Adrian Smith: Office Gossip

Arasaka NC is the thrumming heart of the company's West Coast operations, serving as the nexus for further expansion eastwards, state-by-state, reclaiming their old territories and properties lost during the Corporate Wars and the NUSA's nationalisation program.

So–there's always something happening; political intrigue, petty rivalries erupting open conflict, sudden department firings or office romances transformed into love triangles.

You just had to pick and choose what you wanted to gossip and talk about on a specific day since, by tomorrow, there would always be something new popping up, handily dwarfing the previous day's shocking happenings.

Today was no different; small talk over coffee between peers always a ray of sunshine in an otherwise long and tedious workday.

The stress of the rushed morning, carefully channelled into less-than-wholesome talk.

"Martha from accounting's getting pink-slipped."

"Good riddance, bitch had it coming with her high and mighty talk; mouthed off to the wrong person?"

"Nah, got caught having a cigarette break with an intern, her manager was probably looking for an excuse to eject her, and that was that."

You make the appropriate noises of shock and disappointment, positively scandalised by the degenerate activities of your fellow employee; you'd never do something so stupid. You're surprised this venerable company would ever hire anyone so insipid at all!

You'd fuck your intern after hours; pretty young thing from NCU, not exceptionally bright though, but boy, is she flexible. She sure as hell ain't ganna make the cut when it's all over though.

The two women lounge about on the sofas that line the hallway towards your department with the grace and disinterest imbued in all Corpos, but behind the pantsuits and made-up faces lurks the heart of a gossiping housewife who'd loose the rumour mill on you without a second thought.

They may be acquaintances, but they aren't friends; that's a dangerous game to be playing, making friends with your co-workers; that's asking to get backstabbed. Increased salary and new business cards could be but a few delicate words away.

"Oh, I spoke with Daniella from HR this morning- you know her, the one whose husband's Mr Studd caught fire while inside?"

She looks at the two of you, her brunette conversational partner looking entirely lost at the mention of this strange new woman; oh right, she's a new hire.

"You'll meet her, nice enough woman; just don't let her borrow any money. You'll never get it back."

You helpfully supply some tidbits of information, nothing worthwhile or informative, to the new girl, who nods her head in understanding, acting as if you just changed her whole worldview.

"Well, as I was saying, there's a new hire in her department that's causing a stir."

Oh, consider your interest piqued. Leaning towards the woman, you and the new girl pay–or appear to pay–rapt attention to the gossiping housewife-turn-Corpo, who preens at being the one to spread all this new hot gos.

"Yeah, one of the managers got kicked out of their office and made to work in the cubicles; a day later, he shows up to take the spot."

"The manager got replaced by an outsider?"

Oh, it's normal for Corpo's to get replaced; you either fuck up too bad or support the wrong guy, and suddenly, you've lost everything, but usually, the company prefers to promote and replace people in-house. Outside hires can be…troublesome.

"No, that's the scandalous part, he's not been replaced, the guy's still a manager, it's just that, the new guy... he's..."

He's what?

"Hot."

Oh, for fucks sake.

The chatter had aroused your curiosity, especially when her gossip was corroborated by other employees who spoke in the same vein as her; some new transfer for a position that hadn't existed has set up shop in Human Resources. HR has always been a sprawling department, enough that you've heard talk of splitting its functions up.

That didn't mean you were interested enough to pursue this matter to the source; you had better things to do, like make your intern think fucking you would get her a job at Arasaka come her graduation.

Then you actually ran into the guy and knew it was him just by his appearance.

The gall he had for wandering through other departments like a tourist was a dead giveaway; no old-timer is dumb enough to do this, and no newbie would get past security to even try it.

He had clearly had some work done, his jawline sculpted, and the contours of his face seemed too symmetrical not to have been the product of Bioware enhancement.

You could understand why your loose co-workers liked talking about him; he was a breath of fresh air, unbroken by the stress of work; everything about him, from his walk to his stare, to how he carried himself - was filled with the energies of an unspent youth. Even the first-day interns didn't have so much…pep in their steps.

