"Chapter 134: Investigation and Useful Information"

After Alex arrived at the apartment of one of Arasaka's former researchers, dismissed for mysterious reasons, he knew the true nature of the matter. This researcher had become yet another victim of experiments with a shard of the Mechanical Man's power. When he began to lose his mind, he was simply discarded as expendable and replaced with a new recruit. Arasaka's labs were filled with such people, each one tossed aside as soon as they became useless.

Now Alex was in the apartment of one of these researchers, hoping the man might still be alive. But seeing the scene before him, he began to doubt it. The apartment looked like something out of Dead Space—walls, ceiling, and even the floor were covered in strange symbols and drawings in an unknown language.

The images were eerie, resembling illustrations from forbidden books, and the bloody smears only added to the sinister atmosphere. Alex's eye involuntarily twitched at the sight.

«Please, don't let it be blood…» he muttered, crouching to examine the markings.

Running a finger over one of the symbols, Alex confirmed it was indeed dried blood. Suppressing his irritation, he stood up and surveyed the room. Covering that much wall space would have required a lot of blood, which meant the poor man likely lost his sanity completely before he died. He carefully placed G.I.R on the floor and asked the robot to take pictures of the inscriptions.

His thoughts drifted to the ancient language of the Necronomicon—perhaps this was the same language? After finishing his inspection, Alex headed toward the researcher's room, the likely source of this bloody scene.

Entering the room, Alex noticed that not even light was coming through the windows, which were smeared over—also with blood, as it turned out. He suppressed another nervous tic and scanned the room. In the corner, a figure sat motionless on a chair, facing away from him. Alex turned the body around, revealing a corpse clutching a pistol. Now it was clear that the smell in the apartment came not only from the blood but also from the decomposed body.

«This poor soul blew his brains out, and judging by the state of the corpse, it happened a while ago,» Alex said, sighing.

He attempted to read the dead man's memories but saw only scattered images in return. The chances of extracting useful information from the body were slim. Alex then connected G.I.R to the researcher's chip, but it, too, was empty—someone had thoroughly erased all data, including communications and visit logs. Disappointed, Alex scanned the room, hoping to find any lead that could shed light on the situation.

Together with G.I.R, they checked every corner, emptied all the cabinets and drawers, but found nothing besides clothes. The other rooms were similarly barren of clues. Returning to the living room, Alex realized he needed to move on to the other netrunners and researchers on his list while there was still a chance of finding them alive.

«Looks like Silas Johnson won't be able to help us anymore. We can cross him off the list,» Alex muttered, glancing at the bloody symbols.

Trying to find some connection between the symbols, he understood it was nearly impossible to grasp their true meaning. He decided he couldn't leave these inscriptions behind, not wanting to risk random people going mad upon seeing them. The city already had enough fanatics worshipping an Outer God, and the sight of this «masterpiece» would only fuel their descent into madness. So, he turned to his loyal companion.

«G.I.R, clean this place up so no one sees our late friend's bloody 'artistic' vision,» Alex said, pointing to the inscriptions.

G.I.R stared at Alex with a hurt expression but reluctantly got to work. Pulling a rag from his compartment, he began wiping the symbols off the floor. Alex, unfazed, continued reviewing the files on other Arasaka employees who might still be alive. Eventually, though, he noticed G.I.R's patient, methodical scrubbing of the blood-stained floor.

«G.I.R, I said 'clean it up,' not just 'tidy up.' I meant burn everything here with the fire of the Inquisition!» Alex muttered, holding back a grin at his little but diligent helper's antics.

Hearing Alex's words, G.I.R looked up at him, clearly offended. With an annoyed flick of his paw, he tossed the rag onto the floor, marched over to Alex, extended his paw, and pointedly gestured, indicating he needed something more suitable for the task.

«What do you want?» Alex asked, unsure of what the robo-dog was hinting at.

«Give me a flamethrower. Or I'll tell Gloria's mom that you made me clean up bloody symbols with a rag,» G.I.R stated with a hint of menace.

The corners of Alex's mouth twitched, watching his robotic companion who looked less like a subordinate and more like a younger brother with an unshakable cheekiness. Alex knew full well that if G.I.R complained to Gloria, she'd take his side instantly, leaving Alex under her reproachful glare.

Sighing, Alex pulled a flamethrower out of his subspace. He thought about equipping G.I.R solely with weapons from the Warhammer universe, given his fascination with it.

«Alright, here's your flamethrower, you little snitch,» Alex said, handing over the weapon.

