at school? I dropped you off to school only like, 10 or 15 minutes ago.” David’s coughed, spilling a bit of drink on himself.

Genjiro quickly grabbed a box of tissue and offered it to David, who took some to dab his shirt with. David grimaced at having to answer Killshot’s question, but hey- they were all going to know sooner or later, one way or another.

“Thanks. Yeah, well… I got into a fight. Beat the shit out of him, so I’m no doubt expelled. Especially since there was that property damage we have yet to pay, and the fact that principal even offered my mom to transfer me to another institute yesterday…”

It was Killshot’s turn to cough a little at the news, he quickly put his glass back down on the table and lightly coughed into his arm. Genjiro quickly offered the same tissue box to Genjiro, which the Spartan gladly took.

“ありがとうございます。”

“どうも。”

David looked anxiously as Killshot wiped the carbonated drink and syrup off his techwear jacket before the Spartan looked at the kid.

Contrary to David’s worries, however, Killshot was smiling.

“Well, shit. Guess today’s the day, huh? Who knew.”

“You’re… not mad?”

“Well, I’d be pretty fucking mad if you finally got into a fight and lost. What the hell did  I teach you if you did? So, did you win?”

David grinned as Genjiro rested one leg over another, showing off his red knuckles to Killshot.

“Yeah! You were right! Leon was right too, that gonk used that flashy punching move to start the fight! So much for that new chipware he got from his Corpo dad, huh?”

Killshot snickered as he grabbed his glass again and brought it to his mouth, his voice echoing out the glass as he prepared to take a sip.

“Let me guess, the kid you were talking about? The one who was giving you shit, bullying you.”

“Yeah, Katsuo Tanaka! And his goons delta’ed out of their the moment the gonk got his ass beat and was crying like a little bitch! … wait- Killshot, I’m not getting bullied!”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Killshot drily replied as he finished taking a sip and rested the glass back down on the table, resting back into the couch.
Genjiro on the other hand, furrowed his brow at the mention of Katsuo Tanaka, and soon turned to David with a question.

“This kid you told me… Katsuo Tanaka.”

“Hmm? Wha- yeah?”

“Is his father an Arasaka Executive by any chance? Member of the Academy’s education board?”

David blinked a couple times.

“Yeah, he’s dad was Tetsuo Tanaka, I think.”

So it is him… David heard Genjiro mutter as the man soon started to chuckle, before it developed into a full blown laughter.

“あのクソブタ野郞 メが。。。結局やられたんだな。 (That pig-headed fuck… finally got what he deserves, huh?)”

David blinked a bit before his neuroport translated what Genjiro had said.
For Killshot, it was his native tongue being spoken in the room, all he did was snicker at how happy Genjiro looked as the Arbee executive and head of marketing looked down at Arasaka Towers right next to the Arbee Night City HQ.

Genjiro turned around, smiling until he properly faced David again. Coughing into his hand.

“I’m quite unfortunate to tell you that such action may have tipped the line. Work politics in Arasaka is quite hostile and violent. You are most likely expelled at this very moment. However, if it does come to that- Feel free to come back here. Tell the receptionist that I have asked for you. I’m sure we can provide you with a much more stable support at Reds and Blues. It’s the least I could do for someone who decided to stand their ground and fight the son of a traitor.”

David laughed with an awkward grin in response to Genjiro’s offer and smile. Genjiro sure looked and even sounded happy about this.

“Guess that means you’re free today.” Killshot commented, David quickly whipping his head around in excitement, more than ready to confirm with vigorous nods. “You have anything planned?”

“I mean, not really? I actually came here because you said that you’d be going for a tour around the city, and maybe you need a guide? I know my place around here, so.” David offered, scratching the back of his head as he waited for Killshot’s answer.

Killshot softly nodded his head in thought, before he finished his glass and answered David’s offer with an ultimatum. “Yeah, I could go for a tour of the city guided by a Night City native: Provided that the citizen doesn’t have unfinished business.”

“…Unfinished Business? I don’t have anything like that? Let’s go!”

Killshot raised his hand in front of David in defence and the silent message to stop. “Yes, you do. Your school, remember?”

