Act 4: Fracture

"I was born an American; I will live an American; I shall die an American!" — Daniel Webster.

He was drowning…

His body was fully submerged in the void.

He thrashed out his hands trying to find any type of purchase. They found none as they swam through a viscous liquid he felt himself slowly sinking into the void, its invisible tendrils pulling him deeper seeking to consume him.

It was at this moment that he began to scream although it was immediately muted by the tar liquid as it filled his lungs.

A sudden primal fear flooded his senses and with all his might he forced himself upward.

Like a whale breaking the surface, he sprung out coughing and hacking out the inky black liquid.

His entire body was nude and a sudden irritated burning sensation washed over his whole body.

With trembling hands, he tried wiping away the black oily substance from his eyes.

Opening them did nothing as they seemed to burn with an intensity that bordered on unbearable as tears reflexively began to form falling down his face leaving a clean path.

Looking down he found himself sitting in a shallow puddle of crude oil, the pitch-black substance swirling into a rainbow oil slick.

He made to try and stand but collapsed almost immediately, his legs burning as if he had just ran a marathon.

He was suddenly racked with another coughing fit before vomiting up more of the crude oil.

He made to stand up again as his trembling ached and burned as if he had just ran a marathon. He felt his nerves on fire as he immediately crumpled back into the black puddle as he sucked in air through his teeth preparing himself to stand again.

Finally, with a concerted effort, he lifted himself up.

It was only now that his hearing slowly came back with the sounds of his environment trickling in his ears filled with the clanking and hums that accompanied heavy machinery.

Around him huge Oil wells and derricks stretched to the horizon, jetting out brilliant stacks of smoke and fire, choking out the sun and casting a sick gray over the land.

The man slowly began to walk, taking care not to slip on the oil runoff that soaked the earth.

Move.

He had to move.

The air around him was unbelievably hot as he aimlessly wondered if he just knew he had to keep moving.

He suddenly stopped walking and multiple figures in front of him stood tall and menacing in dirty military gear gas masks obscuring their faces.

They stood stock still like statues making no sound as they just stared.

The cigarette hung loosely from his mouth. He didn't know where it came from.

"Need a light sir?"

One of the figures held out a zippo, the metal dull and stretched.

After a few seconds, he reached out, flicking it on mer inches from the cigarette.

"Come on, tell us one of your jokes."

Before he had any time to respond he felt the heat as he went up like a Roman candle.

Rivers' eye shot opened as he jerked upwards burger wrappers falling away and to the floor of his truck, the sound of someone calling him rattled inside his skull, his iris blinking blue.

He clamped his eye shut trying to clear the haze from his mind.

Another bad dream.

He hadn't declined the call, not yet opening his vision; his mind was still hazy, a headache slowly setting in.

Pressing his fingers into his temple River attempted to nurse his headache although the incoming call seemed to only exacerbate it.

Finally, he opened his eye slowly reading the name of the incoming call in the top left part of his vision.

Cold adrenaline shot through his veins like ice as his headache was instead replaced with his stomach dropping to his feet.

"Shit"

[ACCEPT]

"YOU BETTER BE DEAD OR DYING I SHIT YOU NOT RIVER I'VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU FOR HALF AN HOUR!"

"Definitely feeling the latter right about now, no thanks to you chief."

"Don't get cute with me River… count yourself lucky I even brought you on."

River held his tongue, a pang of annoyance washing over him at the comment.

"We got code 2 and multiple 10-53's down in Heywood. I'm talking mass casualty so get your ass and get down there goddammit!"

The words made adrenaline shoot through his veins like ice as he fully woke up the fog hanging over him vanishing in an instant.

"I've already already sent you the cords-"

"Is it the Russians…"

Deep inside he already knew the answer as he started up his car and slammed down on the gas.

"The Russians? I don't know River, that's not my job but if I was a betting man which I am, I would say you should cut back on the naps."

