Chapter 18 – Dangerous Girls, Night Deals
In times of security enforcement and corporate stability maintenance, it's inevitable that unstable elements must be suppressed and eliminated.
Take gangs, for instance—especially the more active ones. Their assets and crypto accounts are naturally carved up by Vera and her Arasaka forces, following the city's unspoken rules.
A portion always goes to Arasaka, of course. But not all—after all, the company still needs its frontline soldiers to risk their lives. And Vera? She isn't the type to live off stale capital. She's a master of crafting new revenue streams.
[Dangerous Girls – Annual Partner Bonus, Fiscal Year 2074]
The glowing optic implant in Vera's left eye flashed a deep orange-red.
Money again?
Dangerous Girls might be a small fish compared to giants like Arasaka and Militech, but for an individual, its yearly revenue was still jaw-dropping.
Vera watched the digits roll in on her Arasaka account. She double-checked the decimal points—three times—before nodding slowly, a rare lightness settling over her shoulders.
Click clack…
She stepped inside, kicked off her office heels, and dug her bare feet into the lush carpet. She peeled off her blazer, tossed it to the household drone, and let her long hair fall loose—streaming like liquid metal down her back.
Whirr—
Right on cue, the service bot wheeled in a dinner cart, stocked with meals auto-prepped from biotech-farmed ingredients. It cleared the table and laid out the dishes with precision.
Dinner first.
After a solid meal, Vera collapsed into her white leather sofa, limbs loose, letting her body melt into its memory foam.
She crossed her legs and mentally linked to the wide-area entertainment network. In an instant, her neural signal changed the channel.
"Good evening. You're watching News 54: Night City Uncensored."
"I'm Jillian Jordan. Let's dive into local news for those who still care about this mess of a hometown. First up—bad blood in the Badlands."
"A Militech humanitarian convoy got butchered by nomads earlier today..."
"Tsk."
Vera smirked.
Old habits die hard. After so many years in Arasaka, Militech being the enemy had become second nature. The betrayal, espionage, and black-ops sabotage between the two corps are endless. Feeling sorry for Militech? You'd have to be brain-dead—or ready to switch sides.
She tossed the story aside like yesterday's trash.
Hope is cheap. Power isn't.
Vera quickly skimmed other local headlines from the days she was off-grid.
But her mind started drifting.
Arms folded behind her head, Vera lay back and stared at the high-tech chandelier overhead. She didn't speak. Just watched. Waiting.
She'd submitted her proposal to Tokyo HQ. Until they replied, she had no field missions lined up.
That meant time.
Time to scale up the side hustle with Dangerous Girls.
And if Umbrella kept pushing product evolution forward, the next generation of biotech and medical-grade enhancements—especially those on the bleeding edge—would require T-virus derivative compounds.
But this world didn't have access to that kind of raw material.
At least, not yet.
Vera didn't have the luxury of expecting to find a Stairway of the Sun flower tucked away in the ruins of the Dubaiya tribes.
No chance she could extract the Progenitor virus like in old legends.
So—
After months of planning and preparation, it was finally time.
Vera narrowed her eyes. Her lazy gaze sharpened with purpose.
Swish.
She stood and headed upstairs.
In her private bedroom, she entered the bathroom.
"Lights on."
She stared into the mirror.
White dress shirt, tie slightly loose. Angular features. Strong jawline. A high nose bridge. Hints of cybernetic muscle enhancements just under the skin—sleek, beautiful, deadly. The upturned corners of her lips—classic corpo commander energy.
No vanity. Just observation.
"The call from the void... yeah. This is it."
Her calm face began to change, gradually taking on something deeper—resolve, instinct, fate.
It was as if her soul leaned forward, nudging her onward.
And then she saw it.
Herself.
Or a version of her.
Same stance. Same face. Same tailored uniform. A red-and-white umbrella insignia clipped to her collar.
Eyes sharp and ancient, as if staring across time and dimensions.
"Give it to me."
Vera extended her hand.
The reflection did the same—handing over a plain A4 sheet of paper.
A hand shaped by cybernetics. Slender, precise, human—but not entirely.
Touch—
Contact—
Paper.
An emotion she couldn't name swelled in her chest—part fear, part awe, part triumph.
Like waking from a lucid nightmare at its peak, she felt her whole self—the flesh, the mind, even the soul—start to tremble. But she could handle it.
It didn't hurt.
"This... is amazing."
She exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple, and lowered her gaze.
In her hand—
A simple A4 paper, slightly wrinkled. Real. Tangible.
---
Chapter 23 – Crossroads
A night of dreamless sleep.
When Vera awoke, she instinctively turned to her nightstand.
There it was.
That same A4 sheet, now wrinkled.
"Was it real?"
"Did I manifest it? Pull it across spacetime? Or... was it all just a dream?"
She picked it up. It felt real—paper texture, edge alignment, everything.
Whatever strange fatigue she'd felt the night before had evaporated like morning mist. She was alert, focused, awake. Her whole body thrummed with clarity.
Crack—
She stretched, titanium-laced muscles and joints releasing tension with audible pops.
She glanced at her reflection in the wardrobe's polished surface. Her indigo eyes gleamed.
Still in yesterday's clothes, she looked anything but exhausted. Her skin glowed—healthy, firm, almost unnaturally flawless.
The cybernetics were still there, of course. No matter how advanced, they always left traces—subdermal seams, occasional glowing etch lines.
But now?
They looked... seamless.
No glitch. No strain. No rejection symptoms.
It was like her body wasn't just compatible—it enhanced the implants, boosting performance far beyond specs.
Before this, she'd been cautious. Too cautious.
Vera's smile deepened. Something felt different. She hadn't suffered a migraine. No nosebleeds. No system crashes.
Honestly, she'd prepared for the worst—full cyberpsychosis, even brain hemorrhage.
But instead?
She slept. And woke up stronger.
Maybe it was because the thing she transferred was light—just a 4.3g A4 paper.
Try pulling a B.O.W. Tyrant across next time, though? Probably instant flatline.
She smirked.
"Guess I'll start with extracting the T-virus."
Her mind sharpened. Plans clicked into place.
She stripped off her crumpled clothes and stepped into the warm shower.
She didn't regret the caution. You only get one life.
Just as she was about to wash off the night, a ding echoed through the room.
She flicked open her private comms tab.
—Incoming Message—
Sender: Arasaka Tokyo Global HQ
Recipient: Vella Adelheid Russell – [Night City Division]
> "Your application for Arasaka's internal scholarship and recommendation to the University of Tokyo Faculty of Law has been approved."
Vera chuckled.
"Double jackpot."
She sank into the steaming water, opened the one-way mirror wall of the shower room, and stared out at Night City's blood-orange sunrise.
Her lips curled into a rare smile.
---
City Center – Arasaka Academy
As the 2074 academic year drew to a close, the academy was charged with tension.
A divide hung in the air.
At the entrance, students in sleek red-and-black uniforms gathered in small clusters, murmuring about vacations and career paths. Others walked alone, silent, their eyes blank.
More than six months had passed since the corporate speeches and "inspirational" entrance ceremony.
Reality had caught up.
The weight of Arasaka's empire pressed down hard. Towering buildings. Manicured green spaces—rare in Night City. Endless competition.
For some, dreams were still alive.
For others—crushed.
Lack of money. Slipping grades. Corporate pressure. Bullying.
Enrollment was down.
Dropout rates were climbing.
And the suicide rate?
Arasaka Academy had never been known for mercy.