David groaned in frustration. “I don’t have school, remember? I quit! Punched a gonk and got expelled.”

“Which means you’ll have to tell that to your mother. She expected you to stay in school. Now that you broke your promise with her, go see your mother and hear what she has to say. Maybe get slapped, listen to her get angry. Or better yet- have a proper talk with her about your life. What you want, what she wants. What you two can agree on or willing to argue about. I can wait in the hospital while you guys have a chat. Talk with your mother to the end, and then we can go around exploring the city. Deal?”

David kicked the floor and hanged his head down, but soon enough, after a few moment of silence, he looked at Killshot.

“… Alright, deal…”

Killshot nodded, before standing up and stretching out a hand to Genjiro. Genjiro took the hand, and both parties bowed while shaking.

“ご厚意に感謝します、源次郎。 (Thank you for your hospitality, Genjiro).”

“とんでもございません、キルショット様。あなたとお話しできるのは光栄なことです。正直なところ、かつての試みが私の人生をすべて奪われる結末に終わったため、再び心から荒坂に仕えるとは思ってもいませんでした。しかし、もし荒坂があなたであるなら、再び忠誠を誓うことに何の迷いもありません。 (Not at all, Killshot-Sama. It is an honour to have talked with you. I honestly did not know if I would be serving another Arasaka with my heart and soul, considering my last attempt ending with my entire life robbed away. But I feel like if the Arasaka is you, I have no trouble serving loyally again.)”

Killshot looked to the ground and blinked with melancholy etched over his cornea.

“記録を見たなら、私がそれを納得させるつもりがあまりないのも分かるはずだ。 (You’d have seen the files, I wouldn’t be so keen on convincing you to act as such.)”

Genjiro smirked.

“ええ、見ました。そしてもし記録映像が完全なものであれば、すべてを知ることになるでしょう。しかし、キルショット様、これだけは知ってください。UNSCに関するどんな秘密を知ったとしても、あなた方の行いが私に死ぬまで仕える理由を十分に与えてくれました。あなたの行動は、私にそれを宣言させるに十分なほど大きな声で語っています。 (I did, and if the documentary is complete I will know all. But know this, Killshot-Sama.  Know matter what secret I find out about UNSC, all of you had given me enough reason to serve you to my dying breath. Your actions have spoken loud enough for me to declare so.)”

Killshot looked up at Genjiro, a slight smile etched on the Spartan’s lips.

“…ありがとう。本当に、その言葉がどれほど私たちを救うかわからない。  (Thank you, truly. You don’t know how much those words mean to us.)”

“それとお伝えしますが、キルショット様、あなたに差し上げたのは言葉だけではありません。 (And know, Killshot-Sama, that it is just not my words you have.)”

Both bowed once more as Killshot took David to the elevator and left.

Genjiro was honest in what he told Killshot. He had been going through the shard and had his team make sure the files could be read properly on an ordinary computer. He had seen what Cell had said, what the other Spartans had said.

If anything, it made them look just like the War gods and heroes his country’s history and Shinto Mythology had recorded and/or worshipped.
From both their abilities and their hearts and ideals, they were Nobles he would follow through and through.

-oOo-

“Yeah, so… that’s why I punched the guy and left. Probably expelled now…”

David remained in the guest seat, looking to the corner. He had explained everything to his mother. And he was just waiting for the moment she would get angry and shout, or burst into sobs and cries.

He understood that his mother busted her ass off trying to keep him in there. And what he just did practically threw away 17 years of her effort.

The silence was more than deafening, it was crushing. God, David wished Killshot to be in the room as well, but no- Killshot was waiting in the lobby, reading newspapers and magazines and talking with his fellow Soldiers and Spartans.

David quickly stole a side eye glance at his mother, trying to see how she was taking this. She was quiet, but the fact that she was blinking and sighing while looking out at the window.

“… If, If it helps… Genjiro offered to take me under his wings if I ever needed to. So I can still be a corpo if you wanted me to. It’s not Arasaka, but honestly… fuck Arasaka.”

“David.”

