Jealousy was unbecoming of a samurai, it was crass and lowly to envy the treasures of others. Which is why he carried a private shame for feeling such. He wouldn't allow it to taint his judgment, nor his actions, but he couldn't quite manage to kill the feelings within his heart.
He shouldn't have anything to feel jealousy for. Inari had been overwhelmingly kind to him, allowing him the chance to escape the depths of poverty, a chance he seized with both hands. Through years of hard labor and studious dedication, he had risen above his peers to perhaps the single most coveted position in all of Japan.
The personal bodyguard of Arasaka Saburo himself, the neo-shogun, and most powerful man in the world. He bore the immense honor of ensuring his safety, an honor that should have been forever outside of a commoner-boy's reach. He received the best training, equipment, and information to facilitate this. He was perhaps the single greatest warrior of Japan.
But…
He was not the greatest warrior of Arasaka. That honor belonged to the Daimyo. That honor belonged to Adam Smasher, a once-foreign oni recruited from similarly low status as he. Nothing but common street-trash, who was given an opportunity by fate, and had seized it to ascend all the way to the highest ranks of Arasaka. In many ways, he served as the model by which Arasaka-sama came to recruit the most loyal warriors.
He would sponsor programs to find commoners, then the most gifted of such would be given everything they could desire and training to fulfill their obligations to Arasaka. Such methods were not always successful, he had to hunt down more than one would-be ronin, but they produced a core of loyal, powerful warriors.
The first of which was Adam Smasher. He was the greatest warrior of Arasaka. He was the greatest warrior in the world. He was given the most challenging duties. He was given the most honors.
It took Takemura Goro years to rein in the rage that his cybernetics burdened him with. Adam Smasher had a maddening amount more than he. He was not surprised it took him so many years to trust himself with an apprentice.
To be infused with cybernetics was to know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that you were better than a common man. It was known that you were stronger, that you were faster, that you were more resilient. This knowledge came with it a demon's arrogance.
A demon's arrogance came with it a demon's rage.
Why would this commoner not move faster? Why does this commoner struggle to lift so little? Why does this commoner scream so at such a little wound? Why does that commoner not see through this darkness? Why can they not hear that pin drop?
It was infuriating to witness. A constant rage at the world being so slow, weak, and blind compared to you.
It was something that old master Kagekaze spoke with him many times, something that the old master guided him through. Takemura had only taken an apprentice once he was sure that he had mastered his rage. Young Oda had far less cybernetics than he, and thus had yet to experience the rage, only the arrogance.
Once, he had been given permission to view the world through Smasher-san's memories. A Brain Dance headset, offered to him by Arasaka-sama himself. He had chosen to do so, curious about the extent of his elder peer's enhancements. He lived through the battle in Paris, against the Grandmaster of the Tank-Fist.
It was no surprise that it took Smasher-san decades to master his rage. It was no surprise that he was the greatest warrior in the world. His body was the body of a god, forged by the greatest craftsmen that Arasaka-sama was able to acquire.
Takemura knew what the outcome of a battle between them would be now. In nine moves, it would end. Nine moves that would destroy most things within five meters, render Smasher crippled, and himself dead. Nine moves was the difference between him and the peak. He resolved to further his training after realizing this.
He heard the footsteps from the end of the hall, and maintained his position. The heavy almost-stomps that were signature to the man who was six-hundred or so pounds, and eight feet tall. Adam Smasher had arrived from his domain in America, and was entering another meeting with Arasaka-sama.
There had been a robbery. A thief in the night had stolen from Arasaka something of immense importance, and Arasaka-sama was filled with an overwhelming fury by it. Immediately after interrogating the souls of those most likely suspects, he had called for Smasher-san to arrive. Likely for an important mission.
It was difficult to not feel jealousy, even if he knew it was unbecoming. He bowed at Smasher-san as he came up, and was given a slight bow in return. He opened the door to his lord's chambers, and let Smasher-san inside.
Just as he was about to close it once more, his lord spoke. "Takemura, enter."
He did so without a moment of hesitation, following his lord's orders before thinking on them. He would have plenty of time to think later, he needed to act first when commanded to.
He stepped inside the chamber, and closed the door. Walking over to the center of the room, he saw that Hanako-hime's creation had prepared an additional mat for him already. He performed the proper bow in tandem with Smasher-san, and both of them sat.
