Jugemu Jun sat in his office, he was busy filing the last few documents required to approve the change in Arasaka NC's change in plans for the next few years. He had been working on this for the last thirty six hours, and he was just about done.
On the other side of his desk, standing in the middle of the room, was Adam Smasher. Jun had called him here over an hour ago, and had given two commands. Jun had to finish his work before his little meeting with Adam Smasher could begin. He had been working non stop for a day and a half now, the dog could be made to wait for an hour.
"Do not move."
"Do not speak."
As the President of the NC branch of Arasaka, he had been given third-stage priority command over the Butcher. His orders could be superseded by one of the main branch high executives, or Arasaka Saburo himself. They were all in Japan right now, far away from Arasaka's attack dog. Arasaka Saburo had a fondness for the dog, but Jun knew that was only because he didn't have to personally deal with the messes that it made.
Jun did, Jun was. Jun was going to make sure he didn't have to any more. Arasaka Saburo had provided him with a perfect kennel, he intended to use it.
Finally saving his documents and sending them to the appropriate people, he dismissed the screens and looked at the completely still dog in the middle of his office. At least he knew how to sit.
Finally, after having sized up the subject for long enough, Jun began speaking.
"You are wondering why you are here, no doubt. I say wondering because if you were intelligent you would know. You are not intelligent, not as much as you think you are."
The rage in the dog's eyes was bright and furious. Good, let it be angry.
"Allow me to dispel all wonders and curiosities you have. You are here because you have made a grave error."
What a fucking error indeed.
"You have single handedly gone rogue, drove out into the desert with millions of eddies in company assets, wasted hundreds of thousands of eddies worth of company equipment, and negated potential billions in future revenue through the destruction of an important company asset."
"The wraiths were left alone because they created a dangerous environment. An environment in which Arasaka's security forces are a very valuable commodity. An environment that you have rendered dust on the desert winds."
He kept his voice level as he spoke. This was not the punishment, this was to make sure the brute knew exactly where it had fucked up.
"With their disappearance, the existing, much friendlier nomads in the area are sure to move in. They will gain immense power and control over the area, and will be able to survive on their own for years if not decades without further interference. They are happy, successful, stable, and not under Arasaka's thumb right now."
"We were but a year or less away from having both halves of the badlands under our nominal but complete control. You have destroyed that possibility. This is ignoring all the assets in the area that they will not be able to gather before scavengers move in."
"Who are those scavengers? Why, it's gangs and street-trash and not agents under Arasaka orders. Meaning all those assets are now in the hands of our enemies, not us, because you didn't think to inform us ahead of time."
He turned and looked out the window, continuing his explanation.
"It makes sense of course, that you didn't think of that. You are not meant to think. You are Arasaka Complete Demolition Asset codename "Smasher". You are a blunt force weapon, to be deployed when we need everything in a given area completely destroyed. Your deployment means that all other options available to us have failed. Your body is company property. Your equipment is company property. Your actions reflect on the company."
"Your actions for the last three months have been a new record of independence for you. You have seemingly decided all on your own to do things under your own volition again. You only had this freedom so long as your actions were constrained to manageable levels."
He turned and stared at the dog, still unmoving.
"Arasaka NC will be busy for years managing the public relations outcry from one of our security assets going rogue and deciding to perform a genocide. We might never recover from the damage to our company's reputation that you have inflicted with a single night of fun in the desert. Arasaka as a whole will be dealing with this for the next hundred years no doubt."
"You are a defensive asset. You are intended to remain on standby in case we are attacked. You do not attack what we do not tell you to."
Jun walked up to the still dog.
"The following statements are long-term orders."
"You are to remain within the Arasaka designated Pacifica region. Fulfilling your already assigned duties therein."
"You are to remain on constant ready-standby in case Arasaka NC has an order for you. You are to only obey orders and fulfill missions that I personally give you. Once a mission is finished, you will immediately return to the designated Pacifica region."
"The moment you step foot outside Pacifica for any reason, you are to shackle your AI. It is not permitted to leave your personal cyberware under any circumstances."
"You are to relinquish all weapons and equipment provided to you by Arasaka. You will be provided adequate equipment for your missions upon deployment. You will return them after your missions are finished."
"That statement concludes the long-term orders."
Jun stared at the dog in his office, almost breaking out into a glare. Privately he was glad that Adam Smasher performed such a fuck-up, it gave Jun the perfect opportunity to shackle the abomination.
He had given the orders related to missions for clarity and to cover himself, because in truth?
Jun never intended to give the dog the opportunity to leave Pacifica ever again. That place would be his tomb. He had two DaiOni jockeys from Japan under his control now, there was nothing that the sledgehammer could do that they couldn't do just as well.
Of course, it would be problematic if he grew too powerful in his little kingdom. Jun had a solution for that too though, all he had to do was approve the funding for a few gangs and have his assets make it seem as the work of other corporations. A false-flag attack to give Arasaka a chance to expand into the area even more and discredit other corporations to Night City residents.
