Of all the places David expected to end up, it wasn't as the enforcer for Arasaka's absolute rule over the shithole that is Pacifica. Maybe if you asked him more than a year ago he would have said 'working for Arasaka' would have been fairly reasonable, but probably in some sort of desk jockey position.

He had also expected Arasaka's rule over the area to be, frankly, more brutal and oppressive. It was both of those things, sorta, but putting Adam Smasher in charge of urban development would do that he supposed. It was a fairly… lax sort of brutality and oppression though, it was strange.

A bunch of concrete apartment buildings went up, and if you moved in and followed the rules you got food, water, and shelter for free. Fuck, free rent alone would have been worth it for some people, but throw in a free ration and liter of water a day and it was no wonder the complexes filled up so fast.

Hell, Adam gave you eddies, some clothes, and another ration a day if you helped carry shit and put it in dumpsters. Then he gave you a gun, another ration, and a free drink at the end of each shift you helped keep everyone else in line with the (again, surprisingly permissive) rules. Sure, he pulled that hacking trick again where he turned off your chrome and sent a message not to fuck up again if you broke any of these rules (the scariest fucking thing he could think of, so he decided not to think about it), and then burned you in your own chrome if you fucked up again…

But this was Pacifica, David didn't blame Adam for taking such a hardline stance against his rules being broken. Because it worked, those apartments had some of the cleanest roads and least drugs and crime he had ever seen. No one wanted to be the one to piss Adam Smasher off.

In fact, the most violent place in the entire fucking zone Adam had expanded into so far was the fucking Arena, and everyone loved it. A bunch of people go in and beat the shit out of each other, and a bunch of other people cheer them on. There was no need for coercion or whatnot, people were all too willing to go shank each other in front of an audience of thousands. You got a fair cut of the payment if you made it to the top 4, and a solid third of the total pool if you won. People made money off it, and there wasn't any need to brawl in the streets when you could do it in the arena.

Hell, even the gangs were sending a couple fighters each at minimum to participate in the whole thing. They were even being polite about it! They were renting stalls to sell merch of their fighters! A solid fourth of the fighters in the Arena were part of the Animals gang, they fucking loved the place.

It made money too, David had once asked to see how much all of this was costing, and it made him choke. Adam was pouring a fucking ridiculous sum into this place to make it work as best he could, even as he loudly growled about having to do it. That seemed to be a trend with Smasher, hating whatever he was doing outside of violence, but putting forth his absolute best efforts regardless.

Maybe that's why working for the guy didn't suck as bad as he thought it was going to two months ago.

He was on patrol around the edges between the housing section and the part of Pacifica Adam hadn't taken over yet. Lucy was looking over the cameras set up in the housing area proper, trying her best to fill in for Adam's seemingly omnipresent gaze. Rebecca was set up on the top of the temp HQ tower, in the shade with her ACPA on, ready to fire at anyone who crosses and approaches the production buildings on the beach.

They collectively couldn't match Adam's fucking ridiculous overwatch capabilities, but they could certainly try their best to manage. He was walking on a loop back and forth from the newest building happening on the beach (a second power plant was in the middle of being put together) and towards the end of the Arena's outermost walls. Then he would turn around and jog right back, waving at some of the stationed guards and their shade-tents set up, occasionally grabbing a water or ration from one of them.

It was kinda boring all things considered, but it was easy enough to do, and gave him time to let his worries just… slip away. He explained the feeling once and Adam called it 'runner's high'. It certainly felt like that, a high without any of the side effects that drugs might bring (at least, he thinks so, he's never done anything worse than alcohol at this point, and with his mother back he probably never would).

He was careful not to let everything slip away, he kept an eye on his surroundings and an ear on the radio for trouble. This was his second day of being on patrol like this, and it was… appealing to him. Just him, his thoughts, a stretch of road, and all the time in the day. His stamina was going to improve as well, if he kept doing this.

Maine told him he used to be a runner once. David wondered if this feeling was why.

He was running near one of the abandoned buildings on the west side when he heard gunshots to the south. He paused, that sounded like it came from… three buildings in? He might need to check that out. The gunshots resumed and with them came screams… He sighed, running would have to wait for another moment longer.

Getting a running start, he jumped off the overlook he was on and across the street slightly below. Maybe about 12 meters in all crossed in a single leap over. He rolled with the impact and drew his shotgun as he ran towards the gunshots. Man, these new myomers were fucking preem, that was way farther than what he could manage before.

The difference between the new construction and the rotting buildings of the old Pacifica was night and day. New Pacfica was all entirely rough but sturdy utility, but it was clean and strong. Old Pacifica was the rotting carcass of something that used to be new and beautiful, now revealed to be fragile in its ruin. New Pacifica didn't exactly look pretty, but it worked and worked well. Old Pacifica was just garbage now, neither functioning nor looking well.

The roads were shattered in most places, with trash overflowing at every crack and corner. The whole place stank like nothing else, and you'd find the occasional pile of stuff that was probably better off not being named. He could sorta see how some of this used to look nice, but only if he squinted really hard.

