Abuse of Authority (2)

The first thing you had to do when presented with the tablet containing the requested character profiles was put a moratorium on the Kill On Sight order that had been placed on them, their files containing a list of numerous corporate-espionage commissions they had taken, specifically targetting Arasaka.

"Oh, so her name was Sofia? Such a shame; I liked her music, though."

You commiserate with yourself over the unfortunate loss of one Sasha Yakovleva, who got outmatched by three Biotechnica security droids.

The Arasaka intelligence officer who had arrived at your hotel room to present you with the collected findings of his compatriots stares at you in confusion; music? She wasn't a musician.

Having slowly become bored with poking the bear cub that was you, Adam Smasher had begun to observe your actions and classified them as that of a madman, or an incredibly stupid child.

Which has only made him more indignant at being given the task of guarding a mentally unstable Corpo-brat; this was simultaneously above and below his paygrade.

"Do you have a location? A place of residence? A means to contact them?"

It will be challenging to have them fall under the wing of Arasaka, especially given their track record of working for Militech; it would ring too many bells and make people suspicious; especially since none of your goons has a reason to be dabbling with mercenaries.

"No, Young Master-" Fuck, now everyone is calling you that! "They cover their tracks well, though we have reported sightings of them drinking at the afterlife, which is an area where we are not permitted to enter."

The intelligence agent speaks respectfully, hands folding behind his waist, as he is bent forward, in a perpetual half bow, unwilling or unable to meet your gaze, especially with the terrifying form of Adam Smasher hovering in the background behind you.

"This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

Letting out an irritated sigh as your mind draws blanks, you wonder how on earth you can initiate contact with the group through your subordinates in Arasaka, mainly when the need for discreetness limits them.

"You've spent the last week sitting around, doing nothing but drugs, sleeping and waiting; this isn't what I expected."

The frightened intelligence agent grows even more terrified and weak at the knees when Smasher decides to speak, his voice loud and emotive enough for your cybernetics to pick up the anger inside it.

But he is right; you have been too passive, lazy and content in having others do the work for you, it's their job, after all, but this stumbling block is the motivation you need, time is ticking, and you are impatient to play with your new toys.

You decide that if your servants cannot procure your named characters, you'll have to do it yourself.

"You there, Kotaro, prepare me a position in the Tower, something that'll allow me to rub shoulders with mercenaries and make the changes I want to make!"

"My name is Kevi-" A sharp look is sent his way "As you command, Young Master!"

The man deepens his bow before straightening up, casting a look at the shaking borg, and rushes out of the room, not bothering even to comport himself with a semblance of dignity.

"Fuck!"

Of course, preparing such a position was far beyond the capabilities of any Arasaka agent tasked to cater to your every desire, as none, including your grandfather, had thought you would spend your vacation wanting to play the role of a corporate wage slave; others among gor kin were the ones with such peculiarities.

So, it was to be expected that your request would be passed over to the higher echelons of the Arasaka Corporation and, more specifically, be ratted out to your grandfather, the man who enjoys nothing more than inflicting psychological damage on everyone around him, bar Hanako; you did not know what his response would be, and could only wait in still anticipation.

"Your identity is that of a transfer from Arasaka's Kyoto branch as an External Affairs Officer."

A made-up title for a made-up person; the roles and responsibilities were vague and encompassing when it came to interacting with wider Night City, but Arasaka is not a stranger to byzantine ranks and political positions.

The seeds of gossip were implanted—rumours that you were the illegitimate offspring of a significant Arasaka executive— and would easily explain away the confusion regarding your transferal, high position and relative youth.

"Ah… and Michiko-sama has invited you for dinner."

The sweating agent, a man, attached directly to serve in the function of an attendant of sorts for you, shivers at your darkening look, the gritting of your teeth, and how your hands begin to clench into fists; contorting the metal armrests of the chair, you're seated in.

"Who told her?"

Your words are without emotion and though in English, have begun leaking your native accent, something you have endeavoured to suppress in all previous conversations since growing old enough to understand its near unintelligibility.

"Young Master!-"

"I am not Chinese and I have a surname; use it."

Your words carry the weight and pressure of a true Arasaka-blooded male, the indomitable will, and the cruelty that outlines every thought, word and action you make.

"Arasaka-sama, I promise you, it did not come from either my men or I! Saburo-sama would never have entrusted your protection to us if there was any doubt of our loyalty!"

The simpering Asian man pleads, he'd probably crawl onto his hands and knees if you told him to, but you know better; you know precisely who snitched.

Though his false porcelain face lacks any contours and means to express emotion, you don't need your cybernetics to tell that he's one smug fucker.

"The Boss said you can't be trusted without a hand guiding you."

Even across an ocean, Saburo Arasaka can't help but deliver a blow to your self-esteem.