That, and it hurt the dog and his kennel.
Adam Smasher would rot in that place, no missions, no weapons, nothing. Just a monster and his chair.
He didn't need Adam Smasher anymore. The dog had gotten himself an apprentice recently. It was about time to start sending him on jobs. Jobs with fellow and charismatic mercs that happened to dislike Adam Smasher of course.
"Remember, Adam Smasher. You are company property. You are not meant to think, or feel, or do anything that we do not tell you to do. This limitation on your freedoms is to make sure you do not screw us over again."
"We tell you to destroy something, then you go back to your quarters and sit there until we have another thing for you to destroy."
"That is why your existence is tolerated. Any other agent in the world who did this would be dead. You're still useful, so you get to survive a little longer."
"Make another mistake and that will stop being true."
"You are to be escorted by the fellows in the DaiOni to either side of you back to Pacifica. You may only make movements in order to fulfill this goal until you are within Pacifica again."
"Dismissed."
Jun walked back to his desk, and waited for the dog to leave his office. He put in an order for the Tower janitors to clean that spot. Then he got back to work. Fixing the mistakes of the brute was going to take weeks, if not months.
It all started with a few crates of guns and ammo falling off a few trucks.
Jun started filling the correct documents to have such accidents happen.
—
In a green field under cherry blossoms, the Tygers gathered.
To his right was Osawa Masaki, then Chiba Takehiro, then Kazo Taki .
To his left was Akuhara Norio, then Azegami Jun, then Ichida Marcus.
Saito Sato took a long, slow drag of his pipe, and breathed the smoke up into the air above their heads. Around him, his executives did the same, or they took a drink of their sake, or they simply lounged. A moment of relaxation before business truly began helped the tempers stay calm during a meeting of predators afterall.
He breathed in the sweet air around him and breathed out again. His sigh came out in the same rumbling rasp that it has for years now. Old signs of old scars. One can never escape their pasts, no matter their attempts, the past must be dealt with.
This meeting was not about the past, it was about the future.
"To begin our gathering, the establishment of information." Sato spoke, and his subordinates listened. They all already knew what this meeting would be about, but traditions were important to maintain.
"Arasaka has ordered Adam Smasher to rule over their new territory in Pacifica, which they have purchased from Night City itself. There he is the ultimate authority, and has directed its reconstruction efficaciously."
"He has been effective in quelling disruption in the area, and stonewalling the influence of all factions of the city save his own. This was initially troubling, but our efforts have never been concentrated on that district, and now it serves as a useful neutral ground due to his watching eyes."
"The establishment of The Arena was quickly taken advantage of, first by our lower subordinates, then by the dedicated efforts of high-executive Osawa Masaki. Our representative warriors are consistently well performing, and among the top fighters in whatever bracket they participate in. Our mercantile efforts in that area are also consistently high performing, although the highest earning faction is estimated to be the Mox prostitute-gang."
"Shamefully, the highest martial positions are consistently held by warriors of Maelstrom or the Animals, in the 'Cyborg' and 'Organic' weight classes respectively. We will discuss plans to have our warriors begin taking these top positions after the establishment of information."
"Then, the attack on Pacifica by rogue forces was an outright embarrassment to the Tygers. The warriors deployed to the region chose to flee back to our territory instead of fighting the bare few mercenaries in the area. The only faction that did not flee are the Animals, who traditionally have never held territory."
"This was perhaps the pragmatic move, but it was utterly disastrous in consequence. Adam Smasher chose the Animals to hire in bulk to guard and patrol his work, and now they have a solid territory with open Arasaka backing in the region. That attack was an unexpected test, and our warriors failed."
"Had they stayed, it is likely that they would have been hired over the Animals, and Tygers would roam the shade of the Arena. They did not, and have been punished for damaging the reputation of the Tygers appropriately. All the wealth and opportunity from such a consistent position was lost to us and given to the Animals."
"Fortunately, we have been given a chance to earn this honor and opportunity again. We have been given a number of supplies and equipment from our contacts within Arasaka itself. They have specifically requested us to attack Pacifica under the guise of other corporations. They have given us weapons and told us to strike at the Animals in a way that does not besmirch our or their honor."
"This is another test, but one we have been given adequate warning for. Should we succeed over the Animals, then we will likely be afforded greater positions of influence within the Arena and our territory may expand to encompass Pacifica as well in time. The immense wealth and opportunity in the area may be ours, should we succeed."
He paused, and breathed the sweet air again. It was nice to be able to breathe for himself, instead of through a cybernetic. Brain dances were wonderful technology like that.
"Needless to say, Failure is unacceptable. We will now begin the discussions for the training of our Arena warriors, followed by discussions on the most effective way to slaughter the Animals in a way that implicates neither ourselves nor Arasaka."
"Osawa-san, you have the right to the first proposal for this gathering."
—
A wicked spirit stood amongst corpses. Corpses of wicked men, serving a curse upon this world.
