A man in a well-pressed, fitted, and armored three-piece suit walked up to a private mansion, escorted by his two bodyguards. 4S and 3K were as beautiful as the rest of their line was, beautiful and dangerous. Long black hair, piercing black eyes, fair skin, a form-fitting armored bodysuit. They were practically sex on legs, which was yet another advantage to use against their targets.

It was hard to fight someone you desperately wanted to sleep with after all. It was why their line was deliberately engineered to be all female. The drop in physical parameters was made up for with the appropriate bioware, and the psychological training helped offset any emotional deficits that they might have on certain days.

That, and they made for excellent propaganda, something that their neighbors in Arasaka demonstrated the effectiveness of, and they were quick to start capitalizing on. Profits expanded with every 'cute' thing they were recorded as doing, and so they were tacitly ordered to start recording each other for the marketing team to look over later.

If any of them happened to die while on a mission their internal bioeditors went off, scrambling their DNA before any real information could be gleaned from their corpses. That DNA was something they had paid a very pretty penny in order to license the use of, it wouldn't let any rivals potentially steal samples for themselves.

4S was a recent unit, and it showed in her slight hesitation in movements and brief considerations. She would get better in time, the standard was about two years of active service. She was only recently created after the last one died inside the COYOTE EDEN some months ago.

It was good that Arasaka managed to preserve and improve upon the railgun design for more everyday use. That gamble had paid off well and one of their agents had been able to retrieve the updated schematics some time ago.

He stopped before the gateway into the reclusive mansion, it wouldn't do to be anything but polite and reasonable when speaking to the asset, otherwise he might get irritated at the company and that might have disastrous consequences. The asset was to be given everything he requested within reason, and left to sit in the middle of nowhere, not inferring with the actions of the company.

Millions of eurodollars was nothing compared to the potential damage of the asset and the asset's assets, it was well worth it to keep the asset as a strictly neutral party in the affairs of the company. Of course, that's not why he was here today. He was here today on behalf of his CEO to negotiate for the asset's assistance. It was not expected for him to succeed, but he was expected to try his best.

Eventually, a speaker came online and a voice called out from it. "ID." It was a simple demand, one with a simple answer.

"B6EN8HQ60Y. I'm here to speak with Mr. Hammer on behalf of my superiors. There was a meeting scheduled for this time." His voice was smooth, collected, and calm. Every trait required by a company representative like himself. The code was randomly generated ahead of time, and was different for each meeting.

From the corner of his optics, he spotted the incredibly well-hidden sentry turrets turn away from his position. He had only known of those and their locations after three meetings such as this one.

The gate slowly opened, and he ignored the tiny bead of sweat on his brow. It was always present here, and he was well-used to disregarding it. He stepped through and onwards to the entrance of the mansion of the Hammer Estate. He kept his pace steady, not too slow and not too fast, anything else might offend the host unduly, and the last time that happened they had lost three agents.

That was several hundred thousand eurodollars wasted in an instance, an unacceptable and avoidable cost. He was quite a bit better than his former colleague.

Eventually he reached the fine and heavily reinforced doors of the central building. Politely, he grabbed the knocker and knocked thrice, before pulling back and waiting for a moment. He crossed his arms behind his back and stood perfectly straight.

A moment passed, the scanners at the door confirmed that the only weapons that were present were being held by his escorts, and the door opened to reveal an older man with a fine gray mustache. He was wearing a tidy but relatively inexpensive suit.

"Representative." The polite and slightly posh voice of the older man greeted him, stepping back from the door to let him and his group enter. Properly wiping his perfectly clean shoes off on the welcome mat, he stepped inside and nodded in return.

"Mr. Stevens."

"Master Hammer awaits you on the western balcony. I will escort you there."

Nodding to show he understood, he followed after Stevens at a pace that wouldn't fall behind nor get any closer. It was best understood to remain at least one point five meters away from any of the asset's assets, that would give him adequate time to escape if any of them decided to utilize one of their more unusual abilities.

Any one of them could potentially revolutionize their understanding of science and technology, and give the company an incredible advantage over their competitors. They were all left alone, untouched, unharmed because that was what the asset wanted. The neutrality of the asset was well worth it, and keeping such an advantage out of the hands of any competitors was an immense prize in its own right.

Testing had been requested and rejected before, that was now a dead-end and was treated as such. The company would simply wait for the asset to expire naturally before moving to capitalize. They were patient, and the subjects were not going anywhere.

Finally arriving at another door, Stevens opened it and stepped aside. He had likely alerted the asset well before they actually arrived at the door. Nodding at the man one final time, he stepped inside and walked over to the man currently watching a video on a flatscreen tablet in his hands. His optics zoomed in, and he saw that it was some manner of… arena battle?

Ah, the asset must be watching the footage of that newest Arasaka venture in Night City. Interesting to note, he would have to ask the analysis teams for their input on such for cross-comparison with the asset's potential tastes.

