Chapter 29

Hiring me to take out Abernathy? Fujioka was banking on this offer to flip the situation and put us on the same side. My face was hidden under the mask, so he couldn't read my reaction, but he was already assuming it was positive. He sounded a lot more confident. I wasn't rushing to lower my gun, though.

"All on a shard," Kaoru nodded toward the next room. "I'll go grab it, and we can talk specifics."

"Turn around and go slowly," I ordered.

"Of course, of course. I'm not gonna do anything stupid. I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Price. Solved a few sticky issues for the Academy, survived two or three hits on yourself; they say you even worked with Smasher."

Yeah, that's how rumors grow. Stand close to Smasher for two minutes without dying, and apparently, now we're partners.

The corp walked into the next room and reached under a table for a stash. I was ready to shoot, watching his every move, but he really did pull out a shard. Held it out to me.

"No. Put it in the computer."

"Alright," Fujioka nodded. "Caution is your credo, Mr. Price."

"As soon as he uploads the files, get me access to the computer," Lucy relayed through comms. "I'll read you the details myself. Don't take your eyes off this creep."

Kaoru loaded the data onto a sleek, high-end laptop, and at my signal, stepped aside. I linked in, giving Lucy access.

"Got a runner covering you? Smart. I also heard you've got a team, elite fighters pulled from different gangs."

"Someone else tried to take out Abernathy already?" I asked.

"Yeah… That bitch has a real talent for making enemies. Poaching staff, constant investigations, audits, digging up dirt."

Well, besides the first point, that was pretty much standard counterintelligence. Like accusing a janitor of sweeping the floor. I figured there had to be more going on. Abernathy was prickly, sure, but she was effective. I bet she'd dug up enough on other departments' top brass to hold a few of them by the balls harder than they'd like.

"V, there's a bounty on you for forty-five grand. That's what this jackass's files say. Linda Sherman's the fixer on it. Sounds legit. That's the same bitch who's hired assassins on you before."

Yep. Thanks to her, I had a new left arm.

"The bounty was thirty grand. Raised to forty-five."

"Abernathy tries to keep her finances private," Kaoru sneered, "but our department keeps tabs on the city's cash flows. Can't hide everything. Forty-five grand's a lot of cash for the city's armed scum. They'd strangle their own mother for less. That's how these bastards work. You'll be hunted, Mr. Price. Hunted like a prey."

He was pushing it too far. Not the tone to take with someone who's got a gun pointed at your face. Kindness and patience, ancient wisdom tells us. So if you're surrounded, especially if those surrounding you are armed, be kind and patient.

"All I'm hearing is stick. Where's the carrot, Fujioka-san?" I raised the barrel, aiming right at his head.

If I pulled the trigger now, there was a good chance he'd collapse right onto the bed behind him. Would make for a nice, cinematic kill. Blood on those white bio-synth silk sheets.

"When Abernathy's gone, her entire structure will fall apart. Susan's a lone wolf. She doesn't keep any assistants or even remotely competent subordinates around. She encourages distrust and snitching, ruling with fear. Once the queen's taken off the board, her pieces will fall too. The department will go through a massive restructuring. It's inevitable. And it'll be the perfect chance for a former employee to step into her seat, maybe even get a promotion. Not the director's chair, of course, but you'll be one or two steps closer."

"Abernathy's a hell of a target," I pointed out.

"High stakes, high rewards," the Japanese man replied with a smug smile. "Few get a second shot at the top."

Pretty words, but he's singing to the wrong tune.

"Fujioka-san, I haven't been an intern scraping by on career growth promises for a long time. Name the sum."

"V, you're not actually gonna agree to this, are you?" came Lucy's irritated voice in my ear, but I didn't have time to respond to her.

"I understand that running a gang is financially taxing," Fujioka answered in a condescending tone. "For operating expenses and to cover the cost of hired help, you can expect half a million."

"Half a million? For Abernathy?" I scoffed. "I think we have a misunderstanding here. People like you, Fujioka-san, don't appreciate life—or death. I'm not talking about morals. Killing someone is tough, messy, and flat-out dangerous. In Abernathy's case, extremely dangerous. And it's time-consuming. If the target's not some random hobo on the street, you need to follow them, study weaknesses. For Abernathy, that'd take months of meticulous work. I'm not some Haywood cop you can boss around, and I'm not a broke merc. In that time, I could probably make more with less risk."

"Talking business with you is both refreshing and unpleasant," Fujioka smirked. "Well then... Let's hear your terms."

"First, the deal has to go through a fixer I choose. That's to guarantee you don't conveniently forget to pay up. Second, five hundred thousand? Why not fifty? Why not five? You thought a number with five zeroes would impress me? Wrong. I'm not touching that stinking pile of shit for less than a million. A clean million for us. Fixer's fee is extra. Third, a two hundred thousand advance. Fourth, while we're on this job, we get stable access to your department's information system, or whoever's pulling your strings. If all these terms are met, I'm in."

"This'll require some discussion," Fujioka stated.

Just as I thought—he's got someone else backing him. A bigger fish. A toothy beast from Arasaka's dark depths.

