Even at their lowest, a borg was superior to a human in just about every way. Even the absolute weakest borgs, the stock alpha frame, had reflexes, running speed, and strength on par with the absolute best among the meatbags. It had sensors with perfect clarity and control, it had skin strong enough to bounce bullets off of, and could take more damage than a human could ever hope to.

It had no risk of bleeding out or dying of shock, it didn't need to breathe for up to twelve hours at a time, it was practically impossible to poison through its bioreactor, and its week-long battery made it impossible to get physically tired during that entire time. All of these were objective advantages that made even the weakest borg frames strictly superior to any meatbag body.

All Adam could focus on was just how unbearably weak it was.

His strength was pitiful. His reactions were lethargic. His speed was ponderous. His armor was thin. His structure was fragile. His eyes were blind. His ears were deaf. His senses were silent.

It was much like what he imagined hell to be like. He was glad he couldn't remember what being made of meat was like, because this weakness was already almost unbearable. The only thing he could take comfort in was that he would get out of this pathetic shell and into a proper frame soon enough, as soon as Arasaka repaired one of his frames and finally got around to doing the paperwork to rehire him.

He stalked through the halls in a basic frame, a faceplate mounted to it with his features on it. He did not wear this while out in the city, too much of a risk of someone figuring out it was him and scrapping him then and there. This frame didn't even have a sandevistan.

Everything around him was fast and dangerous and threatening. He couldn't move nearly as fast as he was used to, stuck at the pathetic level called peak humanity. He almost decided to stay in the basement levels of Arasaka Tower for a few days until they got the new frame in, but he had shit to do.

Namely, a conversation to be had with the brat, who he had gotten a message that he woke up a while ago.

He moved with purpose, through the halls, down the stairs, and into the office space of the ripperdoc. He managed to avoid any slowdown at the receptionist desk by calling in ahead of time and informing them he was in a different body. A pathetic, weak, body that was only six and a half feet tall.

He didn't know how humans could stand it. He kept his steps muffled with counter-vibration as he moved.

He stepped into the room and stared at the interior. The doc was over to the side, typing away at his computer. The kid was on the table, dozing in his new frame.

Standing about six-foot-three, with the features familiar to the kid but slightly aged in overall shape. Instead of looking like a buff teenager with a slight baby face, he now looked like a buff man in his early twenties, but very little else was changed. He was proportional, he was decently tall, and from what Adam had been told of his new frame, he was decently strong.

It was slightly infuriating that he wasted his time looking for the kid at all, when it seems the meatfucker only wanted to borg him and promptly die for some fucking reason. Stupid plan but whatever, Adam didn't care anymore, it wasn't his concern.

He stepped forwards, deliberately making noise now. Both the doc and the brat shot up immediately, their heads shooting over to look at him and panicking for an infuriatingly short moment and relaxing soon after.

"Smasher… what's with the frame?" The brat spoke, relaxing but not quite laying down on the table again.

"Only one left. Broke the others." He replied simply and he kept moving forwards and glared down at the kid, giving him a once over.

"Yeah, heard what happened at the tower, you alright?" The kid had a strange tone of voice. Adam ignored it.

"I'm alive." He deliberately didn't think about the circumstances of this fact, and neither did Uriel.

He was alive.

He had survived the meatfucker.

…he was alive…

…Time to get back to business.

Smasher reached into the pouch strapped to his robotic thigh and pulled out five plastic chips with pictures of a rocket on them. He offered them to the kid, who took them with a look of bemusement.

"What are these?"

"Tickets."

The brat paused for a moment, before turning to look at him with a slightly baffled expression.

"What?"

"I promised you tickets to anywhere in the world at the end. That was our deal. You and your girlfriend have been jabbering on an on about the fucking moon. Here's five tickets to the moon from the local launch station."

The brat's face turned carefully blank as he stared at him, before turning his gaze to look down at the tickets. He was silent for a long few moments.

