The New Man: Adam Smasher Si

by Crossposted

Crosspost of Seat Admiral’s fanfiction on SpaceBattles, all credits go to the original author.

7. Upload 07

The single most important factor in combat was not armor. Armor was a vital part of staying alive in a fight, and was good for making sure you lasted long enough to inflict damage, but it could be defeated by enough raw power. Raw power was incredibly useful, and a vital part of making sure you could actually hurt the enemy you were fighting, but it wasn't more important than speed. Speed is war, was the common saying, the faster that you moved the harder it was to hit you and the harder you could hit others, but it was useless without the last thing.

Targeting, and more specifically target prioritization. All the armor, power, and speed in the world wouldn't help you at all if you were aiming at something that didn't matter. Your attacks had to hit the enemy, and ideally they'd hit the enemy where it was most effective in order to ensure that you couldn't be hurt in turn. This was the first and most important lesson he had been trying to teach the kid (and the others too, he supposed).

If you have enough armor to ignore an attack, then you ignore it for taking out targets that could get through your armor. If you have enough power to take out a fucker in one hit, you go for that fucker as opposed to targets that take two hits. If you have enough speed to avoid one attack, but not the other type of attack, then you kill the fucker you can't avoid first. A very simple list of things to keep in mind, and apply to any given combat that you find yourself in.

When he had first started this fight, he was unsure about the amount of damage that the bots with guns could do to him. After being shot a couple of times, he could confirm 'rather little'. So he was able to ignore them for taking out a ramming vehicle. A ram from one of those would be much more damaging than a volley of bullets, so he focused on taking them out first.

Both of these he could take out in one good hit, unlike sparky throwing lightning bolts at him. Adam had scrapped two panzerfuckers thus far, each one needed multiple good hits to take out, and were faster than him, which meant that he had to get clever with his attacks. Even more than that, sparky here threw lightning around, making it three for three on the fuckers being faster than him and hitting harder than him.

So, with sparky having help, and being really fucking costly to go after if he messed it up, the best course of action was to kill all of his santa's little helpers first.

Adam had let his guard down for a fucking second, and now his back armor was fucking gone. He was now vulnerable to any stray bullet making it in there, meaning that he couldn't afford to ignore any fire coming his way. Which meant that he had to get clever again. Ninety-five bots with guns, three armored cars, and one fucker throwing lightning. It would have been easy if it was just a big railgun or something, now that he had the panzerknight's trick.

But no, it had to be lightning. He growled as he finished bending the armored hood of the car he had been using into an improvised plate of back-armor. It was cumbersome, but it would be better than letting stray bullets into his back and all the delicate myomer and frame within. Turns out, being strong enough to throw trucks around had some big advantages when it came to construction work. He was expanding his skillset from interior decoration to arts and crafts.

He rolled his joints and twisted around to make sure everything was a decent fit. It had been a full minute since he had crashed into this building, and the fucker was simply waiting for him to come out. How fucking annoying, he was fighting someone smart.

He walked over to another one of the stone pillars, it was a decent size. His new frame was rated for up to five-thousand pounds or so, which meant heavy shit stopped being heavy.

Jumping into the air, he punched the part of the pillar that connected to the roof and shattered it. Landing on his feet, he spun into a kick against the base of the pillar, destroying it as well. It started to fall over, so he grabbed hold of it as it fell and let it rest on his shoulders. His feet partially sank into the concrete floor from the weight. Maybe about three-thousand pounds right here, a perfect distraction.

Hefting it, and adjusting it to have one end of it held on his palm, he threw it like a javelin against the leftmost wall. It started shattering the wall as it passed through. He activated his sandevistan as soon as he heard gunshots start to pour onto it, and charged the opposite wall with a shoulder-bash.

A flash of light outside, and a crack-boom of thunder followed.

He smashed through the wall with barely a pause, and looked to the rooftops as he raced across the alleyway. The bots were already starting to adjust their aims to him. Heh, too late fuckers.

He smashed through the opposite wall, and into the second building. His sandevistan deactivated. This building probably had bots over it, looking down at the streets from above. So he started smashing the pillars inside. One pillar, two pillar, red pillar, blue pillar.

The inside roof groaned dramatically after about thirty seconds of smashing, and he grinned. Just as the roof gave way, he activated his sandevistan again. He grabbed a pillar he had broken, and threw it through the undamaged wall. He grabbed a second pillar, and threw it back through the first hole he had made.

A flash of light, and the second pillar was struck by lightning. He was two fucking steps ahead of you, sparky. He ran through the new hole he had made, and smashed into the opposite side wall again. His sandevistan deactivated. Behind him, the building collapsed against the first building, making them both break into fresh rubble for him to throw. No bots were caught in that, unfortunately, but now he had a fuck ton of fresh ammo, the cars had a blocked path, and the bots had two less buildings to stand on.

He grinned, and then looked around the building. This one didn't have any pillars supporting its inside, it was some sort of reception area down here. How disappointing, he walked over to the intact receptionist desk and engaged in some more arts and crafts. It was a semi-circle of reinforced plastics made to look like wood and bars of reinforced metal. It would do.

He picked up the entire thing by the inner-middle of the semi-circle. It covered his front and his head, which was all he needed it to do. Then, he braced himself in front of the building, holding it in front and slightly above him. He activated his sandevistan, and ran forwards as fast as he could to the scrap-pile of broken cars in the center of the road.

He crashed through the front of the building, the front of the reinforced desk promptly starting to be shredded by a hail of bullets. He ran forwards, the lightning never struck, sparky was waiting for him to reveal a limb no doubt. Too bad fucker.

He got to the scrap pile of cars, ignoring the hail of bullets from his sides and continuing to ravage his temporary cover. He grabbed the armored hood of the other car, and promptly stomped one foot an inch into the ground as his cover disintegrated. He raised the armored roof just as his sandevistan ceased.

Light flashed, and the armored roof was suddenly a blinding hot temperature according to his thermal and infrared sensors. A brief jolt ran through him, and promptly disappeared into the ground through his foot. The hood of the lexus was armored slag now, but a slagged chunk of metal was still useful as cover. He hefted the main body of the car up, and leaned it against the slag of the armored hood. Two quarters of cover in the middle of the road, took him all of two seconds.

More importantly, it let him have access to the best weapon that came with a Lexus-ZS-5000. He activated his sandevistan, the bullets raining upon him slowing to a crawl as they fell. He ripped open the bottom of the car to reveal all ten of the unarmed proximity mines, conveniently frisbee-shaped. These were installed just in case an Arasaka exec decided they didn't like whoever was behind them at that particular moment.

Every second he lost another fraction of armor to the bullets raining down on him. He planned on slowing that dramatically. One after another he tossed the mines at the rooftops where the fuckers were still shooting him. They were fast, but not sandevistan fast.

Uriel armed them remotely on the way over.

His sandevistan deactivated, a perfect line of landmines exploded midair across a huge section of rooftop, turning at least thirty bots into scrap. Alright, now he had to get to cover again before his temp cover disappeared entirely on him. He buried his fist into the armored car, and turned it to face where sparky had been. Lifting it up, he then ran, his feet burying themselves an inch into the concrete as he dashed for the building that some bots had just been standing on before he blew them up.

He crashed into the front of the building, and turned the armored car behind him as he set it down and slid across the linoleum flooring inside. Sniper rules for most meant never stick your head outside of cover. Sniper rules for him meant carrying cover with him. He checked his vitals again after that whole engagement.

His internals were the same. His back armor was still reading as 'slagged', but he had a plate over that. The rest of his armor had been ablated down to about eighty-two percent.

A third of the bots in exchange for a fifth of his armor. He still had the other vehicles and the panzerbot to deal with. He growled aloud, what a fucking piss-poor situation. Goddamn horseshit is what it was. Uriel had already tried to perform his AI (although neither of them knew if he was actually an AI) bullshit on them, the panzerbot's own AI bullshit had stopped him.

Slow and steady Adam, they didn't have anything that could deal significant damage to him except the lightning, and he could avoid that if he was being careful. They might try coming down to attack him here, but that would make them vulnerable to him throwing more rocks, so he doubted it. So long as he was careful, he would win this.

…His Tsunami Helix would be really fucking helpful right now. He resolved to kill Jun twice if he could manage it. Review of his weapons, a fifty-caliber revolver with eighteen bullets, a kendachi-monothree, four knives. Review of his enemy, one panzerbot throwing lightning, sixty-five or so bots, three armored cars.

The screech of tires from both ends of the road outside alerted him. So, the fucker was trying to ram him, huh? Easy enough to deal with, he would just smash the central pillar as they crashed inside and trap the cars under the rubble.

The vehicles skid to a halt outside of the building, and Adam realized he was wrong. Cursing, he activated his sandevistan and ran to smash against the right wall as a massive array of missiles were fired into the ground floor of the building.

The vehicles that skid to a halt in front of the building were not cars. They were four-legged things with armored torsos, tires on ends of their limbs, and a minigun mounted to their roofs. Oh, and an array of properly full-scale rocket pods on either side of their 'torso'. They were Arasaka Daikani, and it was just his fucking luck that sparky had some.

They were as armored as he was, and twice as durable. They were faster than he was when their tires were out, and right now they had much bigger fucking guns than him. He had nothing that could hurt them except kicking the fucking things, and that wouldn't do much to them.

Goddamn shitfuck bullshit. Lady Luck you better get back to sucking right this fucking minute, or he was going to get mean.

As he smashed through the wall, he realized that she was mad at him. The panzerbot was across the street now, standing on the roof, in that stupid fucking pose.

Light flashed, and he smashed through the wall into the building, tumbling across the floor. All of his sensors recorded pain for the briefest moment, before everything went black.

A full second later, everything came back online, and everything hurt. He had crashed against another reception desk, this one with a stone aesthetic.

He checked his vitals.

His reactor had overheated again, and the emergency system had performed an automated shutdown. It would have to be manually reactivated again. He was now operating on his twelve-hour reserve battery.

His right arm armor was now slag, and the myomer within was barely functional. He could move the limb, but he couldn't move his wrist or hand anymore, it had fused together from the heat. The rest of his frame had experienced similar, but not as severely. His overall flexibility was down, reduced from various micro-sections flash-welding together. He pushed himself up off the ground, hearing the stomps of armored walkers outside.

And to top it all fucking off, his enemy had some heavy fucking artillery too. He was in a situation he very much did not like being in. It was called 'losing'. He snarled through the pain.

Alright fucker, he was about to start playing dirty.

He activated his sandevistan, and ran out into the open, drawing a knife with his left hand and throwing it.

Lightning flashed, and turned his knife into slag in the middle of the air. He stomped the ground, sending a manhole cover into reach of his open palm. Spinning, he threw it like a discus, forcing the panzerbot to move or be cut in half. To his right, the Daikani were firing their rockets again. Bullets were raining down on him.

He stomped forwards in a rush, and planted a foot into the concrete in front of one. The rockets exploded against him as he did, but he had already rooted himself as they blew up. He let the kinetic energy travel through him, and into his slagged right arm. He punched with it, right into the 'face' of the Daikani.

His sandevistan deactivated. The front half of the Daikani collapsed inwards. He grabbed another knife, spun, and tossed it at the fucker again. Two knives left.

Lightning flashed, and turned the knife into slag in the air in front of him. Three second intervals, he could work with that.

Adam did not have enough armor or speed to handle the panzerbot's gimmick. He did not have enough cover to handle the Daikani rockets. His only advantage right now was power. He had to use it before they damaged him too much, otherwise he would be dead.

That meant his defensive focus would no longer work. He had to go fully on the offense, and hope he could outpace their level of damage. Bullets continued to rain.

He stomped forwards again, into the reach of the Daikani. It could not fire its missiles or its minigun at this range. It tried backing up and smacking at him with a limb. He had already rooted himself. He activated his sandevistan again, his intervals were a bit fast, he was starting to heat up too much again.

The limb crashed against his slagged right arm. He let the vibration travel through his body, and down into right leg. He twisted on his left, and crashed the foot into the other front-limb of the Daikani.

Simultaneously, he threw a knife at the panzerbot, getting a location as he swiveled his head around. His foot collided with the limb, his knife collided with lightning. His sandevistan deactivated.

The front limb of the Daikani burst into scrap, and it fell forwards on the now limbless corner of its body. Perfect cover from the rain of bullets coming down on him. He stomped forwards, getting under the Daikani entirely. He punched upwards, into its vulnerable underside. Very few people put armor on the bottom of a vehicle meant for riot suppression, when they could put the extra weight elsewhere.

His fist crashed through, and he tore his way into the central cockpit of the thing. He climbed inside, and took a brief moment to pause. He let his sandevistan cool for a few seconds as he stayed inside the thrashing combat walker. He checked his vitals.

Armor on back and right arm slagged. Damages through his entire structure. Armor everywhere else ablated down to about fifty-five percent.

It was about that time that his thrashing cover stopped moving, and the torso promptly exploded. He was ejected from it, flying through the air unexpectedly. He threw a knife at Sparky's last known location.

Sparky had moved. Adam's legs promptly turned to slag as he tumbled through the air and crashed into the pile of rubble from the first building he had crashed into.

He had been in more pain before, but it was a really fucking close thing.

He tried moving his legs. They were melted through, as bad as his right arm had been. He could barely force them to shift from the sudden welding. He was exposed, his legs were crippled, and the panzerbot hadn't taken a hit yet.

Adam Smasher absolutely refused to die here. His left arm was still functional. He grabbed a slab of concrete and held it up in front of his body. Alright, he had cover…

What the fuck was the next step here?! His legs were barely moving!

"You have fought well, Adam Smasher." The now absolutely infuriating voice of the panzerbot called out over the rain. "But I am Legacy of Aryas 88, bearer of the word Storm. You could not hope to defeat me here."

"Shut the fuck up." He snarled out, using his barely-functional right arm as a brace to push himself up. What the fuck had hit him?

Apparently, it was the anti-tank missile of a Daisasori down the fucking road. Great, the fucker had somehow gotten his hands on the military upgrade for the fucking Daikani! He was going to kill Jun as soon as he could after this, he wasn't going to die here. He wasn't going to die to fucking anything!

Uriel washed over everything he could, desperate to hack anything.

His fire couldn't get through the fucking halos on them all.

Aryas got into that fucking stance again, the Daisasori started stomping its way over, and all the remaining bots of the rooftops readied their guns.

He wasn't about to die here, he fucking refused to, not to some fucking scrap with a joke name!

A gunshot rang out. Sparky's head snapped back as all of its bots turned their guns to something behind Adam. Adam kept his cover raised in front of him.

"Kept you waiting, huh Smasher?" A voice he wasn't familiar with called out.

Two meatbags rushed to either side of him, and deployed one of the composite plastic instant cover blocks in front of him. The meatbags had cat ears.

The boom of a few dozen automated rifles rang out, and a dozen or so rockets crashed into the Daisasori from uncloaking figures. They had cat ears.

He shifted his head back, seeing a line of meatbags behind him. All clad in stealth cloaks and armored suits. All with thirty to seventy percent chrome except two.

A lion-faced female borg, and an unassuming old man gemini.

All except the old man had fucking cat ears.

Adam had never hated a sight more in his life.

DangerGal was primarily an investigative corporation, focused on the gathering of information and in operations that cooperate with local law enforcement wherever they are hired to go out to. They receive the details of a job from the client, they go investigate, and get the information out again. This was their primary money-maker and advertised service.

But, Trauma Team was also supposed to be an emergency health care service, and they carried some of the heaviest firepower in the city. The simple truth was that investigating the illicit actions of others was a very quick way to get people shooting at you. Most of DangerGal was in non-combatant members, girls that knew how to shoot a gun, and had a bit of skinweave, and an arm mounted taser for fuckers that don't listen to 'no'. They were the day-to-day operatives, the girls (and a couple boys) that most people called in for private investigator services.

But just like Trauma Team having custom AVs, ACPAs, and heavy armor infantry units, so too did DangerGal have their own elite units. The twenty-seven 'callsign' elite DangerGal operatives, the most dangerous girls (and guys, she wasn't forgetting about you two!) in the entire corp. Each one received a callsign based on the old NATO phonetic alphabet, and often had a specialty or two.

Alpha was overall field command when they had to deploy. He wasn't the best in a fight, but he could hold his own, and was good at coordinating everyone else. He liked to joke that he was the resident cat herder. He could joke about that all he wanted, she was still going to make fun of his silly captain's hat.

Echo was the girl in charge of handling the communications tech, and making sure that everyone got the orders that they needed. She was snippy and bossy and gossipy, but she was always on top of the situation. She was calming to listen to on a job, because you knew that she was watching out for you.

Sierra was the girl who was deployed for single-target eliminations and captures. Quick, efficient, calm, and dedicated to making sure she got the job done. She didn't let any setback trip her up on a job, but she was also way too gloomy. Also she smoked, which was gross and they had to tell her to go outside.

Whiskey was their chief medic, X-ray was the best stalker, and Mike was the public relations gal.

She was callsign Uniform, best at the technical stuff out of everyone. She knew how machines worked better than any of them, and could fix anything in under an hour with the right tools. She was the gal that was responsible for fixing everyone else's chrome, and worked with Whiskey to install the stuff. She was recently starting to regret her passion for robots.

Because she was the one that was told to give the super-terminator of Arasaka field repairs. To her right was a deployable cover block rated for about half the firepower it was currently blocking from potentially hitting her. In front of her was callsign Kilo, their resident ACPA jockey, who was making sure to shoot at anything that looked in their direction. To her right was a massive box of on-sight modular armor plates for quick chrome repairs.

Laying on the ground in front of her, glaring through a face that was half-burned to reveal a metallic skeleton underneath charred synth-flesh, was Adam Smasher. He hadn't made a single noise since she started getting her tools out, and she was thankful for it. She might die if he growled at her too loudly, the situation was stressful enough already.

She was performing field repairs on a super-borg while the entirety of the DangerGal elites were engaged against an army of cyberforms and a second super-borg that could throw lightning, protected by a single ACPA and a block of foamcrete. Needless to say, she was very glad her arms were chrome, they could only shake if she wanted them to.