“What? They didn’t like me anyway! Besides, Arbee’s just as much of a Megacorp as Arasaka and Militech. I mean, they absorbed Biotechnica, right?”

“Did the Arasaka Towers ever look at small?”

“I…” David was about to defend himself even more, only to be caught off guard by Gloria’s question.

Gloria wasn’t crying. Not yet. No, it felt more like… she was letting things go. She almost looked at peace.
Maybe it was because of what Cell had said, maybe it was because what she had soon realised.
Maybe it was because she had an excellent example in the name of Genjiro about why her dream for her little mijo wasn’t so safe and successful after all.

“… Mom?” David nervously asked. Gloria only looked at her son, and just outstretched her arms.

“Come here, Dee.” Gloria spoke softly, David did as his mother asked him. And walked over to give his mother a hug. Gloria patted David on the back, taking note that his knuckles and wrist were tinged red.

She had thought that she and David just needed to prove their environments wrong- that they can rise through the ranks, that David can reach the top of Arasaka Towers.
Maybe, he can. But then what? She didn’t acknowledge it until now. Maybe she did so intentionally, because she was aware just how helpless they were to the city and the world and its system.

“Dee.” After a few moment of silence between the mother and son, Gloria opened her mouth. “Were you ever happy to be in Arasaka Academy?”

“… No.” David blinked, but answered honestly.

Gloria held back some tears, sniffling just a little. Of course she did, she didn’t like to admit that all she did up till now for her son, the 17 years of work and tragedy that she had to endure was all for nothing.

But the world was too cold and cruel to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Are you okay, mom?” David asked as he felt his mother’s shoulder shake a little. Yet Gloria just tried to breath calmly, keeping her emotions in check before it spilled out.

“Everything I did, I did it for you, Dee…” A shaky breath carried Gloria’s words out of her mouth as controlled as possible. David looked to the corned of the walls. They had this conversation before, in the car before the accident.

“I… I know, that’s why you’re never home.”

“I just… I don’t know what I should do anymore…”

David sighed.

“Look, if you still want me to get a good education- Genjiro told me himself he’d be willing to give me his support. He’s an Arasaka Academy Alumni and an Arasaka Exec. That’s gotta be something for us, right?”

“Mijo…” His mother asked back. “What do you want to do?”

David tried to answer right off the top of his head, but found himself lacking a proper answer. This was… this was the first time Gloria had properly asked him that.

What did he actually want to do?

A pregnant pause lingered between the two’s dialogue. A few moments of silence that Gloria patiently took to hear her son’s answer.

“I don’t know…” David finally answered. He was honest. “I don’t really know yet.”

Gloria also took a few moments of silence in return, to help process what her son had said and what that meant for the two of them. In the end, she softly nodded her head as she brought David closer into her arms.

“That’s okay.” Gloria answered as she rubbed David’s back with her palm, still sniffling a little, the edges of her eyes going red. “We can find it out together… We can find it out together, Dee…”

David buried his head in his mother’s shoulder before he broke out of the hug. Gloria was wiping the edge of her eyes with her finger.

“And what are you gonna do now, mom? Still going to work at REO Meatwagon after you’re able to walk out of the hospital?”

Gloria smiled a little softly at David, but shook her head.

“No, I got fired.”

“… WHAT?!” After a moment of silent disbelief, David exploded. “That’s fucking bullshit! You’ve been working for them for so long!”

“Dee, its-”

“And then you get into an accident that forced you to stay in the hospital and they fucking kick you out?!”

“Dee,”

“Who the fuck they think they are?! Mom, we’ve-”

“David, it’s fine!” Gloria shouted to interrupted David’s own rant. It was heartwarming to see her son caring about her that much, but she didn’t really need it.
Gloria took the compad and papers, showing the contract.

“Cell came in this morning to drop these off. He says he’s happy to hire me to work with them in the hospitals.”

David looked to the pages, shoulders deflating but his grin returning at the corner of his lips. “They… they did?” He asked in a happier tone. Gloria nodded, looking down at the pages before chuckling.

“They offered far better pay than REO Meatwagon did. Better hours, too. I guess I’ll be at home more frequently, now.”