This was Voodoo Boy territory, and apparently the "Pavement Apes" had started to take territory from them in their recent implosion. PA were like that, never really fighting anyone head on if they could avoid it so far, but being plenty opportunistic when they could. They stayed far away from Adam's new works, and far away from anything even tangentially related to something that could kill them outright (like people who work with Adam).

They were playing it smart it seems, laying low and picking on weakened targets to accumulate power until they could hold their own against larger gangs. It made sense. It didn't really matter, it was only a matter of time before Adam finally got to their new territory and decided that he wanted to clean it out.

It was this sort of scene that he ran up to, being careful to sneak up until he got a look at the area where the bullets were flying. The art of stealth, Adam taught him, involved many things, one of which was minimizing sound produced.

It was one of these tricks that he was using now, rolling his feet as he stepped in order to prevent any loud steps from happening. With the gunfire ahead going on, he was practically silent as he approached them.

He peeked out from behind a broken car.

In front of him was a clusterfuck of people crouching behind cover and occasionally shooting each other. On one side were a lot of people wearing feathers and netrunning gear, so he figured they must be part of the Voodoo Boys. The other side had a whole bunch of people with wife-beater white shirts and chrome arms, judging from the way they were literally beating their chests with their fists and some of them wearing chimpanzee masks, he had a good guess that these might be the PA.

…They were really playing into their theme here, huh?

He knew he really shouldn't bother here, just let them kill each other and get back to his run. But he remembered how many eddies Smasher was spending on this whole thing.

He wanted to help out. So he counted heads on both sides. Nine on the VB's side, fifteen on the PA's side. He made his decision.

David activated his Sandeistan, and moved. He ran on the side of their shootout until he got to the PA flank. Crouching behind some more rubble, he deactivated his Sandevistan and waited for it to cool down again. A few seconds later, he activated it again.

Jumping up and above the PA, he started shooting down at them from a few meters up, falling slowed by his Sandy. He had twelve shots before he needed to reload, so that meant by the time he landed on the other side of them he only had three left to deal with.

Standing and drawing out his pistol, he shot the remaining three as they fell back in shock at seeing so many of their friends turn into corpses.

Alright, fifteen down in two sandevistan uses and less than 10 seconds total. Not awful but not the best. He only had to move for that initial jump and for the aiming, so his strain from that second use wasn't bad at all.

He looked over to the hesitant VB as he reloaded. They weren't shooting at him, which was a good sign. David called out to them.

"Oi! I helped you. Return the favor by helping me take these guys up to the ripperdocs, will ya?"

They would get a bit of change from this, which David could use to help pay for… something, he wasn't sure yet. He figured the worst case scenario these guys started shooting at him too, which means more cash to help this cleanup with. He didn't feel too bad about flatlining these guys, they were gangers in Pacifica, they had likely done horrible things on a frequent basis.

The best case scenario? They helped him take the corpses up and go on their way without issue. Simple enough he figured.

He wasn't expecting them to start kneeling and yelling. He flinched back a bit as they suddenly dropped to the road on their hands and knees. Their presumed leader, a dark skinned woman in what looked like a grease-stained white shirt, leather jacket, booty-shorts and worn boots yelled out.

"The Son of the Avatar has delivered us unto salvation! Praise be!"

"""PRAISE BE!""" the rest of them called out.

…

What?

What the fuck did he just stumble across?

—

It didn't take long for them to help him gather up the corpses, they moved with a fervor once they finished with… whatever that was. He got two of them by the wrists, and they tried their best to grab them as well. They lacked the strength for it, but they made up for that in enthusiasm.

He waved the guards as they approached with the corpses, they were initially alarmed, but quickly guessed that he was taking them off to the ripperdoc temp facility. Most people don't try to stop Adam Smasher's apprentice these days.

After the corpses were dropped off, he felt kinda awkward. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the nine men and women still standing in front of him, fidgeting back and forth. He didn't really know why they were still around, hanging about in the lands of a guy who was planning on demolishing their territory and building it into his own. Yet as nervous as they were looking around at the guards, they didn't leave.

"So… Thanks for the help I guess? You can leave if you want now." He said, trying to figure out what they wanted. He wasn't about to pay them for anything, their payment was him saving them from those guys

"U-uh. Actually… may we relay a message to Lord Smasher, host of the divine fire?"

…What? Host of the divine fire? Why were they calling Smasher that?

"Well, Smasher is out on a job right now, he'll be back at the end of the week. What message do you want to send?" He relayed.

He then remembered that he probably shouldn't go around telling people that, and mentally smacked himself. Good job gonk, now the gangs are going to know that his stuff isn't defended right now. David resolved to work overtime until Adam came back for that.

All nine of them looked a bit worried at that, and their leader spoke up again, a bit more hesitant.

"Please tell Lord Smasher that we, his faithful of the Voodoo Boys, request his aid against the Heretics among our number! We wish to serve his divine will! But we must purge out disloyal elements first!"