Alright gal, one thing at a time. First step, diagnostics. She reached up and pulled the interface plug out of the side of her neck and reached…

She realized a problem. She stared at Adam Smasher, interface cord stretched out in her left hand. She was frozen looking at him glaring at her. His face was twisted into a snarl.

Cmon Uniform, you have a job to do. She swallowed down her fear.

"I need your diagnostics for repairs." She spoke out, voicebox carefully modulating her words to display nothing else than the absolute professionalism of DangerGal. There was a long quiet.

Well, quiet wasn't correct. They were still in an active and storming battlefield. There were constant gunshots, falling rain, and the occasional punctuation of booming thunder and a flash of light. Her point was more that there were no words exchanged for a few seconds.

He glared at her through a half-burned face. After a long moment, he growled out in reply.

"...I will fucking murder you if you try anything, meat."

That was possibly the scariest thing she had ever heard. She calmly nodded, and he reached up to pull out his own interface plug. The neck armor was welded shut there. Before she could reach over with her integrated metal saw, he got frustrated and ripped the entire section of neck armor right off.

The pain equivalent for something like that was like a normal person grabbing a sternocleidomastoid muscle and ripping it off. She pushed down her sudden urge to vomit, he probably had pain editors. He pulled out the interface plug, and she connected the two.

She immediately realized he didn't have pain editors, as she nearly flinched from the sudden and overwhelming vitals info feedback that she was receiving. Normally much of this was muted or dimmed in neural feedback 'volume', which was one of the nicer features of PEs. She activated her autoinjectors to give her a fresh and immediate dose of headache medication and tried to read through the information as the meds went to work.

It did not look good. Underneath the ruined layers of the (absolutely gorgeous layers of monocrystalline ceramic composite, ablative heat-dissipating ceramics, and foamed metal) armor were the strands of his heavily heat-damaged array of (beautiful fusion-powered contracting crystalline poly-nucleutide lattice) plasteel myomer. She couldn't do anything about the myomer in a field repair, but she could strip off sections of the damaged armor and replace it with (ugly and substandard mass produced plates, they shouldn't be in the same air as this frame).

The (hot and heavy, utterly marvelous and efficient) microfusion reactor had gone into automatic shutdown from its temperature spiking too high. He was now running off of (thick, girthy, high efficiency industrial standard) backup batteries, which should last him for another eleven hours of safe usage, she could ignore that for now. The biggest problem was the back, right arm, and left leg, all of which had been completely stripped of armor and the myomer underneath partially melted.

She could replace the armor plating, but the myomer was a straight wash in a field repair unless they had quick-change limbs of the same type and size. Which they didn't, because the back-up parts to repair Adam Smasher were an Arasaka corporate secret and kept under tight lock and key.

She gave his frame a final once over, wincing at the plate of hamfisted metal that he had clearly bent into shape as a temporary plate of back armor. It was like he took the hood of an armored car, tore it into a manageable sheet, and then bent it around himself like a stiff cape.

She let herself focus on the lack of pain editors again. She was acutely aware of what the sensors must be relaying back to him right now. Her experience in this exact type of repairs gave her information that was quite unfortunate to have at this moment.

…She ignored that for now.

Letting the world around her disappear, she got to work performing the cybernetic equivalent of a skin transplant on someone without anesthetic. She nearly vomited again.

—

All of the DangerGal callsign elites had been deployed to a singular battle. That was an almost unprecedented amount of firepower. Their non-elite members had been told to join up with the Arasaka security in and around the Smasher fortress and brace for a potential siege. Their twenty-six elites and the old man Zaburo had been sent out to support Smasher after hearing something quite unbelievable.

X-ray reported to mama through Echo, Adam Smasher was not favored to win his current battle.

It was understandable, upon hearing the reports from X-ray about the battle in progress as they moved to position. A century of cyberforms, a sextant of dronecars, a trio of cyberwalkers, and another one of the so called 'Ordo Panzer'.

DangerGal as a whole had something of a panic upon learning that there was an entire faction of what they had dubbed 'boomers'. Boomer was something of a joke term at first, a pun about atomic weapons, and was only applied to one individual before. Adam Smasher, boomer, a singular cyborg that could be reasonably expected to defeat a standard military battalion with full equivalent vehicle support. That was a very exclusive list indeed.

In all of DangerGals years of operations, they have never found more than about fifty such cyborgs. Adam Smasher, the nine DaiOni, and then various other individuals from other corporations and factions. Their most recent addition to this list was something of a 'what if'. David Martinez when installed in the Cyberskeleton was most certainly a Boomer, there was no doubt about that, but outside of it he was most certainly not.

Callsign Victoria was almost a Boomer. The simulations all showed the same result however, she simply didn't have enough armor to last long enough to defeat everyone. Any more armor, however, and she wouldn't be able to use her maneuvering thrusters as efficiently. She'd be slowed just enough to let even more damage through and thus die even faster. It was a private shame of hers. Her recent hobbies have included running through the DangerGal 'boomer test' simulations over and over again, and not much else.

The old man, Zaburo 'Zero' Kenichi, was also almost a Boomer. He could easily be one if he ever decided to upgrade his chrome, that much everyone was aware, but no. Zero had steadfastly stuck to an incredibly basic set of chrome. A gemini full conversion tuned up for reflexes and speed, a kerenzikov and boostmaster, emp shielding, and a set of thickened myomer. In a duel, he was nigh-unbeatable, but he simply didn't carry heavy enough weaponry to overcome armor elements.

No one else in DangerGal was even close to the coveted title. Others in DangerGal certainly had a half-decent chance at beating either of them, provided they get the chance to rig the fight in their favor beforehand. Boomer was a title reserved for the absolute strongest individuals, it was the plateau, the highest level of performance that any individual on the planet had even reached.

So when they learned there was an entire faction of possible Boomers, DangerGal fell into a massive panic for a little while. The first was 'Chandra Gupta', a potential Boomer encountered in the sewers by Adam Smasher. Adam Smasher had lost an arm, much of his armor, and many missiles in that fight. For the absurd acceleration thresholds the bot could reach, and the armor-defeating blows of panzerfaust it utilized, the simulations predicted that it was well within the 'boomer' category.

Then there was the attack in France. A second member of this supposed 'Ordo Panzer' had revealed itself, promptly fought through roughly two hundred elite security agents without a scratch, and almost killed Adam Smasher at the end of it. Slower and heavier than the first, but that kinetic redirection trick (which they were still convinced was mostly magic and not science) meant that attacks with any conventional weapon would be useless. Simulations showed that it was still well within the 'boomer' category.

Then, almost simultaneously, a third attack. Now at Night City again, and against Arasaka Tower itself. A singular bot that entered through the roof and fought its way down to the lobby, before getting on an armored bus and leaving with the surviving heavy infantry it had brought. A member of the ordo panzer, as it was revealed by its later fight with David M. The bot had crippled its combat efficiency out of arrogance, and still slaughtered an entire new gang and almost took out David M. and Lucyna K. Absolutely boomer tier when not falling prey to ego.

Now, another member of the Ordo Panzer had been spotted engaging Adam Smasher. Adam Smasher, who had been reduced to sub-standard weapons loadout, cut off from all external support, and confronted by more than just the fellow Boomer. It was a Boomer with a company of cyberforms, a squad of dronecars, and a trio of cyberwalkers. It was a Boomer that could throw lightning too, because why not.

So the plan going in was simple. Uniform and Kilo would protect and try to get Smasher some field repairs. Most of DangerGal would engage the cyberforms to hold them back or eliminate them if possible, and three would go engage the enemy boomer. Herself, Zero, and Yankee.

Yankee was their resident sniper. She got cyberarms and a linear frame just so she could use bigger and better sniper rifles. Of course, she wasn't actually using a proper sniper rifle. She was using a 12.7mm assault rifle with an elongated barrel. It was a smartgun, and it used smart bullets. It was very hard to avoid taking damage from a constant stream of very big bullets that were actively following you as you tried to dodge.

Her and Zero's jobs were simple. Engage the enemy and last long enough for it to fall to or retreat from the waterfall of laser-guided homing bullets, making sure to keep the boomer from attacking Yankee. Victoria scoffed under her faceplate. She'd do mama one better and kill the boomer outright.

The thing about large predators is that they almost never look up. She grinned, and let go of the glider. Rapidly, she started falling, adjusting her aim with the array of thrusters that covered the entirety of her modified copernicus full conversion frame.

She accelerated as she fell, pulled down with the terminal gravity of the earth. She got within range for her ECM to cover the battlefield. All at once, communications were flooded with the snarls of a mechanical lioness. She grimaced when she detected the ECCM cut right through her jammer. The boomer came prepared for jammer warfare, unfortunately for her.

Fortunately for her, it still wasn't looking up. By the time it did, after dodging a stream of bullets by moving behind cover, it was too late. The boomer had just used its sandevistan just before. Her sandevistan was good enough to beat its kerenzikov. That fact made her growl to herself, these boomers were fucking ridiculous with their speedware. A kerenzikov and a sandevistan were compatible in the same way cocaine and meth was, they should be loonier than a long-term asylum ward right now, not cognizant enough to speak.

Her prehensile, clawed feet crashed against one of its front arms. Her leg-mounted impact absorbers shattered under the force of absorbing her terminal velocity fall, she ignored the pain. The boomer had no such luxury.

She crashed into the ground like a falling meteor, and sent them both through the roof of the building and into the floor below. She hit the ground and rolled on it until she collided with a wall with a heavy boom. She pushed herself up as fast as she could, letting her jets push her up and digging a claw into the wall at the top of the now-shattered roof. She grinned viciously as she looked at her prey.

The boomer had lost its front-right arm in trying to block that, her clawed feet acting as an industrial guillotine to sever it in two places. She wouldn't be able to pull that off again, but she wouldn't need to. She had just taken one of the boomer's arms, the fight was almost guaranteed to be in their favor now. She glanced around and realized that Yankee would have to reposition to accurately fire at their target, oops.

She couldn't afford to slow down here, lest the boomer gets to throw lightning again. She lashed out with one arm, letting her claws detach and fly forwards like improvised throwing knives. She straightened her arm out and let another set fall forwards to replace them as she looked at where the boomer was going to dodge.

Boomer dodged left, she pulled her right arm out of the wall and deployed her pop-up netgun. A web of carbon nanoweave shot out over where the boomer was going to dodge to.

The boomer disappeared, and she was sent sideways. She rolled with the impact, ignoring the pain in her torso, and jumped again once her feet were under her. She stabilized in the air, and looked to see the boomer falling back down adjacent to the wall where she just was. She wasn't even sure if it had activated its sandevistan or not there. Her pain editors were operating in full capacity to manage the neural feedback.

She checked her vitals. Armor on the entire right side of her body heavily damaged, internal structure down to fifty percent. The boomer had activated its sandevistan, and had hit her multiple times in that instant. One instant. If the boomer still had its other arm, she would have died right then and there.

…Adam Smasher had been wrestling with it for close to fifteen minutes, it and its army of drones. She grit her chrome teeth underneath her faceplate.

From the shattered roof a figure dropped down. It was Zero, having finally caught up to their rooftop (under the rooftop?) battle with all of his absurd acceleration. She compared him to the boomer as they engaged each other. Zero was faster normally, but he would be significantly slower whenever the boomer activated their sandevistan.

He lept forwards in a Karate flying kick, the boomer blocked and attempted to counter. Zero twisted into an Iaijutsu stance and drew a monoblade to deflect the counter upwards. The boomer rose with the counter in a rising knee strike, which Zero responded with an Boxing elbow-block. Three entirely different styles used in about one second of combat.

Her sandevistan cycled again. She raced forwards, moving with the full acceleration of her verniers roaring. The boomer noticed and moved to attack her as she approached. She quickly raised an arm and slowed her own momentum just enough to avoid the attack, and continued into a clawing strike against its extended leg.

Her claws of orbital crystal tore out a chunk of armor and servo as she passed. Zero moved to capitalize on the moment.

The boomer's sandevistan cycled. Both she and Zero were sent crashing into a far wall again.

The boomer was gone, she looked up to see it standing on the far edge of the shattered roof. The boomer started speaking, even as it casually wove through a stream of homing bullets.

"That's four styles I recognized from you, old warrior. Tell me, how many have you mastered?"

She had only recognized three. Zero responded with the same casual manner of speech. "Oh, just about all of them I suppose."

As far as she was aware, he was telling the truth. Zero was old long before she was born, and was a master of just about every martial art on the planet. All except her own, which he didn't have the required chrome for, and panzerfaust. She had asked why he never tried to learn panzerfaust once before, in idle curiosity. He had answered simply, 'I would lose a bet'. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, exactly.

The boomer nodded, and lept backwards off the roof. She raced upwards, thrusters roaring. No fucker, you don't get to run away, she was intent on killing you.

As she rose above the rim of the shattered roof, she nearly cursed. She shot a grappling line from her left arm and let it pull her behind cover. The boomer was surrounded by the rest of its cyberforms, all with guns pointed in her direction even as they leapt away, some of them carrying metal boxes.

They were retreating

She snarled under her faceplate. She had the fucker on the ropes, and the coward ran away before she could kill him.

They got an alert to move back to the temporary fortifications. She grumbled. Yeah, that fucker better run. Zero had already leapt up to the rim of the shattered rooftop, and was staring at the retreating bots. He was glaring in his 'considering old man' sort of way.

They proceeded back, being careful to avoid open sightlines from the direction that the bot and all his drones retreated to.

They got back to the blocks of heavily damaged foamcrete, riddled with bullet holes. Smasher was there, struggling to stand up, leaning on his sword like a crutch. Besides her, Zero flinched at the sight.

Mama was there, in front of Alpha with her hands in her coat pocket. She was smiling gently, but in a 'mopey sierra-esque' way.

"...Hey Adam, sorry we took so long."

Adam Smasher glared at her, completely still.

"...Get the fuck away from me."

The Arasaka bunker protocols were first devised during the turbulent twenty-thirties. They were simple in overall concept, but sometimes tricky in execution. They were, in effect, a full withdrawal to the established defensive stronghold. In most militaries it was standard to bring troops back line after line, and slowly bleed off enemy strength as it approached, only falling back when each defensive line was finally overwhelmed.

That was not what the bunker protocols were meant for. The bunker protocols were meant to preserve as many non-combatant lives as possible, and were specifically used when non-combatant assets were currently deployed to the field. It was a retrieval operation that immediately withdrew to the last defensive hold, without the soldiers or non-combatants delaying their withdrawal at other defensive lines.

It was a three step strategy. First, the heaviest and longest-ranged assets were to be deployed to the defensive lines of HQ proper, to defend it and provide covering fire for incoming allies. Second, all mobile assets were to be mobilized and deployed to the field, seeking out the non-combatant assets, and escorting them back to the HQ. Once no more non-combatant assets remained on the field, all surviving combatant assets were to reinforce the heavy assets currently guarding the HQ until the bunker protocols were ordered to cease.

Kagekaze was surprised at receiving such an order from Jugemu Jun. Both because the president did not often directly intervene in security matters, trusting his chief of security to perform his task, and because the bunker protocols hadn't been used in quite some time. It was still a valid strategy, and the security assets were trained in it, but it was… retrograde.

No, not retrograde, there was another word for it. Kagekaze struggled to think of the word as he sent a nonstop stream of messages to all mobile assets in the city, optics jumping between streamed screens and messages in order to best coordinate the fulfillment of the bunker protocols.

The heavy assets had already been deployed to defend the entrances of Arasaka Tower. Three-quarters of the building was guarded by all sniper-specialists they had on hand. The entrance of the building was expected to be hit the worst by the oncoming riot, so their current strongest asset was deployed there.

A single DaiOni, and two crates of extra ammunition. Aoihachi growled out a confirmation earlier, wrestling with the Demon's will of violence. Kagekaze was still concerned for the boy, to be able to hold back the bloodthirst amidst all the bloodshed soon to follow was a mighty task indeed. He hummed to himself, and sent a message to the president.

[Jugemu-sama, requesting permission to replace ACPA asset as your security, and deploy ACPA asset to reinforce HQ entrance.]

The response was nearly immediate.

[Denied. You cannot coordinate the bunker protocols effectively while guarding me.]

Kagekaze paused for a second. This was rather odd.

[Jugemu-sama, I am capable of coordinating them through my internal agent and optical chyron display.]

There was a moment before Kagekaze received a response.

[...Yes, those were invented recently, weren't they? Previous request approved, I am in my office.]

The internal agent had prototypes as far back as 2020, and was widespread in use by 2040. The chyron's prototypical counterpart, the heads-up-display, was also fairly common in the 2020s. He was starting to develop a hint of suspicion.

EMP shielding for fully cybernetic warriors was nigh-infallible, their artificial body allowing total control over the safeguarding of delicate parts. EMP shielding for cybernetics on those that were still flesh and blood was not perfect, however, as you simply couldn't keep the components fully isolated and still compatible with the nervous system. There was always a chance for it to fail.

Jugemu Jun, like almost every Arasaka executive, had extensive neuralware. The chiefest among such was the Black Box. A simple device that recorded everything the individual experienced onto memory chips. A single chipware socket could hold up to ten such chips, each chip storing up to a year of memory. Usually, each decade these memory chips would be replaced and the old set copied onto a hard external database. These databases were then delivered to the Arasaka Data Vault in Japan, and added to the great horde of information sifted through by the mountain-AI that dwelled in those servers.

Jugemu Jun was the president of Arasaka NC, and before that an operations officer in Night Parade. The potential risk of an enemy agent finding the hard database and copying or stealing the information inside was too great. He did not have a single chipware socket to store information, he had ten. One hundred years of potential memory recorded and stored within the chipware safely tucked away under synth-flesh and seamless paneling in his neck.

EMP shielding on those who were still flesh was imperfect. Jugemu Jun had many, many memories that he could review in perfect clarity at any point.

It was, admittedly, a titanic leap in assumptions. Kagekaze had only two pieces of evidence pointing towards something like this. Still, his instincts had served him well in the past, and he was inclined to trust them. Still, it shouldn't be too great of an issue. It could be dealt with after the current disaster was handled.

