Cyberpunk: Infinite Progress Begins with Arasaka

"Is the mission going smoothly?"

A wisp of fine mist rose slowly from the tip of Vela's slender lady's cigarette, curling upward.

Standing in the middle of the quiet and spacious office, bathed in light, was a burly man with a clean-shaven American-style buzzcut—Kurt Hansen.

The flickering beams from the projection array coiled and bent, tinting and correcting, outlining his holographic 3D image.

"...More or less. Thanks to you. A rogue assault by a mid-level agent rising up against the hierarchy has left Myers utterly flustered."

Although Hansen didn't know exactly what Arasaka—or rather, what Vela—had done behind the scenes, he wasn't naive. Six years as a fence-sitting warlord in Dogtown and the humiliation of being betrayed by Myers had taught him a lot.

Especially after meeting Vela face to face—as a collaborator—he had developed a vague intuition. No evidence, no logic, and no need to trace it all back, but he instinctively felt that Vela had something to do with this.

"Blessings fall from the heavens."

Vela's tone was calm.

"There are still more good people in this world," she said with a faint smile. "More friends, more benefits. More enemies, more opportunities. At the right time and place, enemies can be more useful than friends."

"So then... that poor 'enemy' was specifically..."

"No."

She denied it. Snuffing out the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray, Vela leaned her arm on the desk, rested her cheek on two fingers, and glanced sideways at him.

"Do you remember how many times you've pulled the trigger in your life?"

Hansen was speechless. He paused for a moment.

"Alright, enough digressing."

Vela gently waved her hand and said seriously, "Although you've helped the Barghest rally plenty of support and manpower across the Free States by leading through example, you've also become a thorn in the side of many. As your forces continue to clash with theirs in New Mexico and Arizona, future assassinations won't be just random punks with Molotovs—"

She paused here, blinking once, then looked at Hansen with a flat, indifferent gaze.

"Seems like the FIA is getting lively again in California. Your old friends don't seem ready to let you go..."

Hansen knew what Vela meant.

Those FIA agents who had contacted him, trying to win him over.

Some used coercion, others persuasion. Behind the scenes, Washington's latest offer promised full reinstatement into the NUSA military should he defect—along with the rank of three-star Army lieutenant general, a position at the Pentagon, and the complete integration of Barghest into an active NUSA armored corps.

Not to mention retirement packages with Militech, estates, private funds, stocks, medals—material perks too numerous to list.

"We worked together a long time, there's some sentiment there. It's normal to have lingering ties. Washington's offer isn't bad, but getting burned once teaches you something." Mentioning Washington, Hansen sneered.

"Myers' mouth? Full of lies. That old bitch's bottom line is flexible as hell..."

Hansen understood exactly where his value lay.

Without Barghest, without Dogtown—if Barghest hadn't grown into a faction rivaling Lazarus Group, if he no longer served as the living proof that 'Washington and Militech can't be trusted'—then he was nothing.

Those three silver stars on his shoulder wouldn't mean a damn thing. Once the storm passed, Myers could strip him of his rank with a word and leave him rotting in a gutter as a two-faced nobody.

Same with Arasaka.

The difference was, his ally Vela was still on the rise. Using her own persuasion, she had once likened their relationship to that of Donald Lundee (former Militech CEO) and Emile Lazarus (founder of the Lazarus Group).

Comparing which side was worse—Myers still won that race to the bottom.

"That flag in Washington? It's already been used as a rag and burned—God knows where the ashes ended up. And now they're telling me to dig up those ashes and reshape them into the Stars and Stripes again? Heh..."

Hansen let out a cold laugh. "They're afraid of me. Afraid I'll shatter the ideology they boast about. Because I am the damn embodiment of that so-called ideology—the one that never truly existed—and they're the ones who abandoned and destroyed it."

Clap, clap, clap.

Vela nodded, clapping lightly.

"Most people fear cyberpsychos—because of the guns, the madness, the fists, the cyberware... But true power comes from within. Those who've been betrayed, who await vengeance—those are the most dangerous."

"That's why you have to stay alive."

She said it with heartfelt sincerity.

"Do you know how many assassination attempts Arasaka's lone wolves have quietly thwarted during your rounds of speeches to cowboy revengers in the western Free States? Twelve. That's twelve that your own guards never even noticed."

"Are you trying to convince me to hide in an office and pull the strings from behind?" Hansen shook his head. "No. I'm not you. And Barghest doesn't have Arasaka's luxury."

He grinned, voice low and resonant. "Besides, if I did that, how could I become the next Lazarus? You'd probably be disappointed in me too, Director Vela."

Not at all. This Director would only increase her investment.

But Vela didn't say that aloud.