The asset grunted and glanced up, looking back to the screen and snorting in slight irritation, which was very bad for him, but there was little he could do about it. The asset paused the vid and set the tablet aside, looking at him directly.

"Alright bub, so what do the corpses wanna try to take from me this time?" The stare of the asset was always unnervingly piercing, so he quickly explained. It was best to be quick and efficient with what the company wanted to the asset, it left him in a better mood more often than not.

"Mr. Hammer." He greeted. "In accordance with the Unification policies of President Myers, the company wishes to sponsor the creation of a new team of specialists, their actions publicized with slight dramatization in order to-"

"Corporate superheroes." the asset cut off with a laugh. "Sponsored superheroes! What, they steal the idea from Arasaka, Mexican Metals, or Biotechnica? Which one was it this time?"

Before he could answer, the asset waved a hand. "Nevermind, I know the answer. Those boys won't bother copying anyone but old Saburo. This came from that new campaign over in Japan, didn't it? MM's been doing this for a decade now and none of them cared then."

"That would be my suspicion as well, Mr. Hammer." He had no such suspicions, he wasn't instructed to think of such, but it was best to agree with the asset.

"And what, they want me to train up the team?" The asset laughed out the question, pouring a scotch and taking a sip. "No way, I'm retired now and I have no interest in dealing with a buncha knuckleheads anymore."

"Actually Mr. Hammer, they want you to be the face of the team."

The asset paused, and all of his cheer disappeared. He slowly sat his drink down and stared at him. He resisted the urge to fidget. The asset narrowed his eyes in consideration.

"...This is bigger than just the old US. They wouldn't want to bother me over anything of that scale."

The asset leaned back in his seat. "...They have enough leverage over the EEC to push for more without interference. They're going to be aiming for the rest of the continent this time."

The asset glared outright at this point. "This is going to be the first Central American War but worse. They're going to lose a whole lot of public favor with that, so they need everything they can drum up to counteract it. That's it, aint it?"

"It's not my place to question the motivations of my superiors."

"Leave."

He gulped. He was not expected to succeed, but he was expected to try his best.

"Mr. Hammer, I beg you to reconsid-" He was cut off by the feeling of a massive gunbarrel pressed against his forehead.

The asset was standing in front of him, a massive assault rifle held in one black chrome hand and rock-steady in front of his face. He was more than two meters away from the asset. His speedware was high quality for a civil-oriented employee.

He didn't even see the asset move, nor see where he got the gun from.

His bodyguards were quick to react, drawing their own weapons and pointing it at the asset in defense.

"You'll have to excuse me, meat." The asset slowly drawled out. "See I'm not as young as I used to be. If I get too excited my hands start to twitch." Despite his words, the asset was completely still aside from his mouth. "I'm going to ask you to leave, I don't want to make a mess in my nice house."

He was quick to agree and back away, stepping through the door and moving as quickly as was polite away from the property.

Morgan Blackhand watched them leave, waiting until Stevie confirmed they were completely off the property. Afterwhich Steive entered with a genuine paper letter, good for keeping records off the NET.

He took it with a frown, still irritated from the implications of the meeting.

A cross was displayed on the front.

"What does that brat want now, huh?" He spoke aloud, to which Stevie had no answer. "Stevie, make sure to get the kids to review the 'clean break' plans just in case, got it?"

"Of course Master Hammer."

"Stop calling me that."

"I cannot."

—

On a private jet heading from NC to Washington, Lucas Harford watched the most recent fights occurring in the Arasaka Pacifica Arena unfold. This fight in particular was of interest to him. It was a battle between the intriguing apprentice of Adam Smasher and the newest Blackwatch agent. Betty was the most recently replaced, the old 3B having died in a skirmish just three months ago.

Betty was good enough for light duty, and she was old enough to join the actual ranks of Blackwatch, so this was her trial run. She was told to do well enough in the tournament or she would be rejected for another year of training, she didn't know that she was going to be accepted into active service regardless.

It was good motivation for them, a time-proved tactic to make them try their hardest.

The match opened up simple enough.

Martinez slowly approached, having drawn his monosword and patiently waiting for an opening. Betty, having been trained in the same way that all members of the Blackwatch were, was equally patient in waiting for an opening. Her current objective had no time limit and no extraneous goals or outside threats, she could take all the time she wanted to here.

After a few long moments of circling one another, they burst into activity. Their respective sandevistans activated, and they clashed. The cameras displayed a slowed down version of what was happening in the corner of the screen as they went back to circling.

Martinez had ended up swinging twice with the monoblade, both times being redirected, before lashing out with a kick. A kick that Betty attempted to grab and transition into a throw, but was halted by Martinez immediately kicking off the ground and performing a tackle.