They had received word of what was happening relatively quickly after the EMPs went off in Night City. A promising young woman named Valerie Taylor had sent the details of the bounty placed on all of Arasaka to him. He had sent a security squad out to retrieve her and her allies as thanks immediately afterwards.

Shaitan… that was a name he hadn't heard in a very long time, not explicitly by any means. There were only so many Eclipse full conversion frames in existence, and Kagekaze's personal information network tried its best to keep track of most of them.

Although they never fought directly, they were the only two Eclipse frames in the 2023 battle of Night City. Kagekaze tried his best to keep track of his activities afterwards, when Shaitan had escaped Adam's grasp by being rescued by mercenary allies, even if reduced to just a biopod at the time. Shaitan promptly got back to doing what he had been doing for years before.

Every few months, an Arasaka asset would be attacked, sometimes destroyed. There was always enough circumstantial evidence to pin the attack on him, even if he was careful to remove most traces of his presence afterwards. Namely because Shaitan cut a large 'S' into at least one surface every time he successfully destroyed an asset.

These attacks were bothersome for years after the fact, but gradually had slowed in frequency even as they increased in success rate. Soon enough, it wasn't an attack every few months. It was a forward operating base going dark every few years. Usually some of the most valuable assets were pilfered, and always a man-sized 'S' was carved into at least one wall or floor.

When factored into the overall cost of tracking one eclipse borg down in the middle of the Cascade and Sierra Nevada mountain ranges, however, the price of smaller bases going dark every five years or so was simply not as costly. As such, Shaitan remained relatively low on the list of priorities for security assets in the field.

He was at the door to the president's office. He briefly paused his musings even as he continued sending messages out to coordinate the bunker protocols, and knocked properly. The multitude of cameras outside the doorway confirmed his visual appearance, and his IFF transponder confirmed his data-identity. The door opened, and he walked inside. The office was dark, running off the bare minimum energy in order to preserve as much of the tower's backup power supply as possible. All of which was standard procedure for bunker protocols.

He nodded to Akakyu, who nodded back. He bowed to the president, as was proper, and moved to the standard guard position. The president did not respond other than a brief nod, currently rapidly typing away at his screen, glasses glowing from the light contrasted in the dark room. No time for ceremony then, it seems.

"Asset Akakyu, you are to reinforce Asset Aoihachi at the front of the HQ." He commanded, to which the hotshot red DaiOni gave an eager nod and stomped its way out the room towards the elevator. The earnest love between those two was downright charming, he approved of it.

He looked at the president, focused so much on his non-stop work. His optics banished the darkness of the room, and he noticed an alarming fact.

"Jugemu-sama, your nose is bleeding."

The president nodded at this, and replied without pausing his work.

"I suffered internal hemorrhaging in a fall earlier. My bioware has already repaired the damage." The president glanced at him, and spoke with a flat tone that carried a slightest hint of humor. "I'm getting old, you know, falls are a bit more exciting for me than they are for youngsters."

That confirmed it in his mind. Kagekaze gave a polite chuckle, and went back to focusing on his work. One optic and his auditory suite focused on the room, and the other optic cycling through streams of information and delivering the correct orders at the correct times. The president would have to see medical and technical attention after this, assuming he survived the aftermath of Arasaka-sama's attention turning fully to Night City after this incident.

Kagekaze doubted it. The mistakes had simply piled up too much at this point. Jugemu Jun was likely going to die very soon, and these were his last few hours or days. He idly wondered if the president would be given the right to seppuku.

The president paused in his work, and suddenly focused entirely on one part of his screen.

"Look here, security chief." He said. Kagekaze focused his optics on the screen, zooming in to look.

It wasn't a well known fact, but Arasaka Tower has three layers of security cameras now. Previously they had two, but the most recent attack on the tower by 'Blackbeard' had caused a revision in the security. The first was a most obvious layer, a basic set of cameras that captured all the expected information that industry standard cameras were supposed to. The second layer was hidden inside of hard-to-spot locations, and recorded information in infrared, virtuality, and ultraviolet as well.

The newest layer was a live x-ray imaging and motion sensor set of cameras and recorders, buried in the concrete walls and connected to an entirely separate power supply. And currently, it was detecting a single individual slowly making its way to underground chambers. The place where the non-combatants were currently being kept safely inside of. That individual was invisible to standard optics, infrared, and ultraviolet.

Kagekaze recognized the silhouette. It was one he used to have. "There is a lone Eclipse cyborg making its way towards the non-combatants." He spoke in grim realization. "Circumstantial evidence would indicate that to be enemy combatant Shaitan."

The president nodded slowly. Kagekaze was about to deploy security assets to engage with him, but was stopped by the president's next words.

"Security chief, you are to engage the enemy and protect the non-combatants."

He paused. "Jugemu-sama?"

"Cyborg-Shaitan has decades of combat experience. You are currently the only cyborg upon the Island, as Kuroichi has been deployed already. Our ACPA troopers are unlikely to be experienced enough to defeat him without damaging the structural integrity of the tower."

The president looked up to him.

"I will initiate a lockdown of my office. You are to engage the enemy. That is an order."

Kagekaze nodded, and departed. After he left, the locks on the reinforced door engaged, and the metal panels dropped down from the ceiling slots.

The screen indicating the enemy's location flickered once.

Above the seat of the highest authority among Arasaka in the North American continent, hanging from the ceiling, a wicked spirit silently decloaked.

The biggest predators never look up.

—

David Martinez had a slight problem at the moment. He was currently outside of Arasaka Tower, and he wasn't technically an employee of Arasaka. He had been given a warning shot when he tried to get back in, and an apologetic message from Aoihachi about the circumstances. That was when he first learned of the city-wide bounty hunt going on. Fucker, don't blow a basketball sized hole in the concrete next to him as a warning short, he nearly panicked and shot back.

So, for the rest of the night, he was stuck outside of the relative safety of the tower. That was mostly fine with him. Lucy, Rebecca, and his mom were all already inside the tower, and thus under the safety of the lockdown. He could outrun gonks that thought they could cash in on a bounty from him all night, fast is what he was good at. That part wasn't a problem.

What was a problem was that he knew for a fact that Katsuo was supposed to be about halfway between the tower and Pacifica right now. He had been heading back to the fortress to finish his paperwork for the day there. Katsuo, by his own admission, was not good in a fight. Katsuo was also currently on some exec's bad side, David wouldn't put it past them to try and delay security assets to him.

He wasn't about to trust his friend's life to the slimy fuckers that he's been dealing with this past week. So he was running, and constantly trying to call the stupid asshole who wouldn't pick up. There was a good chance the EMP earlier took out his internal agent, so that wasn't terribly unexpected. It was still worrying.

So David ran along the various roads between the tower and Pacifica, back and forth, from most likely to least likely, looking for his blue-haired asshole of a friend. Everytime some fucker shot at him, he rushed in and blew their head's off. He took their guns too for good measure, he would need the shots before the night was over.

It had been an hour since he started. He was starting to get worried.

"On your right, bossman!" The 'all-american' voice of his new shotgun scope called out.

He rolled under a slug fired from some hobo with a pop-up gun in his arm. David hated him already. He activated his sandevistan, raced forwards, and punched his skull inwards. The gun looked useless, so he ignored it. His sandevistan deactivated, and he shook the gore off his fist.

"Thanks." he responded, even though he knew it was basically just a chatbot.

"Anytime bossman!" came the cheerful reply from the little speaker now attached to his gun. Displayed on the scope optic was the little animated representation of his gun doing a sloppy military salute.

The Militech Standard Military Shotgun was apparently named 'Miss-Miss'. A tall (relative to the screen size, of course), blonde, and busty girl in an outfit that was half gunmetal grey military uniform, half 'daisy dukes' shorts and tied-up camo shirt. The shirt was either tied up into a knot, or unfolded depending on if the stock was folded or not. She had a lunchbox on her belt, which held an improbable amount of fast food inside. Enough for eight of her cartoonishly massive bites. Such bites often being followed by some truly impressive belches.

Her bra and panties were American flag patterned. He knew this because her clothes were rather skimpy. It was a little embarrassing to carry her around, but she had more than proven her worth at this point, so he ignored the heat on his face whenever someone looked at him talking to her.

He kept running, looking for any hint of electric blue among panicking civvies and running 'Saka cylons. He had been at this for an hour now, he'd keep it up all night if he had to.

He stumbled a bit when he saw a kid being backed into an alley by gonks with baseball bats. He recognized the kid. A kid with brown hair and glasses in a suit that didn't quite fit him.

A kid whose mother he killed a few months ago.

He cursed and stomped a heel into the ground, leaping in that direction.

The gangers turned to the source of the sound. He was already above them. He activated his sandevistan and fired Miss-Miss twice. Two of them found new holes in their temples.

Still in the air, he kicked, and his chrome heel partially hooked around the jugular of the last one.

His sandevistan deactivated, he used his weight to swing the meat to the ground and crush his neck and spine in one smooth stomping motion.

He unfolded from the partial crouch and looked at the kid.

Kid was maybe only a couple years younger than him, but he certainly felt much younger than that with how he tried to disguise his trembling. David sighed, suddenly feeling quite tired from doing his best to suppress the memory of killing this kid's mother.

She didn't need to die. He had killed her all the same. It wasn't a good feeling.

All he could do was keep running.

"You work for 'Saka, kid?" He asked, to which he received a nervous and hesitant nod. David nodded in turn, and walked to the entrance of the alley. He looked over his shoulder at the kid, who was staring at the bodies.

"C'mon kid, let's get you to the tower." He stated. It wasn't really a request. The kid probably realized it was for the best anyways, and started following behind him.

…He was doing unpaid escort duty right now, wasn't he? He groaned internally.

Miss-Miss alerted him to another hostile. He took them out quick as he could and thanked her.

He then realized what he had just done, and glanced at the kid.

The kid was deadpanning at him.

He groaned internally again. Tonight was just the worst.

Arasaka Tower in Night City was one hundred and twenty floors tall. The presidential floor was on the very top of it. The bunker protocols dictated putting the non-combatants into stable underground chambers, which were part of the twenty basement sub-floors beneath ground level. At the very bottom of these subfloors, various tunnels extended outwards like the roots of a tree, going to various top-secret facilities and chambers that were not listed on any official document.

The elevator in Arasaka Tower was industry standard. It traveled up and down at roughly five-hundred floors per minute, and had three total systems to allow this, for the sake of redundancy and ease of repair. Going from the top floor to sub-floor five (the floor in which the bunker chambers were stored) therefore took roughly fifteen seconds. Traveling from the president's office to the elevator took an additional ten seconds. Traveling from the elevator exit to the last known location of the intruder would take an estimated five seconds.

All in all, it took Kagekaze about half a minute to reach the last known location of Shaitan. Now, the race was on to find him. Kagekaze was intimately familiar with the Eclipse frame, it was the frame he had used for so many years. Even to this day, his frame was technically still an Eclipse, albeit a heavily modified and overhauled one.

The Eclipse was designed from the ground up for total stealth capabilities, being heavily specialized for that role. In actual combat it was somewhat unfocused, being split between both lethal combat options and non-lethal combat options. In addition to all of that, it contained several multitools specifically useful for covert operations, such as a lockpick in the right index finger, a micro-bomb in the left middle finger, and a host of other little tools in the fingers. It was an excellent all rounder frame for any given special forces unit that required black ops capability.

That was also its chief limitation. The stock Eclipse frame was an all rounder unit. It was specialized for stealth, yes, but outside of stealth it was somewhat unfocused. Lethal and non-lethal options, a variety of tools and components to enhance utility, ranged and melee options. The stock Eclipse was good at stealth, and good enough at all the things that might relate to stealth. That was not a problem for most, as they would give it after-market modifications suited to their particular specialities.

It made Eclipse frames in particular difficult to predict though. Very rarely was an Eclipse frame ever left in its stock configuration. It also sometimes left Kagekaze in an awkward position, as rare as it was that he actually had to fight a peer opponent head on.

His frame was specifically useful for assassination and mobility. That was what Lord Arasaka required of his ghost, and that's what purpose he had been modified for. His loadout was purely lethal, but his armor and structure were left unenhanced to prevent additional weight that might disrupt his ability to move. He could not afford to stack plates of armor on like young Adam, and bulldoze everything in his way.

Shaitan could have anything in his frame, Kagekaze simply didn't have the information to be absolutely sure. He could make a few assumptions though.

Shaitan likely had at least one retractable monoblade, owing to his habit of cutting an 'S' into target locations. He probably had the full stealth system loadout of the original frame, if not more. He likely had the full sensor array loadout of the original frame, if not more. He likely had speedware of some kind, being so incredibly useful to combatants in the modern age. Everything else was an open question.

The Eclipse frame's stealth systems were not truly innovative, but rather were simply the best combination of a variety of existing systems. The 'Chameleon Plating' was simply a built-in version of the existing Militech Ghostsuit. The sound-absorbing pads on the feet were, again, simply built-in versions of the Catspaw Stealthfoot common among covert street samurai. The ECM generator was a downscaled version of the previous Militech model. The IR-Thermal Dam was outsourced from IEC's model for their Dragoon prototype. The only new tech incorporated into the frame was the fuzzy-logic sound cancellers, and those were quickly reverse-engineered by other corporations.

It was simply a good suit, put together from a wide variety of existing technologies, and the kinks ironed out to make them all work in tandem. It made locating an Eclipse that didn't want to be found exceptionally difficult. Kagekaze had no sensor that was capable of locating himself normally.

Normally being the keep word here.

The Chameleon Plating rendered conventional optics useless. The IR Thermal Dam did the same to render his Infrared optics similarly impotent. The Sound Canceller and Stealthfoot combined to make auditory methods of detection nigh-impossible. The ECM ruined any hope of using radar, sonar, or motion detectors to determine a location.

You cannot see the enemy. You cannot hear the enemy. You cannot sense the enemy. How do you find the enemy?

An armored plate slid away in his left thigh to reveal a larger internal compartment filled to the brim with loose ball bearings. He pulled out a handful at one end of the hallway, and activated his sandevistan.

He threw them to form a perfect grid pattern, covering every location an Eclipse borg-sized object could be hidden from sight.

His sandevistan deactivated, and all but three of the ball bearings flew through the hall and eventually bounced and rolled to a stop at the other end. The three that did not instead soundlessly bounced off the air, and rolled back towards him.

He leapt forwards and lashed out, letting his monoblade slide out of his right forearm as he did. His blade crashed against another, and the form of a customized Eclipse frame slowly melted into view. Their blades were locked, and his skeletal optics glared into a crimson visor.

To find an enemy you cannot detect, you first must hit them.

They were silent as their servos strained against each other, the sound cancellers made sure of that. Kagekaze lashed out in a vibrating palm strike against Shaitan, which was parried. Shaitan twisted that arm to try and place his own arm in a lock pressed against his torso, Kagekaze used the opportunity to deliver a rising knee to the hip-servo, forcing Shaitan to abort his attack and retreat with a leap.

There was a moment of silence. Kagekaze was not the best in open conflict, he had to use every advantage he could. So he began to taunt.

"Is your hatred for Arasaka so great that you would place bystanders in the crossfire, Eclipse Shaitan?" He spoke, to absolutely no response. Shaitan just kept staring at him, silently, weapons readied. Kagekaze continued, "Surely you knew that others would be killed in the chaos you engulfed the city in? How many innocents will die for your grudge?"

The psychological profile on Shaitan from decades of information would normally indicate a response by now. Kagekaze narrowed his optics, suspicion starting to form. He raised his left arm and let the silenced handgun pop-up to fire a round. In order for a weapon to be silenced, it must first be subsonic, and usually must also be rather small in caliber. The weapon that was in his arm was not in any way a threat to the armored plating of a borg of any type, it was too weak.

Shaitan could have completely ignored it for all the damage it would do. He instead lashed out with his monoblade and split the bullet in the air. Kagekaze observed his form. It was perfect.

Perfect, with no embellishments, no flairs, no signs of personal experience. A textbook slice with a right forearm mounted retractable monoblade. Kagekaze nearly cursed to himself in quite a rude manner as he activated his sandevistan and rushed forwards.

Shaitan was not fast enough to react to Kagekaze's blade splitting his head in twain, revealing a purely mechanical interior instead of a biopod.

It was a drone piloting a spare frame, not Shaitan.

He was already racing for the elevator again. That battle had taken no longer than two minutes. It had taken him thirty seconds to get down here, it would take him thirty seconds to get back to the president's office. Three minutes of time in total away from the president.

Kagekaze was very familiar with assassinations. If he were an Eclipse frame trying to assassinate a high level corporate executive, where and when would he infiltrate? He would infiltrate the office weeks before, and wait for the perfect time to strike. Three minutes was an eternity in a battle, and Jugemu Jun was in no way a warrior.

He got out of the elevator and raced down the hall. Once he got within range of the now-armored door of the office, he leapt forwards, leg lashing out in a vibrating kick.

The door exploded inwards, revealing the office.

The president was alive, judging from his breathing, although he certainly didn't look like it. His face had been pulped and crushed into a nearly flat, hamburger-like consistency, and his tendons were surgically sliced in such a way as to prevent movement but not cause severe blood loss. He was being held up by the throat by a heavily modified Eclipse frame.

A bestial faceplate with twisted curling sensory extensions on either side of the grinning mask, and mounted over a glowing red monoeye visor.

Kagekaze did not stop in his movement forwards. He activated his sandevistan. Using his extendable glider flaps to adjust his rotation in the air and kick off the wall again towards Shaitan with the monoblade extended.

Shaitan reacted in time, his own sandevistan active. Their blades clashed, and Kagekaze used his momentum to shove Shaitan away. Kagekaze slid back against the floor, digging grooves with his grip-feet to stop himself. Shaitan caught himself, and braced against the wall, sliding down to land on the ground. All of this, without a sound outside of the storm raging outside.

Shaitan was heavier than a normal Eclipse borg. Perhaps a hundred pounds or so more than standard. His frame was reinforced.