“That’s…” David muttered, before his grin widened. “That’s great! See, mom? I told you Arbee’s out here to support us!”

Gloria’s smile faltered a little. “Yeah, they do… huh?” She replied. “I was… thinking about the offer for a long time, you know. Despite the offer, they’re still people your father ran away from.”

David threw his arms in the air in slight frustration. “Dad didn’t run away from Cell, he ran away from the UNSC!” David shouted “The old ones, Killshot told us so, right?! If they didn’t care, they wouldn’t have sent him to tell us everything! Besides, the people at the Graveyard, the Spartans, they all missed Dad! They were all nice to me!”

Gloria nodded in agreement. Maybe it was just her emotional side exaggerating her cautious nature.

“That’s why I signed the papers, Dee. I’ll be talking about when I’ll start working. With the pay I’ll be getting with this, we’ll be able to live in a better place.”

“… With proper washing machines?” David asked cheekily, calming down a little at the better news. Gloria snickered at her son’s remark, and nodded.

“Yes, with proper washing machines.” Gloria answered. “And, speaking of people missing Leopold…” She put the paper back to the table next to her, and showed David the Compad.

“What’s… that?” David asked, pointing at the Compad before Gloria could explain. She took a few deep breaths before handing it over to David.

“Cell gave it to me. He says it was the final moments of your father, Dee. Told me I can watch it by myself, or with you… or just don’t watch it all, if we didn’t want to see it.”

David looked to the screen, and sure enough the first frame of the video was showing David a Spartan without a helmet slumped in front of building rubble- alien corpses with deep blue and purple blood splattering everywhere, mixing in with patches of reds.

And the face of the Spartan looked just like David’s- only a bit older, with a stubble. That was dad…, David thought. That was really him, and the Spartans… August, they were right- He really did look like David.

David looked up at Gloria with eyes wide in shock. Gloria only folded her arms and looked to David in the eyes.

“I haven’t watched it yet.” Gloria replied. “I… I’ve only just found out last night that he died. I didn’t feel ready to… you know, take in exactly how he had died…” David nodded at her reasoning. Yeah, maybe.

But David wanted to watch. He wanted to know exactly what his father was in his final moment- No, not want. He HAD to know. Every day, David woke up feeling like he was destined for something big. And here it was, the reason why he thought so. It was clear that to his father, David and Gloria was everything to him, enough to join a war he couldn’t return from.

“Let’s… let’s watch it.” David answered finally, his hands a bit shaky in the pressure exuding out from whatever was in his two hands. “Let’s watch it together.”

“…Dee…”

“We… we have to know, mom. We have to know what Dad was doing, how Dad died. It’s… it’s the least we can do.”

The slight setting sun shined through the open window, bouncing off the moisture covering the surface of Gloria’s eyes, which soon was dropping down to join the rest of the tears in the corner of her eyes. Gloria took a moment to gather herself, before she nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right Dee… let’s watch it together.”

David shuffled to the edge of the bed and sat down, placing the compad on his lap and raising it at and angle so that both of them could see.

David, with a shaking finger, pressed the play button.

Sounds of sirens in the distance, sometimes mixed or even drowned out by sounds of plasma projectiles and lead bullets firing. A single man breathing and rasping for breath, a wound deep in his abdomen ran through by one of the Sangheili Spec Ops' energy sword. Clad in a half-broken and poorly maintained MJOLNIR, evident that it was left to gather dusts and sand and wears and tears until the Spartan and took it up again for one last time.

Someone else entered the feed, Leonard looking up at the whoever approaching with tired eyes and bleeding mouth.

[... John?] Leonard spoke out, Master Chief's footsteps quickening in response, before the green titan took a knee down to meet Leonard's face. Grabbing Leonard's shoulder.

[Leonard.]

[I... John…] Leonard grinned, only barely visible in the security camera. [I don't know what's going on, but I... I stopped them. The aliens, the Covenants… I... the ODSTs...]

[Easy. You're safe now.]

[I... John, I'm sorry... I'm sorry that I ran away... I promised you guys that I'd come back to save the rest of you, but I...]

[Don't worry, you're safe.]

