Although things looked bad, he now knew two things for certain:
Faraday—and by extension, Arasaka—were looking for him for some unknown reason, and evidently, they placed considerable importance on getting him back.
For an unknown reason.
A damn unknown reason!
"Dorio, are you sure you want to come with me?" he asked one last time.
He had given her the chance to back out several times, even showing her some of the weapon specs on his Pip-Boy.
Dorio's answer was simple:
"Even after knowing everything that's in there, you've got a plan, right?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Then I'm in," Dorio cut him off sharply. "Just tell me—what do we do?"
Faelan took a deep breath and checked his hidden pockets, pulling out two items.
A vial with fine gray powder and a green gem the size of a small old-world coin.
"Give me the gray vial," he ordered seriously.
Dorio pressed a discreet switch on her shoulder. Two jets of steam hissed out, and a vial was slowly ejected from a concealed shoulder compartment. She grabbed it and handed it over.
Faelan took the vial filled with murky gray liquid and, biting the cork off the vial of fine powder, mixed them and shook vigorously. The reaction was almost immediate: the liquid started bubbling intensely as it turned fluorescent light blue.
"Don't activate it until it's necessary," he warned. "I won't have more of this anytime soon."
"What did you do to it?" Dorio asked, retrieving the swapped vial and slotting it back into her shoulder, ready to be injected when needed.
"I enhanced its effects to the limit of what I can currently do," he said, glancing with regret at the now-empty powder vial. "Though once the effects wear off, you'll be ravenous and sleep for a couple of days, minimum."
In truth, he could have boosted the effect threefold, but the permanent side effects would've been more than problematic for Dorio.
"And what's with that look of pain?" Dorio eyed the empty vial. "What did you add?"
"That was moonstone dust. Real moonstone, imported from the Moon," Faelan explained. "Even with today's tourist trips up there, it's still insanely expensive!"
Damn capitalists selling rocks like they're F-22 platinum!
"How expensive could such a small amount be?"
"You could buy forty cars like the one you have," Faelan used a simple reference point for her. "Not second-hand or discounted ones. I mean brand-new, straight off the assembly line, launch-day limited-edition models."
Dorio inhaled sharply. This stuff is luxury incarnate!
"Now this," he handed her the green gem.
"What do I do with it?" Dorio asked, holding it between her fingers.
"Swallow it," he told her dryly.
"Uh?" Dorio stared at the beautiful gem. "Why?"
She felt bad about eating something so pretty… and likely expensive.
Although they had already used crushed moonstone.
"That gem," Faelan pointed, "is what'll keep you from turning into a human flowerpot when I go full mystical mode. Now swallow it." He even handed her a bottle of water to help.
The gem was crafted from a mix of his blood and a potion that acted as a shield against the full-strength aura of SCP-166. But he could only produce a limited amount of it because the potion wasn't complete (he used substitutes for certain unavailable ingredients), and its exact duration remained unknown.
He could only guarantee half an hour of protection. After that, it was pure luck.
Could be one minute. Could be an hour.
"Half an hour. Got it," Dorio swallowed the gem with a gulp of water. "Bleh, is it normal for it to taste like blood?" She programmed a 25-minute timer into her system as a subroutine. When the alarm went off, she'd retreat to stay out of range before the effect wore off.
"That means it's working." Knowing the effect would kick in within seconds, Faelan began walking toward the Animals' base. "Here's the plan: we split up before going in. You find a way to sneak in while their attention's on me. Use the enhanced vial as soon as you see them and handle the Animals while they're caught off guard. I'll take care of Arasaka's little army," he explained. "Ideally, we get Faraday's location and figure out who's pulling the strings. Then we get the hell out."
Dorio listened and nodded, separating from him to start looking for a window or less conspicuous entrance. With luck, once Faelan appeared, the netrunners' attention would be focused on him and not checking surveillance feeds.
She didn't ask why they weren't calling on Kiwi or Sasha. Maybe both had improved greatly as netrunners over the years, but having them face twenty heavily modified Arasaka veteran netrunners was suicide.
"Thank god I followed Sasha's advice and upgraded my ICE recently," Dorio sighed in relief.
While it wouldn't make her immune to hacks, it could block daemons like Overheat, which could otherwise take her out instantly. Also, due to the Animals' philosophy, they never had their own netrunners—they always bought intel from fixers.
Meanwhile, Faelan entered the building with measured steps, fully aware they were expecting him. They could wait—he'd take his time.
…
Dorio slipped in through a crack in the back wall. The moment her boot touched the cracked concrete of the gym, she heard the sound of metal drums and the guttural roars of the gathered Animals.
Hiding behind a second-floor column, she licked her lips nervously while counting heads, then reached for her shoulder and pressed the button, injecting the contents of the enhanced vial into her bloodstream.
Her spine arched as bones cracked like dry branches and her skin split open, revealing muscle and fur underneath that rapidly spread across her body as the transformation unfolded.
It took sheer willpower not to scream and ruin the ambush.
"Fuck!" she thought, adjusting to her new form for a moment, feeling stronger than ever—and oddly comfortable in this temporary shape. "I'm gonna have a few words with him. He said it'd hurt a little, but I wasn't expecting this much pain!"
When she emerged, she stood nearly three meters tall, her breath releasing two warm jets of air.
She flexed her swollen new muscles and charged the gathered group, wasting no time.