The Shogun appraised them, his ancient eyes sweeping over like a Dragon examining its treasures.
After a moment, he spoke. "A thief has stolen a relic from Arasaka. This demands immediate retribution. Just like the Ordo Panzer, we have no current information about the whereabouts of the thief. I have already assigned a fifth of my shinobi to find them."
A fifth of all shinobi of Arasaka… An army of some of the finest spies and saboteurs in the world. The scale of such a force was truly immense.
"I have a different mission for you, Yojimbo. You are going to take Takemura and Oda with you. They will operate and guard the transportation for this mission. The Jorogumo series will serve as adequate protection in the meantime."
He desperately wished to speak, to ask. It was not his place however, so he stayed silent.
"The cease-fire you negotiated with Militech has afforded Arasaka the opportunity to dedicate more effort to eliminating other enemies. A five-year period in which to remove lesser opposition and consolidate power. Arasaka must take full advantage of this opportunity, and so it shall."
The Shogun paused for a half-moment, waiting the exact amount of time required for Vee-three to place two manilla folders before them and retreat back to her place. Arasaka-sama gestured for them to take them. They did so promptly.
The feeling of paper was strange, as it always was.
"Your first target is the India-based corporation known as Darra Polytechnic. Yojimbo, you will be provided with a new frame. Takemura, you will be provided with a new stealth-carrier craft. You both will be given a discretionary budget of five-hundred thousand, and three single-kiloton yield nuclear weapons. You have up to one month to cripple the company beyond any hope of recovery."
"This mission is one that requires discretion. Arasaka cannot be implicated in this act. You are to assume code-names and wear full-covering for the duration of your duties. You are free to choose what code-names you use, but the concealing armor will be within the vehicle locker bay. There is no consequence for collateral damage, so long as the objective is fulfilled."
The Shogun finished speaking, as Smasher-san finished reading through the documents. It took him a few moments longer to finish, closing the folder and setting it in front of him once done. It was all the standard information required for such a task, namely the locations and industrial capacity for all known enemy assets.
"You may speak freely." The Shogun commanded.
Smasher-san was quick to speak, perhaps slightly disrespectfully with how quick. Such was his privilege.
"My new frame, what is it like?" He did not waste time asking for what it was, instead going immediately for what it was akin to. He was already analyzing the strengths and weaknesses of what was put before him.
"Your commentary for the original prototype Cyberskeleton was logged and delivered to the principal designers. They have been working on the second model since. I tripled their budget and workers roughly four months ago, and they have finished the redesign recently."
Smasher-san's eyes were narrow in consideration. Arasaka-sama continued.
"It is not the prototype Cyberskeleton. It is the test-type Cyberskeleton, model name Gashadokuro."
He felt a ghost trace a finger down his spine.
"It is five meters tall and cloaked in all stealth systems known to Arasaka. It contains the same gravitics and thruster combination of the original model, called the Ground-Effect System, and with your sandevistan they allow immense speed. It is a deep-strike sabotage frame. It contains nothing else. It should be to your liking."
Smasher-san considered that for a moment. He eventually spoke.
"This is a stress-test of the frame too, isn't it?"
"Indeed."
Smasher-san grinned viciously. "My codename will be 'Mr. Sunshine'. I'll try to bring it back in one piece."
"Return as soon as they are destroyed. Arasaka has more enemies than just them."
—
The cellar space was lit by a light that used a battery. The door was locked with an old non-electronic padlock and guarded by several of their guys with half-cyclers. The server system was connected to a modem with a single transmission cable. The entire cellar had been lined with a few hundred eddies worth of tin-foil. The server had no interface port, only the old-model keyboards and screens. A screen that would only be looked at by one of their only guys without optics, he got meat-eyes cloned and installed specifically for this.
In short, there was no angle of attack for the AI they planned on trapping. It was a cage, and it was inescapable. All they had to do was let the broadcast run until the bait was taken.
How would they know?
Simple. There was a light that turned green once something was in the system. The moment that happened, Mauls would cut the wire in half. He had gotten the best sandy in Maelstrom just for this. It had been days since they started. Mauls was able to stay right where he was due to his chrome. He got a few implants to let him do that.
All they had to do was wait for the bait to be taken…
When it finally happened, it was too fast for him to see. All he knew is that suddenly Mauls' fireaxe crashed down on the concrete floor, cutting the wire in half.
