Saburo was taking one of the few breaks of his day. A short, thirty minute period in which he could perform a non-work related task and drink tea. One of two such breaks he would experience throughout his twelve-hour workday. He personally felt it somewhat indulgent, but his daughter had insisted upon it some years ago so he obliged her. He was in his personal office, and watching the recordings of Yojimbo's exploits. Beside him was Jorogumo V3, who was performing the proper serving of tea and other secretarial functions. She was doing good thus far, he had only noticed sixteen errors this time, one less than last time.
Once her algorithms had fully mastered each and every task a woman should know, they would be copied and used as the blueprint for future automatons of her type. Her model series was never meant for mass production, but an entire clan of kunoichi according to her specifications had quite a number of uses. A shame what had happened to V2, but his daughter was cleaning her code, she'd be restored to full functionality soon. Hmm, perhaps a second line of Kunoichi of her personality matrix would be good, not for seduction or infiltration but for direct assassination? It was something to consider, he noted it for future considerations.
He raised a finger to rewind the clip back to the beginning. His arrogant young Yojimbo strode into a clear ambush and mocked those within, it was good to see some life return to him after the years. It was clear his newest adoptees were re-igniting his fires, like fresh firewood thrown on hot coals…
Ho-hum…
Saburo paused briefly, and gestured for his brush and a woodblock. Jorogumo V3 handed them to him within two seconds, and with mostly proper form, her bow was three degrees off. Taking them in his hands, he took ink up from the pre-prepared inkstone and began to write a new haiku. He was feeling english this time, as a gesture towards the young man who inspired it.
Young men and old men
Fresh firewood thrown on hot coals
Fueling life's passions
Hum… Not the best, but fairly good for something he just came up with. He noticed that his brushwork on the last word was a quarter millimeter off, he was getting old. He chuckled, he had been old for a while now. Speaking of young men…
He turned back to the video, handing the woodblock and brush to Jorogumo V3. Better now, her bow was only two and a half degrees off. She would perfect these things in time. Yojimbo was enjoying himself, fighting against the ones using hammers… Mochi-men, he decided to label them, that was a fun name. They were attempting to hold Yojimbo in place long enough for their subordinates to rain bullets upon him, to little success. Yojimbo was much too fast and too well armored for such a strategy to be effective.
Hmm, what guns were they using? Judging from the rate of fire and the amount of damage on that… 2002 Toyota Corolla… Militech Mark IV Assault rifles he thinks. Their aim was entirely too accurate across the board for it to be much else. My, those are expensive, Sovoil certainly was spending entirely too much spare change on this little operation.
Then, the camera shakes a tad and Yojimbo pauses, what he sees is brought up on the screen. He's checking the vitals of his adoptees, and he notices that one is critically injured. Saburo sharpened his gaze, alright now Yojimbo, let's see what you did again.
Yojimbo locks his Sandevistan-SX on, which is where the nervous system damage he experienced came from. He then runs until he meets with the young Martinez-san, takes the girl from him, and rushes her to the medicinal staff on the perimeter. All of that was perfectly clear.
Saburo stopped focusing on his sight, and opened his sight. His left eye tapped into the recording of the area from the perspective of the mushi, the spirits of code that dwelt within the net. He saw Yojimbo for what he was since his samurai spirit had fully ignited. A man of golden fire clad in charred oni-kabuto, but the man was the armor and the armor was the man, they were the one in the same.
The fire lept from Yojimbo, and entered into the frame of a Mochi-man. Then, the cybernetics of the Mochi-man began to overclock, and the man began to burn. Then the golden fire leapt to another Mochi-man, and repeated the process. Then again, then again, then again.
The fire leapt forwards to observe the young Martinez-san, trailing along wires and hopping between cameras. Then the fire spread and it engulfed the area, and all those that might have been wicked it vanquished. Yojimbo delivered the girl to the medical staff, and was forced dormant, and the fire was drawn within him again.
Saburo grinned, his Yojimbo had picked up quite a few tricks since his samurai spirit awoke. He had cast his data-self into the net, burned those that opposed him, and then sought to confirm the state of his wards. All the while he ran to meet up with them with his body, ignoring the pain of his Sandevistan burning him.