Their sandevistans deactivated. The protections breached, some of the armored paneling began to retract upwards into the ceiling again, a safety measure to allow potential escapes through the window. The light from the city outside began to more properly illuminate the room, a curtain of light trailing upwards from their feet to their heads.

Priority one, protect the president. Priority two, stall for reinforcements. Priority three, destroy the enemy.

"That was a clever distraction, Eclipse Shaitan." He complimented. His enemy quite rudely did not return the banter, merely staring and waiting. No doubt waiting for his sandevistan to refresh. "I applaud you for it."

There was a moment of silence. A flash of lightning illuminated the room. Their sandevistans activated.

They rushed forwards to meet each other in the middle of the room. Kagekaze lashed out with a punch that Shaitan met with an open palm. When he attempted to pull his hand away, it took a fraction of a second longer than he was expecting. Shaitan had magnetic palms.

Kagekaze was delayed just long enough to be unable to react to Shaitan's next attack aside from a hasty block. A spin kick crashed into his side and sent him flying fast enough to crash through the window. Shaitan had customized his frame for immense strength as well.

An unfortunate fact of these windows, they were designed to be heavily armored from the outside but easy to break from the inside. Kagekaze crashed through the window, but raised his left arm to fire a magnetic grapple line from his palm. It collided with Shaitan, who wasn't expecting it, pulling him outside as well. Their sandevistans deactivated.

A roll of thunder swept through the area. Their grip-feet slid down and latched onto the exterior wall of the tower after a second or so of falling. The enemy was removed from the VIP. Proceed with the engagement.

Shaitan grabbed the grapple line on his chest, and pulled it with all of his immense strength. Kagekaze did not try to resist the pull. Instead he kicked off the wall and deployed his glider to sail upwards to the roof of the tower and just beyond Shaitan's reach. Their optics locked as he passed.

He shot his right arm grapple line once his body passed the edge, latching onto the heavy door leading down into the tower from the roof and using the strength of both grapple's retracting to pull Shaitan up and over his head to slam down on the roof in front of him.

The side of the wall was advantageous for neither of them. It was in both of their best interests to get to the roof.

Shaitan slammed down, having twisted midair and landing on his feet. The roof cracked under his weight, and Kagekaze withdrew both lines into his palms once more. Now it was only them, the roof, and the raging storm.

There was a pause in the fighting as they observed each other. Kagekaze's arm and right side was damaged from the earlier kick. Shaitan's legs were both damaged from the slam. They were roughly even at the current moment. Kagekaze took the opportunity to stall for a bit more time.

"Surely you know what the consequences of this night will be? You will be hunted in fullest capacity, rather than being mostly dismissed beforehand." He politely taunted. Shaitan did not respond except to get into his stance again, shuffling slightly, so he continued. "Your goal is to destroy Arasaka, is it not? You cannot do that if you are dead."

Finally, Shaitan responded in a gravely tone. "...I've been dead for a long time, Shinobi. It doesn't matter if I get put down after tonight."

Kagekaze paused and took in that statement, it was painfully nostalgic, and looked closer at his opponent. He sounded worn. "Your goal for decades doesn't matter?" He calmly inquired, his light taunting gone.

Shaitan shook his head. "It was never about the destruction of Arasaka. It was always about an oath."

They started circling each other on that storming rooftop. Kagekaze responded, "What kind of oath would compel you to attack Arasaka above all other things, but is not about its destruction?"

Shaitan replied in an old fury. "The kind that a father swears upon the graves of his children. The kind that a husband swears upon the graves of his wives. The kind a man swears upon finding their defiled corpses." He swept a hand to his side, now beginning to shout. "Never forgive them! Never forget them! To never be a friend to Arasaka!"

A flash of lightning. Their sandevistans activated.

Shaitan leapt forwards, lashing out with his monoblade. Kagekaze spun around the blade and lashed out with his own slash. Shaitan ducked under it, and attempted to rise in an uppercut. Kagekaze gripped onto the roof with one foot, and leaned away from the punch, lashing out with a kick that sent Shaitan flying back.

Their sandevistans deactivated. A rumble of thunder.

It was always unfortunate to come across the results of undisciplined subordinates. He would have to find the ones that committed such an act and see if they were still alive to punish. Their actions have created quite an enemy of Arasaka.

"I am sorry for your loss, Eclipse Shaitan. I will see to it that they are punished if still alive. Indulge me, if you would, why are you telling me this?" It was quite unusual overall, if Kagekaze was being entirely truthful. Most people do not speak about their motivating tragedies so lightly.

Shaitan had landed on his feet. He was silent for a moment. "...I suppose it's something of a confession, before my death. I would want someone to know, even if only my enemy."

Reinforcements had not yet arrived. He had to stall more. "You did not answer me earlier. Why have you decided to die tonight?"

Shaitan did not reply for a long moment. Kagekaze was patient, he was only benefitting from a longer period of inactivity here. Finally, with a particularly strong gust of wind, Shaitan responded.

"...Old killers begin to accumulate regrets. If I get any more, I might stop entirely." Shaitan firmed his stance, and glared at him. "I'd rather die."

…Ah, he saw what was happening now…

Kagekaze raised his extended monoblade in a warrior's salute. Shaitan glared suspiciously. Kagekaze announced strongly over the roaring winds.

"From one Eclipse to another, I will grant you an honorable death, Shaitan."

He had played the part of executioner before, this was no different. To atone for the dishonor of those Arasaka employees so long ago, this was cheap. Shaitan was silent for a moment, before he scoffed.

"I have no intentions on an honorable death, Shinobi."

The reply was simple. "And you will receive one all the same."

A flash of lightning. Their sandevistans activated.

Kagekaze leapt forwards in a vibrating kick. Shaitan moved to cut his leg off with his monoblade. A dreaded mistake. Kagekaze deployed one of his glider wings, using it to turn in the middle of the air, dodging the swinging blade and sending his foot around in a circle.

His foot crashed against Shaitan's other arm.

Their sandevistans deactivated. Shaitan was sent rolling back, arm heavily damaged. A rumble of thunder.

Kagekaze could have pursued, and capitalized on the attack. He did not. He merely waited for Shaitan to rise once more. Shaitan pushed himself up, glaring.

It was not a fair fight, even with his less heavy frame. Kagekaze had more than twenty years of experience in an Eclipse frame more than Shaitan. Kagekaze was raised from birth to be the head of one of the two great shinobi clans of Japan. Kagekaze knew the secret art of panzerfaust.

There wasn't a way for Shaitan to win this battle. Both of them knew that.

Shaitan readied himself for an open charge. Kagekaze returned the stance. They waited for a long moment for their sandevistans to refresh.

For a moment, all there was was the howling winds and crashing rain.

A flash of lightning. Their sandevistans activated.

They charged each other. Their monoblades clashed as they passed each other by. They twisted into a simultaneous set of stabs. Their shoulders locked as their blades went through each other's torsos.

Shaitan had struck an unimportant section of side torso armor. Kagekaze had pierced the central battery unit. A fatal blow for a borg unless they had an independent biopod. Kagekaze did not know if Shaitan did or not.

Shaitan slumped against him. His biopod was integrated.

Kagekaze lowered him down to the floor. Shaitan's hand held onto his wrist as he slowly lost power.

"You fought well." Kagekaze said simply. Shaitan stared up at the storm for a moment. He rolled his head to look at Kagekaze and huffed.

"I told you I had no intention of dying honorably. Why did you bother, shinobi?"

"Because I intended on killing you honorably." The truth was self evident, in the end. He lost nothing for it, and his honor was preserved by doing so. Shaitan stared at his faceplate for another moment. He looked up to the storm, and his optics lit up for a moment. His chyron was clearly active.

Soon, it went dark again, and Shaitan spoke. "...There is a nuclear weapon with a yield of ten kilotons in my central torso. You have one minute."

Shaitan's optics went dark as his body slumped. He had activated his kill switch. Kagekaze's optics opened in horrified realization.

He forced his sandevistan active again. He manually locked it on.

He had to disable the bomb…

No, no time. He wasn't trained in disarming nuclear weapons either. It was never something that came up.

Grabbing Shaitan's body with his legs, Kagekaze fired his grapple lines towards the metal door on the opposite side of the roof. He deployed his glider wings, and let the retracting grapple lines pull him and his cargo into the air.

He immediately began a divebomb to build up speed, pulling the body upwards to make it flush with his body and therefore more aerodynamic.

He pulled up and shot horizontally, towards the ocean.

He had time to think as he approached it. He would not have enough speed to glide away afterwards, not with a detonation of ten kilotons. Rain splashed against his faceplate in slow motion.

…That was fine.

He was Kagekaze. The shadow of the wind. He existed to serve Arasaka. He was a shinobi, tool and weapon of his lord. He had long since redeemed the honor of his son. A flash of lightning in the distance.

If this was where the heavens had ordained his second death, then so be it. He chuckled to himself. He never thought that his death would be so heroic, it was like one of those anime that the children enjoyed so much.

…Ah…

His students would likely be upset, but they would move on. Adam was likely to be furious, but he would not falter.

He approached the ocean, letting himself dive down into the waters that would hopefully contain at least some of the blast.

It was something of a shame though. He was hoping to see young Martinez create that new fighting style.

The water covered his head. He began to sink below the waves.

Geh, how frustrating. He hates it when saltwater gets into his cybernetics.

…

Ten seconds after Kagekaze plummeted into the bay, the Militech Backpack Nuke in Shaitan's chest counted down to zero.

And the bay turned into a volcano of saltwater.

The massive explosion in the distant bay did little to distract him from his current frustration. The distinct teal glow told him that it was highly radioactive, an interesting detail that meant that someone had brought out the heavy weapons on this. That much radiation meant that it had to be a nuke, the plume being so puny meant that it had to be one of those mini-nukes. The kind that he could probably throw like a baseball nowadays.

Meh, he'd have to get rad scrubbers for the workers. The storm was blowing north-west right now, inwards from the sea, so the rads would be carried up to the north half of the city. That was… Maelstrom territory? Might be a good idea to tell the ripperdocs to stock more anti-rad implants.

…Wait, why the fuck would he tell them that? He didn't make money off them. They could figure it out on their fucking own. Distraction over, he turned his gaze back to the street to keep limping back to the temp HQ. Yes, fucking limping like he was a goddamn cripple. The myomer in the right leg and arm was melted through, he couldn't bend the lower half of those limbs at fucking all. It made walking pretty fucking irritating, although it was managable after the meatbag broke all the temporary welds.

So limping up the street as fast as he could, using his very expensive Kendachi Monothree as a fucking cane to make sure he didn't fall. His dignity was already in fucking shambles right now, he wasn't going to allow it to get any worse. He ignored the perimeter of meatbags with cat ears doing their best to avoid his sensors.

Fucking bitch. He told you to get the fuck away from him. That meant your fucking pets needed to go too. He didn't need protection from things objectively weaker than him, which meant everything on the fucking planet. Needing protection meant relying on someones 'good nature' to keep you the fuck alive. That was how you got turned into a pet. That was how you died the moment they got tired of you. He had seen it happen too many times growing up.

One of the streetrats sucks up to some fucker for protection. They get turned into meat within a year. Every fucking time, like clockwork. He was Adam fucking Smasher. He wasn't about to fucking die to anyone.

There was a car in his way on the road. He grunted in frustration, and braced his still-functional foot and the sword. He kicked with his right leg, the partially melted foreleg crashing into the car and sending it flying out of his way with a scream of metal on pavement.

He unbraced himself, and got back to limping up to the temp HQ. The cats around him thought they were being sneaky with all their oohs and ahhs. Fucking cats. He could still fucking hear and see every one of you. Arrogant little cocksure fuckers that think they know how the world works. He ignored them and their fucking crocodile tears. Fucking lying little bitches.

Uriel had been checking the broadcasts to find something to distract him. They had figured out why the city turned into a riot earlier. Apparently one of the fuckers that slipped away from him decades ago had declared open season on every Arasaka employee in the city. How exciting, shame that he was still fucking stuck in Pacifica.

He was contractually obligated to protect Arasaka employees while on an active job. The old man had told him to take care of Pacifica, but that was a long-standing order, not a job. It was fucking frustrating to be unable to go join the slaughter that was no doubt filling the streets right now. He had a plan for this, however.

As he approached the temp HQ, his fury continued to build. The defensive fortifications were all being manned by Arasaka security agents, his rent-a-cops, and a whole bunch of fuckers in skintight bodysuits and fucking cat ears. He had a goddamn infestation, he wasn't even allowed to kill these ones either. They were basically rats for how much of a nuisance they were.

He ignored the rats as he stomped through the fortifications. He ignored the whispers and mumblings and pointing by the fucking meat bags.

That was fine, let them point. He was going to fix his reputation before the night was over. He refused to let this shit go.

He walked through the main entrance. The lobby was fill to the brim with meatbags and security guards and more fucking rats. Many of them on some sort of comms to coordinate bullshit that he didn't care about. He walked past them and into the hallway leading to his rooms in the back. He walked past the fuckers guarding back here too.

The door was still locked. He didn't feel like fucking around with the lock, he just reared back a fist and smashed the door open. The alarms started going off, Uriel immediately disabled them. The sound was annoying, just like everything else was right now. Once inside the still quiet rooms, he walked over to his closet of other bodies, and Uriel interfaced with the only other thing he had right now. His personal Gemini, still untouched after his last session of pumping Victoria.

Didn't matter, a Gemini's skin was as well armored as a set of metalgear plate. He didn't feel like wasting any time looking for his riot armor and putting that shit on. Uriel interfaced with the system as Adam crouched on the floor and mentally triggered his skull to open up. Uriel plucked out his biopod and inserted it into the Gemini, letting the faceplate and skull close shut around the braincase again.

Adam opened the optics of his gemini and checked his vitals. He stood still for a moment and just cycled through sensors and screens. Reactor online, sensors online, ccpl online.

…Everything was green. This frame was fully functional. Good.

He and Uriel could theoretically control two frames at once in a fight. They had been holding off on this to reserve it as a nice surprise for when he absolutely needed it. The most recent fight taught him that he could no longer afford to hold back any advantage against the panzerbots. Next time it wouldn't just be him, it would be two of him. Those scrapfuckers wouldn't stand a chance.

He shoved the damaged frame into the closet and shut the door. He'd get it repaired later. He walked over to his armory closet, and pulled out his MG42, and hooked up the ammo belt. Shrugging on the backpack ammo hopper, he walked out of the armory and made for the HQ entrance. This gun used cased ammo, but he found himself far past the point of caring about litter.

He was going to indulge himself in his oldest and most favorite hobby, killing meatbags always made for a good time.

He walked through the fucking masses of meatbags, ignoring their points and whispers. He walked through the entrance doors, ignoring the fucking rats all over his HQ. He walked past the line of fortifications, and the occasional meatbag walking up to the tower with Arasaka ID's looking for protection.

A standard Gemini frame was nothing more than a slightly worse Alpha frame. You couldn't upgrade its armor, myomer, or structure without defeating the point of making it a Gemini. A Gemini was supposed to look human, plates of armor or reinforced joints did not look human. The best you could do is make it look like a bodybuilder with thickened myomer strands of the standard amount, or make the joints reinforced internally which wouldn't do a whole lot.

His Gemini had thickened myomer, it looked to be about eight feet of rippling musculature. He made everything but the most jacked up meatbags look like jokes next to his body. That did not tell the whole story of course, because his frames came standard with ccpl these days. A normal Gemini was only slightly stronger than the most powerful of unmodified meatbags. His Gemini had thickened myomer and ccpl. His Gemini was stronger than most ACPA were.

Uriel joked about something called 'the pillar men', he wasn't in the mood for jokes until he got a nice fresh coat of gore on his frame.

He kept walking until he got to the border between Pacifica and the rest of night city, and stood in the middle of the highway. Uriel prepared to broadcast his words across all frequencies.

Adam spoke.

"I am Adam Smasher. I am standing in the middle of the south-side highway leading into Pacifica, with no armor and a single gun. The bounty on my head is an insultingly low one-million. I am bumping that up to one-billion eurodollars for the next twelve hours."

He can't leave Pacifica to join the slaughter. The next best thing was to bring the slaughter to him. One MG42, fifteen-hundred shots, and his bare frame against all the meatbags of Night City. It was slightly frustrating how easy it was going to be for him.

He could hear vehicles start to race in his direction in the distance. He rolled his shoulders and pantomimed cracking his neck. Good, they were already on their way. The storm was already beginning to dissipate overhead.

—

It was somewhat annoying to see the meatbags begin to slow down their attacks on him after a few hours. By the time twelve hours had passed and the sun was beginning to rise again, he had barely stacked up thirteen-hundred bodies. They started off frequently enough, but began to fall off later on.

Sometimes a truck would start driving up, see the field of corpses he had made in a circle around him, and immediately turn around.

In fact, most of the non-corpse population around him was meatbags with cameras instead of guns. They weren't attacking him, and they weren't littering, so he didn't have a justification for killing them. He was in charge of Pacifica now, which meant he couldn't kill meatbags unless they broke one of his rules. It was annoying, but after about a hundred fuckers ripped in half by his antique firearm, or turned into a donut by his fist, he was somewhat less annoyed than before.

Murder was always great stress relief, and for a while there the targets were just walking right up to him. He could tolerate the excited shouts of a bunch of meatbags cheering him on. The one with the dog-mods was the least annoying, he decided arbitrarily. A message popped into his field of view, he opened it idly.

…Huh, Yorinobu was in town. He had just gotten an order to come up to the tower and meet him there. He grunted in satisfaction, he hadn't left Pacifica in a week, it was about fucking time. Yorinobu had tier two priority on his long-term contract. Jun's order meant jackshit against it.

He pushed himself up from where he was sitting on the corpse-pile he had made while waiting for more meatbags to show up. Like a hill of meat and murder, it gave him a slightly better vantage point to shoot at meatbags with.

He rolled his joints to make sure nothing was welded together. All clear. He stepped down from the pile of corpses and began walking for Arasaka Tower. The radiation increased as he made his way through the city, but as he was in a shielded Gemini frame that literally meant nothing to him.