G.I.R, looking satisfied, took the flamethrower, checked its functionality, and, ensuring it was in working order, headed to the center of the living room. Ready to cleanse the area of corruption like a true inquisitor, he took a few test shots, raising tongues of flame with each pull of the trigger.

«Hahahahaha!» G.I.R's gleeful, maniacal laughter echoed as he torched the apartment.

Alex lit a cigarette, watching his robo-dog take on the role of a fire-wielding inquisitor with full permission to obliterate everything. He only hoped that Lucy and Gloria wouldn't find out about this «mission,» especially Rebecca—who would storm into the workshop demanding a flamethrower for herself.

Within moments, the room was engulfed in flames, and G.I.R approached Alex with pride, tucking the flamethrower into his inventory so Alex couldn't take it away. Little did he know, Alex had access to all the family inventories to clear out the junk that G.I.R and Rebecca often left.

«Well, now that you're done, let's head to the next target. And let's hurry before the fire department—or whoever's responsible—shows up,» Alex said, placing G.I.R on his shoulder.

Passing through the wall, Alex cast a spell to contain the fire within the apartment, ensuring it wouldn't spread to other areas or bring down the building before the fire department arrived. Just to be safe, he instructed G.I.R to lock the doors, preventing anyone from entering until all traces were erased.

Once they reached the street, Alex heard the fire alarm blaring inside the building as people started rushing outside. Glancing at the burning apartment, he headed to the next target—a netrunner operating on the lower floor of Arasaka.

«Alright, let's go,» Alex said, turning away from the crowd already gathering around the flaming building.

Five minutes later, he arrived at the megabuilding where Lucy had previously lived. Entering, Alex headed for the elevator to reach the target floor. Ensuring the coast was clear, he approached the netrunner's apartment, phased through the wall, and found himself inside.

Inside, it was dark, so Alex instructed G.I.R to turn on the lights. When the lamps illuminated the room, they were met with a strange and grim sight: the apartment owner's body hung from the ceiling. This time, the walls weren't stained with bloody symbols, but the hanging netrunner still evoked an ominous feeling.

Alex approached the body and gently laid it on the floor, cutting the rope. He tried to read the netrunner's memories, but only fragments of unclear images appeared, like chaotic pieces of someone else's dreams.

Turning the body face-down, Alex connected G.I.R to extract data from the netrunner's messages, hoping to find a lead. But the conversations revealed only fragmented descriptions of strange creatures and the recipient's monotonous responses—just dots.

Alex quickly skimmed through the messages but found nothing substantial—only hints of hallucinations and strange texts. He exhaled, feeling the tension building. Detective movies always made this look so easy, but reality was proving far more complex.

Noticing the netrunner's computer, Alex connected G.I.R to it for hacking. Soon, they accessed the data, but it held little of use—only appointments with a therapist whom the netrunner had started seeing after being fired from Arasaka. Among the records, there was nothing specific except mentions of auditory hallucinations.

«G.I.R, can you hack into the archives of the therapist he was seeing?» Alex asked, glancing at his assistant.

G.I.R hacked the required archive instantly, and Alex began searching for the netrunner's name. When he found the relevant records, he dove into the psychologist's notes, hoping to understand what the specialist thought about their patient's condition. The diagnosis was simple: manic syndrome with persecution delusions.

It indicated that the patient hadn't slept for days, claiming he was being watched and constantly felt that someone was nearby. Alex figured this was likely why the netrunner had moved into a small apartment, wanting to be sure he was alone. Unfortunately, it hadn't helped.

«It looks like we won't find anything here either,» Alex sighed, rubbing his tired eyes after reading the report.

He leaned his head back, pondering if it was worth visiting others only to come up empty again. Despite the faint hope of finding another «pawn,» or possibly even the name of the main perpetrator, his expectations were low.

The only hope was that one of these people might have left behind some clue or record leading to the true culprit. Looking at the netrunner's body on the floor, Alex sighed: the poor soul had been unlucky enough to encounter the avatar of an eldritch god. Saving him had been impossible; even his soul was now in the clutches of that sinister being.

«Well, we're done here too. G.I.R, cross Ayla Ward off the list, burn everything, and delete all records of her, including her therapist visits. I don't want anyone investigating this case. The last thing I need is a hero meddling in and ruining everything,» Alex ordered as he stood from the chair and addressed his assistant.

