Cyberpunk: Infinite Progress Begins with Arasaka

Late April.

As the celebration banquet for the Night City Arasaka New District Investment Promotion Conference for Q1 2076 drew to a close, the sky had turned completely dark.

On the frontlines in New Mexico, the fighting raged on with passion, while back in Night City, Vela skillfully maneuvered her network of alliances and influence.

The banquet hall, elegantly decorated, was lit with soft golden lights, making the space feel bright and lavish. As the host mediating the "cold war" and covert pressure against Militech, Vela held a champagne flute in hand, engaging with commercial partners in a manner both warm and graceful.

Partners—at least for now.

Until the dream of uniting the old American lands under the New United States and Militech was crushed.

Dressed in a black off-shoulder evening gown with a high slit and matching high heels, Vela moved fluidly among the companies and high-profile social circles in attendance.

With every glance and gesture, she exuded a sense of refined approachability, like a radiant rose that had tucked away its thorns and fangs, appearing noble and dignified.

Finally, after making her rounds under every spotlight in the hall, Vela mentally reviewed her performance and every conversation she'd had with corporate guests.

Her efforts had paid off. After nearly half a month of back-and-forth negotiations, she had successfully secured investment agreements with a number of companies: SovOil, EBM (Euro Business Machines), Zetatech, Kendachi, Microtech, Raven Microcybernetics, Cytech, Kiroshi, Kenjiri Technology, Biotechnica, Jinguji, Fujiwara... and many more.

Some were global megacorps with limited operations in the Pan-Pacific region. Others were small- to mid-sized enterprises with specialized, cutting-edge technology in niche sectors.

As for individual figures—celebrities, braindance stars, investors—too many to count.

It was worth noting: the administrative zoning of the still-under-construction Arasaka Research Center New District was expansive.

It couldn't rival Watson in population, but the land area alone was greater than the entire City Center.

Even after allocating space for a new Arasaka military garrison base, multiple large-scale automated intelligent-control factories, and the high-security research center Vela needed, there remained vast swathes of land.

Arasaka could have taken it all to build a fortress. It was doable, but the optics would've been terrible.

Instead, after using coastal-style perimeter walls to secure the key buildings and establish buffer zones—similar to Barghest's headquarters—Arasaka openly welcomed companies to set up offices, showrooms, warehouses, and high-tech production facilities in the district.

More hands make lighter work. A united front. The more "friends," the better. Even if those friends were temporary and only surface-level, they were still necessary. The costs were acceptable.

After confirming she hadn't made any missteps or caused offense in her wording, Vela's face lit up with a confident, radiant smile.

She stepped up onto the raised platform at the center of the banquet hall, raising her champagne glass high. Her steady, magnetic voice rang out:

"My dear friends—

Let us toast to victory! To the future of Night City! To our true heroes of war!"

That last line carried a very personal undertone.

Who were the true heroes of war?

Kurt Hansen and his Barghest Mercenary Group, who were currently taunting the NUSA right in New Mexico's face. According to the grapevine, Miss Vela Adelheid Russell was even one of the founding board members of Barghest.

Everyone present—corporate elites and socialites alike—could read between the lines.

But—

No one said a word.

They were here, supporting Arasaka's event, precisely to spite Militech and its staunch allies.

"To victory!" ×N

The guests all stood, raised their glasses, and offered cheers at just the right volume.

The glances thrown discreetly at Vela were filled with deeper scrutiny and wariness.

Not Arasaka as a company, but she herself had become a Barghest board member. This kind of backing—separate from simple financial support or internal promotions—was nearly tantamount to using corporate resources for private interests.

And Tokyo hadn't opposed it? They tacitly allowed it?

Was she building her own private faction?

Wasn't that something only direct members of the Arasaka family were permitted to do?

Had Saburo really begun grooming her as a surrogate granddaughter?!

The life-extending drug from the Sonnentreppe Project was her brainchild. The Cyber Tyrant units—suspected breakthroughs in clone technology and DNA programming—were under her command. The newly revealed, yet-to-be-commercialized Arasaka bio-component prototype Quinque? Also her doing. On top of all that, she was involved in business operations and military security.

Seriously... how did she have this much energy?