[I.... John, the ODSTs... they had something, said they needed it to save Earth. I... I did what I could but... you have to help them...]

[Consider it done.]

[That's... that's good.... that's good... John, the others- August, Jorge, Daisy... are they...?]

[... Still fighting. Just like you were here.] John lied, knowing that most of the 33 Spartan IIs that trained with them had long disappeared in the Fall of Reach.

[... John, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ran away, could you tell them that? Tell them that, at least I fought here... I- I, wanted to see them again...]

[I will.]

[... Thank you, John... Thank you... The... the soldiers, they called me a Spartan...]

[You are.]

[I'm not... I didn't want to be, that's... that's-] Leonard coughed, blood spluttering out with spit. He didn't have much life left him in, only a pint of fumes letting him talk for just a few more moment. [-that's why I ran, when I had the chance, when I got the MJOLNIR... I didn't want to be... Is- is being a Spartan a good thing now? Do they know what Spartans are? What... what are they to them?]

Masterchief held Leonard's shoulders tighter, looking to the floor briefly before looking back up.

[Heroes. Hope.]

Leonard's breathing became raspier by the second. He didn't have much anymore, his fire flickering on ashes now.

[...Th-that's... that's good... we… our… pain, Samuel’s… I... wish I was with you guys… to… pro-properly, act... like... one...]

Power left from Leonard's limbs. Eyelids only half closed as the head lay helplessly to the side. All John could do was put the MJOLNIR helmet back on Leonard, and lift up his friend's corpse.

[Leonard-131, files say that he was considered KIA. Committed suicide.] Cortana's voice echoed out from Master Chief's helmet with a hint of sadness and faint confusion.

[He didn't. Spartans don't die, and they don't go down quietly.] That's all Master Chief said firmly, looking at the littered bodies of the Covenant forces as he carried his friend in his arms.

The video ended there, with the two Spartans disappearing from the camera.

David blinked a few times to get the blurry vision out of his eyes, only to feel cold tears dribbling down his cheeks every time his lid closed.

A few drops hit the compad, as he used his forearm to wipe away the tears. Heavy breathing filled his lungs and nose, before he heard his own mother trying and failing to stop quiet sobs from coming out of her mouth. She ended up failing to watch part of the video, couldn’t see the love of her life in such a state, sputtering blood and coughing until he just… until he just faded away.

David looked to the empty streets of New Mombasa, now silent and unmoving. Just until 2 days ago, David had thought of his dad as a coward. Coward for disappearing, coward for running away. Coward for dropping all of his responsibilities on his mother.

David wanted to shout. He didn’t- he wanted to shout that to his father in this small screen. Nobody called him a coward for what he did, no one. The Spartans certainly did not. Whatever people could use to call him a deserter, his final moments showed that he did not end as one.

David hugged his mother to comfort her, and in some ways to comfort himself.
And even as he left the room and walked backed to the lobby, looking at the Spartans helping around the hospitals or stomping to the helipad outside to save another person in distress- he had thought of everything his dad stood for, and everything the Spartans stood for his dad.

‘I don't know what the future will bring to us, but if it turns a man’s nightmare into a kid's dream? Fucking hell, I know I don't want to let my senior spartans' efforts down.

Because these Spartans, for all their appearances, aren’t machines made to be unbreakable. They were people who bled, broke, and sometimes didn’t even come back. They knew this, THEY KNEW THIS! THEY KNEW THE COST! And they still walked! Still fought! Because it was the only thing they knew, and that was what a Spartan was.’

David remembered what Cell had ranted as he walked to the lobby, seeing Killshot talk with people nearby before the Spartan IV noticed David standing there with a blank face. David had watched the emergency conference on TV and it was still fresh on his mind.
David knew that his father, even in his final moments, didn’t truly considered himself a Spartan. David understood why, Killshot and Cell explained so on two different occasions. The pain and near-torture that Leonard-131 had to witness, David understood why his dad ran away, didn’t want to be a Spartan.

“David? You finished talking? How did it go?”

“… Fine, mom was hired to work as a hospital here, and… we uhh, we said that we’ll find what I want to do together.” David responded, with a facade of a grin covering his face. It did nothing to someone with eyes as sharp as Killshot, but he was considerate enough to not pry into David’s personal business.

