The infrastructures 'grown' outside the badlands near the scrap yard and Laguna Bend, was busy at work. It started with a simple Cell-Kyl vat placed in the middle of the trash mountain, marines and Spartans hauling nearby trash to feed the clouds of Nanomachine.
First the nanobots built the infrastructure using the trash that it was fed.
Once the walls were built, 2 M12 Warthogs were deployed to be used as temporary trucks, carrying the trash into the barricade twice every day.
It was known officially under the UNSC record created by Captain Church as [HIGHCOM Facility Draugr-1]. The crewmates had easier time referring as 'the Graveyard'.
And inside the hive, Crews of the Engineering branch were working tirelessly like the undead, developing several vehicles for personal use that would make gathering scrap and transporting them back to the Cell-Kyl vat easier.
The Warthogs they were using were already returned back to the UNSC Revenant.
Trucks with crane arms were sent out from the Graveyard to shovel out trash. Marines were driving the vehicles with nothing but complaints mulling in their mouth as ODST troopers and Spartans rode behind them, rifles aimed to any possible uninvited guests.
Washington watched the Trucks go to work in the distance, several of these trucks being deployed out through the hard-light gate and coming back in, filled with trash.
They weren't supposed to have Hydrogen-Injected Combustion Engines. But Cell specifically had them installed anyway.
To his reasoning, those trucks were never going to be for sale.
"What if they get stolen. Then we'll have a company able to mass produce Hydrogen-Injected Combustion Engines."
Agent Locust silently looked at his superior, the Locus variant helmet expressionlessly conveying a sense of disbelief.
"Do you seriously think they'll manage to steal one of them?"
Washington thought for a moment.
"… I guess not. Maybe I'm just overreacting."
"You ARE overreacting."
Agent Locust and Agent Washington were hiding inside a naturally formed tunnel. With the cameras floating around here recently, having their conversations recorded for the entire city to see was not an option.
Spartan Ram was further behind the tunnel, who was busy finishing compiling a data chip.
It was more for Dumb and Smart AIs to read and transfer to a separate, safer cyberspace build by the UNSC.
"We've got several intel regarding Militech in this package. My asshat of a brother could use some of them for inspiration for new projects."
"They can't be that advanced." Washington said with a slight concern.
"Precisely. They're definition of the next gen experimental tech, is our definition of a garden shed science experiment. I think the annoyance will be plenty enough for him to stick around Earth for… I don't know, 4 more years or so."
"He really does get that easily bored, doesn't he?"
"He's mister Prodigy, Forerunner stuck in a human body."
"I'd say you're no different to him in that regard."
Washington sighed as he fidgeted with the data chip.
He read their files, how they were among the Spartans recommended by Halsey to go down on a shield world expedition.
The two were among the few survivors of the Spartan IV deployed, the rest were reduced to data.
"Tell my twin I said hi."
"… Actually, speaking of your twin, here's a new mission for you."
Washington procured visualised data from his dumb AI, which sent the information over to Spartan Locust.
Locust's dumb AI, butler, took the info and deciphered it.
"What the fuck."
Washington nodded in defeat at Locust's response. It was expected.
"Look, we don't even need to get the entire cow. I mean, Cell wants an entire cow… but he can still work with blood samples."
Locust sighed as he sent the info to Ram as well.
Ram read through the info, and chuckled.
"This sounds like Cell, alright."
Locust and Ram stood up, readying to deploy their active camouflage once more.
"You don't have to do this now. Take your time." Was all Washington replied as his subordinates disappeared.
Washington also readied his active camouflage. Guess it was his time to leave too.
"Here's intel from your brother. Be grateful." Agent Washington tossed a data pad.
Spartan Cell took his eyes off of the microscope, a plate half-filled with dirt from outside.
Compared to the soil Cell had created and managed, these ones had a paler dryer colour.
It advertised itself that it was devoid of life.
Washington heard Cell sneer as he scrolled through the data pad. Sounded like he found the Militech secret.