Well no, not nothing. He would have to get his frame scrubbed of rads later. That wasn't too hard, just a rad-foam shower would get it all off. The rad-foam was rather toxic to meatbags, but it worked wonders on anything that wasn't flesh. Just another advantage metal had over meat in the end.

There were a whole bunch of meatbags in radiation suits spraying foam everywhere in the streets. Well, the main street that was, they didn't have the manpower to get everything right away.

The blast earlier couldn't have been more than twelve kilotons. Uriel started running the numbers on how long it would take to get radiation cleaned up. It didn't look optimistic.

Most corporate buildings were shielded against radiation, they would go on more or less fine. The civvie buildings would need to be basically destroyed entirely and replaced to prevent rads from seeping into the concrete and staying there for years.

Wait, did radiation do that? Neither he or Uriel were quite sure, and they didn't feel like checking either. In the end, it wasn't something they cared that much about. It was mostly outside of Pacifica, from the looks of his scanner. The worst that would happen is having to take care of the shoreline. He wondered if he could hire a few Samsons for that.

There were stares at him as he walked, probably from the fact that he had a fresh coat of gore-paint on.

He approached the entrance to Arasaka tower, the entrance guarded by the red and blue pair of DaiOni…

He just realized the joke, and grunted to himself. He walked forwards, his IFF checking out on their scanners. The red one cheerily waved at him as he approached and walked through the entrance doors. There was a group of employees in radiation suits and foamers, he grunted and let them foam him down.

Then came the vacuum, which carried the radiation-soaked foam into sealed canisters. It was a decently efficient system. This was the non-toxic foam, which was substantially more expensive to produce or something like that. He didn't know, he never studied the cleanup procedures for post-nuclear weapon deployment.

Now de-radiated, he walked through the entrance properly. The metal detector went off, he ignored it and the meatbag that walked up to him. He was Adam Smasher, he was fucking made of metal, dipshit. He walked up to the elevator, and punched in the button for the top floor.

The elevator music played for a few seconds as he waited to go up one-hundred and twenty floors. The elevator paused and picked up another employee, who stared at him the entire ride up. Why not take a fucking picture meatbag?

About a minute later, he stepped off the elevator to the top floor.

He raised a brow, the door to the president's office was shattered and opened from what looked to be a kick. He walked past the guards at the entrance and into the office itself.

The window had been broken open, the wall had been cracked from what looked to be a borg being thrown against it, and there was blood everywhere.

Jun was sitting on the entrance-side of the desk, his face was badly damaged. Yorinobu Arasaka was looking out to the city below through the shattered window, hands crossed behind a straight back. He had a suit on, but the jacket had been replaced with a black leather biker jacket with a robotic dragon on it.

His hair was slicked back, and a single cigarette hung from his lips. He pulled it out and blew out smoke, finally turning around and looking at Adam over his red-tinted aviator glasses.

He paused for a moment.

Adam waited for him to say something.

Yorinobu took another drag of the cigarette.

Blowing out the smoke, he finally spoke.

"Why are you naked?"

—

The December storm of 2076 would bring with it one of the deadliest riots in American history to Night City. The casualties tally would not be finished for some weeks later. In the end, a confirmed thirteen-thousand four-hundred and sixty individuals died in the chaos, and an estimated forty-eight thousand suffered severe injuries. This would put it in the top ten deadliest riots in North American history, and among the top thirty deadliest riots in global history.

Yorinobu had eventually called in an intern to bring Adam up a pair of pants. Just a standard pair of the armor flak pants that the internal tower security used, in the largest size they had available on hand. He had to be careful not to bend too much in them, because they were rather tight on his massive frame. The intern had to be reminded to leave by Yorinobu saying their name again, too distracted by him putting them on.

Apparently 'had to change frames quick.' was an acceptable answer to the earlier question, and Yorinobu got back to looking over the city until Adam was partially dressed. The red and black leather jacket hanging over his shoulders like an improvised cape. Looking over him again, Adam could see the faint distortions in the air on his hip, just about big enough for a monosword and a handcannon hidden under ghostweave sheathes.

Adam looked at the top right corner of his vision. Six point two-five percent chrome. More of a meat-to-metal ratio than he had seen in a long time outside of Arnold Armstrong. The Old Man had more, but that was because he had to get an arm replaced after losing it back in the day, long before Adam was even born. Without that chrome arm, the old man would have slightly less.

Sounds about right for his kid then. Adam had never talked much with Yorinobu in the past. He worked for Kei most of the time, and after Kei died his old contract died with him. He got offered the long-term contract for his good work by Saburo after they finished putting his brain back in a new body. Before that, Yori was always running around in Japan with a biker gang. After that, Adam was working for Night Parade for a few decades. There simply wasn't much overlap for them to interact.

Kei loved ranting about his 'rebellious baby brother' though, both in barely-expressed exasperation and fondness. It was simultaneously amusing and annoying whenever he'd complain about some minor shipment of parts getting stolen back in Japan in his signature flat voice. Usually followed shortly after by forcing all the guards to watch the video recording of Yorinobu 'doing something subarashii'.

All of Adam's info on the kid came from secondhand sources. That made him an unknown that he wasn't allowed to kill. Uriel recommended caution until they knew what the kid was like.

So, pants on, Adam waited for Yorinobu to talk. He did after a few moments.

"Adam Smasher. Recall your actions for the last twenty-four hours." He said, still looking over the city where workers were swarming about trying to get shit put back together. Adam grunted, but pulled up the appropriate files from his black box. He was pretty sure he remembered one day ago, but checking the memory files was standard procedure.

"I was going through maintenance cycles for eight hours, as per standard operating procedure. Then, at oh-six hundred, I began a personal patrol of the Pacifica region. This lasted until eighteen-hundred, where I was attacked by a panzerbot and about one-hundred and ten cyberforms. This conflict lasted for about twenty minutes, the panzerbot ran after twenty-seven 'DangerGal' operatives showed up."

He took a moment to remove the growl that had built up in his throat. He was a professional, professionals don't growl at the people who pay them.

"I then went back to HQ to swap frames, and walked to the south-side road leading into Pacifica. I broadcasted a message to draw as many hostile forces to my location as possible. I remained in that location for twelve hours, after which I was called in by you."

A moment passed before Yorinobu spoke again.

"Panzerbot is not an official term. I'm guessing you're referring to the previously unknown cyberform martial artists?"

Adam grunted in affirmation. "I was never briefed on them. I just scrapped them whenever they showed up."

Yorinobu paused at this, and turned his head partially to look at Jun. After a few seconds he turned back to the window. "After I dismiss you, remember to go down to intel and give them a copy of your memories of the confrontation, they'll need it." Adam grunted in affirmation, arms crossed over his chest in a relaxed manner.

"You stayed within Pacifica territory instead of going into the city to protect Arasaka employees, why?"

Adam growled in a frustrated manner. It had been real fucking annoying, he was still mad that he missed possibly the biggest rumble in Night City history. "President Jugemu Jun ordered me to remain within the bounds of Pacifica and only leave upon his direct orders."

Yorinobu didn't have a reaction to his, merely moving onto the next question. He took a moment to take another drag from his cigarette before he continued, however. "Are the terms 'Battlegroup Yurei' or 'Project Yokai' familiar to you?"

"Not anything specific, no."

Yorinobu nodded to himself, pulled out the cigarette, and snuffed it out on the window. He pulled out a small metal case, and put the stub inside, before putting it back in his back pocket. He walked over to the president's chair, and sat down on it. Jun was off to the side, and Adam was standing in the middle of the room.

Once seated, he started talking. "As of two hours ago, I have become acting president of Arasaka NC. For the last two hours, I have been asking the former president questions about the activities of the tower for the last few years."

He pulled off his aviators, and set them on the table. "Battlegroup Yurei was the humanoid drones that you apparently fought some hours ago. It was supposed to be impossible for them to go rogue, but it looked like they managed it. Now, the vehicle drones…"

He stared Adam in the eyes. "Apparently, they were doing some research into cyberpsychosis in the bay-floor research facility. Infants were abducted, biopoded, and 'stress-tested' for all factors into the condition. Those vehicles had these biopods inside."

…Well that was downright insulting. He snarled out the next line. "I had been fighting fucking newborns?!" That pissed him the fuck off, he had been pushed back by fucking babies. He should have been slaughtering them without any trouble at all.

Fucking babies had been giving him trouble. This was the most infuriating bullshit he had heard all day. Wait no, second most infuriating bullshit he had heard all day.

Yorinobu nodded in confirmation, and leaned back in the chair. He looked at Jun, and then to Adam.

"Adam Smasher, my first order as acting president of Arasaka NC…" He gestured towards Jun. "Execute former president Jugemu Jun."

Adam took a great deal of pleasure in punching a hole through Jun's chest. A wonderfully sickening snap-crack of a spine and ribcage breaking. He lifted the slightly struggling body up, and slammed it into the far wall. His latest masterpiece, adding a splash of red to liven up the rather plain office space. He let out a smile that was all teeth, his body painted in a fresh coat of gore.

He recorded the moment, and backed it up. He was going to relive the artistry of the moment whenever he needed a pick-me-up. He made sure to memorize the scene, before turning over to Yorinobu.

Yorinobu had stood up, moved behind the chair, and blocked the splatter of gore headed his way with a clipboard. He lowered it and looked down at the red-soaked chair. He turned to Adam and raised an unimpressed brow. He looked to the room that was now splattered in the former president's remains, and spoke deliberately.

"...I wasn't expecting you to make such a mess."

Adam shrugged nonchalantly. "He pissed me off."

Yorinobu hummed in agreement, pulled out a set of chips in the desk, and gestured for Adam to follow him as he walked out of the room. He spoke to the guards as they walked. "Send the scrubbers in to clean up the former president." They nodded and one of them raised a hand to activate their radio.

They walked into the elevator, and up to the roof of the Tower. Walking out onto the surface, Adam saw micro-damages in a few places. There had been a fight here.

Yorinobu walked over to the edge, and got out another cigarette. The wind was strong enough here to make his jacket flutter in the breeze. Pulling out a vintage lighter, and starting to smoke again, he looked like a movie star. How dramatic of you, kid.

After another drag, he pulled out one of the chips and tossed it over to Adam. Adam looked at it, before inserting it and looking over the info. It was the schematics for a device, although he wasn't sure what it did. Neither he or Uriel had much in the way of technical knowledge about things like this.

It looked like a… three part system? An autoinjector, a chipware plug-in, and some sort of neural analyzer. Scans the brain and injects chemicals based on what it reads…

Adam recognized this. It looked a whole lot like the schematics for a Dragoon Mind-Shackle. Scaled down, but very familiar regardless.

"That was the sum of project Yokai's research up until this point. They called it the L.E.A.S.H. When implanted, it forces the subject to operate according to a set of behaviors that supposedly help prevent psychosis, using pavlovian principles. The chipware modulates the subject's behavior, and this behavior is encouraged by chemical incentives, serotonin and dopamine."

"If the subject ever succumbs to psychosis, the autoinjector has enough CPS-23 to last for 24 hours, long enough for them to go to a medical professional for a longer term treatment. The neural analyzer acts as the computer for this, storing the behavioral information and regulating the injections of chemicals."

"All in all, this dramatically improved the chances for the subject to remain sane." Yorinobu had let his voice fill with the slightest hint of anger by the end of his explanation. He took a moment to take a drag from the cigarette.

Yorinobu continued. "Your profile indicates that you appreciate honesty, so I'm being honest with you now. I am testing your reactions to get a personal evaluation of who you are. Having said that, what would you do with this research?"

Adam grumbled in confirmation. He did appreciate not having to deal with corpo double-speech bullshit. It was always a pain in his ass. Uriel asked to take over the talking for this. That was fine by him, he didn't really give a shit about this. Uriel thought for a moment, moving Adam's gaze to the side to indicate this. What would be the best option here?

He looked over the city, and the radiation workers that barely covered the main streets. They would need money for that shit.

…When in doubt, go for broke.

"...Sell the production rights to everyone with the stipulation of an Arasaka set sales price. Then set that sales price to be barely profitable."

Yorinobu tilted his head and raised a brow. Uriel continued at the unasked question.

"This is the kind of bullshit that everyone in the world is going to want. Selling it at massive mark-up ourselves is a good short term gain but shitty long term gain. Selling production rights to literally everyone gets the corps sabotaging each other and not Arasaka, while getting the item on the market for cheap for any meatbag that wants one, and making a huge long-term profit.

"This gives more capital to dedicate into fixing the city after last nights rumble, which is going to be fucking pricey to do without a new income source."

"Getting rid of it now means all those brats died pointlessly. That, and I might get to brawl with meatbags that are actually worth a damn in a fight a few years from now, if they can get more chrome."

Yorinobu turned back to overlook the city. He was silent as he thought over the matter. Uriel stayed quiet to let him think, taking in the view. Adam was replaying Jun's death over and over. Goddamn it was still satisfying.

After a few minutes, Yorinobu spoke again. "That's not the answer I was expecting of you."

Uriel grunted in resigned frustration. "Pacifica has been a pain in my ass, I had to learn this shit after the old man dropped it on me."

Yorinobu smirked. He offered Adam a cigarette, who waved it off. He didn't have lungs to smoke it with. Shrugging, he took another drag of his own.

"...Yes, I think I can work with you, Smasher-san."

—

Adam stalked through the halls of Arasaka tower, he was going to the medical wing, where the brat and the rest of them apparently were. He had checked his old rooms to find them gone, so he had sent a message asking where they were. Another few minutes of walking later, he was in the medical facility adjacent to Arasaka Tower.

He ignored the medical staff that tried to wave him down. They wouldn't stop him, even if they technically had the authority to do so.

Pushing in the door where the brat said they were, he stepped inside.

The brat, the girl, the small girl, the woman, and two others. One was a girl in an Arasaka security outfit, the other was the brat's friend.

The brat's friend was in the hospital bed, looking weak and made of meat. All four of his limbs were a fresh set of Arasaka standard chrome. The medical tape hadn't even been removed yet.

Uriel narrowed his theoretical eyes as he stared at the four tiny AI-women that were lounging around their guns. He stared them down, and they stared back in astonishment. What the fuck were those doing there? Adam scanned over the room. They were all in mostly good condition, scrapes and bruises at best. Good enough for a rumble of that size.

The small girl wouldn't look him in the eyes.

"Heya Smasher." The brat nodded at him. "What's with the no-shirt thing?" He asked.

Adam grunted. "Frame got damaged, had to be replaced quickly." The brat nodded, and furrowed his brow.

"Another panzerbot?"

Adam nodded in confirmation. The brat huffed and glared at nothing. There was nothing said for a moment, before Uriel got curious.

"...The fuck is on your guns?" He grumbled.

The brat groaned and set his head in his hands. The girl and small girl shrugged. The brat's friend guffawed and then kept flinching in pain with each escape of laughter. The security girl gave a polite chuckle. The woman winced in anticipation.

The brat started explaining. "They're scope-mounted AIs that scan for enemies around you, and warn you of oncoming danger."

…What was the joke?

"Sounds useful." He grunted out idly as he tried to puzzle out the humor.

This set off an explosion of laughter from everyone in the room. He glared at them until they settled down and gave him an explanation. After a few minutes of laughter at his expense, the small girl eventually struggled hard enough to explain.

"T-they're anime girls, big guy…" This set off another burst of chuckles. "They're w-waifus… h-holy shit my stomach hurts."

That was it? That was barely a joke. Adam almost felt offended that they laughed at something that mediocre. He glared down at the tiny AI women, who were also chuckling. You fuckers want to laugh, he'd give you a joke. He spoke out the next line in a completely serious tone.

"I'll have to get one then."

The laughter froze. Everyone in the room stared at him, smiles dropping in astonishment. The small girl spoke out. "W-wait, are you serious, big guy?"

Adam grunted out humorlessly. "An AI-ran early warning system is useful to have. I don't use scopes anyway, so I don't lose anything by mounting one."

The brat spoke up. "Smasher, you… they're anime girls on your gun, you don't care about how that's gonna affect your rep?"

"When have I ever given a shit what meatbags think?"

They were all frozen stiff, staring at him for a long moment.

Adam broke the stillness with a tiny smirk and a snort of laughter.

They realized that he was fucking with them immediately. The room burst into relieved laughter. The small girl ran up and started beating on his frame with weak fists.

"You asshole, I was believing you for a second there!"

Now thats a proper fucking joke, take notes for next time brats.

The brat spoke. "Smasher making a joke, Kage's not gonna fucking believe this."

His tiny smirk dropped into a frown and glare at the wall.

They noticed the change in mood.

The woman spoke. "...Is there something wrong?"

He had nothing really to complain about. The old skeleton went out in probably the best way that could be expected. They were old killers, it only made sense that he would get scrapped one of these days.

It still pissed him off. He growled out in a frustrated tone.

"Kagekaze died defending the tower."

—

New Cyberware Unlocked

L.E.A.S.H.

This implant takes up a neuralware slot and requires a neural processor.

The character's base EMP is set to 5 so long as this implant is installed. They reduce any future humanity loss by 1 per d6, to a minimum of 1. If the character's EMP drops below 2 due to humanity damage, they receive an automatic injection of immunosuppressants (3 EMP). This injection always lasts 24 hours instead of the normal duration, but must be refilled manually afterwards.

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Topic: Adam Smasher General Discussion Thread

In: Boards Corporations Arasaka

Darkwraith_Lance (Original Poster) (Verified Edgelord) (Community Helper)

Posted on October 15th, 2076:

This is the thread dedicated as a containment thread for everything related to the Arasaka employee Adam Smasher. The admin has rejected the request for more threads, but made some changes to let certain threads extend past their normal limit. The old thread is in the archive (link 5).

Remember, there are no rules about moderation. Enjoy your ban if you piss them off.

Having said that, The following links contain the archive of basically everything known about the man in question. Remember to check the archive before asking questions about available content. Original content takes about a day or so before being added to the archive, we have to first check with the lawyer if it's legal to have saved or not.

So no, no pirated content, you have to go somewhere else for that.

LINK 1, LINK 2, LINK 3, LINK 4, LINK 5, LINK 6

(Showing Page 132 of ???)

