Overcast skies.
Rain.
Dampness, mold, dust, rust, chemicals, and the scorched stench of blood.
On the rain-soaked streets, shattered storefront windows left a trail of ruin. Shards of glass, broken furnishings, and scattered debris glinted dully under the drizzle.
Trash bins had been overturned. Their contents—flyers, protest banners, plastic bottles, bricks, even discarded clothes—were strewn across the ground.
Mixed with blood and rainwater, they had turned into a grimy sludge, trampled over again and again until they were indistinguishable.
Huff...
Inside the mid-level lobby of a jet-black building bearing the Arasaka triple-leaf logo, Vela stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the grey world through the drizzle. Her lips parted, and a plume of smoke exited her mouth like an arrow before dispersing, swept away by the air circulation system.
Among a crowd of company dogs—some smirking, some indifferent, some blank—she silently observed the scene.
"You bastards know you're breaking the law, right?!"
"Move! Back off!"
One side: Arasaka security in full riot gear with shields, batons, tasers, tear gas, and pepper rounds.
The other: a seething crowd of protesters, colorful, chaotic, noisy, hurling debris.
What had started as a protest quickly spiraled into violent demonstration, then full-blown conflict in just a few days. In the end, only injuries and screams remained.
Some would disappear into back-alley black clinics, maybe end up on some organ-harvesting table.
On either side of the street, storefronts lay charred, their remnants smoldering in the gentle rain—a pitiful, broken sight.
"Chief Russell, thank you for your efforts during this suppression period."
The director of Arasaka Sydney's Manufacturing Division—a large, well-built older man—smiled warmly as he offered a cup of freshly ground Rodoran coffee to Vela, who had arrived in Australia as part of a cross-branch support force.
While he was the senior executive of the Sydney branch's security unit, Vela's rank and authority weren't far below his.
After all, she came from Night City's Security Division.
Only three locations had the privilege of calling their Arasaka buildings "Towers" and their regions "Headquarters": Tokyo (global HQ), Paris (European HQ), and Night City (North American HQ).
Especially Night City—its atrocious security situation was globally infamous. Aside from Tokyo, Night City's military power under Arasaka HQ was the strongest.
As the front line against old rival Militech, Night City was dotted with Arasaka military camps, bases, ports, and checkpoints. The struggle to dominate markets in Latin America and South America continued.
"I believe this should serve as a proper lesson. Those lowlifes will quiet down for a while."
"Ah, maybe."
Vela smiled slightly and accepted the coffee.
It had been half a year since the Arasaka Academy entrance ceremony. In that time, she had been actively fulfilling her duties as the Special Assault Unit Director of Night City's Security Division.
Now, the authority and military power in her hands had grown even stronger than at the start of her term.
She had also grown more numb.
Her experiences in the last six months had been... colorful.
First came retaliation against Maelstrom for hijacking corporate convoys.
Then, the Vancouver branch in Canada uncovered a covert Militech infiltration of the Western Free States. Vela led a strike team and delivered a heavy blow, wiping out a secret transport convoy carrying Basilisk armored vehicles.
After all, the Security Division wasn't the Counter-Intelligence Division or the Intelligence Division. As a military commander, Vela couldn't just sit in an office all day. Field operations were the norm.
She had even survived an assassination attempt.
Travel routes and schedule data being watched—commonplace. Gangs, Edgerunners, fixers, even rival corps all had their eyes on her.
Militech seemed to have marked Vela as a serious threat. After chatting cordially with Militech representatives at a city banquet, she was ambushed by a cyberpsycho on the way back.
Cyberpsychosis. Madness. The ultimate scapegoat.
Vela chose to believe it.
Corporate warfare wasn't any more civilized than the bloody world of Edgerunners.
Vela handled some side projects for the Biotech R&D Division—quick and dirty. She tweaked a few formulations based on legacy Umbrella iterations.
On the regular work front, she signed three urban security contracts, all within the Pacific Rim. She dispatched teams to each—other areas weren't her jurisdiction.
Bodyguard assignments? Plenty. Only two required her personal attention.
One was in the South Asian subcontinent. A super-wealthy tycoon in Bharat was throwing a wedding for his daughter. The man's business dealings were... shady. Many enemies. Religious tension, too.
He paid top credits for Arasaka protection. Since Vela happened to be in Tokyo HQ for an award ceremony, she took the job—high tips justified a few days as on-site elite protection and commander.
The other was Arasaka's own cultural festival, the Aratama-matsuri.
Every year, someone from the Arasaka family made a ceremonial appearance. In 2074, it was Michiko Arasaka attending the Night City festival. Vela served as senior security on the lavish aerial palace.
Flawlessly executed.
This month, Vela's attention turned to the Chilean branch in South America.
Chile's rich in minerals, forests, and seafood. Famous for copper. A key supplier of raw materials for Arasaka Manufacturing. Recently, Militech seemed to be extending its "evil little fingers" again.
They were backing local gangs and civilian proxies, smuggling weapons and stirring dissent—plotting a major disruption.
The Intelligence Division picked it up and reported. After review and upper-level strategy talks, the order came down: Militech couldn't be allowed to succeed.
Vela mobilized three 100-man assault units and one heavy armored division to reinforce Chile.
She deployed by air, taking full command.
Swift and brutal, she cut through the threat before it could grow. With local actors in disarray, they wouldn't recover for years—unless Militech or another mega-corp pumped in serious resources.
Just as Chile wrapped up, Australia lit up.
This time, no outside interference.
At least, Arasaka Intel hadn't found any.
Looking around the Pacific Rim, the higher-ups saw Vela's support forces already nearby. The thinking was simple: if you're useful, we use you till you drop. You hold the line, and promotion will follow.
So one order later, Vela turned her route toward Australia.
Sydney.
Not everywhere is Night City. Not every place is a corporate warzone or a testing ground for experimental cyberware and weapons. Sydney was... peaceful.
Compared to Night City? Practically utopian.
Far fewer cyberware and weapons in circulation. No chaotic gang landscape. Just citizens protesting environmental damage from Arasaka's plaza, polluted water, low pay, and long working hours.
Righteous reasons to protest.
Vela wasn't bloodthirsty. Unless necessary, she didn't harm the unarmed. She kept things clean—disperse the crowd and wrap the job.
Some bruises, maybe a broken bone, a few swollen eyes. But no shotgun rounds.
Sigh... becoming more of a corp dog every day.
Climbing higher without the Arasaka name... damn near impossible.
She needed a plan.
Maybe... apply for further studies?
Go back to school or something.