Chapter Three: 出る釘は打たれる

Night City smelled, tasted and looked disgusting, a far cry from the cities of Japan.

Everywhere, there was decay and transgression.

Yesterday, a drunk and high individual had emerged from a pile of trash bags thrown into a street alcove in Watson, bleeding from his side and covered in grime.

The day before, a gang of three gross incompetents had attempted a robbery in Kabuki Market, and met their end on the edge of a katana's blade.

A week before that, a running gun battle in the favela between 'Tyger Claws' and a gang of smugglers on the shore ended with the police sending in 'MaxTac' and levelling half of the ill-built structures with explosive shells, which was an improvement if anything.

For Goro Takemura, Night City was something of a prison.

Most of the food was terrible, the people were rude, and it was a constant struggle. He could not return to Japan, not with Yorinobu in control of Arasaka. Yet he did not expect retribution either, the corporation had far more pressing concerns. Hanako-sama had died, and something truly grave had occurred with the Relic project that not even V had hinted at.

Yorinobu left his father's old bodyguard to rot in among the American barbarians, content that he would never reclaim his place.

And so Goro had rotted, but not for as long as the parricidal son would have hoped.

Inside a month, the fixers began to call. The first was Rogue of the 'Afterlife', an associate of V. Those association had almost made him reject the call outright, he had no desire to relive the fact that his revenge had been denied because V had been brainwashed by the ghost of Johnny Silverhand...

But poverty beckoned, as his friends in Arasaka were unable to assist him now that Hanako's faction and Saburo's legacy had been destroyed. He would have to work, and with due diligence, perhaps his place could be regained, perhaps Yorinobu's grasp on Arasaka would slip.

So came the work of a mercenary. Goro felt himself as a true ronin, a warrior without a master, performing whatever tasks were necessary. The men he had to kill most often deserved it, although those he rescued or worked for often did not. At all times, he kept his word and did not act dishonourably, but doing so often meant taking on great danger.

The one thing that could not be said about Night City was that it was boring.

With work came pay, and the recovery of some of what had been lost.

Most importantly, with money came good food. It cost a fortune, but it was possible to find a cooked meal that did not taste like it had been made of mealworm and cardboard. Once he had discovered that, Goro Takemura was far more able to live without feeling that all hope had been lost.

There was a restaurant in Japantown on the top of a megabuilding, small but with views of the entire city, soundproofing worthy of the name, and the only smell was the best food within his price range. It was fast becoming Goro's retreat from the city, and he often went there after a job, as if to cleanse.

As it was that night.

Someone had stolen some Biotechnica data in a shard, taking a hostage to do it. Something to do with genetically modified corn. They thought they could sell the data to another corp before a solo got to them. They discovered the truth of their error when Goro's gun and blade ended them. The hostage was safely delivered, the data delivered back to Biotechnica via a third party, and Goro's reputation grew that bit larger.

Having received payment, Goro had enjoyed his meal and sat watching the sun set over the city and ocean beyond, sipping a bowl of sake.

Japan lay in the direction of the setting sun, and his mind ticked over, trying to plan for some way to get back to it. The route was as yet unmapped. It was frustrating, but he did not allow it to show. Such moments could not be tainted by the spirit of disharmony.

And who better to disrupt this one, than the agent of disharmony herself.

His phone connection rang in his ear; Rogue was calling. More work? It must have been urgent, for her to call so soon after paying him for a job just completed. He answered, and her image appeared in his sight. She appeared to be wearing body armour, and had a submachinegun slung under her arm.

"Good evening, Rogue-san," Goro said, when the connection was made, "I trust there is not a problem with the work I did today? Or is there something else I can help you with?"

"Calling you to give you a heads up, Takemura-san, since you've played nice," Rogue replied, "You're in danger. Just got word that Arasaka agents have been sniffing around, looking for you."

"So Yorinobu has finally decided to end my life," Goro mused aloud, taking a sip of sake, "I wondered if my working for you and others would cause him to reassess his decision to leave me alive. He assumed I would be too proud to work here, perhaps that I would commit suicide rather than dishonour myself."