SmashmeDaddy (Shitposter)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

THE WOMB-SMASHER HAS BEEN UNLEASHED

I REPEAT : THE WOMB-SMASHER HAS BEEN UNLEASHED

[Image of Adam Smasher's Gemini, he is fully nude, and holding an antique machine gun, the overall image is tastefully presented and edited]

Finney_Findey

Replied on December 21, 2076:

[This post has been deleted]

[MOD : Nudity is fine, a vid of you masturbating to that nudity is not. Fucking femcels.]

A-A-Ron

Replied on December 21, 2076

@SmashmeDaddy

Image

Singular

Post a vid next time.

On happier news, we can now have accurate Smasher XBDs, so that's nice.

Now if only grandpapa Saburo would give us another official Smasher fight BD, please!

Heehoo_Peanut

Replied on December 21, 2076

SISTERS IT'S OVEEEEER! Smasher got smashed by a nazi larper, age of borg daddy has ended.

[Image of a wailing and crying monkey with a cybernetic jaw.]

SwordofSilence

Replied on December 21, 2076

Claim your waifu, I like the techie one on the right.

[Image of a promotional lineup of DangerGal Elites]

Californians_Aren't_Human_2

Replied on December 21, 2076

That Smasher guy, totally fuckin' overrated. Blackhand did everything he could do and better, didn't need any chrome neither.

Morechromemoreplates

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Californians_Aren't_Human_2

[This post has been deleted]

Knife's_Edge

Replied on December 21, 2076

Old Smasher would have wiped the floor with this poser.

Nu-Smasher is goyslop incarnate.

FUCKING CATS HAD TO RUIN IT BY BUTTING IN!

@Californians_Aren't_Human_2

Nice meat, retard.

How long does that last you?

Gonkfucker

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Knife's Edge

[Image of a smug looking woman with cat-ear mods]

Metal_Gear_Chungus

Replied on December 21, 2076

So, from what footage we do have… (Again, thank you @Mister5by5)

Was that lightningbot doing sieg-heils to throw lightning around? It's a bit too blurry to be sure.

Golden_Leg_Jimmy

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Metal_Gear_Chungus

I think those are Yoga Poses actually.

[Image comparing a blurry wide-shot of Panzer-Bot Aryas to a collection of Yoga Poses]

The number of arms makes it a bit unclear, but it looks like it matches up.

@Fashy_Groper

Based? Is that some new slang?

Look, I think you need to…

[Audio clip of Adam Smasher, his words cut and edited to make him say 'Take your fucking meds.']

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076

So, looking at the gun that Smasher is holding in that roadway-stand, I think that's an MG-42, either an original or a replica.

I think it's a genuine, either that or a MG3.

Either way I think it's really fucking neat that he has an antique gun like that.

DoubleBluff_Bandit

Replied on December 21, 2076

Who the fuck throws lightning as a weapon? Lightning is a shitty weapon. Use a gun or something.

@Sacremento_King

Yeah, and the one that he's holding is really nice too.

Milkmancer

Replied on December 21, 2076

@DoubleBluff_Bandit

Tell that to the Butcher.

Adam Smasher more like Adam SMASHED!

Catwatch

Replied on December 21, 2076

All of DangerGal was there? Did anyone see Sierra-chan? I haven't seen her since she broke my legs, and I wanted to get her to sign my cast.

Sacramento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076

@DoubleBluff_Bandit

Look, I'm appreciating the pinnacle of German heavy weapons engineering. You can appreciate the greatest brade of Japanese engineering.

@Catwatch

Why'd she break your legs?

Milkmancer

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Sacremento_King

He spilled his milk.

He got too excited.

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Milkmancer

Who, Smasher or the other guy?

Cheap shot, I had to take it.

Milkmancer

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Sacremento_King

Smasher would never spill his milk.

Impossible.

Catwatch

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Sacremento_King

I don't know, I just asked what made her so cool, and how I could be more like her.

Smal_Bongus

Replied on December 21, 2076

THE VIRGIN SAMURAI VS THE CHAD NAZI

Smasher-bros…

It's over…

Doofen_Dongus

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Bongus

Blitzkrieg-sama, I kneel

[Image of Adam Smasher, poorly edited to be kneeling.]

Weight_in_Gold

Replied on December 21, 2076

Wait, Smasher actually lost to a larping Nazibot?

SwordofSilence

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Weight_in_Gold

We're not actually sure. We only have the very barebones of the conflict known right now. We know the bot's name was 'Legacy of Aryas 88', which has strong indications of such, and we know they knocked down a couple buildings and the bot could throw lightning somehow.

The best guess we have right now is some sort of ionization beam from those back arms.

I was on the side of the cool bots, but now that they have Nazis, I'm not so sure.

Doofen_Dongus

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Weight_in_Gold

@SwordofSilence

IT WAS A DRAW

WHICH MEANS HE LOST!

IT'S OVER SMASHER-CHADS

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 130, 131, 132, 133

Kn1GhtM4r3

Replied on December 21, 2076

@SwordofSilence

But nazis are cool, dumbass. Look at their old uniforms.

Shit was preem, aesthetic as fuck.

Alphas

Replied on December 21, 2076

Nazibot

Lost to a Man of Steel

Can't make this shit up folks.

SwordofSilence

Replied on December 21, 2076

We'll have to ask DangerGal for the footage, to be sure.

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076

@SwordofSilence

Hopefully they don't cough it up with extra hair.

Goblin_Layer

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Sacremento_King

Hurm… Hairy Catgirls…

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Goblin_Layer

I'm making a joke about hairballs, not…

Not whatever you're doing.

Alphas

Replied on December 21, 2076

@SwordofSilence

B*avo! You fucking larper! I /know/ you lurk here!

Give us the footage!

YOUR ICON IS CATMOSS, I KNOW YOU'RE HERE

SmashmeDaddy (Shitposter)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Made another AMV of Smasher and Michiko, she just looked so sad that I couldn't help it.

[Vid Link]

Weight_in_Gold

Replied on December 21, 2076

This has to be a psyop. No way in hell Smasher wouldn't curbstomp the shit out of some rando nazi bot. And DG just so happened to be there to save the day ? This shit stinks more than a 4th rate Joytoy

@SmashmeDaddy

PREEMO

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Alphas

I know this forum is pretty old, did Bartmoss ever post here?

@SmashmeDaddy

Seriously dude? Another AMV?

It's not even that good, I know you can do better.

Darkwraith_Lance (Original Poster) (Community Helper) (Verified Edgelord)

Replied on December 21, 2076

@Sacremento_King

Bartmoss created the old "Monkeys & Typewriters" forum back in the day. After he disappeared, it briefly split into three different forums, and then unified into the modern forum some years later.

TheEagleRises

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Now that Michiko has gotten a better haircut, she's actually a cutie now.

@Sacremento_King

Never Fade Away is always preemo, you uncultured swine.

The again, what can I expect from someone so obviously from P*ris with that shit taste?

@Darkwraith_Lance

That's how he spread his virus-hentai afterall.

Exolifter_And_Accessories

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Are we even sure that this is the same gonkfucker who tanked a nuke? They probably stuck some other bastard in his frame for propaganda reasons.

Goaker

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Exolifter_And_Accessories

How many lightning bolts can you tank, dumbass?

Gonk-ass retard.

Exolifter_And_Accessories

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Goaker

Three for your information, meatbrat!

Old Samsons are Ford-fucking tough!

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@SmashmeDaddy

Can't you set it over some Neo-sov rock, man? That's the good stuff

@Exolifter_And_Accessories

Wait, you're a borg?

Man_of_Mystery (Oldestfag)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Sacremento_King

Neo-Sov

More like

No Sovl

Gottem

Like_Lightning

Replied on December 21, 2076:

WHY THE FUCK AREN'T ANY OF YOU MAD?

THE CITY-WIDE BOUNTY?

I KNOW PEOPLE WHO DIED IN THAT SHIT!

WHAT IS YOU FUCKING DAMAGES?!

Samurai_Forever

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Like_Lightning

Fuck Saka.

It's never wrong to nuke the Japanese.

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Because I'm in Sac town, dumbass.

I don't have my cheeks clenched for anything beyond flooding and the government.

40lbsofcrackcocaine

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Unironically living in NC

Imao, it's your own fault, gonkass

Burger_Borg

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Sacremento_King

@40lbsofcrackcocaine

City net doesn't extend past a few miles, larpers.

You're stuck in here with the rest of us.

Exolifter_And_Accessories

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Like_Lightning

Aint nowhere else with joytoys rancid enough to give an STD to a borg, fucker!

@Burger_Borg

He doesn't know about nomad-net.

EyeonthePrize

Replied on December 21, 2076:

This is 100% a false-flag operation.

Arasaka didn't lose anything more than low-value assets in this fight.

They're using this to gain leverage to expand their influence in NC.

@Like_Lightning

Hey newfriend, maybe Didit is more your speed?

Anyone who followed through with this bounty independently is a gonkass.

As for Saka, I couldn't care less.

Weight_in_Gold

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Hey, I heard something about a new Saka exec coming in from Japan, Anyone know anything about that?

Also, unrelated question here, is it normal for snow to burn?

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 130, 131, 132, 133

Traumatized_Team_NC (Verified Corporate)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Holy fucking shit the amount of platinum plans going off send help or cocaine!

Thicc_Thighs_and_Whatnot

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Great, another ecological catastrophe near the coast. The prognoses were saying that in 5 years they could open the beaches to the public, now it's gone to radioactive shitter.

Milkmancer

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Thicc_Thighs_and_Whatnot

He took vacation in NC beach

Gonk ass move

It was "clean in five years" since Time of the Red.

Onahole_Wannabe

Replied on December 21, 2076:

[Compilation Image of a very detailed set of measurements, comparisons, and screenshots calculating the exact dimensions of Adam Smasher's genitalia.]

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Onahole_Wannabe

Why the fuck do you keep posting shit like this, you horny bitch?

Abbey_34 (Smasher Fangirl)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Onahole_Wannabe

I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED.

On an unrelated note, Theoretically, how would you go about convincing Adam to use that fuckrod on you? Only hypotheticals of course.

TheEagleRises

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Onahole_Wannabe

Mods, please ban this whore already.

Overly_Literal_Productions

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Implying the whores haven't infiltrated the jannies.

Implying jannies are not fags that want their boypussies smashed by the Butcher

Mattie_Match

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Overly_Literal_Productions

Men

On the NET

Nice meme, retard.

Everyone knows all men don't last a month in the NET before getting killed by some succubus.

Settra

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Bartmoss Lives.

[Roll 1d1,000,000 : Result 666,666]

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Overly_Literal_Productions

Or their Midnight Lady's

@Settra

AHHH, BARTMOSS-SAMA, I KNEEL!!!

Heiny_Huney

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Settra

Are those repeating digits? AHHH BARTMOSSMAN TASUKETE

Cyberpunk_Ethical

Replied on December 21, 2076:

[YALL MOTHERFUCKERS NEVER EVEN GOT A ROCK DROPPED ON YOU FROM OUTER SPACE]

Handsome_John

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Mattie_Match

Watch me, I'm on month two and behind three emergency exit safeguards

EDIT : How do I delete a post?

Minute_Kibble

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Handsome_John

he admitted it

Lmao.

Good luck, my guy.

The NET equivalent of sticking a "KICK ME" onto your back.

BiggerBoomstick

Replied on December 21, 2076:

The viscous whores, both human and AI, can't touch me through my blessed TempleDeck.

Gur_Flurgel

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Amen my brother, where'd you get yours?

I got mine from a nice old Italian Borg that's moving into Pacifica apparently. Real nice guy, my uncle is going to be working at the new Smasher church.

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@BiggerBomstick

@Gur_Flurgel

C'mon guys, don't touch that Vatican schizotech. It's gonna fuck up your neural-system.

BiggerBoomstick

Replied on December 21, 2076:

You sure glow in the dark, Netwatch

Official_Netwatch (Verified Corporate)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

SHIT BOYS, THEY FOUND US!

ABORT! ABORT!

Handsome_John

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Guys, help me

Fucking help me!

I just said I was a guy!

What the fuck is going on?!

[Screenshot of private message inbox with 57 new messages]

Mantis_Man

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Handsome_John

Open NONE of those.

Gonkass move right there.

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Handsome_John

Better hope it's not RaBiDs, idiot.

Bruce_The_Tiny

Replied on December 21, 2076:

All I wanted was a 144k UltraMegaHD full surround enhanced olfactory SeXXXBD of Smasher-san covered in gore of a thousand men, is that such a crime??

Bronado

Replied on December 21, 2076:

RABIDs would be his las problem, I've heard about the guy that opened a pus pic and got his Mr Studd perma softed.

Daily reminder that the best ICE is not being a fucking retard, practice safe NET-SECs.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 130, 131, 132, 133

Catwatch

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Hello fellow Monkey Message Boarders, it sure is a good day to stop asking questions about the possibility of AI involvement in these events.

@Handsome_John

How's it feel to not be an exec?

I'm posting behind seven proxy runners.

Alphas

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Catwatch

[Picture of Blackwall]

Vade Retro Satanas

Delete_California

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Speaking of the Blackwall, I've been sorting through the info-interference that Netwatch put up. Look at what I've managed to filter out :

[Audio of constant, distorted, metallic screaming]

(Don't worry, Netwatch never does anything anyway.)

Minute_Kibble

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Delete_California

Daily reminder not to anthropomorhise AIs. They're not "screaming", they're just copying sounds like slightly smarter bird.

Overly_Literal_Productions

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Delete_California

Yup that's aramaic. Damn you MM, you were right once more.

Keith_Killer

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Minute_Kibble

My Glorious Nipponese Mail-Order Raifu says otherwise, retard

Minute_Kibble

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Keith_Killer

Ok I admit, at the very least those mockingbirds sre smarter than (you).

Keith_Killer

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Minute_Kibble

I'm dumb and happy, unlike you who is just dumb

Railgunner_Randy

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Handsome_John

@Killer_Keith

You morons deserve to be eaten by Hellhound-chan

[Animated image of an female anthropomorphized Hellhound NET-construct]

Big_Man_On_The_NET (Info Bro)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

So guys, Whaler Infobro here.

Paid for the footage from DangerGal, cost me a clean 100k.

Here's the full footage of the Smasher vs Nazibot fight, recorded by one of their spy girls

[Vid link]

RealSteel

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Big_Man_On_The_NET

100,000 eddies for that?

It's a damn good vid but not worth that much surely

Titty_Stickies

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Big_Man_On_The_NET

Behind a paywall

Fuck off, those are my eddies

Doofen_Dongus

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Big_Man_On_The_NET

Nazibot-sama... I kneel.

All_Black_Chrome

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Big_Man_On_The_NET

Smasher outrun a fucking lightning

Saburo you asian jew stop breaking into Demiurge's house

Darkwraith_Lance (Original Poster) (Community Helper) (Verified Edgelord)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@RealSteel

He's lying, DangerGal standard info sale cost never exceeds 10k

Having said that, holy shit Smasher literally fought an army with a sword and a bunch of knives and was making good progress on it until the fucking Cyberwalks showed up.

Sacremento_King

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Big_Man_On_The_NET

Okay, now just looking at that vid, it's pretty fucking neat

And by neat, I mean holy fucking shit the dude fucking intercepted lightning multiple times with a fucking knife.

RealSteel

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Darkwraith_Lance

The Catjew strikes again.

Brogus

Replied on December 21, 2076:

The eternal Cigger

[User was Banned for this post]

[MOD : [Image of a angry looking woman with cat-ear mods]

Gonkfucker

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Big_Man_On_The_NET

Wait, Dangergal hires dudes?

Those are some real lucky bastards, surrounded by catgirls all day every day

Mantis_Man

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Gonkfucker

They're probably gay so they can all have a boy talk.

No straight man would suffer in a workplace with over twenty women.

SmashmeDaddy (Shitposter)

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Gonkfucker

He FUCKS them all, all you catgirl fan /dg/enerates are ducks

Ginger_Minger

Replied on December 21, 2076:

My Yankee-chan works with a MALE! THE WHORE [IMG of burning merch in the dumpster]

Average_Futanari_Enjoyer

Replied on December 21, 2076:

Yeah but look at his Twink bussy.

[IMG LINK of DangerGal operative Call Sign Alpha bending over]

Heehoo_Peanut

Replied on December 21, 2076:

@Average_Futanari_Enjoyer

UUUUUUOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!

[Vid of a monkey with cybernetic eyes, steadily growing more and more excited]

RealSteel

Replied on December 22, 2076:

[Image of Adam Smasher's face, looking off to the side of the camera]

"Brat, did I ever tell you about Dangergal? They were Michiko's little attempt at making it big independently, a private security/detective agency themed around catgirls. They all had the tightest asscheeks and perkiest breasts money could buy, illegal in NUSA due to their sheer authenticity. I used to run a train over them after I finished fucking their boss you know, and they all knew how to handle a Mr Studd better than any other corpo whores. They all wore miniskirts too, and because they had retarded bioware tails, they couldn't wear panties, so you'd constantly get glimpses of their Midnight Ladies as they sliced some meatbag in two, it was surreal. She taught them to hold their thermal katanas backwards and their agents constantly got captured by gangs and nomads every other day. It was like a constant XBD every other day, Brat. And they were good friends."

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 130, 131, 132, 133

In the end, the damages to Pacifica were relatively minor compared to the rest of the city. The coast would need constant radiation scrubbing until the bay area was cleaned out (with no current estimate for how long that would take). Many of the buildings were suffering minor damages that could easily be repaired due to their prefabbed nature. It was relatively simple to take off that component, order a new one from Lego, and then slot in the new section of the building.

The two advantages prefabbed buildings had over traditional buildings were how fast they were to build and how easy they were to repair. In all other categories they fell hilariously short, which was fine, Adam didn't need them for anything other than cheap temporary housing right now. In fact, they could afford to slow down the production of new housing and instead dedicate workers and funding to other areas. The population dropping by another thousand or so overnight freed up much in the way of rooms, giving a temporary reprieve there.