She was clearly not someone to be measured by the standards of a typical business division director...

Her status needed reassessment from the top.

Several company representatives exchanged subtle glances.

...

Ignoring the sidelong scrutiny, Vela downed her champagne in one go, stepped off the platform, and slipped through the waves of flattery and sycophancy like a fish in water—calm, poised, and unfazed.

As the banquet wound down and the guests began to depart, Vela gently placed her empty flute on a tray held by a waiting attendant. Then, weaving through the dispersing crowd, she approached a short, elderly man in a quiet corner of the hall.

"Professor Noto."

This "professor" was not just a polite honorific, but a title of deep respect—her mentor from Arasaka Academy in Night City.

"Professor, doesn't fishing from a lone boat at the center pavilion on the North Oak artificial lake soothe the soul nicely?" Vela said with a smile.

"Haha... Vela, since you brought it up, I do have something to say. You said you'd keep me company, but after dinner, you only cast a few lines before disappearing, leaving me to fish alone the whole afternoon. It's a shame you missed my 'fish pounding the post' moment..."

Adjusting his classic monocle, Professor Noto tilted his head slightly and laughed.

"Next time, I promise."

Vela knew well of his passion for fishing.

By 2076, what used to be a popular pastime had become quite the high-end leisure activity.

"I hear you're being transferred back to Tokyo soon, Professor? What about some winter fishing at the Hokkaido fisheries?" Vela asked.

"Thanks to you. With a student like you, those old coots haven't stopped pestering me—always talking in my ear..." The professor laughed heartily, then looked into Vela's eyes, where a flicker of orange warning light danced briefly within the deep indigo hue. "It's rare you have time to chat with this old man. But now that you're a Director and Executive Officer, go take care of your business."

Vela nodded. Anything more would have felt hollow.

Before she left, Professor Noto said solemnly, "Arasaka Academy of Night City is proud of you."

"Wishing you good health, Professor."

...

2076/4/30

Early morning.

Thunk. The light switched on.

Thud.

"Haa..."

Back in her Westbrook home, after a quick rinse, Vela kicked off her slippers and collapsed onto her velvet-covered bed.

She wasn't cut out to be a socialite—but had to do the work of one.

These days, she'd been attending endless corporate banquets—building authority, recruiting investments, forging alliances—so much that even her appetite for late-night snacks had vanished. As she yawned, she curled up beneath the covers.

"...It's been a bit too frequent lately. I need to slow down..."

Lying on her side, Vela stared at the reflections glinting off the wax-polished peachwood of her bedside table. On it sat a Quinque case—empty.

With a thought, data flickered across her eyes.

No sense of intrusion. The cyber-ninjas from the Arasaka Family Compound knew well she despised anyone entering her private sleeping quarters.

Linking to the room's AI: scan—no extra conduits, no surveillance cameras. Doors closed.

Good.

She focused.

In her vision, the reflection on the wood surface turned to rippling water. Her hazy silhouette gradually sharpened—clad in a white coat, holding a silver Quinque case.

'Her'—in the Tokyo Ghoul world.

Vela reached out.

'She' reached out too.

Pop.

A cool touch.

Vela placed a new Quinque case on the table and picked up the empty one, passing it over. Whirr. The weight vanished from her hand.

"...Kakuhou."

From under the covers, Vela extended her hand, tapping the side of the case while rubbing her temple with the other.

This—was the source of her fatigue.

Constant inter-world interfacing.

All one hundred Quinque units distributed to Arasaka troops? Handcrafted by her.

She had already reviewed usage feedback from Adam Smasher and many of the heavy assault operatives in the Special Assault Unit.

At the root of it: a shortage of Kakuhou. High-quality ones, specifically.

She had applied Dr. Kouitsu Chigyou's hybrid Quinque techniques—combining ghoul remains with memory-metal Quinque steel and Rc cells. Her trump card? The SS+ class hermaphrodite ghoul, Nick, whose regenerative Kagune healed others. This greatly lowered the cost and complexity of manufacturing low-tier Quinque.

In the Tokyo Ghoul world, her counterpart in the CCG—dubbed "Four-Vela"—worked to supply a steady stream of Kakuhou from North America, a region with fewer but more covert ghoul threats.