Killshot stood up, saying goodbye to the other people waiting in the lobby as he gestured David to walk with him.

David walked the streets, mind still swirling. 

[Don’t walk. Don’t walk.]

[Dear David Martinez. We’ve received news of your violent behaviour towards another student of Arasaka Academy. Because of this, we have no choice but to consider you expelled from our institution effectively immediately. Despite this less than amicable departure, we still wish you well on your future endeavour.]

[Walk. Walk.]

[I told you that you were in deep shit! Look at you, this is why I told you that you should’ve quit while you’re ahead! Fucking delinquent street rat thinks he can rise above what he was born to be- you’re nothing, Martinez! You hear me, you’re nothing! Just like your poor mother and your missing dad! At least that fuck knew you two were worthless! Probably took the chance to just leave and find something better to mingle with!]

David’s furrowed creased at Katsuo’s call. Nothing more than a childish tantrum after getting his ass beat.

‘Is- is being a Spartan a good thing now? Do they know what Spartans are? What... what are they to them?’

‘we… our… pain, Samuel’s… I... wish I was with you guys… to… pro-properly, act... like... one...’

Moments of his father, smiling before he perished in his brother’s arms were still burned into David’s optics.

He could’ve said the same thing he said to Katsuo before, that he didn’t care. But he felt like that wasn’t the right thing to say in the moment. Instead, David replied to Katsuo’s rant the same way Killshot did.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.”

[What the fuck did you just say! You worthless little-]

David hung up the call, looking up at Killshot’s face. The Spartan unaware that David had just been in a call as they walked into the City Centre, walking across the pavement to try window shopping clothes and weapons, and sometimes drinking and eating at a local restaurant. Killshot’s own rather sleek and clean fashion, and David’s Arasaka Academy Uniform allowed the waiters to take their orders and serve food with no hesitation or looks. Minus the few glances stolen from nearby people that recognised Killshot as the Arasaka’s extended family in the recent Emergency Conference. Killshot was a celebrity at this point.

“Hey, Killshot.” David finally spoke after going halfway through his steak, sun was starting to disappear in the horizon which made the neon lights from buildings and cars all the more vibrant.

“You don’t like the food?” Killshot asked, expecting David was speaking to ask about the cuisine.

“No, no. Food’s nova. It’s just… About the Spartan IIs.” David quickly clarified, grabbing a fork to poke into piece of steak and eating it before continuing. “Were they fine with being kidnapped?”

Killshot breathed in deep, rolling his jaw in hesitation for a few silent moment before he spoke, looking straight at David.

“They said that they were fine. Said that being part of Spartan IIs gave them a purpose in life, but… that was a subject of heavy controversy in both to the public and within the UNSC. Dr Catherine Halsey was tried in court for her actions. Though if you want me to be honest- she was a scapegoat for the big wigs. Many consider their behaviours to be of broken minds. Trauma they didn’t bother helping the Spartan IIs overcome. A lot of them have become well adjusted enough to talk to non-Spartans without problem, and I’m honestly happy, proud, and honoured that they consider even Spartan IVs like me to be part of their family. With the past they have… I don’t want to let them down on their decisions and trusts. But that question is best asked directly to the Spartan IIs, not me.”

“Right, okay… okay…”

“Why?” Killshot asked bluntly. “Did… something happen?”

David gently put the fork down on the plate, looking at his food for bit before he opened his mouth.

“Mom and I watched my Dad’s final moment in New Mombasa.”

“Ah.”

“Saw how he talked to another Spartan named John. He said he didn’t want to be a Spartan, but in the end… he felt… relieved? Happy? About how the Spartans were viewed?”

“That should be a normal response in my opinion, but… like I said, that’s my opinion.”

“Right, and… I guess I should ask what’s it to be a Spartan.”

Killshot folded his fingers together into making a short tent in front of his face, looking at David as he thought up of articulating an honest answer.