Leaning back in her executive chair, she lifted her teacup and took a sip.

By her rough assessment, Hansen had a sense of righteousness—he preferred to share hardship with his soldiers, was hands-on, and as Dogtown's top boss, he'd even personally take on organ thieves or spar with new recruits.

And he had a gambler's streak and an appetite for risk.

"Not a bad answer. Looks like I can bump up the investment limit."

Setting the teacup down, Vela mirrored Hansen's thoughts with her tone.

"Is it going to be the overreaching REO Meatwagon, or will you become the 'new Lazarus' that crushed the old world's remnants? In this era of global post-war silence, I'm looking forward to the answer you'll deliver."

Hansen's expression turned serious.

He knew about REO Meatwagon Emergency Services.

A textbook example of local Night City business failure. Once a competitor to Trauma Team International.

They started with ambition—armored ambulances with turrets, staffed by a driver-gunner hybrid, two solo operatives, and a field medic. But under the business pressure of Trauma Team, they declined rapidly, unable to afford solos, or even armored vehicles, and slid into stagnation...

By 2076, REO's deployment consisted of a single outdated, unarmored ambulance and just two to three medics, including the driver. The company had been relegated to Night City's cheapest, most bare-bones emergency medical service, only handling cases Trauma Team wouldn't bother with.

Utterly dismal.

Vela had cited them as a cautionary tale.

"Lazarus isn't Trauma Team—they're far from their glory days. And I'm no REO. I'll win." Hansen said firmly.

Vela smiled but said nothing.

After the Fourth Corporate War, with large-scale international conflicts coming to an end, countries and corporations turned inward to lick their wounds and recover. Lazarus' revenue naturally plummeted, entering a period of steep decline. They were even forced to take on the very bodyguard, security, and policing contracts they once scorned.

Unfortunately for them, in that domain, Arasaka was the true titan.

If not for the Metal Wars giving them a much-needed rebound, Lazarus' numbers would've looked even worse. That's why Vela had called them relics of the old era.

Once formidable, but after over half a century of slow decline, their strength was a shadow of what it once was.

This was the drawback of overly specialized operations—extremely poor risk resilience. Why had Arasaka recovered so quickly after suffering massive damage? Because Arasaka possessed a full range of industrial sectors and a complete supply chain, ranking among the global top in each—some even leading. Their risk resistance was second to none.

"I need to add another layer of insurance," Vela said.

"I'm listening."

"You—place an order with Arasaka under the name of the Barghest Mercenary Group." Vela leaned forward, hands interlaced atop the desk. "Personal security services."

"You don't trust me?"

"Mm-hmm. Don't take it personally. I'm just protecting my investment as an investor," Vela replied, glancing at the 3D city map where the red marker labeled 'Cyber Tyrant Group A' was closing in on Hansen's location. Her tone allowed no debate. "He's here."

"You're Kurt Hansen, aren't you?"

Heavy footsteps echoed from the holovid transmission. Hansen's face stiffened as he turned his head. A cold, metallic voice sounded from the other end, reverberating clearly through the transmitter in Vela's office.

"Director Russell? I've arrived."

"Ah, thank you for your effort, Adam."

...

Elsewhere—Sacramento, capital of California. At a temporary Barghest recruitment station.

In a secure, encrypted communications room, Hansen turned away from the projector's capture zone, his face showing surprise as he watched the towering steel cyborg stride past Barghest guards and stroll in arrogantly.

That ghastly pale face pasted onto a block of iron, completely devoid of humanity.

"Adam Smasher."

Staring into those deep crimson cyber-eyes—so much like a cyberpsycho's, yet disturbingly rational—even Hansen couldn't help but feel a cold dread.

"Don't look at me like that," Smasher said, arms folded and towering overhead, a look of amusement on his face. "I'm here to make sure you don't end up as a pile of raped meat after a Militech hit."

Whoosh—

Before Hansen could think of a response, rising noise levels outside the room made him frown.

He shot a glance at Smasher and strode out quickly.

A vast open view:

A high platform. Massive projection screens displayed the Barghest flag alongside the Night City flag—white, yellow, and blue in horizontal stripes—the symbol of Western Free States independence. Stirring music blared from the speaker system.

The crowd surged below, filled with those who rejected Washington—young and old alike—voices rising in chants, shouts, and whistles.

They called out to the six hulking steel giants standing on standby atop the platform.

Matte black with red streaks, Arasaka's clover logo gleaming. Their armor was thick and menacing—arms like hydraulic presses and pile drivers, vector thrusters flashing, and missile pods mounted on their backs drove home just how deadly they were.

At their feet, three bruised and battered cybernetic individuals were pinned down by Arasaka black-suited guards on the platform.