How absolutely marvelous, how wonderful, he was learning to utilize his Reiki at an incredible pace. He had long mastered the physical ways known to the Oni, he was now walking the path of the Spiritual ways known to the Samurai. He would be a legend long before he died, if indeed a warrior was ever born that could kill him.
Were only he one of his sons, then Saburo would not worry so much for the future…
Ho-hum… His Hanako was unmarried still, was she not? Perhaps a branch-clan to manage Imperial affairs in the Giant's lands would be in order? Ah wait, she didn't care for him, did she? Much too brutal and violent is what she told him once.
Well, Yojimbo was finally walking the path of the Samurai, he would need to ask her opinion again that he was refining himself.
—
Yorinobu was performing one of his only self-appointed tasks, plotting the destruction of Arasaka and everything his father had ever worked for. The tyrannical grasp that his father's empire had over the world… It was unacceptable. The souls of so many billions crushed under the weight of a hungry dragon's coils, like chains weighing them down.
The world was suffering, the people within the world were suffering, and it was his father's fault. He had to atone for this inherited sin the only way he could. The destruction of Arasaka would not prevent his own damnation, but it was all he could do regardless. Every day he woke, another thousand sins upon his back, a weight that was almost unbearable.
But bear it he must, for the people of the world deserved no less.
He was reviewing the profile on his father's chiefest war-hound, Adam Smasher. Even now he was baffled at the sudden change in behavior. For decades the butcher had been nothing more than a blunt instrument, going to a location and following orders in the most brutal way he could. Smasher may sneer at the Dragoons, but he was just as much of an unthinking tool as they.
Until he wasn't, until he found a boy who by all means he should have destroyed outright. He took them in, gave them everything they could ask for, and the explanation he gave was that he wanted an apprentice? A complete and utter falsehood. Yorinobu knew Adam Smasher, he was a monster that loved violence, and had a heart only big enough for pride, wrath, or lust.
Or, at least, he thought that he knew him. For in the last month and a half the supposed monster had gone above and beyond his norm for these children. He took them in, he saved their lives on no less than three occasions, even most recently at cost to himself. Why? What was special about these three?
He had checked their files, an orphaned boy, and two orphaned girls. There was nothing particularly special about them. The boy was a combat prodigy, sure, but those were not uncommon. The girl was an Arasaka escapee, but those were not uncommon (much to his quiet and repressed fury). The other girl was a former gang member, but those were not uncommon.
Nothing about them was special enough to warrant such a change from Adam Smasher.
…He had never known Smasher to deceive intentionally. Perhaps he should take this at face value? Adam Smasher had gotten up that morning and decided he didn't care for how he was living before.
…
He could believe it.
He himself went through such a change in his youth afterall. Adam had been killing since he was a boy (hell, he had killed his first man when he was eight, right before Yorinobu was even born), he had never known a life that was not filled with violence. Growing tired of such, day over day, and simply trying something new? Such stories were frequent, the only notable thing here is that it happened to the Butcher of Arasaka.
For the longest time, he believed there to be nothing to the butcher, merely an unrestrained capacity for bloodshed. Michiko once told him that there was the heart of a man within the demon, but he never trusted that. She was young and Smasher was a powerful man, he thought her just in the throws of spring-love.
Their love did die in autumn, and he put it out of his mind at the time.
But the possibility remained, that perhaps his neice was telling the truth so many years ago. That there was a man buried under that chrome.
Regardless, he had a dilemma. One Adam Smasher would be difficult enough to maneuver around when the time for his father's death came, but an Adam Smasher and a team of his protegees would be near impossible.
He would have to give them a mission away from Arasaka influence when he made his move, far away, and hope that they would get killed when supply lines stopped flowing.
It was truly a shame that his father was holding Adam Smasher's contract, and that it was doubtful that he'd ever consider relinquishing it to his least favorite child, himself. If Adam Smasher truly was finally turning from a path of violence, then his hard earned skills in the area would be invaluable for the salvation of the world.
To free the world from tyranny, Arasaka must die, all of it. Including himself. He felt the sins on his shoulders writhe at the thought.
So Yorinobu kept planning, planning for the day to come in which Saburo Arasaka must fall.
He tried not to think of what his sister and niece would think if they ever learned of his grand betrayal, they would surely be devastated, as filial as they were.
—
Hanako was working on her daughter, well, project technically. Looking through the code that had run rampant during her brief stint on the streets of NC, and doing her best to correct it as her daughter excitedly rambled at her about her grand 'adventure'.
