Chapter 32

We hitched a ride on Jack’s Arch and headed to the factory that used to be owned by All Foods in Watson District.

Factories like that, easy to use as fronts, are often targeted by gangs. Once resistance fails, it’s not uncommon for them to be converted into hideouts.

This place was probably taken the same way.

If we were talking about megacorps like Arasaka or Militech, it might be a different story—but smaller companies don’t stand a chance against gangs.

…And I know this because I was with Arasaka, but Maelstrom? They’re practically an extension of Arasaka’s fingertips.

Most of their chrome comes from Arasaka, and that milky-white maintenance oil is all the proof you need.

Even this Militech convoy ambush starts looking like just another shadow play in the silent war between Arasaka and Militech.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t be foolish enough to go after Militech, whose entire identity screams "military."

That other client—Anthony Gilchrist—probably ended up selling out Militech because Arasaka poached him.

...I talk like it’s someone else’s problem. I guess I’ve gone native.

“Alright, let’s do this thing.”

"Stealth team’s in! We found the convoy easy, but… the loading bay out back looks like a punk kid’s sketchbook. Horrible taste."

"Heading inside now to scoop up the extra eddies. Oh, Vanny—go for it."

"Okayyy, here we go! Aha-ha! That’s worse than ground meat!"

"...Don’t throw it over here, it’s disgusting."

Sounds like they took out someone on watch—or just someone who happened to be there.

Those arms of Vanny’s don’t look like much, but they’re not gorilla arms. Apparently, they’re Goliath Arms, custom-made by Little Boss.

I’ve heard they pack enough punch to tear through an NCPD armored vehicle in one shot. So whoever she hit… probably ended up as a red-and-white firework.

Finding the convoy made our job a lot easier.

I signaled Jack, and once he nodded, I parked the Arch away from the entrance and pointed it in the direction of our potential getaway.

“Alright, time to go shopping.”

“Yeah. Watch out for ambushes.”

We walked up to the front entrance, the one that faced the street, and pressed the intercom. A few seconds later, a voice came through—rough, with that distinct booster growl.

“We’re here to make a purchase. I’m sure Brick already told you. It’s one of the items from the convoy.”

“…Tch. Wait a sec. …Yeah, alright. You’re on the list. Name?”

“Evelyn Parker.”

“…Okay. Come on in. Straight through the front.”

The shutter at the front began to rise, and lights flicked on, guiding the way inward.

I signaled Jack again. He nodded, and we began walking slowly.

Eyes darted toward the turrets and Militech trip mines lining the hallway. Our steps were cautious—mostly to buy time for Vanny’s team.

“There. Get in.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“…Hmph. Be careful.”

A Maelstrom member with an oddly-shaped head and a glowing mono-eye gestured toward the elevator. I gave him a polite nod in return.

He blinked, then shrugged.

I’m wearing my old private-use suit from my corpo days. I probably still look like a suit to them.

Maelstrom and most other gangs are used to being looked down on by corpos.

That’s why a respectful, no-condescension gesture like mine tends to hit them right in the pride—in a good way. Completely unintentional, but it works.

If you flinch or look intimidated, they’ll take it as condescension. Better to treat them like equals.

The elevator activated automatically and began descending, likely operated remotely.

“So that was… corporate survival instinct, huh?”

“Yeah. A way to avoid being underestimated or looked down on—just stand your ground as an equal. Worth remembering. But it doesn’t work unless you look the part. Not really Jack’s style.”

“Yeah, no kidding. After all this time, you still wear that same tired face and dead stare.”

“…Thanks for nothing. It’s 'cause Little Boss is more of a boss than my last manager. Can’t shake the corporate drone outta me…”

“…Wanna grab a beer after? Or hell, tequila?”

“Yeah. Sounds good. Been a while since I had Mama Wells’ cooking.”

We joked while estimating the depth of the descent. Probably around the second or third basement level.

Past the open doorway, we found ourselves in what looked like a repurposed break room. A bunch of Maelstrom guys had made it their base.

“Vanny, status?”

“Oh, oops. Forgot to say—we’ve already pulled it out and loaded it on the convoy. We can leave anytime.”