"And they're calling this next gen. That's adorable."
Ram was right. Not that Washington disagreed with him.
Washington was already seeing the gears inside Cell turning.
Guess he'd be hopping to a new project, while their intended Car production was still work in progress.
It was almost always like this- Cell kickstarting a project and a terrifying speed in progress, and then dropped it immediately for Kyl to pick up.
Washington had to get use to this soon.
He looked at the dirt and pointed at it.
"So, find anything interesting?"
"Yeah. It's the lack of anything worth looking in that's interesting."
"…O…kay?" That response was a first. "Elaborate if you could?"
"Nothing is in this dirt other than poison. Absolutely 0 active microbes identifiable."
"… Isn't having no microbes good? That's why companies advertise disinfectant that's like 99.99% effective against all germs?"
Cell placed the datapad on the table and leaned back on his chair, one leg resting on the other.
"Wash?"
"Am I wrong?"
"You failed biology class, right?"
Washington sighed. Cell's insult right now would've counted as insubordination. Only problem was that due to both of them being in Spartan division (and that both were near-equal in specific status and field work experiences), there were no ways of punishing Cell with his own authority.
"No, I passed with a B-."
"Figured. With the sort of dumb ass question you just told me."
Cell picked up the plate and removed it from the microscope, showing it off to Washington as if it was his newest miniature invention.
"For life the size visible to our eyes to exist, we need microbes. Think of them as the small parts that make up a circuitry that runs the computer. Plants especially need microbes in the soil to convert any chemicals that they can't use but could potentially be used as nutrients, as actual source of nutrients."
"Right. So the complete lack of them is concerning."
"It's already concerning with the concentration of poison in the soil. It's downright mind boggling that it was capable of driving a microbiome to functional extinction. All those diverse bacteria, completely wiped out like the Spartan IIIs Beta Company during Operation: TORPEDO."
"Oh my fucking god, Cell."
"It's that horrifying to look at from a biological perspective, Washington! Now the bright side is that I've found capsules and spores, which means some of them are laying dormant until the conditions are right. The bad news is that the soil condition is so bad, they're never going to wake up."
"Is the poison that bad?"
"Yeah, I'm actually getting the chemical composition of the poison sample scanned right now. The results should be coming in an hour. But with what I've seen right now, I can already confirm one thing."
"What's that?"
"This right here-" Cell tapped on the edge of the plate, soil moving and crumbling thanks to the sudden force from his finger. "It's artificial. Probably from a Megacorp too. Now, I'm sure not all the soil out here is like this, but could predict a majority of them would be."
Washington looked to the dirt, and then back to Cell.
"And I presume that's going to be your next new project you'll promptly hand over to another engineer group once you get bored again?"
"Yep. This one should be quick though."
Washington nodded a little, before pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on.
Unlike Cell, Washington had enough sense of responsiblity to look through the list of Militech Personals.
Speaking of dirt, there was a LOT of dirt on these guys just from the data Ram had acquired.
It was almost sad the way these sort of information was so easily and quickly copied and stolen.
"… Hey, Wash. Can I ask you something?"
Agent Washington was about to leave the doorway, but Cell's voice stopped him in his track.
"Sure, shoot."
Cell was staring at the datapad, and then to the dirt.
"… You know how we've become… what we are, right?"
Washington stepped back into the room. He saw Cell tap at the bottom right spectral node on his helmet.
"Yeah, we've found Forerunner artifact on the back of our moon, took it with us back to Earth to research it."
"That's the thing. We calculated that thanks to us contacting Forerunner tech, we had essentially made technological leaps equivalent to 500 years into the future. It's only been roughly 100 years since we left this planet, but the difference in technology and experience is close to 400 or 500 years apart."
"That's exactly why I'm asking you guys to go easy on the products."
"Yeah, but here's where my bit of concern comes in. You see, Earth used to have something that they called the Library of Alexandria in Egypt. It was one of the largest and most significant library of the ancient world, acting as a larger research institution."