"Those are..." Hansen opened his mouth.

"Your security detail,"

Adam Smasher stepped out after him, clearly enjoying the look of awe from a man freshly risen in power.

"Cyber Tyrant Unit—one of the highest-level Arasaka security teams approved by the Director. You're the first to receive their services."

"The first... heh. Miss Vela certainly thinks highly of me... I know what I need to do."

Taking a deep breath, Hansen nodded and stepped up onto the platform.

Facing the crowd drawn by his notoriety and the rallying cry of Barghest—those opposed to Washington and Myers.

He raised a hand to quiet them. A sharp hum rang out. Within seconds, the crowd began to settle.

"My brothers of the free spirit, thank you for waiting. Want to know where I just was? Look—those guys. They came back again."

With a sneer, Hansen pointed at the three captured assassins and spoke in a mocking tone.

"Myers, sitting in the White House now, probably wants nothing more than to erase me—once a soldier for unification—from existence. Like I never existed at all. Though she probably felt that way six years ago. Life doesn't always ask for your opinion."

Right on cue, the giant projection screen behind the stage lit up, playing fresh braindance footage forcibly extracted from the cybernetics of the three assassins. From atop a high building, they were seen aiming sniper rifles at Barghest's temporary recruitment site.

"What should we do with them?" Hansen asked loudly.

"Execute them!"

"Execute them!"

That was the crowd's answer.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Crimson burst from their skulls like blooming flowers suspended in air.

Very "fan-service" in execution, Hansen lowered his pistol and wore a rebellious expression as he launched into the closing speech of his recruitment stop.

"Heh, same playbook every time—coercion, death threats, political pressure, hollow promises... just like they've done to all of you..."

"...Yes, they are indeed Arasaka personal security contractors I hired. And there's no question about their professional capability. Until I shatter Myers' arrogance completely, I will not fall!"

"...Some say I'm nothing special, just some clown dressed up by Arasaka. And they're right—I, Kurt Hansen, am a clown. A cursed bastard. A former NUSA unification warrior tossed into the gutter by Myers like yesterday's trash..."

"...Pay taxes to Washington? Only fools would... If we don't fight this war, our kids will have to..."

"...Freedom and sovereignty belong to us! Now, pick up your weapons and use gunfire as our salute—to honor the fallen heroes of the Metal Wars who died defending their homes! It's their due. Let their spirits know: the will of freedom still burns! We will never forget! We will never yield! And we're not fucking going anywhere..."

"Barghest welcomes all brave souls!"

"Wondering where I'm headed next? Think I'll crawl back to Night City? No! Listen up—my next stop is the capital of New Mexico: Santa Fe! I'm going there to stand with my countless free brothers and get a good look at which of my former NUSA comrades are still around..."

"Ha! Myers thinks I'll lie low? No! I'm going to challenge her head-on! I'm a fighter! A warrior of battle!"

...

Whoosh—

"Knows how to put on a show."

Vela lightly tapped her index finger on the desk, eyes following Hansen's impassioned performance.

Exactly what she wanted.

If she herself—or Arasaka—had delivered that speech, it wouldn't have resonated half as well with the wild-hearted folk of the western Free States.

Watching the long line forming outside Barghest's Sacramento recruitment station, Vela smiled in satisfaction and tapped the display. A holographic banner lit up:

—"Cutting-Edge Security, Your Shield: Cyber Tyrants"—

Maximizing return had always been Vela's way.

While playing her old rivals like a chessboard, she hadn't forgotten to pave the road for Arasaka's new services.

Washington wanted to play the wild boar—pressing its rear to the wall so Arasaka couldn't get a clean strike? Fine. Vela had already made the first move in Arasaka's name.

And what a move it was—a full house, in the eyes of many.

Under the pretense of personal security services, she had dispatched Adam Smasher and a squad of Cyber Tyrants as Hansen's bodyguards on the front lines.

After a quarter of live operational testing, the Cyber Tyrants could no longer be hidden. Might as well go public.

They were mass-production units, not one-of-a-kind superweapons. No need to keep them under wraps.

It served two purposes: drawing Washington's attention, and offering free publicity.

Vela was waiting, baiting, simmering.

Would they bite? Would they follow?

Orderly in form, surprising in victory.

Hansen and his Barghest, the idle Arasaka forces in Night City, and the NUSA opposition stirring chaos in the Free States—all were Vela's formal troops.

"Now, time to unleash the unexpected."

She stood and picked up the PDA on her desk.

[Marketing Division—Launch New Subscription Service Ad: "Cutting-Edge Security: Cyber Tyrants"]

[Counter-Intelligence Division Special Operation: "Misdirection"]

[Security Division Special Operation: "Shadow of Seattle"]

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