G.I.R nodded and immediately began erasing any traceable data while Alex moved toward the exit, planning to leave as soon as the work was finished. Once the deletions were complete, G.I.R disconnected from the computer, hopped off the table, pulled out his flamethrower, and set the apartment ablaze to erase all evidence.

Alex knew all data tied to Ayla Ward would disappear regardless, but the fire was one more attempt to cover their tracks and confuse anyone trailing them. Alex's appearance was meant to throw the unknown party off balance, forcing them to make a mistake. He was already aware that the data on these cases had vanished from police records—something only powerful people could achieve.

Casting a spell to keep the fire contained within the apartment, Alex grabbed G.I.R by the head and walked through the wall to the elevator. He pondered how many more high-ranking people might be involved. After all, the dead researchers and netrunners had worked for various megacorporations, most of which were still connected to Arasaka. He'd already disrupted these people's plans by stealing a shard from their safe and breaking into the lab. Thankfully, G.I.R was skilled at covering tracks, leaving no loose ends that could lead back to Kiwi or Falco.

Once outside, Alex lit a cigarette and glanced back at the burning building. A crowd of onlookers began to gather, curious about the cause of the fire.

«How many are left?» Alex asked G.I.R, who was perched on his shoulder.

G.I.R held up three fingers, indicating the remaining targets.

Alex nodded, checking the location of the nearest target, and set off. Next was a netrunner who had also worked on the lower floor of the lab, and Alex had little hope that he was still alive. «One incident is chance, two is coincidence, three is a pattern,» Alex thought. And who could survive an encounter with an outer god? Even Lovecraft, who wrote dozens of stories, only lived to 46, which only reinforced Alex's belief: if an outer god doesn't want your life, the end is inevitable.

«Let's see what this person left us,» Alex sighed, entering the building.

He made his way to the target's apartment. Finding the right door in a building that resembled a drug den, Alex entered a room filled with a foul odor and piles of trash. Moving through the chaos, he found the netrunner's body on the couch, eyes wide open as if he'd died from terror. Alex sighed, enduring the stench, and placed a hand on the netrunner's head, attempting to retrieve memories.

This time, the images were clearer but only for the last few days, during which the netrunner had been hiding, mumbling something incoherent. The last memory seemed odd: it resembled a sleep paralysis episode that ended in death by sheer terror. Alex realized this was the final stage of infection, and even without external intervention, he would've been doomed.

He and G.I.R searched the apartment for a tablet or computer, but found nothing except disconnected devices, as if he'd been afraid someone would reach him through the network.

«Empty,» Alex said, peering into yet another cabinet.

G.I.R returned to Alex, reporting that he'd found nothing useful other than piles of trash scattered across the apartment. Alex rubbed his eyes again, realizing that they truly wouldn't find anything here. Time to move on. A heap of garbage was all this netrunner had left, aside from the fragmented memories they'd managed to extract. These fragments were from the final days of his life, by which point his mind had deteriorated so much that it was impossible to glean anything useful.

«All right, G.I.R, set this place ablaze and cross Jack Hill off the list,» Alex ordered in a tired tone.

G.I.R nodded and, not wanting to stay in the filthy place any longer, began setting the apartment on fire. He even thought it would be difficult to rid his metallic «skin» of the unpleasant smell. As usual, Alex cast a spell to keep the fire contained within the apartment and, without waiting for the next crowd of onlookers to gather to watch the blaze, headed to the next target.

Entering an alley, Alex leapt onto the roof of a nearby building and began moving quickly across the rooftops to shorten the distance and avoid obstacles along the way. His next target was in Heywood, so he had a fair distance to cover.

Accelerating, he aimed to finish this job as quickly as possible. Alex knew that only a few people remained who might hold any clues for his investigation. Unlike Orario, where rumors spread quickly and among them you could often find the truth, in Night City, information was often controlled, making it much more difficult to decipher.

Reaching the next megatower where the researcher lived, Alex entered the building and took the elevator to the top floor. Phasing through the wall, he stepped into a spacious apartment bathed in daylight, with no signs of decay or disorder—no blood-written messages on the walls. This gave him hope that the person might still be alive. Quickly checking room by room, Alex found nothing indicating the researcher's presence, so he headed to the second floor, where the master bedroom was located. He froze upon glancing into the first room, stunned by the scene before him.

«You've got to be kidding me,» Alex muttered, taken aback.

Stepping inside, he saw the dead researcher, who had slit his throat with a shard of glass and even left a message on the wall. Alex felt disappointed, as if he were stuck in a game, forced to search every location in order, only to finally find the right one. Even if he had gone to the correct place immediately, it somehow would have ended up being the last—by some twisted law of luck, or lack thereof.