As a CCG investigator based in North America, Four-Vela wasn't just focused on Tokyo. Post-debrief, she didn't immediately head back to Japan. Instead, she had to deal with local threats—slaying a few ghouls, cracking open murder cases. North American ghouls were scarce but not nonexistent—they simply hid better. Cults and gangs were the norm.

Her job resembled the FBI more than a typical CCG dove.

Different region, different rules.

But due to lower ghoul activity, there were fewer Kakuhou. Mostly B or A-rank. An S-rank would typically be a cult bishop or gang leader. So far, Four-Vela had found no leads on SS-class ghouls in North America.

As for Adam Smasher's complaint—[Not strong enough]—Vela could only wait. Once Four-Vela returned to Japan, she'd take down a few S-class Koukaku ghouls to bolster supply.

"The Washuu Clan. Rc cells. Kakuhou cultivation. Origins of ghouls. The very birth of the first ghoul in that world... all must be understood. The pace must accelerate."

Lying on her side, she whispered those terms into the dark. Her voice turned sharp.

Mass-producing Quinque required mass-producing Kakuhou. Rc cell flow. Even if she could handle crafting them by hand, the material bottleneck meant even slaughtering every ghoul in Tokyo wouldn't be enough for Arasaka's corporate military.

Thus: "Akihiro Kanou. Rize Kamishiro. The Sunlit Garden. Kichimura Washuu..."

Beep beep.

Just as she pondered how to mass-produce high-grade Kakuhou—especially S-class or higher—a priority file arrived from the Counter-Intelligence Division.

[Operation Misdirection has begun. Progressing smoothly.]

Vela's eyes sharpened.

The timing was good.

A moment later, she lowered her gaze, buried her head in the pillow, and allowed herself a faint smile.

[Read.]

[Authorization granted to leak partial Quinque specifications.]

The leak—intentional—was to boost credibility. And without Rc cell injections at regular intervals, the Quinque were inert hunks of metal. That key wasn't disclosed.

With that order issued, Vela closed her eyes.

Turned over.

She'd done all she could.

Now, it was up to time.

Sleep first.

...

Watson District, near Arasaka Seafront. In a decrepit industrial zone by the northern city seawall—

[Lucy: Copy complete, Maine—]

[Maine: Got it!]

The thrill of skirting death made Maine's voice shrill in the squad's encrypted comms.

[Kiwi: Surveillance—temporarily jammed. Here's the coordinate: ████. Follow the marked route. You've got five seconds. Arasaka Seafront's standard security is terrifying. This is me and Lucy's absolute limit for safe breach. Go over, and the firewall reacts.]

[Maine: Thanks. That's enough. Kiwi, Lucy—prep to jack out. Everyone else, ready for evac...]

Over the comms: gasping breaths, thudding footfalls, splashes.

An encrypted payload was uploading fast.

[Maine: Faraday! We've got the stuff! I don't care if it's what you wanted—it's yours. I'm out. Almost got burned alive... You better keep your word!]

...

Washington, Federal Intelligence Agency War Room.

Dozens of glowing monitors cast a cold blue hue across the room.

Smoke drifted. On both sides of the long table sat corpulent politicians and uniformed officers, all grim-faced.

The situation in New Mexico was spiraling.

"Sir, latest report from Night City Intelligence. Personnel movement logs. And intel on Arasaka's latest bio-component: Quinque."

An agent stood up.

"Is the source reliable?"

At the head of the table, the FIA Director asked calmly.

"Senior analyst Nightingale believes it's credible—but inconclusive. The intel came from one of our sleeper assets in Night City, planted around 2074. He was also our initial contact for Arasaka's Cyber Kong project. A middleman in Santo Domingo. Faraday."

"Faraday..." The director murmured. "Proceed."

"Initially, his assignment was to gather everything on the Sonnentreppe Project."

"He's lost over eight cyber-merc teams chasing that goal. His rep on the streets is in shambles. He claims this data wasn't from the Sonnentreppe Project—but from his last reliable team during a recon op. It includes Quinque specs. Better than nothing. He's now demanding we fulfill our immunity deal."

"..."

"According to him, the team's captain was ex-NUSA military."

The Director paused.

Standard protocol.

"Report to President Myers."

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