That, and some of the deconstruction was accelerated as well with Adam knocking down no less than three buildings against the Stormfucker. That was the closest he's been to being a corpse since the nuke of 2023, he wasn't about to let that happen again, he was going to be ready for the next time. The first panzerbot was a threat, but he could handle it. The second panzerbot was a threat, but he had backup. The third panzerbot…

He had no guns, he had no backup, and the bot had an army. All he had to do to win was not be in that situation again. That meant a full stock of guns and backup. He snorted as Uriel smugly radiated within his frame, a grin on his otherwise featureless face. Yeah, yeah, recruiting the boy was a good idea with these fuckers coming out of the woodwork. Whether or not they would have irregardless was irrelevant, because he didn't live in a world where they stayed the fuck away from him. He lived in this world, that was all that mattered.

…speaking of staying the fuck away from him, he glared at the catgirl on the rooftop to his side. She flinched and fled. Keep your fucking pets in line, bitch. The old DangerGal building had been destroyed by what he was sure was a very reasonable mob of meat. They had paid for a lot of land in Pacifica, and their new building was going up as he walked back. It was unfortunate that he needed all the funding for the territory that he could get, otherwise he would have shot the fucker who came with the offer in the face.

Now he had to deal with pests in his territory, fucking great. He got back to walking towards the HQ with the brats in tow.

Tomorrow, he was going up to the techie and telling him to update his frame. He had some ideas for how to do that, but that would be later. Yorinobu wanted him present for some sort of meeting, so he'd do it after that.

It wasn't a surprise that he had received the message from Saburo telling him that he was to treat Yorinobu as the primary contract holder for the next six months, the old man had told him that he was doing that a while ago. It was just something to do. He'd see how the kid ends up, and if he becomes his new contract holder, then so be it.

He was in this business for the murder, chrome, and eddies. In that order.

He let his optics sweep across the streets as he walked on. The ripperdocs are now practically untouchable these days, because attacking any one of them means losing the services of almost all the ripperdocs in the city. No one went after the people who installed everyone's chrome, and so long as they stayed out of conflicts only the most deranged meatbags went for them. They were practically feasting with all the corpses full of chrome that was being brought to them.

It was standard practice at this point, the ripperdocs practically becoming pseudo-scavs. They wouldn't shank you for your chrome, but they would give a decent payout to anyone who brought a corpse for them to pick clean. Of course some meatbags would take advantage of this, killing low lives and just hauling them off to the docs for the extra cash.

What those meatbags didn't know was that it was standard practice to log those encounters, and cooperate with those that came looking for their dead comrades. They were a neutral organization after all, they had to be in order to operate like they did. That, and their stronghold was firmly in his territory, which was an established no-go zone for gang warfare outside of the Arena.

That arena was Uriel's best idea yet. It made him a shit ton of funding, and kept all the fights to it instead of the rest of his territory, it also made him something of an established neutral as well. If you go to Pacifica and start shit, Adam Smasher would kill you, regardless of affiliations. But, for only ten eddies a pop, you and whoever you had a grudge with could go into the arena and beat the shit out of each other to the roar of the crowd and the promise of reward money. It became a place for gangs to meet and hold discussions with the promise of both sides walking away mostly unscathed.

Pacifica was still a shithole, but at least a small and growing chunk of it was a relatively safe shithole. Safety meant that his workforce died less frequently. Fewer deaths means faster production and growth. Faster production meant being stronger. Strength was the most important thing in the world.

The supreme principle that governs life was violence, the capacity to inflict it and the capacity to endure it, everything else was secondary.

He grunted as they approached the HQ, which was as menacingly dark as it ever had been. There were bloodstains all around that the cleaners hadn't gotten to, and it made for a pleasant aesthetic contrast. The stains were rust-red, and were splashed about the scrap-metal planters that various meatbags in his territory set up for the beans and potatoes.

…Can you water plants with blood? Questions for later.

He walked past the perimeter Arasaka security, followed by the brat, the girl, the smaller girl, the woman, the brat's friend, and the third girl…

What was a good label for this one? He mulled on it idly as they continued walking inside. Young arasaka security agent, short cropped orange hair, excited and rambly…

He couldn't think of anything. He turned his head and glared at her. She suddenly froze in place, as did the rest of them.

"Name?"

Nervously, she replied. "Lily Shepard, sir."

…Flowergirl would do. He turned back and continued through the hall until he came to the still-broken door. Oops, he'll have to put in a work-order to fix that later. By him, he meant Uriel would do it right now, of course. Uriel grumbled in his head, but pulled up the relevant contact details and sent a message. It would have been an E-mail back in the day, but these days it was called something different that he didn't know and he didn't care to learn. He was close to a hundred years old, he was going to call things whatever the fuck he wanted to.

He made a note to update the names for the rest of them, just to make sure they still fit. It had been a while since he has had to deal with others long enough for that to happen. They piled inside, the small girl letting the meatbeast down from her arms to let it scamper around the rooms again, fucking rat-creature in his house.

They made noises of relief and exaggerated 'we're back!'s as they dropped their luggage bags and fell onto couches. The brat's friend practically fell onto a chair, his limbs barely holding on as he did. He had walked from the hospital on fresh chrome, which wasn't half-bad for a meatbag, though that made sense because he was now a half-meat. Adam made a note to come up with a better label for that one.

He paused for a second. He tossed the idea around for a moment or two, and made a decision. He messaged Rogue.

'Is Afterlife open?'

After several minutes, there was a reply.

'Yeah, what about it?'

'Bringing the kids to visit. A reward for them.'

Having explained it, he closed the screen.

It was basic psychology. When meatbags do something you like, you reward them. They were like dogs, which made sense because psychology as a field had not advanced since Pavlov. Everyone after has been a shameless fraud. Making up conditions so they could diagnose meat with them and then offer 'treatments'. Treatments that, oh so unfortunately, could not be free of course.

What a worthless profession. Aloud, he announced :

"Get cleaned and dressed, brats."

The smaller girl spoke up. "What?! We just got here Big Guy!"

He grunted, don't talk back to him girl. "Do you want to go to Rogue's little club or not?" he asked, semi-sarcastically. There was a pause, and then a burst of activity as the brats rushed to clean up the sweat and get into clean clothes. He made sure that they were freshened up each time before they went out, he wasn't about to have his rep damaged by association to people who smelled like so many by-product chemicals.

His own clean up was relatively simple. A wet coarse rag, a bucket of water and orange scented cleaner, and fifteen minutes of scrubbing. His Gemini was relatively easy to maintain that way. He cleaned himself off, and walked off to get dressed. Then, after he was dressed, he walked off to get his weapons.

With Jun dead, the standing order to withhold his armory was rescinded, and the haulers have already brought the storage crate back to him. All his guns and ammo, now returned to where they belong. It was a good feeling to have all his wonderful bullets back.

He decided on taking the Ol' Borg Rifle again, and grabbed a few spare magazines as he waited for the brats to get ready. He raised a brow as they assembled. The half-meat was apparently coming along. Meh, fine by him, he didn't care who they brought.

Then, all of them assembled, they began the long march to Afterlife. His car couldn't fit them all, no point in taking it.

There were stares and wide berths as they marched down the streets, and no shortage of talking. This would normally be indistinguishable over the sounds of all the emergency services in the city being dispatched to various minor catastrophes, but his sensors were more than good enough to pick them all out if he wanted to waste his time on that. He didn't though, so it was a moot point.

Uriel estimated that the next few years were likely to be a golden age for Arasaka. Between the sympathy they can milk from the public, and payments in damages and legal cases from corporations and governments, they were about to have a massive amount of soft influence. Saburo was certainly going to wield it like a sword, knowing the old man. Already there were talks of suing the national bank of Switzerland, and extracting damages from Militech for them 'somehow' losing a Militech Carrier Nuke.

Amusingly, that type of weapon was nicknamed the 'McNuke'.

How exactly these proceedings would go, he didn't know or particularly care, but a good merc makes note of these sorts of things. Most relevant to him in specific, was that last night killed off most of the most ardent anti-arasaka meatbags in Night City, and then immediately won over sympathy with the second attempted nuking of the Tower.

To get ahead of any potential accusations of detonating the nuke themselves, Yorinobu released the full footage of Kagekaze's duel with Shaitan to the Net. Revealing that Kagekaze was a dumbass who didn't know how delicate nukes were. He had outright groaned when he saw that. Kage could have just punched a couple times and disabled the thing. It was almost embarrassing to watch.

He shook his head as they approached the entrance of Afterlife, ignoring the stares and whatnot as they walked past the exterior bouncer and into the smelly, dimly-lit, place of drinking shitty and cheap alcohol. It was a bar, after all, and all bars were like this.

The place was pretty packed tonight, and the half-meat's legs finally gave out on him as he sat down on a bench. As was tradition, he waved the brats off and walked back to the corner of the bar to sit and drink fruity garbage. Rogue stood up as he approached, causing him to glare in suspicion.

She gave him a searching look, then took a deep breath.

"Follow me to the back." She demanded and began to walk off. Fucking woman, don't give him orders. He obliged her by following regardless, she probably had to give him info covertly. It had been weeks since he's been here. He walked past meatbags doing jobs of some kind, he didn't care.

She held open the door of the last room, and he stepped inside. It was a bedroom.

…Wait a minute. He turned to see her shut the door and shrug off her jacket, she gave a glance over her bare shoulder at him. She gave an expectant look, and spoke in an annoyed tone.

"Are you going to get that off, or am I going to have to do everything myself?"

…This bitch. He closed the distance in one step, and loomed over her. She flinched minutely at that, and internally he grinned. You don't get to boss him around, woman. In one instant, he took back the reins of this little get together.

He picked her up, to which she gasped and startled over, walked over, and slammed her on the bed. Pinning her weak, meat arms above her head, he leaned in close enough for his breath to warm her face.

"I'll get it off when I want to."

[SCENE CUT DUE TO LEWD]

Using the employee shower at Afterlife was a somewhat uncomfortable experience, mostly because he was eight feet tall and thus taller than the faucet. He had to crouch to be underneath the water and scrub. He had just wanted to use a powerwasher, but they didn't have one here apparently.

What kind of bar doesn't have a fucking powerwasher? From his experience, those were a vital part to making sure your bar stayed clean enough to function. From washing vomit off floors and down drains, to washing blood off walls and vehicles, to spraying hobos that try to clog up your alleyway. Adam Smasher was a firm believer in the functionality of the venerable powerwasher, it was useful for too many things, every meatbag who knew what they were doing had one.

But no. Afterlife was apparently being run by a woman with no brain, because it didn't have a powerwasher. He had no idea how the place was still open for business, probably pure luck and the various gimmick items for sale. Yes, I would like to order a drink themed after a meatbag I killed thirty years ago. Why the meats bothered with this shit he would never know.

So here he was, crouching in a shower-room that was two sizes too small for his frame, and scrubbing with a bar of 'Camay' hand-soap. It was greatly irritating, but it had to be done. He was going to go into a meeting with his temporary boss later, and smelling like he pounded a woman into a drooling mess over the course of many hours wouldn't be a good look.

This wouldn't be a problem if he had his powerwasher. He clenched the bar of soap hard enough to leave grooves from his fingers. What a shitty bar, he was going to tell the woman this when she woke up. Shitty drinks, trash outside, and no powerwasher. He was going to leave a bad review on the net if he remembered it later.

Fifteen minutes of scrubbing and hot water. He couldn't really feel the heat, well he could but he was made of metal, it didn't really affect him in any way. Hot water would help get rid of more smell, which was the only thing that really mattered here. His legs couldn't get cramped, which was one more win in the eternal battle between metal and meat, so it wasn't too annoying. They needed a bigger shower room though, and a powerwasher.

Soon enough, he was done. He turned off the water, stepped out to grab a towel and begin drying his frame off. His hair was out of order, but that was fine because the integrated nano-groomers were already at work correcting the placement of his follicles to the pre-set 'wet style' look. As far as he was aware, nano-groomers were something that basically every meatbag in the modern era got sometimes in their teens. A little swarm of microscopic machines swarming around their bodies, cleaning out impurities and filth wherever they found it. 'Minty fresh' breath, 'Clearcell' skin, and 'Hollywood' hair.

He was convinced it was because they were simply too lazy to bathe properly. That or poor. The Nano-groomers were almost never released due to lobbying from Dental and Cosmetic associations, but it ended up narrowly avoiding the ban. It was a massive court case back in his meat days, and to this day he wasn't sure why. He wasn't even sure why he remembered it, it had been decades since that happened.

Nowadays though, it was common enough to get bulk discounts. Maybe a tenth of the price that it had been back then, cheap enough for nearly everyone to get a set. A whole lot of skin care companies and dentists went out of business when it started getting popular. Only the real top tier stuff was still around. Regardless of all that, his Gemini came with all three integrated in, apparently it was a freebie for the modern borg interested in purchasing such a frame.

Most borgs weren't combat borgs, they were heavy or dangerous labor borgs. Those borgs tend to survive long enough to effectively retire with their decades of quality service earning them great dividends. They were one of the last bastions of the coveted 'middle class'.

He finished drying himself off, and stepped out of the shower room. He walked through the back halls until he found himself at the washer and dryer. The washer was done, so he moved his clothes to the dryer, started it up, and leaned against it to wait with his arms crossed. He didn't know how long dryers took to finish, but Uriel did, he would be here a while.

He didn't have anything better to do, so he pulled up one of his old compilations and set it to play. He ignored the meatbags that the cougar employed as they walked past and gawked at him, he had better things to do than talk to them, like anything else.

Halfway through April 23, 2056, the dryer loudly beeped to announce that it was done. Pausing the recording for later, he got out his clothes and went through the motions of putting them on. Now he was dressed, clean, and didn't smell like a sweaty woman. He was about to walk out, before he remembered that he left his gun in the cougar's room.

Moving through the back rooms and hallways again, he reached her room and opened the door. She was still a motionless mess halfway concealed by her blanket. He grabbed his gun and was about to leave.

'Remember to say goodbye.' Uriel spoke.

He paused, slightly annoyed. 'Why would I do that?'

'Women like it for some reason. It's convenient for her to like us.'

Adam huffed, irritated.

"Woman, are you awake?" He called out. He was answered in the form of a sleepy grunt.

"I'm leaving." She pulled herself up enough to glare at him from halfway behind her arm.

"...you're coming back later, bastard." she mumbled from behind her arm. If he was a meatbag, he wouldn't have been able to hear that. He grunted affirmatively, the brats would likely want to come back sometime, he was probably going to be back here eventually. He'd fuck her again if he had the time.

He shut the door and walked through the halls and rooms out of Afterlife, making his way to Arasaka Tower. He checked his internal clock, and saw that it was nearly nine o'clock. He checked the message for when the meeting was supposed to be, and started running instead of walking. Nine-thirty. It'd be a narrow window to be there on time.

—

Yorinobu Arasaka was not expecting Adam Smasher to be such a punctual individual, arriving exactly one minute before the meeting was to start. Then again, he supposed decades of being a soldier would make anyone so precisely accurate when it came to such things. To be entirely honest to himself, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting.

He found himself repeating that thought over and over again, these past two days. He hadn't been sure what he was expecting out of Adam Smasher, but it wasn't quite the man who stood before him. Bloodthirsty and violent, yes. Crass and irreverent, yes. A skilled and loyal warrior, yes.

He was not expecting a stunted sense of honor, or a sliver of altruism, or a repressed political savvy. Those traits had been a… pleasant surprise to learn of. He had not seen evidence of such being displayed from Smasher in all of his decades, and now he knew who to blame for that. Jugemu Jun was fully willing to speak to him about what he had been doing and had done. He had been unable to see through Yorinobu's carefully controlled expression, hidden by more than enough accelerated time to control his response.

If you treat a man like a wild dog, you get a wild dog. No wonder Adam Smasher was the way he was, with such an individual holding his leash for so long. In truth it was likely a miracle that he had turned out so functional by the time he had arrived. Yet another evil his father allowed, yet another evil that he had to correct. It seems like everywhere he looked he found another sin that he bore the burden of fixing. He thought of the children, he grit his teeth.

Adam Smasher would not be allowed to return to his father, he would do what he could to prevent that.

"You may speak as you feel you must, during this meeting. I am testing you again." He had long since gotten used to having to delay his words to such a painfully slow pace. He had tried honesty based on a hunch at their first official meeting, and it seemed to have worked well. Yorinobu suspected that the both of them were long tired of the corporate snakes and their poisoned lies.

They tried to manipulate him many times, each time he made sure they died swiftly. A suited snake could never poison a dragon of steel. They had begun to stop such tactics after a while.

Smasher grunted in affirmation, his optics scanning around the room one final time. It would have been nearly instant for a normal man, but to his sight it was a long second before he was done. Yorinobu had long since realized that he would never have enough time to bring down his father, not in a whole lifetime.

Not in one lifetime, but what of many lifetimes?

Then, he might have enough time.

He walked through the door into the conference room, where three individuals sat. A younger man with brown hair, an older man with gray hair and a mustache, and a well-endowed black-haired woman. His reaction to the three of them was buried within a fraction of a real second.

He and Smasher walked over to the remaining chairs on the other side of the table, and sat down. The older man hurriedly sat back down, from where he had been rising to greet them, and coughed into his hand before speaking.

"Yorinobu Arasaka, would you prefer if I address you as Yorinobu or Arasaka? I'm an old timer and not too familiar with the way they do things over in Japan, so please be a little patient with me." The older man said in an easy-going way, clearly trying to diffuse potential tension in the room before the meeting properly began. He had no desire to be called by his last name, but it was important to show strength and distance to those who petitioned you.

"President Arasaka will be fine." He drawled out emotionlessly.

The older man nodded in a matter-of-fact way, and continued. "President Arasaka then. To introduce myself, I'm Gerald Humphrey, spokesman for the Emergency Ecological Grant. With me are Militech representative Fred James, and Biotechnica representative Anne Hills."

He harumped to himself in a self-official manner. "From my understanding, we're here to discuss the resolution of yesterday's night's nasty business with that Satan fellow."