The fact that he wasn't displeasing to the eyes certainly helped, but if you had the kind of money the guy seemed to reek of, you'd also have invested in the looks department.

No matter how good the tech seems to get every year, and how high your employee benefits might be, a remedy for your ever-receding hairline isn't exactly small money.

Everyone was content in ignoring him, not knowing where to rank him in the unsaid social hierarchy within Arasaka, something important even when making small talk; his 'position' only indicated that someone didn't want him anywhere near the levers of power but couldn't fire him.

You would have followed your co-worker's silent lead, but you were always a risk-taker, and you were reasonably confident that you could talk your way out of any trouble you'd run into, so you decided to confront the man and get a measure of him. Fortune has favoured the bold–when you choose to be, at least.

It was then, when you actually spoke with the man - no, boy, because no man, regardless of how desirous he was of retaining his youth, would want to enjoy cracked voices and high-toned squeakiness - that you realised he was a prime sucker; reeling him in started off smoothly.

"Don't worry, Yoshikage-san... Let me give you a tour of the place."

"So, Abernathy and Jenkins work in the same division but are rivals and partners simultaneously?"

He's inquisitive, you'll give him that; if you were a more paranoid man, you'd wonder if he's some undercover auditor here from Tokyo to see how the Tower is being run and if all is well.

But, if he was, this is a piss-poor way of doing that; he's drawn more attention to himself than the time pay cuts across the whole department were threatened.

"Yeah, it's difficult to summarise, but they're both in power because they turn on any rival who looks to be carving out their own slice of pie in Counter-Intel, but that doesn't mean they're friends."

Arasaka Counterintelligence plays fast and loose with the rules, barely adhering to corporate policy and, more often than not, grappling with problems of their own making, all while costing the rest of the Tower a shitload of manpower, eddies and reputation in the process.

Counter-Intel has a way of making the worst come to pass, on corpo and enemy alike. Thank God you didn't transfer in a few years back.

"So, who do you think will come out on top?"

Ah, it feels good to have your words taken as gospel, even if half the shit you know is gossip, urban legend or wholly made up; it's not like this kid will know or care.

"Abernathy, most definitely; Jenkins is smart, but ultimately, he's a battering ram and doesn't do subtlety or deep plans; now Abernathy, she's got that lizard cunning; and the followers to execute them."

"And Jenkins doesn't have them? I presume a man of his rank would have lots of followers."

As he continues to press you on more details, you're starting to feel that he's more interested in this little feud between Jenkins and Abernathy than anything else in the Company. It's not the first time you've regaled a newbie with this tale, and usually, a few perfunctory comments are all you get.

"Kind of, but the do-ers get used up quickly, and he doesn't replace them; he's got his own ace in the hole, you see; a real fighter, that one, or so I've heard."

"You'll find her kind everywhere in NC; veterans, ex-corporate enforcers and mercenaries who decided being a solo weren't conducive to their long-term health."

You've only heard about her and what she looks like, but everyone agrees that she's packing some heavy shit under the hood; you wouldn't want to piss her off; these ex-mercs tend to be the most unstable, even after the hefty corporate benefits package.

"So, why is she working for Jenkins rather than in Arasaka Security?"

You stare at the Japanese corpo, wondering if he's joking or just trying to make conversation, and suppress the desire to laugh at him, instead answering back to the contemplative man with a patient, if strained, voice.

If he's testing you–which he probably is–you'll give him the square answer.

"Arasaka doesn't let women become Commandos; they're stuck as petty security or bodyguards at best, which is a waste of her experience in murder."

You won't say you know her by reputation cause mercs are a dime a dozen on the streets of Night City, but you can confidently say that if she wasn't any good, then Jenkins wouldn't have kept her around her so long.

"What's she like?"

…This guy is unusually interested in the affairs of Counter-Intelligence, and you can already sense the trouble he'll get up to when he decides to strut past security and talk up those spooks; this won't end well. They don't take kindly to others, much less some fresh face from HR with a brand-new position.

It is then you turn to pay more attention to the young corpo, who has since quieted himself, and slowed in his pace, that you note the eerie glow of his eyes that you had previously believed to be organic.

Who the hell is he, and what is he up to?