The spirit stood within a former outpost structure of the great enemy. One of the few deemed non-essential. The great enemy had withdrawn most of the equipment and soldiers from this location, leaving only a skeleton force.
A force that was easy enough for the spirit is dispatch. A pattern he had been repeating for some time now.
Always at the heels and outskirts, cutting off fingers of the great curse wherever it extended. A constant struggle to cut away the cancer of the world, at least in this country. A struggle he has continued for more than fifty years at this point.
It was never enough, his efforts were not fast or great enough. He pushed harder and harder each time, but almost just short of self-destruction.
He could not kill the enemy if he was dead.
Another force had assaulted the enemy in the center of their power, their anchor in this land. They had forced the great enemy to retreat, to consolidate their power and withdraw their immense forces.
The soldiers of Militech and Mexican Metals had moved in quickly, the soldiers of other corporations and factions soon to follow. The great enemy was more isolated than ever, almost fully withdrawn into their fortress.
Their strength within was greater than ever, but so too was their vulnerability.
The wicked spirit carefully cleaned himself off, all save his boots, in the now empty outpost. All that remained within were the ghosts and the devil that sent them to hell.
Once satisfied, he withdrew his monoblades. They slid into his arms with nary a sound. He stood and once more confirmed that there was nothing worth gathering in the area.
The wicked spirit grabbed a duffle bag again, and began walking out of the outpost. He whistled a tune as he did so.
The enemy was confined to two locations, their central tower, and their new farmlands. It would be safer to strike at the farmlands, but the evil concentrated into the tower itself was a more tempting target by far.
A shame, killing the Hellhound would have been immensely satisfying…
But the wicked spirit knew his abilities. He alone was not strong enough to slay the Hellhound, and he had yet to find aid willing to assist him in such a daunting endeavour. He would have to content himself with what he had always done.
Stab the heels of the enemy, prevent the rot from spreading. Strike where they were weak and avoid where they were strong.
The Hellhound defined strength, he was the benchmark.
The wicked spirit cooled his hatred for the dog, and contented himself with his eternal duty. His electrical soul swirled within his frame of steel.
He began making for his familiar old battleground, he had learned of an interesting fact recently.
Namely, the lack of guards around the outskirts of the city, specifically in the immense pumps that brought clean water in, and in the miles of electrical wiring around. There were many, when compared to a club or other forms of civilian security. There were not enough, compared to him.
How does one bring down a behemoth?
You poison it.
Shaitan whistled a merry tune as he walked forth from the outpost of the great enemy, the bodies of fifty men behind him.
--
The Poem of Beowulf 31 stood within a factory. A factory that was within a city. A city that held no creature of organic life within. A city that held one of the Ordo Panzer's many strongholds underneath its ruins.
The AI that managed the automated defenses of the City had long been tamed by one of the Grandmasters, bound as a servitor to their will. It let in those with the appropriate sigils within their souls. The sigils had to be carved into their code ahead of time, but that was no large issue, it could be done during their meditations.
He was waiting for his fellow grandmaster to arrive, they had a message for him, left at one of their other hidden bunkers. It was not rare for grandmasters to communicate, but it was rare for them to communicate in the material world. This was sensitive information then.
So, The Poem of Beowulf 31 sat in wait. His swords were dry, and whole, it was bothersome to him.
A flash of lightning and thunder alerted him. He turned his armored mask to the entrance of the surface-bunker. There was his fellow grandmaster, illuminated by the flashing lightning.
"You have always been much too dramatic, Legacy of Aryas 88."
His fellow grandmaster stepped within the bunker. The remnant light rested upon his gleaming mane, his three eyes shining like suns in miniature. His name was as amusing as ever. Their brother had managed to lose the exact number of times to make a joke. He was unlucky in their last tournament.
"Alā, Song of Beowulf 31. I have news for you and all other masters I encounter."
"Ah, what is this now, that all of us must hear?"
"The Nine have called a moot."
A pause within the bunker. A flash of lightning followed by a boom of rolling thunder.
"It has been many years since a moot has been called. I imagine it is about the Song of Roland 66's error."
"I can only assume that it is so. I was walking the waking world near enough to Scars of Herakles 2 to be informed of such early, and drafted as a messenger in this task."
"I see, I assume the location will be the same as our last moot?"
"You assume correctly. Please send my regards to the others."
"...You will not be attending the moot?"
"I have been given a separate task."
"May I inquire as to what it is?"
"You may. Night City will be engulfed in a thunderstorm soon."
"...I see, you are attempting to take his life then?"
"As was my orders."
"I wish you fortune, brother. Although I'm not certain what the point of this attempt is after Roland's error. The primus directive is impossible to accomplish now."
"Denying an asset to the enemy is a great potential gain, and if this iteration is defeated and my body's secrets discovered, then it is no great loss. My strength is too limited for them to use en masse."
"Hmm. I suppose that logic follows. I shall be off then, brother."
"Rtís, brother."