"What happened to it?"
"It burnt down, intellectuals purged information going up in literal flames. By 270 and 275 AD, it was completely gone. Historians believe that if the library was intact, humanity would have made advancements close to 100 years."
"So it was the complete opposite of our situation."
"Yeah. So here's the question to you: If we hadn't discovered that Forerunner artifact, what would have happened to us?"
"We… wouldn't have existed, I guess. Could I ask why you suddenly wanted to ask this?"
"Oh, I was just looking through the technology on the datapad and got me to think 'damn, these guys are cavemens.' And then I remembered my experience on the Shield world expedition. You've read our files regarding that, right?"
"Only the ones that wasn't blacked out in ink, yes."
"Well here's what the inked parts were - me and Ram were turned into data as well."
"Ex-fucking-scuse me?"
"You heard me, Mr Depressed. The twins suffered the effect of a composer. Thing is, we were contact with the Forerunner's equivalent to the internet. The Domain, it called itself."
"What, 'it called itsel-' am I hearing that right? That thing is alive?"
"Yeah, and it can think. Think faster and better than any of us. So many information, layered atop of each other. The oldest data altering into something else. But it was there, it still existed. Beyond our space-time. We met a forerunner there, or… whatever was left of it. It called itself Master Builder Faber. They helped us connect with the Domain, because it wanted to talk to us. It was excited about having new visitors, it enjoyed sharing information. Do you know what it told me?"
"I'm starting to get too scared to ask. So just tell me if you want me to listen."
Cell nodded.
"It told me the basic principles behind every Forerunner calculations and software, every matrix of programs that it used to run their machines. How it built AIs."
"So that's why you were capable of creating a Warden-AI replicant."
"Oh, but it gets even better. Among the things it whispered to us, one of them was a simulation it was running on background."
"Simulation?"
"Predictive calculations about the several choices that diverges time-space into smaller sub-divisions. About what some of those branches would look like and how long they'll grow. One of them was a predictive model of what would've happened had we not found Forerunner artifacts in 1969."
"Which was…?"
"That everything, everything we've built, everything we've achieved, everything we've fought and experienced was pushed back 500 years into the future."
"That's… expected."
"No, Wash. I mean everything, down to the last. Minute. Detail. Was delayed exactly 500 years ago. We left Earth to colonise other planets in 2362, insurrections and the Spartan-II program starting in 2494 to 2525, Covenants contacting with humans and starting a war in 2525, ending in 2553, us fighting the Ur-Didact in 2557, Banished forces in 2557."
"Wait, you knew the Banished would attack us?"
"I knew they would, I didn't know when, where and how. Not in our universe, at least."
Washington stared at Cell. Cell avoided Washington's eyes and instead focused on the wall in front of him.
"The point is, every little thing UNSC has done was pushed back for 500 years, the discovery of Forerunner technology was the divergent point for OUR timeline. And then it started a butterfly effect. Slowly it diverged. If we hadn't found those artifacts, Earth may not have been in such condition."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because if Domain had calculative the most possible course of our time in such a scenario was that UNSC was under the commands of the United Earth Government."
"… Which doesn't exist."
"Not here, no. Maybe… in another universe, parallel to us? Definitely."
"And you're sure that parallel universe exists?"
"Wash, Forerunners had engines that extracted vacuum energy from infinite numbers of alternate realities. Vacuum energy they sucked out from those new born universes resulting in their premature death. Infinite energy supply that- if you give me 5 to 10 years, I can recover from scratch."
"There's no fucking way I'm allowing you to do that."
"Go fuck yourself. But moving back to my point- yes, it does exist. Somewhere, somehow. Can we contact it? Not yet. Can we observe it? Not yet. But can we be aware of its existence? Yes. That does beg the question, if… if in an alternate reality, where Earth was in this exact situation, without UNSC existing. Would their events had happened much later in history?"
"That… could be a possibility."