“That depends, doesn’t it? From one Spartan to another. To one, a Spartan is the symbol of fear. Demons. To another, they are the peak of humanity- a super soldier. But all will unanimously agree that to be a Spartan, is to be a symbol of hope. Of a better tomorrow, and every power that is willing to protect it. It was first created with less than altruistic intentions with even less noble methods. But what do you think is greater- to be born good, or to overcome something as such through great effort?”

“… I… I don’t know.”

Killshot smiled.

“That’s fine. There is no right answers for such questions anyway. But whatever the Spartans represented when the concept was first conceived… now? Now it’s a symbol of hope that all Spartans of all generations fight to uphold. And we acknowledge the darkness of history so that we make sure the concept of a Spartan doesn’t steer back that way. For those who had disappeared, fighting to make it so.”

David listened intently, finishing his food and waiting for Killshot to finish his. He continuously tapped his foot on the floor in patience.

Both were silent, until David finally opened his mouth when the two had completely finished their meal.

“Killshot.” David spoke. “I think I want to be a Spartan. Show my dad that he can be proud to be a Spartan, because it carries a different meaning now. For him, and to his side of the family. You know, high time I show just how nova it is to be a Spartan now, and that we haven’t forgotten what he had to go through.”

David looked to Killshot with eyes showing resolute. For the first time, David had decided to choose what he wanted to do.

However, Killshot’s own expressions were grim. The Spartan tried to grin, but ended up sighing, breathing out heavily through his nose.

“… Kid, I was afraid you’ll say that tonight.”

Chapter Text

Cell looked at his helmet placed on the desk. The four nodes were quiet, far from the droning red lights that flickered when Cell was wearing it.

It had been quite some time since Cell had returned to UNSC Revenant, looking at Washington’s office. Cell had sat in the main desk that Washington would normally be sitting in, because Washington was to busy sitting by the side of the wall, swigging down beer bottles and placing them on the table attached to the wall like it was a bar counter.

Washington looked into his bottle.

“… You know, I never really did trust smart AIs.” Washington spoke, throwing the bottle to the side of the table, only for it to perfect balance on the edge of the glass bottom.

Cell gave Washington a side glance.

“It’s because of Epsilon and Meta situation, right?”

Washington blinked.

“Yeah. The whole… original Project Freelancer.”

Cell turned his gaze from Washington back to his helmet.

“I’ve heard about that. Some weird project done by Doctor Leonard Church after the end of the Covenant War, right? Something to do with the development of Smart AI technology, and using several ONI-associated Spartan IVs.”

“I’d rather not really talk further about it, nor would Captain Lionel L. Church. That was his father that had set off the second half of the Created Conflict, after all. But you already understand most of it. But…. God damn, they were… they were playing us from the start, like a damn fiddle…” Washington Sighed as he grabbed another bottle, gripping the cap with his bare hands and pulling it clean off from the glass neck.

Cell scratched his head as he sighed as well.

“Now you know how the Created dominated so quickly. If… if it’s any comfort to you, most of the mind assembly died. Lifespan ran out and most kinda degenerated, and any smart AIs that filled in the gap as successors were destroyed or ran and hid in spare Promethean knights in some unknown parts of the galaxy. They don’t have any powers anymore, Wash.”

Washington sighed.

“Are you sure? What if the rest of them come back like the Meta? Or the Didact?”

“We don’t talk about the Ur-Didact.”

“No, but we’ll talk about Smart AIs, and what you think we should be doing from this day on forward.”

Washington turned himself around the chair to properly face Cell, holding the half-empty beer bottle in his hands.

Cell gathered his thoughts for a moment, tapping on his helmet in a steady rhythm as Washington waited for the Chief Engineer to speak.

Cell opened his mouth.

“First off, I think you should stop drinking all my worker’s product.”

Washington looked down at the label of the beer.

“I just need to wind down a bit, after all that suddenly happened.”

“Wash, you said that 5 days ago when I last saw you on the Pelican. You were still drinking your way down to the Graveyard too.”

“… Did I?”

 “Jesus, you don’t even remember. Fantastic.”

“Hey, how about you try to cope with your life being some kind of simulation.”

“I have. Both me and Ram.”

Washington and Cell remained silent for a few good moment.