Betty rolled back, released her hold of his foot, before kicking his torso as she hit the ground, sending him flying over past her. He recovered as well, cartwheeling into a standing defense against another potential attack. Betty rose, and they began to circle one another again.

The boy was impressive. Betty was a fresh Blackwatch recruit and he was keeping up just fine.

As he was watching the second screen, their speedware cycled again, and they clashed a second time. Martinez dashed forwards, making a low kick against Betty, which she jumped over and lashed out in a kick of her own.

Martinez angled his head to glance the blow of the side of his face, causing severe bruising but not impacting his momentum. He rose in a backhand against her own head, which Betty blocked with her hands as best she could. The force of it still sending her flying back into her own roll of recovery. Their speedware expired again around this point, but the fight continued on.

Martinez didn't let her recover, as he approached again while she was getting up. Lashing out with a straight left, he was forced back as Betty performed a near-perfect elbow block, fracturing his chrome fingers in the process. Stabbing with the sword in his right hand, Betty was able to twist enough for it to slice her side shallowly but not penetrate deep enough to slow her down.

Catching his hand in between her arm and torso, she attempted to strike against his neck. Instead, he crashed his head down to meet her fist directly, protecting his neck and seemingly breaking her knuckles.

Staggering slightly, it was all over for her at that point, as Martinez grabbed her by the hip with his free hand and forced them both to the ground. With his superior weight and grip, he forced Betty into a submission hold, and the fight was over once she tapped out to signal surrender.

Getting up and offering her a hand with a grin, Martinez raised a fist to the crowd as he was declared the winner. Betty looked downright miserable for her failure. Well, as miserable as any member of the Blackwatch could with their psychological training.

Setting the tablet aside, he checked how soon he was due to finally return to the capital, and was delighted to notice that it was very soon. He stretched in his seat, groaning and sighing in satisfaction with every crack.

His arm made a pinging noise, to which he raised a brow and let the screen project from it.

Putting an internal agent in his remaining flesh was simply silly, he already had a perfectly good cybernetic arm to put things like it. A pop-up screen for his internal agent, hardened shielding to protect from discharges, a microcomputer, and some extra memory space for his chief advisor.

He frowned as he read the transmission. Morgan had rejected the request. It was expected, but it was still disappointing. That meant that he would have to look elsewhere for his symbol.

He let out a laugh at the section that contained what Morgan had thought he was trying to accomplish. It was downright quaint, and slightly insulting. Lucas Harford would not do something so small as take over one measly continent.

Feeling the jet shift slightly, he glanced out the window to see that they were beginning to land. He stood up and walked out of the private room to the central chamber of the plane where his bodyguard detail waited patiently. Five 'Blind Dragoons' and five Blackwatch agents, the best that Militech had to offer in terms of current-gen special operations forces. They had another in the works, but the 'Hatchling' project wouldn't be complete for some years.

Those internment camps were incredibly useful for fresh recruits, he made sure to pat himself on the back again for that one. A fantastic idea, it kept paying dividends.

The plane landed, and he stepped off to see a car waiting for him. A car that would take him straight to the White House. He grinned handsomely to the cameras and the help, and stepped in for his ride. A single Blind Dragoon and Blackwatch agent followed, the rest being sent back to the local base.

The drive was uneventful, but he struggled to think of who exactly was the best candidate for his unfilled position. His talent was in talking to people, not exactly in planning all the fiddly details of a project. That he left to his little genie in an arm.

Stepping out of the car and onto the road in front of the White House, he walked confidently, raising an arm and waving with a charming smile. Waving to the security agents outside the center of NUSA governance, they stepped aside and let him through with nods.

He was the CEO and majority shareholder of Militech. They wouldn't dare stop him.

Finally walking into the presidential office, his security took positions outside the door as he was let in. He looked at the woman sitting at the main desk and gave a small crooked smile.

Rosalind Myers, President of the New United States of America. She glared at him to keep up appearances, before waving to the air.

"Clear the room." She ordered, and the various security and secretarial staff left quickly, closing the door behind them. The old windows of the office were destroyed in a terrorist attack back in the 2040s, and it was replaced by fully reinforced stone to act as a bunker of last defense. The entire White House was remodeled back then, turning from just a symbol of governance to a modern day fortress.

They were alone. His smirk expanded a bit and he stepped forwards confidently. She lost her glare and her eyes widened a tad. Cupping her chin and forcing her to look up, he gave an outright grin. He trained her well.

"So eager? I've only just gotten back." He teased her. She flushed and glanced away.

"Please?" She asked, fidgeting a bit. He obliged her by picking her up and planting her on the table. She gave an excited but startled yelp. Locking lips with her greedily, he started doing his second favorite thing.

Note to self, as soon as he ruled the world, he was going to put a baby in this woman.

While getting on with her, he opened his neural link to his arm, and relayed his current lack of a symbol.

Now then Kei, what would you do?