"Then here's the question I wanted to ask you, flipping the previous question around: Because of our existence here on Earth, would events that should've happened… let's say 2 or 3 years in the future, happen much much quicker?"
Washington thought for a moment, and in that time Cell added in more terms to the question.
"Even if we just… observed Earth, without interfering with it. Would our existence alone still warrant an acceleration of events?"
"… I'm, not too sure about that."
"It's fine. I just wanted to see a non-scientific individual's perspective on this."
"… I'd say then, that it's an absurd scenario. But with what you just told me, it doesn't sound too farfetched. I don't know. It could be. I can't be sure enough, unfortunately. Those sort of speculation is more of your Domain than mine."
Cell chuckled a little.
"No. It's no longer anyone's Domain."
Vic Vega looked out his window.
Night had fallen on Rancho Coronado, Santo Domingo.
Recent news had told people with bounties on their heads to fear the dark.
Hell, he's seen his subordinates and security check the closets every time they were on Graveyard shift.
'What the fuck are you guys doing, you guys trying to find something? Huh? Lost a pen in a closet?'
'N-no, sir… it's… uh, we were… just checking.'
'Why are you guys checking closets?'
'… If the Baba Yagas was hiding in there, sir.'
Vic was briefly lost for words.
'Get the fuck away from the closets and go do your fucking job! You pussies!' he shouted. Security promptly did as they were told.
Ridiculous. He heard the words on the streets, but he couldn't believe that even his own men were believing what people were saying.
Yeah, they're mercs. They're good at making people and cargo disappear.
But for fuck's sake, they weren't the actual boogeymen!
How superstitious were you going to be to be checking closets!
What, were they checking under their own beds when they go back home?
Vic grabbed a pen and fiddled with it, thumb clicking the tip in and out as he alternated his focus from his window to his computer.
… He wouldn't lie, he caught himself looking a little tense in the reflection every time the outside of his window went dark.
He heard about them. Who hadn't? He's seen the video, of cars getting thrown around like they were nothing more than hot wheels toys.
But, that didn't matter. He chided himself.
He's Vic Vega, head of the private security company C-Team!
The amount of security guards and cameras installed in this building should be more than enough to catch anyone lurking around here when they're not supposed to.
Yeah, it was fine. Besides, who says they're interested in him?
It was just a new scare for Corpos that people of Night City loved to sink their teeth into.
Vic bet 5000 Eddies to his friends that 90% of their deeds were over-exaggeratio-
Vic briefly saw the reflection in the window.
Steel black helmet with gold visors behind his own head.
It only took a second for Vic to register the image as he was suddenly pulled back into his chair by the throat.
He gurgled and kicked as he grabbed whatever was constricting around his neck.
From the corner of his eyes he saw one of his guards walking down the stairs, only showing their back to Vic.
He wanted to shout to them, that he was getting attacked.
But he couldn't the loudest he could be were quiet sobs as foams were forming at the corners of his mouth.
Eyes watering as he looked back at the window.
He had just realised that one of the windows in the hallway was open.
The peripherals were going dark, making it feel like someone was turning off the lights.
Yet the Gold visor, bouncing off from the window as a reflection, looked so clear to him.
It was burning into Vic's retina as tears were falling down his cheeks.
Oh god,
Oh god. Oh fuckin' christ.
It was them.
It was the Baba Yaga.
Even as he was blacking out, he couldn't dare forget that helmet.
The Spartan in black quickly tightened his choke hold roughly three times just to check the guy was out.
Once it was confirmed that Vic Vega was going to be sleeping for a while, the Spartan quietly carried Vic out of his office and out through the open window in the hallway. Active Camouflage obscuring his target from sight.
"Noble 6, I've got the target."
A brief notification on his comm link to the rest of the team, Noble 6 promptly jumped down from the roof.
He could see a vehicle enter the parking lot of C-Team.
Rogue had expected Vic Vega to be delivered alive.