Rogue shook her head.

"As far as I can tell, the decision didn't come from Japan," she said, "I would've heard. This is some sort of local play as part of a bigger deal. There have been disturbances at the waterfront and NCPD have cordoned off Corpo Plaza."

"Is that why you appear ready for battle?" Goro asked, "You assume that you too will be targeted."

"Exactly. Someone in Arasaka Tower has decided to clean up the mess that Johnny and V made as a statement, would be my guess," Rogue agreed, "If they're coming for you, it's a good bet they're coming for me too. You can't go anywhere you would normally go. Knowing you, you're probably at that restaurant right now, you need to get out."

Goro knew that was good advice, but ill-timed. Something appeared on the edge of his peripheral vision as he looked out over the city, turning into several somethings as he turned his head to see. Three AVs, jet black, with a cloud of drones around them... flying straight for the building he was standing in.

"Rogue-san, I fear it is already too late for me," he said, "As I do not think I will get the opportunity again, I thank you for allowing me to work with you."

"Don't thank me," Rogue frowned, "Thank V. I took you on because he said you were even better than he was. Not sure that's true, but it was a pleasure all the same."

That news greatly displeased him, but it was not the moment for such feelings.

"Save yourself," Goro smiled, "And may the gods be kinder to you than they were to me."

"Good luck," Rogue replied abruptly, before hanging up.

Goro remained where he was and finished his sake, as the AVs landed on the roof with a clang and the drones went into orbit around the floor. The civilians around the restaurant panicked and fled, making for the emergency staircases and the elevator in a rush, and within a minute, he was alone.

He poured himself another bowl from the small bottle, and was mid-sip when the doors blew off their frames, and twenty Arasaka cyborgs boiled into the room, sweeping and clearing, pointing their assault rifles this way and that. He could see it in the glass in front of him, as the darkness turned the windows into mirrors. They had not opened fire at once, which was strange... but also encouraging.

With a sigh, Goro Takemura rose from his chair, picking up his katana as he did so, and turned to face his opponents. He raised the sheathed sword up, and pulled it slowly from the scabbard, showing the blade to them. When it was fully exposed, he flourished the blade and leveled the blade at shoulder height, point towards the nearest enemy.

A sense of absolute calm spread through his veins, a catharsis.

"Takemura-san, that would not be wise," said a voice in Japanese, its owner walking in.

It was Kenichi Zaburo... a man of great repute. Rival of Morgan Blackhand no less, a name that Goro had paid little heed to before coming to Night City. Zaburo-san was wearing black like the other Arasaka agents, his helmet revealing only his face, complete with scars and deep brown eyes. This was not a fight that could be won, but one that had to be fought nonetheless.

"Zaburo-san, I will not yield," Goro said, "Yorinobu is a murderer and traitor."

"We know," Zaburo replied, "We are not here to kill you, but we could not take the chance that you would... misinterpret our presence. I must demand you disarm yourself."

That was unexpected. The readiness for battle he felt ebbing slightly, Goro lowered his sword.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Sheath your weapon and you will find out," Zaburo insisted, before raising an arm to aim a projectile launch system, "Or I can end this right now."

The cyborgs all pointed their armaments at him too now, fanning out to cover all possible angles. Goro glanced around the room at them, half-tempted to charge in the hope that he would cause Zaburo to hesitate to cause harm to his own troops. He had the sub-dermal armour to survive a number of hits from rifles.

But curiosity was getting the better of him, and with some doubt, he sheathed his katana once more, and gently placed it on the table.

Zaburo pointed at the weapon, and two of the cyborgs advanced, one pointing his gun in Goro's face and the other collecting it, before withdrawing.

"We're ready," the leader of the agents said at last, to someone else on the end of a holo line.

There was a wait of about a minute and a half, before another figure appeared through the shattered doors, and Goro could not believe his eyes.

Michiko Arasaka, leader of the Hato faction.

"Hello Goro," she said cheerily, "We've got a lot to discuss, don't we?"