The call dropped as River pressed harder on the gas pedal flying down the street way faster than was safe.

He hurriedly flipped through his contacts until finally reaching him seeing he already had sent a message.

"Hey got that follow-up from our informants tells me that both organization's claws and Russians were taken off guard by this they've grown so close, they've begun to work together. Suppose that explains the bodies. Although that doesn't completely eliminate the possibility of a gang war could a rogue element or a third party trying to get in on the action definitely have heard rumors about the Russians eyeballing Night City anyway that's all I got now let you know If I turn up anything else got my eyes peeled for the next massacre."- Mike [END OF MESSAGE] [8/9/2076]

"Looks like we won't have to wait long…"

August 10th, 2076, 11:13 A.M Night City

The brake disks squealed as the truck came to a stop outside the apartment complex. The scene was one expected with tape and cops swarming the area.

River wasted no time dashing out of his truck and towards the building, his badge in one hand as he raced by not breaking his stride to ask or talk to anyone else and nearly colliding with officers as he made his way into the building.

Entering the ground floor he immediately scanned the area making his way towards the stairs paying no mind to the other officers eyeing him as he flung the door to the starwell open.

His is heavy footfalls echoed and bounced off the walls in the stairwell as he made his way up each flight, until he reaching his destination a large 6 sprayed onto the wall.

His hands firmly griped the handle to the door yet he then became acutely aware of his pounding heart a the newly formed sweat on his brow.

Willing himself he opened the door walking into a hallway.

His was meet with the familiar sickly smell of blood and rot.

The stench of it filled his nostrils, overpowering and sickening catching the back of his throat.

It was clear the this building was far less ventilated the smell appalls as he quickly covers his nose trying to block out the worst of the smell.

A bead of sweat drips off his face as it dawns on him just how hot and stuffy the building is the A/C is either broken or turned off.

The most sickening part for him is the familiarity of it all it forces back long dead dreams and discarded memories.

For the first time in a long time River feels like retching as in that moment he focuses all his will to not throw up at the newly discovered crime scene.

"River is that you?"

Spinning around River saw as Mike peaked out from the door a respirator mask covering his lower jaw a slight surpised look on his face.

"Christ you look like shit."

"Feel like it too."

"Hehe, well thats what hapends when you wander without a mask get hell of a stink what did no one hand one to you?"

"Gee, I guess not Mike Im not treated like royalty like you."

Mike chuckled although it was muffled slightly by the mask as he pulled out a spare mask tossing it to River who snatched it, promptly slipping it on and moving inside the hallway.

He already saw one body nearest to the elevator his carcass covered.

"It's it…"

"It is…Russian every. Single. One."

A scowl flashed over River's face as he walked over to the dead body pulling the white plastic sheet off.

The body was swollen a stunk its head completely crushed with crusted blood covering the once pristine white suit.

"They say that most likely our perp has some type or gorilla arms the damage is indicative of crushing."

"Doesn't exactly help to narrow down anything."

Mike let a smirk cross his face a smile slowly forming beneath his mask.

River mumbled as he pulled the tarp back over.

"Well, we did find this."

Mike reached into his jacket pulling out a large bag with a long black rectangular stick.

It took a second for RIver to figure out what exactly what he was staring at but relization hit him like a train.

"Fuck is it really, did you get any prints?!"

"Not yet but we found a few more heres hoping forensics gets something. But that's not even the best part the mag the gun it belongs to…a fucking Ingram Mac-10."

Mike said as though he had just cracked the case the case wide open.

Rivers was less optimistic.

"Mac-10?"

"Yeah, the Mac-10 the thing was invented in the damn 1960s!"

The statement injected a small boost into River, now they were getting somewhere.

"That's gotta be what 90-100 year old tec."

"This whole time we've been looking in the wrong places we got a damn mummie running around tearing the ruskies a new asshole."