"You were training me for backup…"

"And you weren't there. Backup that's not around is worthless brat."

The brat sputtered for a moment. Waving his hands in gesticulation. "I was klept! I can't control that!"

Adam tilted his head and let his face scrunch in confusion. "Shouldn't you be happy brat? You and your chooms get to leave. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes! No! I dunno! I-..." The brat trailed off, staring at the tickets for a while. "I didn't think it would end like this, y'know?"

Adam snorted. Neither did he and look where he fucking was. "You're free kid, go do what you want."

He turned to walk out of the doc, steps echoing in the room.

"Wait." the brat's voice stopped him. He turned around and stared at the kid, who was still looking at the tickets.

"You said… you said a man is his word, right? That's what separates men from meat, right?"

Adam glowered. "I did. Why?"

The brat's face turned up from the tickets, and he stood up and raised a finger. "One year."

There was another brief silence before the brat continued. "Our deal was one year of training, then I'd be free to go."

His face grew a cocky grin to match his determined glare. The brat raised the five plastic tickets in both hands and tore them in half, letting the scraps fall to the floor.

"It's only been six months. Nice try, Smasher, but you're not getting rid of me that easily. I intend to get my time's worth out of you."

Smasher stared at the brat for a few moments. He looked down at the scraps of the tickets on the floor, before slowly returning his gaze to the brat's determined grin.

…this felt nostalgic, and he couldn't pin down why.

Adam huffed. "...Alright… Six more months brat. No backing out of it now."

The brat almost collapsed into a relieved expression. Adam didn't know why. His gaze returned to the ticket scraps on the floor. He glared at them.

"I could've gotten a refund brat. Those were a pretty penny." He rumbled out, turning his glare to the now-sheepish brat. The brat looked down to the tickets and raised a hand to scratch at his neck. "Ah… sorry about that."

The kid looked up and raised a brow. "So… what's the situation on your end?"

"My LTC broke with Saburo's death, I'm waiting for them to get me the paperwork to be an actual Arasaka employee again. Until then, I'm stuck in this frame."

"Oh shit, really? Hey what frame is that anyways, I don't recognize it."

Adam glared at nothing for a moment, before answering. "...You remember the training bot?"

The brat was fortunately silent. Adam decided to quickly move on. "Oi! Doc! How's the brat's frame?"

The doc, who had recognized his place and hadn't yet made a sound, replied. "Everything looks clear to me. I'd like to call in the local borg specialist to get a look at him, but I can't see anything wrong with it. I sent you the specs right?" Adam nodded, and the doc continued. "Then that's everything, you've pre-paid this bill so he's free to go whenever he likes."

Whenever Adam liked, actually. Which was now. "Grab your shit boy." He commanded, and the brat was quick to grab whatever miscellaneous shit he had brought over to him since waking up.

They walked out of the office together. The brat chatting inanely about something he didn't really pay attention to. He couldn't stop focusing on how weak his frame was.

He stopped on the sidewalk right before entering his car to drive back to the HQ. He stared at the message that filled his vision as a slow fury began to build up within him.

[Attention all Arasaka America employees, as acting CEO of Arasaka I am making the unilateral decision to partition the resources of this corporation. All Arasaka Assets in North America are hereby classified under the transitory designation of Western Arasaka, a newly formed corporation, and transferred to the legal ownership of Michiko Arasaka. If you are receiving this message, you are included in this exchange of assets. The legal affairs of this exchange have already been handled. You will serve her as well as you have always served Arasaka.]

[-Yorinobu Arasaka]

Adam clenched a fist, but no matter how hard he clenched, none of his fingers would even crack.

The brat was saying something, trying to get his attention.

Adam couldn't focus on any of it.

All he could see was fire.

Uriel burned black.

"Change of plans, brat…" He rumbled out, furious seething present in his distorted voice.

"Start packing when you get back. We're leaving Night City."

Like hell he was going to work for the fucking