"...then like, she said that she didn't want to have to clean the stuff again, and showed me how to use the powerwasher. It was really cool, like, all the water spraying out? It cleaned all the stuff like, really good and then doc said she could sell it for more afterwards…"
Jorogumo V2, or 'Vee' now that she liked to call herself, was on the table in front of her, braincase opened and hooked into cords that led to a computer that she was currently working on.
Hanako supposed that this was the equivalent to performing brain surgery on a person who was awake. As she looked through the code that had built up from the learning algorithm that made up Vee's protocols. More than a third of it had to be scrapped outright, no you're not supposed to feel the pleasure center light up in response to getting torn in half, that's supposed to invoke the pain response.
In a way, she was glad for many of these errors, because it had helped Vee survive alone in the world for nearly a year. The streets of NC… they were not a kind place to lonesome girls. Yes Vee was a girl, no Vee, you're not supposed to switch out your genitals like that, that wasn't intended.
On one hand, there were quite a number of code lines that had built up that Hanako was hesitant to delete, as they affected what was now Vee's core personality. Her bubbly yet airheaded rambling was… it was quite cute. Her girl was quite cute indeed.
Unfortunately, her cute daughter was also in love with a monster.
"...and like there I was, surrounded by like a hundred grody dudes who were about to dom me, and then their heads were explodated. And my knight in shining chrome came over and picked up his sword, and it was like as big as I hope his coc…"
"Vee." She cut off, not wanting to hear her surrogate daughter talk about Adam Smashers theoretical… penis…
She was a woman grown, yes, but there are simply some things that a lady should not mention so openly. A bit of despair washed over her at the thought. A woman grown and still unmarried, the daughter of Saburo Arasaka was a laughing stock for certain. They bandied polite words to her face, but while behind closed doors they surely mocked her.
"...but he like, totally saved me there, just like in those old vids gramps showed me, and it was totes romantic. I…" Vee trailed off, which was a strange thing to witness. Hanako was a bit concerned about this.
"Vee?" She questioned.
A moment passed, and Vee flopped her head over towards Hanako, wires bouncing at the movement.
"Can I marry him?" She asked, and Hanako took a moment to process the question.
"No." She replied, perhaps a bit more forcibly than what a proper lady should speak with.
"Why?"
Hanako hesitated, it was clear that Vee idolized the… man… quite a bit, from his actions while around her. She didn't want to spoil her daughter's fantasy.
"He is too old for you." She eventually decided upon.
Vee groaned at this. Before complaining in her typical loud and open way.
"But he's like a total hunky daddy! And he pounded me so good~!"
Hanako blushed at the implication, this wasn't… she knew what Vee referred to, but why did she have to word it that way? From the corner of her eye she caught the line of code that prompted that decision scrolling past. Ah, survival mechanism to lower the guard of gangers in NC. Hanako felt sad again.
"Even still." she absentmindedly replied. Debating to herself to keep or delete that specific line.
"...Could you marry him?" Hanako froze, shaking her head and looking over at Vee again. Vee was looking at her in that way she did, with absolute and open curiosity. There wasn't a hidden thing in her expression.
"Why?" Hanako responded, wanting to hear what prompted her change in desire.
"...Well you're like, a christmas cake, so he's not too old for you."
…
Hanako wanted to strangle this brat. She glowered over her and contemplated deleting all of her code and just starting over.
"Care to repeat that, brat?" Her voice was not kind.
"Yeah, like, then you could fuck like bunnies and I'd have a bunch of little siblings."
Just as Hanako Arasaka was about to inflict righteous retribution upon this little upjumped toaster, she received a message.
A message from her father. She ignored whatever Jorogumo V2 was saying.
Face blank, she pulled up the recording on screen, the text attached said 'review this'. Father needed her expertise as a netrunner, then.
She watched the vid.
Then she watched the vid again.
Then she watched it again.
Then she pulled up the specifications of the modified Dragoon frame that Adam Smasher used. It had no quick-hacking capabilities installed. She checked the vid again.
Everything she knew about netrunning told her that that should have been basically impossible. How had he done that? How had he done that to some many different targets while his nervous system burned itself out? How had he…
She watched what was happening in the vid again.