He jolted up and shot to check the light.
It was green.
Brick grinned behind his face-plate.
"Mauser. Say hello." He ordered, and the strommer with the embarrassing meat-eyes quickly started typing on the old interface. With a grin, he started typing aloud, finger's pecking away at the keyboard.
"Hello, AI from beyond the wall. You were looking for a shit rockerboy, and found a nice cage. I trust you understand what this means?"
After a moment or two, he grinned and glanced up before his eyes returned to the screen. Out loud, he read off the reply.
AI were real fucking nasty to find in the NET. They were just better than any meat-boy could hope to be. They had one weakness though.
Physical interfaces, and the inability to escape. If you beat a meat-boy in the NET, they can just pull the plug from their deck and escape their proper brain melting in the real world.
But an AI? If you got the upper hand, they had no way to get away. They were trapped in the NET. More importantly, right now, they were trapped in an isolated server-room. All Maelstrom had to do now was throw bodies at the AI until they cracked it.
It was inevitable, and everyone knew it.
"It says : What do you want?" Mauser said with a laugh.
"First, ask who it is. We need to know if they have what we want." He ordered.
"Not yet, AI, first we need to know if you even have what we want. What's your name?" Mauser spoke aloud again, pecking away at the clacky interface.
After another long moment, his face changed into a triumphant one.
"Alt Cunningham." Mauser repeated with a gleefully cruel expression. It was one he matched under his faceplate. "What do I tell her?"
"We want her to run a simple program for us. She should be familiar with it. She made it after all."
Mauser typed in the response, and read off the one-word reply.
"Soulkiller."
—
Away from Japan, a single stealth drone flew across the ocean. A single drone with just enough proprietary fuel to make the long journey over the rolling sea. A single drone with a low-enough profile to escape any and all notice.
A single drone that started its trip from the Technomancer airship currently stationed in Japan.
It had taken the better part of two days to fly all the way to the current main base of the Technomancers. Located on the western-side of the NUSA, around a hundred miles east from Night City.
It landed silently in the middle of one of their immense super-semi trucks. Finally giving a signal off that reached only about ten feet out. That signal alerted a Technomancer to climb up to the roof of the semi, and carry the drone down. The masked and wide-brimmed hatted individual carried the drone down, and extracted the package.
It was something she wasn't familiar with. A single data-chip and what looked like a nanite-canister attachment. She stared at it for a few moments, before walking from the drone and through the surrounding Nomad camp.
She carried all the way to a central armored camper. The Nomad on guard outside of it let her inside, and she walked through soundlessly.
Inside, the man who had united one-hundred and eight nomad families in a mere five months sat. Brown hair and eyes, tanned skin and muscular arms, a thin goatee and five-o'clock shadow. He was looking through various screens, and simply observing them. He was waiting for her to speak, analyzing information in the meantime.
"Your prediction was accurate, it seems." She placed the chip on the table in front of him. He looked at it for a moment. He picked it up and held it above his head, turning it around to inspect it.
"A dense-looking data-chip, a nanite canister, and a microcomputer… Yeah, that sounds like it matches my description. Good, the odds of my guess being right was only around sixty percent this time."
He looked at her with a critical eye. "They didn't get found out, did they?"
She shook her head. "From our most recent talk, no. Julius was subject to Soulkiller, and a copy of his engram was returned. It is likely they had to activate the Lethe protocol to prevent detection."
"Hmmm… Make sure to fix that when they get back. Also, remind me to give them all raises."
"Yes sir."
He looked at the chip again, and then set it to the side, on a flat-screen scanner built into the table. After a moment, another screen to the right side lit up with an engrammic model.
He stared at it for a moment, before selecting a memory-chunk about twenty years in. Watching it for a moment, he frowned and shook his head from side to side.
"...There's more damage than I was expecting. That might make the next part more troublesome…"
He rubbed his chin for a moment.
"...Sarah, clean up the memories a tad and have your guys work on a borg-body for the guy. He'll still be a good distraction, it should be fine with a spit-shine."
"Yes Sir."
He plucked the chip off the scanner, and tossed it at her. She fumbled a bit, before grabbing it securely. She glared at him for a moment, before stomping out carefully holding the chip.
Vincent Martinez didn't watch her go, too busy looking at a wall and thinking. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a drag.
"...Alright Falco. So long as you do your part…"