Noble 6 saw the driver nervously twiddled him thumb as both of his hands firmly gripped the steering wheel.
The driver jumped when he heard the trunk of his car opening, something heavy falling into it.
The trunk closed, and he saw as the Boogeyman materialised from darkness to look at the driver through the window.
Something big was caught in the driver's throat as the giant armour in pitch-dark metal spoke.
"The target's in the trunk. I've done my job."
Fear forced the drivers words down, as the driver just rapidly nodded his head.
He's seen many mercs hired by Rogue. Deliver packages to him as they were caked in blood and wounds.
He thought he saw them all. Thought for all that gore and bravado, he thought most of the mercs weren't that scary. Just intimidation and macho fronts to earn more street cred.
Not this fucker. Oh no, not this fucker right outside his car window right now. The serenity and calm, the patience in his voice. It wasn't something you'd ever hear from a Merc that specialised in making things disappear for a price. In fact, it was something you'd never want to hear. It was so... disconnecting, disorientating. It was uncanny, much more frightening than a merc that's always angry and shouting.
Sometimes it's scarier when the night outside is quiet. His pa had told him why it was scary when we couldn't hear anything outside at night.
He still remembered how he tucked him into bed, and that curiosity gave him nightmares that forced him to check the bed with all the lights on, and him refusing to look at the corner of his room or gap in his slightly-ajar closet.
'El nino', his pa had said. 'We're scared of the silence at night because we're used to hearing animals chirp and sing even when it's dark. Our ancestors learnt that when the night is dead quiet, that means there's something out there. Something in the dark that scares the animals so much that they don't sing or chirp anymore, because they don't want to let the thing know it's there. So sleep now, sleep when it's quiet so that the thing outside doesn't know where you are.'
The driver saw from the corner of his eyes, how the black suit of armour was slowly fading into open night, melting into the darkness.
He didn't hesitate to shift the gear and put pedal to the medal.
Pa, the driver thought.
Pa, I think the thing in the dark outside knows where I am.
Rogue sipped her glass of Whiskey as she watched several Mercs talk to each other.
A few were laughing about their latest haul.
But a majority of them were talking in hushed whispers. Whispers they hoped would be drowned out in the music.
But Rogue heard them just fine.
They were talking about Fire Team Baba Yaga.
Mind you, their gig with Arasaka weren't heard by the streets yet. Rogue was smart enough to keep a tight lip on her gigs.
No, Baba Yaga had already made enough of a reputation to scare even adults that took black lace and bullets for breakfast shitless.
They all heard how, just a few days ago, Vic Vega woke up tied to a chair screaming and pissing himself.
Vic was still defiant about the interrogation, but Rogue only had to imply that if he was going to be of no use, she'd just toss him into dark were a boogeyman 'could' be lurking in (Agent Locust wasn't so keen on the idea of sending one of his men to do something like this, but Vic didn't need to know that).
Guy was begging and ready to kiss her feet on command.
Jesus, the Baba Yaga was solution to everything.
The fact that you never saw them when they were men on a mission was a fear factor, as several of the mercs under her paycheck (and her driver) would testify.
If you did see them, good. They weren't on a job. That was when you'd want to get on their good side, give them something they might be interested in with no hesitation to get into their favour.
Hell, Reilly was doing that, how do you think she got that much of a street cred?
The very fact that she was first fixer to hire the Baba Yagas was enough rep for Mercs in the AfterLife to take her gigs.
It helped that she was good for a new-blood too, getting enough info for the mercs for their jobs.
Rogue looked at her holophone, the number she managed to get from Locust was standing out from the rest.
How could it not? Saving the contact as Baba Yaga certainly made sure she knew which number to press when she needed a difficult gig done quick and perfectly.
[Ma'am…]
The bouncer on the comm link said with a nervous voice.
He didn't need to finish it.
The mercs on the bar were already going quiet and staring at someone… or something walking through.
Speak of the devil, Rogue thought.