“Sorry, Vitt! I should’ve reported in earlier. The timing’s your call.”

Suppressing a sigh, I signaled Jack and stepped forward.

A man in an ammo vest, worn directly on bare skin, stepped up. His massive forehead-eye and three pairs of smaller eyes lit up red, and he leaned in close.

Maelstrom is big on guts—they implant cyberware without anesthetic during initiation. Real trial by fire stuff.

I held my ground, staring back without emotion. He grinned and stepped back, plopping down at the table.

“Heh-heh-heh, you’ve got guts for a corpo. I like that. Name’s Dum Dum. Royce is off on some errand, so I’ll handle this.”

“Thanks. Mind if I sit?”

“…Ahaha! You’re a funny one. Hey, tell your bodyguard to sit too. We’re not into cheap ambushes here. Want a hit? This stuff hits hard.”

“Sorry, but our Little Boss isn’t a fan of drugs. Even lingering traces can be a problem.”

“Huh? Ohhh, you’re with the dragon tattoo girl, huh? Then how about this? Not a drug, just something that clears your nose and throat. Personal favorite of mine.”

He pulled out an inhaler and handed it over. I triggered it without letting it touch my lips. A refreshing minty scent and taste filled my senses.

…This is good.

I asked if I could use it again. He gave me the nod, and I took another puff.

Perfect for clearing the head. Would’ve killed for something like this back in the Arasaka days…

“You’ve got good taste. Where do you get this stuff?”

“Haha! What, you don’t know? And you’re one of her people. It’s from Delamain Medical Services. Went there for sinus issues, they gave me that. Turns out you can even buy it online, no prescription.”

I handed the inhaler back to Dum Dum and shook the hand he offered with a firm grip.

Jack gave me a look and shrugged.

“Alright, let’s talk business. I want to buy the Flathead Brick set aside for me.”

“Ohhh, so you’re the buyer, huh? Hey! Bring it over! Heh heh, you’re gonna love this thing. Comes with optical camo—real hacker-bait gear. Just slot in the control chip to run it. Hang on, I’ll show you.”

Dum Dum had one of his guys bring over the case. He opened it and slotted the control chip into his neck.

The Flathead—headless, dog-like, and four-legged—powered up and began its diagnostics before vanishing.

No, not vanished—if you looked closely, the surroundings distorted subtly. You could track it if you really focused.

“The best thing about this sucker isn’t just the camo—it’s the legs. It can climb walls and ceilings, do its job in places no human could reach. What do you think? Nice piece of hardware, right?”

He ran the Flathead across the floor, up a wall, across the ceiling, and back to its case. With a grin, he slotted the control chip back in and closed it.

“Normally I’d jack up the price here, but… I like you. I’ll sell it at the original rate—10,000 eddies.”

“Give him the clean version—no virus. Seriously, Dum Dum…”

Jack gave the go-ahead, so I handed over a credchip.

Dum Dum scanned it, smiled wide, and passed me the case like he was entrusting me with something precious.

As I took it, I sent him my contact info and a message:

—Militech’s coming over the convoy. Get out clean.

Dum Dum read it, stayed silent for a few seconds, then tossed me the inhaler from earlier.

“Just between us… Royce is done for. He’s trying to climb the ladder by selling off leftover Biotechnica gear. Even mocks what the Dragon Tattoo did. …We had the same taste in booze, but everything else about him was garbage. …Brick’s still alive, locked up here. We’ll grab him on the way out—don’t worry, brother.”

“You—w-wait, is that really okay?”

The others glanced around awkwardly—one whistled, another started cleaning his ears.

…Even Jack had a hand on his forehead, clearly fed up with Royce’s lack of charisma.

So that settles it.

Taking out just Royce and heading home would leave a better taste in our mouths.

I looked at Dumdum—he jerked his thumb toward the shutter behind him.

Pressing my ear to the shutter, I could hear the clanking noise of a machine—one of those for personal… pleasure.

…So that’s your “errand,” huh? I glanced at Dumdum again—he was already packing up, gave me a thumbs-up.

“…Man, that got weird fast.”

“Eh, who cares? We’ve made ourselves clearly useful. Let’s just waste the wanker and call it a day.”

“Yeah… you’ve got a point.”