River let out a huff as he walked to the main set of stars before crouching down and scanning the floor. Small shell casings were scattered about picking one up he held it in his fingers.

A sudden thought struck him as with his free hand he reached into the coat pulling out the round he had scooped up at that first massacure.

Just as he suspected, .45 ACP did he use the same gun as that night or were there multiple that just so happened to take this dated caliber?

A sudden chill crawled up his spine was there only one killer…

He stood back up opting to continue and survey the carnage floor by floor.

"I thought I was done seeing this kind of shit after Texas…"

"This one wasn't so quiet."

"We had reports from blocks away saying it sounded like a warzone here."

"Why was this apartment complex so heavily protected?"

"Pff now you got about a million answers drugs, safehouse XBD's some other operation, choose your favorite."

They finally reached a hallway scattered on the floor one to two dozen bodies were scatterd about there bodies seemigly ripped apart and blood and other visra coated the faint metallic smell of blood caught him seeping through the mask.

A large mass of congealed blood stained the floor and wall outside the closest door to the right. Across the door and area to the left was shredded with large holes punched straight through the walls and door.

"Ammo this small shouldn't cause wholes this big."

"Isn't normal ammo apprentley using some sort of high velocity depleted uranium rounds some real specialized stuff."

"Now the question falls on who is supplying the stuff. It can't be common for any gun shop to have lying around."

River continued walking down the hallway eventually reaching a set of two doors swinging them open revealing a large drug lab as beakers and barrels of product lined the areal alongside large dirty vats.

Something was wrong as River stoped in his tracks seeing him sitting on the chair. The large marionette doll stat stock still is large beady eyes bore a hole right into Rivers soul.

"..."

"..."

His heart was pounding in his chest its false puppet face didnt say a word as it continued to stare.

Detective?

The sudden voice of the cop broke Rivers concentration as his head swiveled to face him although looking back the puppet was gone.

"I uh…" "It seems like they were protecting an expensive operation."

"Seems so Detective…"

An awkward silence seemed to hang in the air until the other cop who had walked into the room continued.

"We just go word someone saw a suspect in a vehicle leave the scene."

"Th-Thank you."

…

"I'll go talk to them in the morning."

"You look like you just saw a ghost you're pale as shit River."

"It's…its this air… I'm done here we got a lead about a possible witness well go tomorrow."

"...have a nice rest of your day sir."

August 11th, 2076, 2:40 P.M Night City

Rivers slammed the door to his truck as he approached the mega building.

It was in spiting distance of the crime scene.

River stopped at the entrance as Mike stood outside clearly waiting as he puffed on a cigarette. Upon spotting River he quickly flicked the cig into the nearest puddle.

"River Late as always I see…"

"I thought you quit smoking."

Mike knocked on his chest.

"New lungs I get all the sweet sweet nicotine none of the downsides."

"Yknow it still messes with your brian though you aint never had much of one to begin with."

"Some ones moody, input not putting out?"

Rivers only response was to flip Mike off as he made his way inside the building Mike following in toe.

"It is weird this building is across the street to the crime scene about a block or so away but only one witness?"

Mike only chuckled.

"Ha you'd have better luck finding a high functioning cyber psycho than reliable witnesses espssally around here."

"Well then lets hope this one is different. "

River knocked on the door as a few seconds later an older women around late 40s answered.

"Hi I'm detective River Ward and this is my partner Mike Doson we're from the NCPD you wanted to give a statement?"

"Oh yes! Come in come in please."

She retreated inside as River and Mike following.

The inside of the house was rather plane as she sat down onto her couch a tabby cat jumping up and settling into her lap.

" we appreciate you talking about what you saw."

"Oh it's nothing officers. I'm happy to help."

"So could you please tell us what you know."

"I've lived in this apartment for five years just across the street from those young men at the other apartment…"

"They looked so serious and mean. I always siad they were up to something bad. Yet no one would listen to me."

"Well we're listening now ma'am. What did you see?"