The familiar (yet still quite unsettling) eyeless skull marched to the entrance of the private VIP sector she favoured.
[… the… the Baba Yaga's here.]
Rogue sighed.
"You don't say? He's standing right in front of me."
The bouncer for the VIP sector was trying to nervously look at Rogue at the corner of his eyes. Rogue could see the sweat dripping down on the back of his bald head.
The bouncer was too scared to take his eyes off Agent Locust, as if the moment he decided to turn his head to Rogue, either Locust would disappear…
… or the bouncer would. Permanently.
Rogue waved her hand, and the bouncer quickly scooted aside to let Locust through.
Agent Locust stood for a minute in silence, before moving in. Nodding at the bouncer, which the bouncer (with a lot of courage), returned with a nod.
Most of their gigs ended without a blood spilt.
And that was precisely why people were scared.
"So long as you show yourself like that, you're always welcome here." Rogue had said this to Locust, but the bouncer knew that the message was for him.
If you see him next time, just let him through.
Mercs around the seat quickly scooted over as Locust got closer, all staring at him with either fear or awe.
Locust didn't take a seat, still staring at Rogue.
The queen of fixer was trying to get used to it. Tried to convince herself that it was the boogeymen's attempt to intimidate her.
… hopefully.
She didn't want to acknowledge that it was successful if it really was.
"Well, first off I'd like to say congrats on your team's street cred. It's not everyday you see someone show up on the street, then enter the major league with everyone shitting themselves in just under a month."
Locust didn't respond.
A minute went by as the fixer and the merc stared at each other in silence.
Then Locust broke the quiet air.
"I presume I can hire fixers to gather information, correct?"
"Of course," Rogue answered with a smirk. "You got something for me? Just a heads up- it costs eddies."
"I expected that." Locust quietly placed a shard on the table.
Rogue could tell from the scans she procured that it was an eddie stack.
"50,000 eddies up front."
"I'd rather you tell me the information you want, first. Thank you."
"Cows and pigs."
"…"
Rogue blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"I need info on where you can find Cows and Pigs."
Rogue opened her mouth. But for a few moment no words came out.
This was…
Well, this was unexpected.
She could see the Mercs around her (and the bouncer) hold a laugh. Brief interchanges between laughter and fear told her that the only reason why they weren't outright laughing was that they were too scared to ire Locust's wrath.
"… Am I right to assume you mean which farms are still active?"
"Yes. Preferably their layouts as well."
Rogue had so many questions, but her experience as a fixer had told them that it wasn't her concern.
"… Normally it cost around 15,000 eddies for information. Because of how much you and your team helped me, I'll just take… 5,000. Take the 45,000 and… get yourself something."
"Will you contact me when you get the information?"
"… Yes, I will."
Rogue heard Locust sigh a little as he nodded his head.
Rogue was a little surprised about this. I guess there is still something human underneath that eyeless skull.
"Keep the change, I need you to provide me with a truck capable of transporting animals with the rest of the money."
Rogue didn't think that was too bad of a deal. 45,000 was enough to get some heavy duty trucks for these hulking humanoid horrors.
Maybe even a Militech truck with the registration and tracker removed.
Rogue saw Locust leave without further words.
She was fine with that.
What she wasn't fine with was how Faraday, sitting at a table on the opposite side of the Club was staring at Locust, 3 of his right eye fixated on the boogeyman-for-hire.
Maine was on the other side of the table. By the looks of it, Faraday was handing over a gig to the chromed-up merc.
Rogue took another sip.
She never liked that slippery bastard, along with Dexter Deshawn.
It's been a while since I've written this much for one chapter.
Considering that fact that I was reading the fanfic rec page on Cyberpunk (and seeing that my fanfic was there) while writing this chapter, I guess Narcisism has its perks.
And I really do want to start putting events from Edgerunners and the main game into this story- speaking of which, if there was a crack-ship between Cyberpunk characters and the Spartans in this fic, which ships would you recommend?