Been a while, but let’s do this—quickhacked the nearest security cam, dumped a breach protocol and took control.

Found Royce—or what looked like him—sitting in a chair, going at it.

Sent a Circuit Short daemon his way.

Instantly, a pitiful display: twitching all over with his pathetic junk getting fried by a jolt of electricity—he made for a fine, idiotic little sculpture.

We’ll let Militech clean up the mess. Might as well leave them a souvenir.

『Sooo? No firefight? He’s escaping through the sewer out back—can I shoot him in the back?』

『No, you cannot. Geez, if it ended clean, that’s good enough.』

『Yup. V got chummy with the Maelstrom boys and tied everything up neatly. Leaving the rest to Militech—we’re pulling out.』

『Okaaay. Then we can just leave the convoy behind, yeah?』

『Yeah. Maybe turn on the lights so they don’t miss it.』

『Got it. Sending this to V now.』

Got the compiled data from Sasha—mail logs and all.

Just need to hand this over to Meredith, and we’re done.

『Hey Vanny, swing by for a sec. Take Flathead and head out.』

『Roger.』

“Oh yeah… guess this thing was stolen, huh…”

Jack muttered to himself. I nodded and handed the case to Vanny, who bounced over and then headed back the way we came.

Elevator worked fine. No turrets or interference along the way. Made it back to the entrance without a hitch.

Then suddenly—Militech’s assault unit dropped in from the sky and stormed inside, ignoring us completely.

As they passed, a transport vehicle pulled up in front of us.

From the back seat, a sharp-eyed woman stepped out, looked straight at me—and smiled.

“Appetizer got away, but the main dish is still hot. You must be Meredith Stout, yeah?”

“…Hmm. Got a souvenir for me, soldier?”

“Yeah. Didn’t want to carry it loose, so I packed it all nice. Give it a look.”

Sent her Sasha’s compiled data. She let out a deep, relieved sigh.

…Wait, was she about to take the fall for all this?

Ugh, I get that. Been there recently myself.

Meredith’s stern eyes softened just a little—she winked and transferred a hefty reward.

…Huh? Her personal contact info came with it.

Looks like I made a good impression. Might even get more gigs from her.

“Excellent work. I know how to reward results. You saved my ass, soldier. …I’ll sweeten the payout. Until next time.”

She smiled—soft, composed, but with that mature allure—and climbed back into the car.

…Huh. I might have a shot.

Back in my corpo days, I had my share of flings—so I recognize those signs.

A well-kept, desire-charged body, huh?

Might be fun. Hope she gives me a ring.

I deposited the reward into the team’s shared account, then hitched a ride back to the office in Jack’s Arch.

“You really got the gift of gab, V.”

“Haha. It’s the only thing I can count on. Perks of being single.”

We slipped into familiar banter, letting the night wind whip past us.

…Phew. Managed to get through today too.

Tied it all up nicely. Lucky break.

Though… I can’t shake the feeling this was just the fuse.

Lately, Little Boss’s behavior has been odd.

That tight-knit alliance with Delamain isn’t just some casual collab—it’s like they’re preparing for something.

Seems like a lot of supplies are being shipped to that old Biotechnica mega-worm farm. The building materials—mostly steel—suggest underground facilities are being built.

With Delamain.

Delamain Taxis, Delamain Medical Services, Delamain Pharma, Delamain Farms… What’s next?

David and the Edgerunners are shifting to low-profile moves too. Feels like they’re setting us up as decoys.

Evelyn Parker, huh… I should have Sasha look into her. Something about Lizzie’s Bar...

Ah, right—that place’s Mox turf. Pretty sure they run a borderline-illegal BD and happy-pill operation there...

…And Little Boss looks like a kid. If someone crossed her?

That bar’s practically a union for sex workers—born out of that Tiger Claws mess. If someone mouthed off to a clean-faced girl like her… or tried something worse...

Might be a regime change incoming.

Used to hit that place with Jack for drinks now and then, but it’s been a while. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s totally changed.

My little flame with Susanna was fun while it lasted. Shame her pride got in the way.

Might swing by Lizzie’s tomorrow.

Maybe bring Main and David too—could be a good info exchange.