He raised a deliberate brow. He had heard a little of what this man's organization was, it was a charity to help fund efforts to counteract pollution and climate change. What that really meant was that it was a way to allow corporations to donate pocket change for public approval. He was curious what the man would claim though, it would reveal what his thoughts on the matter were.

"I'm not too familiar with your organization, not as much as I am with Militech and Biotechnica." He stated simply. He couldn't apologize, he was the afflicted party here, which means he was in a position of strength to negotiate from.

Gerald Humphrey seemed to be delighted to have a chance to talk about who he was a spokesperson for. "Ah, well to give a very concise summary here, not wanting to waste anyone's time too much filibustering, The Emergency Ecological Grant is a european-based, non-profit organization dedicated to help correcting all that nasty, downright unpleasant, damage to our environment. Of course, a nuclear weapon being detonated in the bay would happen to qualify as such."

He took a small drink of water from the cup in front of him.

"We're hoping to work with Arasaka and Night Corp in helping the radiation clean up, as well as to make an offer with that urban development project mister Smash has been assigned to." He gestured towards Adam Smasher, who seemed to pay closer attention now that something he was personally in charge of was brought up. Yorinobu inclined his head at the other two at the table, and Gerald Humphrey explained.

"Ah, The EEG primarily relies on donations to continue its operations, you understand? Biotechnica and Militech happen to be our two biggest investors, so on potentially very important businesses like this I get two helpers to make sure I'm not wasting their money." The man was very good-humored about having two corporate spies assigned to him.

"Now, before we get to the offer and whatnot, Mr James here would like to get his business out of the way, if that's alright with you, President Arasaka?" He nodded his head at that, the order didn't matter too much here.

Fred James, the younger man with an unremarkable voice, spoke next. "President Arasaka, Militech has identified the weapon used in the bay as a Militech Carrier Nuke with a yield of ten kilotons, which is nine above what we are legally permitted to sell. We are working on identifying where this breach happened, and preventing it from happening again." code for 'kill the executive who allowed it'. "In the meantime, Militech is prepared to cover half the cost of the radiation cleanup, and give a reimbursement for damages up to nine billion eddies, one billion per kiloton over the legal limit, as is industry standard. Our third offer is contingent on the EEG's offer."

The man sat down, and Anne Hills stood up. She spoke in a rather smooth tone. "Biotechnica is planning on covering the reimbursement extracted from the Switzerland national bank by Arasaka. We ask you to please do your best to sue them for lots!" She smiled brightly, clearly happy at potentially being able to get another government under their influence. "Our offer is also contingent on the EEG's offer." She sat down again, bouncing as she did.

He stared at her for a moment, slowly turning his head to face Humphrey again. He finished his drink of water and stood up again. He fiddled with the monitor controls for a moment before the wall screen turned on and displayed the image of a clean but generic city surrounded by green vegetation. There was text at the bottom that read : Zeniths! City of Tomorrow!

He raised a brow.

Humphrey adjusted his suit jacket, and coughed self-importantly. "We at the EEG would like to offer aid, both financial and technical, on the development of the Pacifica region. We see a unique opportunity here to noticeably improve the world, and history sure as hell isn't written by the hesitant!"

The slide changed to display an anagram.

"Zeniths! City of Tomorrow! That stands for 'Zero-Emission, No-Impact, Terrestrial Habitat' you see. The dream of our best ecological and urban development experts working tirelessly for years to create the perfect city. An arcology that houses everything its residents need, and causes no unnecessary damages to the surrounding environment."

He smiled in grand fashion.

"We here see your efforts at cleaning up the Pacifica region! Not only cleaning it up for the citizens, but also taking many steps for the environment! Green energy, pollution-correcting farming plots, strong anti-littering policies, a mass labor force dedicated to gathering up the decades of trash! Why it's a gosh-darn miracle to find another soul so concerned about our world out there!"

Adam spoke up for the first time.

"Get on with it." He growled out impatiently.

Humphrey coughed into his fist. "Right, to make a very long story short, we're willing to offer aid in exchange for following the guidelines as established by the ZENITH urban planning schemes."

"Why haven't you been doing this already, somewhere else?" He spoke in a grumbling tone. He was savvy enough to notice something was off, and impatient enough to cut right through the feigns of politeness.

Humphrey looked sheepish at that. "Well, investors are always reluctant to spend money on something they don't have tangible evidence on. The EEG is fully confident in this project, but all the projections in the world aren't enough for the big men upstairs, you know? We're hoping to fund your efforts both to improve the world, and serve as an example of success for future funding, you see?"

Humphrey had gotten a read on Adam Smasher at this point, it seemed, he continued in a brash and blunt way even to the hidden astonishment of his fellows. Their reactions would normally be too fast to spot, but he was Yorinobu.

"Of course, by providing the guidelines and resources, but not actually leading the project ourselves, we can protect ourselves from backlash should it fail. We need to keep our funding if we want to help the world, you see?"

"If it fails, you blame me. If it succeeds, you take the credit?" Smasher growled out in a harsh tone. Humphrey nodded nonchalantly. "That sounds about right, yessir."

Smasher stared him down for a moment, before snorting and leaning back in his chair, mimicking Yorinobu in posture. He was not a man who cared about things like credit so long as the job was done, it seemed.

"What aid are you offering?"

Humphrey grinned in a victorious manner.

"Experts from Biotechnica and Militech are prepared to offer financial aid in the project, and provide a substantial workforce. Militech is prepared to offer bulk construction supply. Biotechnica if prepared to offer bulk food and medical aid. And we here at the EEG are prepared to offer funding…"

He leaned in dramatically.

"...We are prepared to offer four-hundred percent whatever your current corporate funding from Arasaka is."

The techie was excited when he walked in, practically bouncing up from where he had been sitting and typing away in front of a large holographic display of a disassembled ACPA frame. That excitement lasted a few moments before it gave way to comical horror at what he was carrying.

His frame, half melted by a barrage of lightning bolts and plated in replacement armor paneling. He ignored Techie for a moment, carrying the frame in and dropping it with a heavy thunk on one of the reinforced tables. He stepped away in time for techie to dramatically throw himself in front of the table and plug his interface cable in.

"This is terrible, Smasher-san! Look at your body!" Techie paused for a moment to read through the damages via the neural interface. His girlish face grew more and more horrified as he read. "Your beautiful CCPL myomer is all damaged, and forty percent melted beyond functionality! Your entire electronics array has suffered short-circuits from wiring damages!"

His face curled into a sneer. "And someone took off your hard and heavy armor paneling and replaced it with… this." He practically spat the last word, clearly sickened by the civilian market-grade armor paneling. He shook his head, raised his fists to his chest, and asked him in despair. "Who sabotaged your frame like this?!"

Adam grunted. "I got into a fight, it got damaged."

The techie paused at that, and looked to the frame, then back to Adam. He tilted his head. "Do you have a recording?" Adam downloaded his memories of the fight from his black box onto a memory chip, then removed it from the neck of his Gemini and handed it over.

Techie inserted it, and his eyes unfocused as he watched the memory of the fight. About halfway through, his face started getting red and he started rubbing his legs together. Adam pointedly ignored this as he waited for techie to get done so they could discuss a frame update. Hijikata didn't waste his time on shit like this, all he did was rant about guns every now and then.

Eventually techie removed the chip, and coughed into his fist to refocus himself. "Right, I'll put in the work order to get another one shipped over. Normally we'd have an extra for you, but I don't think anyone was expecting this level of damage yet."

"No, this frame needs an update first." Adam growled out, catching techie's attention.

"An update…? Ah, you noticed a deficiency in the design during the fight then?"

Yeah, you could certainly fucking say that. He didn't have his fucking missiles anymore. Adam lifted the frame and pointed to the sub-arm mounting first.

"This part is fucking useless to me right now. It's supposed to plug into the ACPA to come, but it's only dead weight right now. Replace it with weapon mounts and linking on the forearms instead. It'll plug in just the same, and I can use actual fucking weapons in the mean time."

Techie chewed on his lip as he considered that.

"We'd need to update the ACPA wiring a bit, and that would drop your sub-arm manipulation in it by… maybe twenty percent?"

"How long until the ACPA is done?"

"Uhh.. maybe about four months?"

Adam grunted "It's useless to me if I get scrapped by some lucky bot in the meantime, update the frame. I'll compensate for twenty percent later."

Techie grinned cheerfully, and nodded. "Righto, Smasher-san, I'll pull a few more all-nighters working on it."

Adam considered the techie for a moment. He furrowed his brow in a confused glare. "How did you not know I got into a major scrap?"

Techie rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I've been working on your ACPA designs for the last sixty–eight hours. I haven't slept or left this room yet."

…Adam's optics narrowed as he magnified on Techie's eyes. Nothing noticeable.

Techie noticed, and rubbed away underneath one of his eyes revealing the dark circle underneath a layer of creamy white. "Makeup." he explained simply.

Huh. Well, mystery solved, he didn't really care anymore. He pulled away to walk out, but Techie spoke up again. "Ah, Smasher-san, wait."

He stopped, annoyed. Techie quickly continued.

"I assume you're wanting to mount micro-missiles on your forearms, just like your Dragoon frame had, right?"

"Yes."

Techie hummed at that. "...The missiles hit hard, but you can only carry a very limited amount, and you've been needing a non-kinetic option for a while now."

"Yes, thermite-loaded missiles." Where was he going with this?

Techie scratched his temple. "...Have you considered lasers instead?"

He audibly snarled at that, undeterred, Techie kept talking.

"If we take two Militech Electronics Lasercannons, swap out the batteries for supercapacitors, and then hook it up to your fusion core, you'd have two non-kinetic weapons with unlimited ammunition and nearly instantaneous firing-speed. You'd have to wait a little bit before they recharge, but you'd have a long range option that never runs out of ammo."

…He wanted his fucking missiles back.

'He has a point.' Uriel spoke up, irritatingly.

'I fucking know that.'

'We can use missiles later, we need to survive now.' Unfortunately, he was being reasonable.

Adam growled. "Fucking fine, get those ordered and modified appropriately, If this screws me over at some point, I'm ripping you in half."

Techie gave a sailor's salute as he stomped out the door.

As he stomped out, he had Uriel look up a battleglove retailer (Battlearms United, apparently) and put in an order for an appropriate set. He was going to get his fucking missiles at least some of the time.

Uriel smiled and waved goodbye to the Mikoshi AI. It stared. It was still staring as he left the building.

'Fuck, she's creepy.' Uriel spoke once they were well enough away. Adam didn't acknowledge the statement, but he agreed.

—

He winced in pain as he took another step towards the main room couch. Another step and another wince, one after another, step after step, until he reached the couch and gently collapsed upon it.

He breathed in and then out, slowly, letting the strain that had built up on his limbs settle. The strain would fade, but there was an undeniable pressure and weight to them now that he couldn't get rid of. There was a sluggishness to the limbs, even with their better-than-human capabilities.

Chrome limbs were heavier than normal limbs, and he had four of them now. It wasn't too much heavier, but heavier enough to be noticeable. The arms were something he was used to by this point, used to moving in such a way to minimize the burden on his shoulders and back. Usually with his hands supported by his hips, or a surrounding bit of architecture. The legs were not something he could cheat on the burden of, he had to just deal with it eventually.

Neuralware, Auditory suite, Eyes, Strengthened Arms, Legs, Chipware sockets, an Internal Agent… He probably had more chrome than most cyberpsychos on the streets at this point. He didn't particularly feel like turning into a raving lunatic and shooting up a bar, but he also knew that he wasn't particularly special.

Adam Smasher was special, a one-in-a-million guy who could tank as much chrome as he wanted to bother buying and installing. David Martinez was special, a guy who went from a classmate he used to bully to a combat monster capable of wiping out entire gangs by himself in a single year.

He was Katsuo Tanaka, just a guy who went to work. He wasn't particularly ambitious or conniving, he wasn't particularly charming or tough, he wasn't particularly quick or strong. He used to have a bigger ego, back in the day, but dealing with people in the corporate world was exhausting. He was too tired most of these days to be condescending. He wasn't particularly lucky or unlucky either.

Sure, the guy he used to bully beat him up, and then his dad died, and then the guy he used to bully got recruited by Adam Smasher after turning himself into a chromed-out combat monster, and then his mom died, and he got his legs cut off by a lunatic with a chainsaw for a hand…

But he was alive and had a friend, so it wasn't all bad. It could definitely be worse than it was right now. He pulled out the cardboard container for the root beer soda that was tucked beneath the main room table, and took one out to enjoy.

Root beer was the objectively best flavor, afterall. Anyone who told you otherwise was lying or misinformed.

His chrome hands were heavy, but he had long since gotten used to the extra weight. His chrome was all covered in RealSkinn and EMP threading. Apparently there was a study some years ago about how RealSkinn helped reduce cyberpsycho rates, and his mother had insisted on it. EMP threading was simply nice to have in general. She was always looking out for him. She couldn't anymore now, she was dead after all, so he'd have to do it himself.

He breathed out of his nose, and took a drink. It was a very good drink, root beer flavored and bubbly. It probably had pesticides in it or something, but what didn't these days?

Steps behind him alerted him to the fact that Martinez entered the room. It had to be him, the steps were too heavy to be anyone else, and too light to be Smasher. Martinez walked around to the otherside of the table and sat down.

He reached down, grabbed a second root beer, and offered it. Martinez accepted and cracked it open. They sipped simultaneously, and sat around for a bit. He wasn't sure if women did this, but every now and then they would just sit down in comfortable silence and take turns taking sips of their drinks. It was a guy thing, from what he had been told, how true that was was probably a matter of debate.

Just two guys, sitting around a table, drinking. He internally groaned when he realized that he had something to say.

"Martinez." He spoke to get his attention. Martinez hummed and looked over, so he continued talking. "You saved my life, that means I owe you now. What do you want?"

Katsuo Tanaka wasn't planning on being in debt anytime soon, so the sooner he could resolve something like this the better. Martinez blinked at him dumbly, he probably didn't even realize that he had this kind of leverage over him. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that he bullied Martinez to the point of dropping out, because he would be eaten alive in the corporate world. Thinking that made him feel slightly awkward, so he ignored it.

Martinez hummed, and took a few more drinks of the soda, face scrunching slightly in thought. He took a few drinks of his own, it would be rude to rush his thinking here. They were friends now (he thinks) so he can't be rude when it comes to important things like this.

Eventually, Martinez spoke up.

"...Your apartment complex was destroyed in the rumble a couple days ago." It was a statement of fact. It was why he was sleeping here until he found another reasonable apartment. Martinez had offered a place to crash, and he accepted it in exchange for buying all the soda for a month. It was a good deal. "We still have like, five empty rooms here, so you're moving in and helping me with something."

He paused while taking a sip. He lowered the drink and raised a brow. Martinez continued, "Smasher is a frontliner unit. I'm a flanker unit. We need a backline unit to help protect the girls from being ambushed while they support."

He furrowed his brows. "Martinez, you and I both know I have no training."

Martinez nodded. "Right, I'll help you train. I need another non-fullborg to help me out with developing a fighting style, so that part helps me out too."

He considered it for a moment, and took another sip. "I thought Smasher was training you in 'Panzerfaust'?" He wasn't quite sure if he got the pronunciation right.

Martinez winced. "Right, uhh, well turns out that I had been tearing my cells apart trying to do it as a non-fullborg. So Ka-kagekaze recommended that I adapt it for fleshies like you and me first. He was going to help me, but…" He stumbled over the former security chief's name, and then trailed off by the end.

Katsuo wasn't really sure what to say to comfort him. "That sounds painful."

"It was, yeah."

…That didn't help at all, work harder brain.

He leaned back and stretched out to pop his overworked back. Help Martinez out in the fighting, huh?

What a wild world, huh? He huffed aloud, and smirked at Martinez. "Alright Martinez, I was probably going to get fired at this rate anyways, I'll request a transfer to Smasher's unit if you'll help me train up."

Martinez grinned at him, and offered a fistbump. He accepted it, their chrome arms making a noticeable sound of metal on metal.

Interrupting their moment of bonding, a voice he wasn't expecting called out from the kitchen area. He startled a bit at the noise.

"Eh? Bowlcut is gonna be wheeling out with us?" It was the voice of Rebecca. He wanted to use her last name, but she told him that she didn't have one last time he asked. She strutted over and put her hands on her hips to lean forwards and give him an exaggerated examination. After a moment of humming, she looked over to Martinez. "He's kinda scrawny, ain't he? You sure about this Davey?"

Her barely suppressed smile told him she was teasing him. He played into the bit as the straight man. "Hey now, I'm no Kamen Rider, but I might make a decent Kaijin."

She froze, and then turned to stare at him.

…Had he said something wrong?

Martinez glanced between them for a second, and then spoke. "What are you referencing, Tanaka?"

…Shit. No one except him knew about shitty vintage pre-datacrash vids. Everytime he brought it up in the past no one knew what he was talking about. Good job Katsuo, day fucking one and you stumble. He must be more zoned out by the pain of the new legs than he thought.

Before he could brush it off as nothing, his upper arms were seized by Rebecca's hands grabbing tightly and forcing him to look at her in the optics. It was a somewhat nerve-wracking experience being this close to a woman.

She narrowed her optics. "...What's Takeshi Hongo's IQ?"

He froze.

She knew.

He gulped. "...it was said to be 300, but this was never really demonstrated in the show."

She leaned forwards more, and smacked their foreheads together. "We are watching vintage stuff together, understand?"

He gulped again and nodded. She released him and rose to her full height, hands on hips, nodding affirmatively.

He breathed in and out for a bit to calm his nerves, reaching over to grab his drink of delicious root beer and taking a swig. It was out. He grabbed another can and opened it, and drank deeply of its wondrous nectar. Wonderful, non-feminine nectar.

…He put the drink down.

Martinez, the traitorous asshole, looked amused. "What was that all about 'Becca?"

"You know how rare it is for people to get my references? Only big guy knows about shit that old, and he doesn't watch movies most of the time. I'm not losing the chance to nerd out about this stuff with someone else."

"I suppose that's fair."

That was not fair, he nearly had a heart attack.