"Fine. I'll be in touch in a week. Do you have any sleeping pills on you?" I asked, surprising him.

"Yeah, of course, but…"

"Take them. Right now."

"Why, Mr. Price?"

"So I'll know you're not calling security or some huscle on me the moment I step out. Or would you prefer a whack to the back of the head? I've got a tranquilizer too, but your head's gonna hurt like hell tomorrow."

"You're difficult to work with, Mr. Price," he grumbled, but he fumbled around his bedside table for a pack of heavy-duty sedatives.

I had no doubts this bastard kept that kind of stuff on hand. Work, stress, indulging in all sorts of bad habits. A quick knockout was always a must to get up on time the next day.

"Trust, Mr. Price," he muttered, shaking a handful of yellow capsules into his hand. "Sometimes, between paranoia and trust, it's better to pick the latter. Good for business."

But bad for health.

"Unfortunately, my credit lines were maxed out long ago," I replied. "Since then, I cover every vulnerable spot."

Fujioka-san tossed back four pills, gulping them down with some mineral water conveniently sitting by the bed. A few minutes later, they hit him hard. He sat on the bed, shook his head a few times, then mumbled in a daze:

"Just go already… I'm about to…"

The words trailed off, and he collapsed onto the bed, legs dangling off the edge.

"Lucy, I'm ready for you," I whispered.

Kusanada burst in a few minutes later, voice raised.

"V, what the hell?" she stormed into the room, grabbing my shoulder.

Then she let go, knocking something over on purpose and pacing around the room, keeping up her scolding.

"I remember you lying in that puddle of blood in the alley. Your heart wasn't beating. They killed you. Would have killed you if not for Falco. But the second they wave a little something at you, you're ready to jump back into this shit? V, what the hell? Or should I start calling you Mr. Fucking Price?"

"Relax. I need your help right now."

"Help you crawl back to your dear Arasaka?"

"No..." I grinned, pulling off my mask. "I want to search this place for anything valuable. There's bound to be a safe around here somewhere. Let's rob this asshole and maybe even steal his car."

"V..." She exhaled heavily, but I could tell her anger was cooling down. "So why the hell put on that whole show?"

"I just gave him hope for cooperation, and he took the pills himself. I'm not a sadist. I don't get a kick out of watching guys squirm. When a target realizes they're doomed, they get dangerous. Alright. Let's start looking for cash."

In theory, I could shove more pills down this suit's throat and jam his Trauma signal like he did it himself. Just another financier who offed himself with tranquilizers. Night City wouldn't blink an eye. But if I gutted him, a coroner might notice odd changes in the brain, maybe even more signs. So Fujioka-san will simply vanish. Finance guys go missing all the time here. Not as dangerous as cops, sure, but close to high-rise window washers.

What's the best part of a criminal career in Night City? The firefights? The booze? Street fame? Everyone's got their own answer. But for me, one of the sweetest things was standing in someone else's apartment or hideout, knowing the owner wouldn't be back. Same thing with Faraday, same deal today. Standing in the middle of this luxurious pad, free to loot at will, probably felt like the same thrill ancient hunters got crouched over a freshly downed mammoth.

"We taking the gold?" my partner asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Of course," I replied.

Fujioka only had about eleven thousand in cash. Annoying, but expected. Kaoru wasn't one to dip his toes outside the law often; he used regular bank accounts. More precisely, he skirted the law in other ways—bribes to cops, lawyers, corporate cover-ups.

We were planning to wipe his computer, removing any trace of his "special interest" in one Vincent Price. I knew, though, that if the cops or security started digging, they'd eventually get to T.K. Malone or Stints. Should I take them out too? Ridiculous. That would only make the case even more high-profile. At least this way, there was some chance Fujioka's disappearance wouldn't lead back to me. After all, he was targeting Abernathy—dangerous work.

"I'll take his car and handle the body disposal myself," I said, catching Lucy's surprised look.

Damn. I had to give her a reason that wouldn't lead to more questions or hard feelings.

"You sure? Everything okay, V?"

"I need you to start on Afterlife, as soon as possible. We've got to find out where Linda Sherman is hiding out, and who she's already hired. But I need to stay out of sight there, so I'll handle the trash disposal." I nodded toward the snoozing financier.

"Why not just leave him here?" Lucy suggested. "Pump him full of pills, kill the Trauma signal, and he's just another suit who couldn't handle the stress."

"And his car just drove off on its own?" I smirked. "Nah, we're doing a full disappearance. Don't worry. I'll handle it and leave the car in a quiet spot. Falco can pick it up later."

"Fine. Just don't take too long."

"Nah," I chuckled. "I'm getting good at cleaning up after colleagues."

"Alright. Be careful."

Lucy gave me a quick hug and left the corpo's apartment. I glanced at Fujioka's sleeping face. Kaoru Fujioka thought he could sell me a ticket back to the other side of the law, thought I'd dance like a puppet to the tune of ambition again. He didn't realize that outside the law, I was calmer, more dangerous, it was simpler, and way more satisfying. Abernathy's mercs at least had to break a sweat now, hunting me down in the concrete jungle of Night City. Before, all they needed was my work schedule.