«He's already close to me,» Alex read from the message on the wall.

Realizing that his hope of finding someone alive had vanished yet again, Alex looked at the dead researcher with pity, just another victim. Sighing, he shook his head, aware that only one person remained, and the likelihood that they were still alive was extremely slim.

«Looks like this one couldn't handle the whispers in his head either,» Alex remarked to his small companion.

G.I.R nodded in agreement. He didn't consider these people important; his programming focused on protecting his family and those close to him, so he felt that people like the researcher didn't deserve protection. In G.I.R's view, only the weak and innocent, like children, were worthy of care, while everyone else was just insignificant passersby who meant nothing to him. If Alex knew what G.I.R was thinking, he would probably give the robo-dog a whack, reminding him that, while he wasn't a hero, that didn't mean he'd turn away if someone nearby needed help.

«All right, let's look around quickly, and if we don't find anything useful, we'll head to the last target,» Alex said, setting G.I.R down on the floor.

G.I.R nodded and ran off to inspect other rooms while Alex focused on the current one. First, Alex decided to extract the researcher's memories, hoping to find at least something useful. Placing his hand on the dead scientist's head, he swiftly sifted through the last thoughts, but as with Jack, there was only a jumble of recent fragments. However, one memory caught his attention: the researcher had recorded a message. It was the only valuable piece of information in hours of searching.

«Now, I just need to find where he hid that recording,» Alex said, removing his hand from the researcher's head.

The memories hadn't shown an exact location where the recording could be. Alex hoped it was still somewhere in the apartment—unless the researcher had sent it to someone else, trying to keep it hidden. He carefully searched the room for a safe or stash where a data chip might be hidden, but, finding nothing, he exited the room. At that moment, G.I.R ran up to him with something in his paws.

«Did you find something?» Alex asked, looking at G.I.R.

G.I.R nodded and handed the chip he was holding to Alex. Alex examined it closely and recognized it as a recording left by the researcher. A faint smile appeared on his face: finally, there was some hope of obtaining useful information, though he had no illusions that it would be anything more than the ramblings of a madman before death.

«Well, let's see what Weston Thomas left for us. There might be something valuable here,» Alex muttered, turning the chip in his hand.

Grabbing G.I.R, they descended to the first floor. Alex sat in a chair and inserted the chip into G.I.R's interface so that he could project the recording onto the wall and show what had happened to Thomas before his death. On the screen appeared the weary, haggard face of the researcher. Thomas looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks, and before he began to speak, he glanced around several times, as if he were afraid of something behind him.

«If you're seeing this message, it means I'm already gone. And no, I wasn't killed by anyone—I ended it myself because I could no longer bear the whisper that grew closer every day. It all started when I was promoted and given access to a new Arasaka project. Back then, I was inspired and only thought about how to make a name for myself and earn even more recognition. But what I encountered now haunts me everywhere.

Initially, everything was fine. We were assembled into a team of several people, and I admit I didn't immediately notice the worn faces of my colleagues—all I cared about at that time was my career. I thought they were just tired from the intense work. But after a week of working on a project that used an unknown energy source, I realized I had begun to hear a strange, distant whisper, as if someone was calling me from afar. This whisper grew louder and closer each day, and soon I began to understand why my colleagues looked so tired and insane.

Nightmares, so horrific and grotesque that they are impossible to describe, began to visit me every night. I barely slept. At work, I was barely tolerated, and the next day, I was simply fired. When I returned home, left alone with my thoughts, the whisper turned into a clear voice that whispered things in my ear that were both incomprehensible and unbearable. And here I am. Run if you're reading this. Get as far away from Arasaka as you can—they're plotting something terrible. I don't know what exactly, and I don't want to know anymore.

And lastly. To the bastard behind all of this—Yorinobu Arasaka, may your soul burn in hell.»

The screen went dark. Alex frowned, pondering what he had just heard, but one thing was clear: he now knew the name of the person behind this horror. Yorinobu Arasaka. Alex mentally thanked Thomas for this lead and knew that at the last place, only a faint hope awaited him to learn something more.

«Delete everything you can,» Alex instructed G.I.R, gesturing to the apartment. G.I.R spat the chip into Alex's hand and began erasing any traces, while Alex sat in the chair, contemplating Thomas's final message and slowly exhaling smoke from his cigarette.

To be continued...