"Late at night I was woken up by the sounds of gunshots. I know the sound well I used to live in Odessa with my husband - god rest his soul. Texas where we retired, but when-"

Mike held up a hand cutting her off.

"I'm sorry ma'am but could you please tell us about last night?"

"Um, just after the shooting stoped I peekd my head out fo the window, which was a very foolish thing to do you know what they say about curiosity and the cat, Right? Heh heh…But, I looked ou the window and I said and saw a single shadowy figure get into a car and drive away."

"A car? Do you know the plates or at least the model and color?"

"I'm afraid I didnt have my glasses on, but I'm certain it was a light gray car. I know that."

"Gray…that's it? Could you tell us anyhting else?"

"Also the door opened up funny like a wing."

"doesn't exactly help up could be any number of cars Caliburn, Quadra could also be one of those Rayfield Aerondight cars. That also does't take into account tiger claws They usually modify their vehicles."

Mike said rattling off cars.

"Could aswell be and older car we already know our perp has a thing for vintage stuff."

"True although I wouldn't know the spific model we'll probably have to dig through and see if any other car has a wing door."

"A lone shodowy figure who drives a grey car with a door that openes like a wing…It's…a start."

"Thankyou for your time ."

"Oh it was a pleasure officers and come back anytime if you need to ask any more questions."

"Will do ma'am. Lets go Mike."

They swiftly left the apartment as they walked to their respective cars.

"What do you make of it Mike?"

"One guy in a grey car with a funny door come on."

"You think shes making it up?"

"I think she's a lonely old lady, looking for someone to talk to."

"Could've been recalling somthing she saw twenty years ago…"

"Exactly."

"Still, it's all we have so far I suppose we should try scouring vehicle registry."

"For a gray car whose door opens like a wing… christ almighty."

Mike pulled out a cigarette offering it to River who wordlessly accepted it.

August 19th, 2076, 3:11 P.M Night City

A private lounge on the upper floor of a high-tech, neon-drenched club in Night City. The room is quiet except for the faint bassline of music from below. Faraday, dressed impeccably in a sleek suit, lounges in a high-backed chair, a drink in his hand. Finally two other figures arrive.

The first figure is Imposings wearing a standard white suite with a red dress button. A large scar is gashed across the rightside of his face as he wears a hammer and sickle earring . His expression is almost angry like a simmering volcano.

Next to him is a blond women she wears sunglasses and no short only a turquoise bra along with a pink fuzzy sash around her neck. The thing that sticks out the most however is the large katana that hangs at her side.

Bodyguard of some kind.

Faraday raising his glass a smile forming at his lips.

"So I take it your his Son and now you run the show hmmm."

"I must say, I was surprised when I got your message. Your kind don't usually call upon… people like me. Desperation, or are we here to play nice?"

The man's jaw clenched as he fixed Faraday with a glare.

"Tell me, what's it like inheriting a throne of blood?"

"Throne? Let's not get poetic. I'm no king. I'm just… keeping an empire running. Old man left it all to me, and I'm making sure no one forgets that. Who the hell are you to ask, anyway? You're not exactly clean."

Faraday was now grinning as he set his glass down.

"Oh, I'm no stranger to blood myself. Though, I prefer to keep my hands a bit cleaner. It's the difference between us, I guess. I move pieces on the board. You smash them".

"Pieces?"

he chuckles, but it's humorless.

"You mean people, right? The ones you send to die for whatever corpo war you're stirring up. At least I get my hands dirty. I look my enemies in the eyes when I end them. Makes it real. Makes it… personal."

"Personal…"

Faraday taps his fingers thoughtfully.

"I suppose I get that. It's personal, sure, but that also makes you predictable. One rage-filled vendetta, and suddenly anyone can pull your strings. That's why I've got no allegiances, no attachments. I'm… a freelancer. For hire to the highest bidder."