A warrior was severely harming himself to rescue a girl he had taken into his household. He was going above and beyond his normal limits to defeat the bandits that had harmed her. He was rushing her to safety as fast as he could.
No matter what happened to her, no matter what the world threw at her, there was always a small part of Hanako that was still a little girl in her family's compound. A little girl who spent her days daydreaming about the romances of the past that her father used to read to her.
Hanako went back to working on Vee's code, but that clip played out in her mind over and over again as she did.
All the while, Vee rambled on about marriage.
—
John had recently received a promotion, and he was glad for it.
He all but whistled as he went about his job. Their task this time was to pull the rubble out and reveal all the scav bodies that Adam nuked on his way out.
No one was quite sure how the Smashman did it this time, near as anyone could tell he simply got mad that one of his trainees got hurt and scavs started melting in their own chrome.
He had to say though, the smell was pretty bad. It was about as bad as the time the Smashman went to town on a supply run with a couple of flamethrowers in hand. At least the clean up that time wasn't as hard, mostly corpses and scrapped vehicles.
This stuff was all concrete and rebar and the occasional scrap pile. He stepped in something that made a distinctly wet sound. Ah, and the occasional scav corpse. He moved the rubble off the corpse, grabbed a chunk of the stuff, and flagged the location for the vultures.
The boys in the crew called the folks who came for the corpses 'vultures', based on their job of picking the bodies and stripping them of anything useful. Information, chrome, equipment. Everything that could be salvaged that might be useful was taken and stored for future processing.
The vultures loved this name, and took to wearing gas-masks stylized to look like the birds in question. The creepy fuckers, but they were a polite bunch who were always down to gamble in their free time. They were good at it too, John had lost more than his fair share of hands against them.
They had some of the best fucking coffee though, the second most preem shit he had ever drank. The first most was that time a Trauma Team member made him a cup of their own brew for him as thanks for moving a particularly heavy bit of rubble for them. John wondered how that guy was doing nowadays. Where was he? Oh right, the vulture brew was amazing and they were perfectly willing to offer a cup during their game nights.
The next one was coming up, and he was going to have to miss it. Lily was going to be graduating soon and going into some fancy corpo job, so he and his output were going to attend.
John grinned like the bastard he was.
He intended on making her wear a little something under her dress when they went too. A three hour graduation ceremony, the entire time he was going to play with her from a seat over? That was more than worth the cost of losing another hand to the vultures and missing out on the coffee.
Although it was a close thing, their coffee was really fucking nice.
This time the Smashman made their job pretty easy, thinking about it. The higher ups were talking about demolishing the area anyways and an entire city block turning into rubble was pretty good for getting a head start on that.
He had reached the heavy-duty dump truck they brought in to haul off the rubble, and got into the line of his fellow workers. Each and every one of them carried a chunk of rubble the size of a grown man over their heads. They slowly climbed their way up a heavier-duty staircase up to overlook the Tailgate container. When a worker got to the top, they tossed the rubble in, it crashed with a heavy boom, and the man in question walked down the otherside of the staircase.
A veritable chain of rough and tumble men picking up chunks of rock as big as their torsos away from a demolished building, and occasionally calling for a creepy fella in a vulture mask to come over and haul off a corpse.
It was simple, honest work, and John liked it. Especially with his recent raise for good performance.
A whole extra eddie an hour, holy shit. That's twelve more eddies per shift, one-hundred and sixty eight more eddies per paycheck.
Sure these came in every now and again, but they were always welcome.
For certain, John liked his job. His input liked his big strong arms, He liked his input's big fat tits. Things were certainly good for him.
He walked over again to his assigned section, and saw that a vulture was already there. He recognized this one, it was the fucker with the strange hissing laugh. He was damn good at poker too.
"Howdy-do, Vulture!" John called out as he moved to pick up another chunk of rubble.
"Howdy-do, Workhorse." The vulture called back in his scratchy, hoarse voice. This sounded intimidating, but John had been around them long enough to know that that was the tone they had when they were jolly. Must have been a good corpse then, glad to know.
"Doing fine today?" John hefted the next chunk over his head and set it on his shoulder, pausing briefly to hear the reply.
"Fine as can be, yourself?"
"Living the dream!" John had heard that phrase be used sarcastically before, but he didn't mean it like that.
After all, things were good for John "Workhorse" Shepard, and it seemed like things would continue to be.