…Alright one thing at a time David. The Voodoo Boys were having some sort of civil war, he already knew that, but he didn't know that it was a… religious war over Smasher. That was fucking wacky, he wasn't expecting that. Smasher had a cult now, who knew. He couldn't wait to snipe at the big guy over this, it was hilarious.

One faction hated him, he thinks, and the other faction wanted to serve him? And the faction that wanted to serve Smasher wanted help in taking out the faction that didn't like him?

…That was reasonable, downright lucky in fact. A gang wanted their help in killing half of their own group in exchange for jobs afterwards? That was a huge potential benefit, he thinks, he wasn't as good at this 'leadership' thing as Smasher was.

He looked at the nine in front of him. They seemed earnest enough.

Eh, what the hell. They were already going to have to clear out the VBs in the future, recruiting half now and wiping out the other half was helpful.

"I'll send him a message, but at the very least I'll help you all out." David promised. A man was his word, and he had promised to help Smasher out. This seemed like it could help him out a lot.

He couldn't wait to see the guy's face when he came back to hear that David had taken care of one of his future problems while he was away, he was going to be so surprised. The VB were pretty good netrunners, right? They could always use more of those to help manage stuff, and from the fact that they had a cult around Smasher now, they would probably shape up if he told them to.

To his alarm, they started kneeling and shouting praises again.

"PRAISE THE SON OF THE AVATAR!"

"""PRAISE!"""

He jerked his head to see people staring. You fuckers! You better stand up right now! Stop this!

"You don't need to do that! Please stand up!" He practically shouted back as he grabbed the leader by her upper arms and pulled her up. She complied and he stepped back, glancing to make sure people had stopped looking.

They hadn't. Fuck.

"We will go back to the faithful with the happy news! Please, here is my contact! We shall discuss how to wipe out the heretics at your leisure!" Why did you say that one part in such a scary way? A contact appeared in his messages, so he went ahead and saved it. He'd wait until he could discuss this with Lucy and Becca before moving forwards.

They started walking away, waving goodbye to the confused security checkpoint and quickly beginning basic stealth maneuvering.

He noticed something as the leader walked away.

Holy shit, her ass was incredible.

He slapped himself, he has a mainline. He resolved to bang Lucy twice as hard tonight to make up for that.

He started making his patrol rounds again, and let his thoughts disappear into the rhythm of booted chrome feet hitting shattered pavement. A steady pattern as he made his loops around, looking for trouble but utterly tranquil otherwise.

It was an addictive feeling.

"This is the end of the line for me. But not for you. Fast is what you do, remember?"

"Keep running."

—

If you had told John Shepard a few weeks ago that he would receive a second promotion so close to his last, he wouldn't have believed you. But here he was, overseeing the new construction in the Smashman's new turf. The old boss had taken the change in profession as an opportunity to retire, and work on his hobby of model plane creation. He still had drinks with the old walrus every few weeks.

Regardless, the walrus nominated him for the position, and the higher ups in Arasaka had apparently agreed to it. John was now the overall manager for the work being done in what the boys were calling "Smashland" jokingly. The actual name was something funky, "Outer Heaven" or something on the design docs that the Smashman sent them. It was good, honest work. John worked for ten hours a day now, not twelve, but he got paid three more eddies an hour now, so it more than made up for it.

He even got to see his daughter every now and again while at work. She was one of the trainees that was being trained in protection detail assigned here, so whenever he saw her he waved real big and got her all embarrassed. Heh, his daughter was the cutest in the world in her flak vest and helmet, papa was proud of her.

Something that he made sure to remind his underlings whenever he got the chance. He got one of those old physical pictures made of him hugging her the first time she came home in uniform and kept it in his wallet. He didn't really need a wallet, but he started carrying one to carry the picture around.

Anyways, they had been shipping in this pre-fabbed stuff to put up for most of the initial housing buildings. The actual production buildings were permanent, and built to last, but the housing wasn't. He understood the need for it, but he was still eager for when they got to the more permanent housing. The temp stuff would only last 30 years if it was well cared for, but the permanent stuff he got to sneak a peek at the designs for. Eyeballing it, he estimated a much more respectable century and a half for those.

The virtue of a construction worker is making things to last, and John was a very good construction worker.

The arena didn't need too much looking at, all in all. Its foundations and structure were still sturdy, they just needed to re-mortar some sections and put steel bracers on others. It should last another twenty years, not as much as they would like, but long enough for the district to get off its feet and build a replacement.

It was really the demolishing that he enjoyed the best. What kind of man didn't enjoy using the wrecking ball? Shame he had to be an overseer instead of a worker nowadays, he was too busy to be smashing up old buildings.

They were going to be putting up a wall in the future, some time. But that would be way after they got the interiors mostly arranged and set in place, maybe a few years from now.

He looked over to where the workers were with the cheapo laborers that Smashman hired to help them move trash out.

…What the hell were those idiots doing over there?

Dumbasses, now he has to go yell at you, no you're not supposed to ride the mules around.