Alright, time to get to work.

I slotted a virus shard into the corpo's neck port. Perfect. Let's dig in. But before I started, I…slid under the bed.

If someone barged in suddenly, all they'd see would be a passed-out corpo. No mysterious ninja squatting next to him. Because, like they say, "When I eat, I'm deaf, dumb…and blind." And I wasn't keen on risking it. I had to gut this corpo right here—there might be stashes in the apartment that only his memory could unlock.

I wasn't particularly hungry, but I reached out with invisible tendrils and sank into the corpo's well-kept flesh. I hadn't had such high-quality prey since Faraday.

Sight, hearing, even touch faded. I was fully immersed in his memories. An intricate thread of data unraveled before me—a backbone of flickering nerves with clusters of knowledge clinging to it like bunches of glowing grapes.

Fujioka's brain was packed. It was the first time I'd seen a memory filled not with someone's personal experiences but with work-related information. Stock prices, price ratios, legal loopholes, audit algorithms, ways to dodge them, and much more.

All valuable info, but it took up a ton of space. I wasn't sure I could safely process even half of it right now.

I'd absorbed other people's memories before, but those had all been simple stuff: names, events, rumors. Each piece had its own "shelf" in my mind. But it was a different beast trying to cram in a whole system of interlinked knowledge that someone else had spent years building. I knew that kind of transplant would leave a mark. I needed a way to expand my memory for this sort of thing.

I also hadn't tried to grab muscle memory or physical skills from a target yet. They seemed uniquely encoded, requiring a special approach to "installing" them.

For now, I decided to play it safe. I skimmed for anything interesting about Night City banks, cash withdrawals, and money laundering.

Then I moved on from finance to less abstract, more recent events.

Before me unfolded a complex but ultimately petty corporate drama. Fujioka's boss suspected Abernathy had dirt on him—unauthorized expenses, the murder of two auditors who'd been a little too thorough in their calculations.

Then came a scene that felt all too familiar—a lot like my own farewell with Arthur Jenkins. The boss ordered his favorite employee to "handle" the problem, advanced him a hundred thousand, and sent it straight to Kaoru's account. That was it.

The promises of a corporate 'welcome back', a promotion, and five hundred thousand—just Fujioka's own improvisation, no guarantee he'd ever clear that with management.

Would he have scammed me, zeroed me, or kept his word? He had all three outcomes in mind. Which one he'd pick depended on his boss's orders and how greedy I seemed. For instance, Fujioka thought a million was excessive, even for Abernathy. His actual thought was, "Fucking loser lost his mind!"

From his perspective, washouts like me had no business expecting anything more than the chance to re-enter the corpo fold. Miscalculated.

Once I finished feeding, I climbed out from under the bed and looked at the freshly minted corpse. His position hadn't changed. The virus chip had blocked his muscle activity—no signs of struggle. Even the bed and his fancy pants stayed clean. Perfect.

I grabbed Kaoru by his right arm with my cyber-limb and dragged the body to a decorative column by the panoramic window. I pressed a hidden mechanism camouflaged in the molding. A click, and a panel identical to the column's surface slid down. Now I had to press a code with his right middle finger, and do it in under four seconds. I pulled it off smoothly. The column split open at the base, revealing a hidden safe.

Three credit chips worth fourteen thousand, another thousand in cash, five smuggled rubies from Southeast Asia, a couple of data shards with dirt on his colleagues, and a Tsunami Kappa pistol. A touch of gold on the grip. Fujioka had used this gun to kill the only person he'd ever taken out personally, rather than through an order. Some car-washer from Glen. Drunk, the guy shot him in the back of the head just to check off the box that he'd killed someone with his own hands.

That memory slipped in accidentally. It's all damn interconnected, every bit of it. The safe, the gun, that scene on some street in the dead of night. Feels like I was the one there. Everything blurs. My biomod's warning about dangerously high alcohol levels. The car door opens. My hand's shaky, swaying, but the smart pistol zeroes in on the target itself. A short burst, blood everywhere. The guy didn't even have time to scream.

I shoved the memory aside. Shit. Guess I overdid it a bit. What was Jory's advice again? No less than once a month, no more than once a week.

Euphoria mixed with mental exhaustion, like I'd been bent over Arasaka reports all day.

No big deal. It'll pass.

I found a big rolling suitcase among Fujioka's things. Will the body fit? Yeah. Now I just need to lug the corpse down to the parking garage, dodge the guards and cameras. Not too hard.

Waiting in the residential complex's garage was a Rayfield Aerondight "Guinevere." High-end hypercar. I heard it costs fifty-two times what the average Night City citizen earns in a lifetime. Dunno if that's legit, but yeah, it's a pricey machine. Shame I'll only be able to sell it for half.

The car has no windows, just a live feed projected onto the interior thanks to Rayfield's CrystalDome tech.

Using Fujioka's virtual key, I opened the doors. Stuffed the suitcase with his body in the back. Then I slid into the driver's seat and shut the door.

All right...

I've got a corpo corpse I can control for a bit. I've got his account info.

Let's go withdraw some cash.