The Son leans forward, eyes intense.

"Is that supposed to be impressive? Sounds cowardly to me. You hide behind those "allegiances," don't you? You want the power without the consequences. You talk like a man who's afraid to bleed for what he wants."

"Now, that's where you're wrong. I just know the power of leverage. Every deal, every alliance—it's a tool. Emotions? Attachments? That's how you get torn apart in this city. Tell me, how many people close to you are still breathing?"

"..."

"Fewer than I'd like. But those who are left? They're loyal. They know I'd rip apart anyone who came after them. You talk about leverage, but loyalty? It's worth more than you know. Real power isn't bought. It's earned… with blood."

"Spoken like a man trapped in his own rules. You think loyalty means anything here? In Night City, loyalty lasts as long as the paycheck does. Trust me, I've seen how fast alliances crumble the moment it's convenient."

"Maybe that's why you're stuck here in this pit. Too busy counting eddies to realize you're alone. No one to watch your back, no one to keep you safe when things go south."

"That's where we're different. I don't need anyone to watch my back. If someone makes a move against me, it's already too late for them. It's all about planning, about staying three steps ahead. The moment you stop to look over your shoulder… that's when you're done."

"You think you're so damn smart, but one day, someone's gonna catch up to you. When you least expect it, someone you didn't plan for is gonna walk right into your game and break it wide open."

Faraday let out a chuckle.

"Maybe. But until that day, I'll be running circles around them. Around you, too, if it ever comes to that."

The Son's face morphs into a snarl his eyes narrowing.

"You wouldn't last a second in my world. One phone call, one whisper, and half my city's already out for blood. People fear me. You? They'd just want to use you".

"Fear… that's short-lived. But influence? Influence is subtle. It can outlast empires, outlast kings. What I build doesn't collapse when I'm gone."

The Son crosses his arms.

"You sound like my father. He thought he could control everything too. Thought he was smarter than everyone else. Then, just like that—gone. One bullet was all it took."

"And yet, you carry his legacy. Hate it all you want, but you're more like him than you'll ever admit. Legacy, bloodline, whatever you want to call it."

The Son merly scoffed before walking over and taking a seat across from Faraday.

"Someone's been targeting my business. Russian safehouses, supply lines, even my cash storage. Hit after hit. They're taking out my men, cleaning out my resources, and leaving nothing but bodies behind."

Faraday sipps his drink siring is and letting the ice clink around.

"Sounds personal. A vendetta, perhaps? Did you step on someone's toes recently?"

The Sons his jaw tightened as he took a second to respond.

"Could be. My father's empire left a lot of enemies. I'm not naïve enough to think they'd all let bygones be bygones. But this? This feels different. This isn't some punk trying to get even. It's surgical."

Faraday nodded thoughtfully.

"Surgical indeed. To hit multiple locations like that requires intel. Either someone's feeding this guy information, or he's damn good at recon."

"Could even be someone on the inside. You considered that?"

"I have."

"Cleared out a couple of rats over the last year. Thought I'd handled it. But now… I'm not so sure."

"Ah, the joys of loyalty in the underworld. It's always so fleeting, isn't it?"

A tense pause looms over the table before Faraday continues.

"Alright. You want my help? I'll need details. Every attack: locations, timing, your losses, and anything else you can give me. Patterns don't lie, even if people do."

The Son pulls out a data shard, sliding it across the table.

"It's all here. Names, dates, security footage, or what's left of it. Every time this bastard struck, he left a trail of bodies but no leads. My guys?"

"They're scared. They think he's some kind of ghost."

Faraday picking up the shard, turning it over in his fingers.

"A ghost, huh? Well, even ghosts leave shadows."

Faraday downs the rest of his drink, He enjoys the fruity flavor mixed with the burning sension in the back of his throat.

"Luckily for you, I'm good at finding them. But this won't come cheap."

The Son merely scoffs.

"Forget price I give you what you want."