About sixty Animals encircled the Alpha like a barrier, while others were scattered around. The Alpha now casually held a thermal impact hammer on his right shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
"Boss, the target just entered through the front—"
The report was cut off as a body flew through the air and crashed into the speaker: Dorio had obliterated a lookout with a single casual blow and was already charging the rest.
"What the hell is that thing?!" the Alpha scowled, his optics scanning the three-meter humanoid figure with lupine, feminine features. Muscles bulged with raw power, claws capable of tearing through implants like sushi cuts, and jaws dripping saliva.
Then there were the eyes—filled with hostility and murderous intent.
The Alpha's heart skipped a beat at the sight.
Could it be… love at first sight?
"Capture her!" he ordered, a bit too enthusiastically, his mind wandering. "I want her alive, for…" He ran a hand down his face, catching himself before revealing too much. "I want her alive! A month of free Juice to whoever brings her in!"
The first twenty Animals charged with glee, so drugged up they probably didn't even know what they were attacking—bodies pumped with steroids, skin covered in glowing tattoos, and sharp prosthetic teeth.
They were the definition of cannon fodder.
Dorio roared in her werewolf form and charged head-on with brutal force!
Her claws sliced through flesh and metal like tofu, blood splashing across her fur—infuriating her further since she had just taken a shower—driving her into a more frantic, vicious cycle.
Some were lucky and got decapitated painlessly.
The rest… weren't so lucky.
Especially when suddenly, everyone felt their implants start to malfunction. It wasn't just one or two isolated cases—even the Alpha felt a jolt of static for a second.
Screams of fear and desperation, the sound of tearing flesh, and the occasional clang of something metallic being crushed or thrown painted a nightmare scene.
Bodies piled into a small mountain.
But the Animals didn't retreat, even though many were thinking it. Instead, led by the Alpha, they surrounded Dorio and threw electrified nets at her—one even managed to inject her with a paralytic drug.
But the lycanthrope form interpreted the electric shocks as provocation, and the drug had no effect on her enhanced immune system, reduced to nothing more than an irritating itch that only made her angrier.
She spun around, tore the nets off herself, and began using them as electrified whips in one hand, while with the other she continued slashing with her sharp claws and throwing punches as needed.
"She's so perfect!" thought Alpha, his cheeks flushing as he stared at the creature hunting down his subordinates like sheep sent to the slaughter.
Light streamed in through one of the windows like a waterfall, spilling across her fur—now reddish from blood—which made it gleam while her claws on the free hand drew ghostly lines of white light with every strike.
Each splash of blood seemed to surround her with flying jewels.
The lacerations and holes in her flesh, caused by various weapons and ammunition, spat out the bullets from inside her body with disdain before her wounds regenerated at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Alpha's instincts screamed at him to strike that woman, subdue her, and conquer her.
Or maybe it was the hormone cocktail made from freeze-dried bull testicles he'd taken before coming here clouding his judgment, but—who cared?
Dorio's hair stood on end when she felt a different gaze fall on her, increasing her alertness and speeding up the slaughter.
She had a very unpleasant feeling and was acting against the clock.
"Boss, what do we do?" asked one of the onlookers beside him, less muscular than the rest. "At this rate, the whole pack'll be gone!"
He was the one in charge of the gang's finances, which didn't leave much time for working out.
Gang operations burn a lot of money due to their "vitamin" usage, and with fewer people taking jobs, they'd have to tighten their belts for a while until they could recruit and train new members.
If the Voodoo Boys wanted to take advantage of this moment of weakness to launch a big hit, they could suffer irreparable damage and fall in rank among the gangs!
Or even disband entirely in the worst-case scenario!
"I'll handle this." Alpha swung his hammer a couple of times as he eagerly approached Dorio—who was currently ripping a metal spine out of someone with just her teeth.
What better way to win the heart of such a refined lady than earning her recognition by breaking a few of her bones and then mercifully sparing her life?
Yes, Alpha saw himself as an incurable ladies' man—he knew everything about women!
His plan was flawless.
…
Faelan scanned the area. There really was no one blocking his path, and following the information he got from the roots, he descended the stairs from the shattered lobby into the large basement where the Arasaka crew was waiting, surrounded by stored gym equipment and other machines.
The atmosphere shifted as he descended—the air thickened with dry sweat and rust.
"They've got showers and dryers next to the makeshift rings built from scrap, but they don't even clean the place or the gear after using it?" he muttered at the lingering stench. "At the very least, fix the ventilation system!"
He was greeted with absolute silence as he moved further away from Dorio's area, but his senses picked up vibrations: held breaths, tension in the air, and what were unmistakably loaded weapons.
He partially activated his SCP-166 aura to test the reaction and support Dorio from afar, since the sounds of battle still echoed faintly down here. The nerves of the enemies in the area trembled, and the first squad—positioned behind reinforced weight machines—broke formation when one of them fired prematurely, his trigger finger giving in to fear.
Faelan moved laterally, almost predicting the reaction. He'd done this with scavengers so many times that he wasn't even surprised.
They were quick-trigger types.
A pink projectile hit a stationary bike and, upon impact, exploded and released a cream-colored foam that melted the reinforced metal.
"Well, I wasn't expecting that," Faelan admitted aloud, raising a surprised eyebrow—not at the melted metal, but at another detail.
I mean… who even uses or makes pink ammo these days?
Sure, the "inspired" Rebecca might paint her favorite weapons—but even she didn't use pink bullets!
Imagine painting each bullet by hand...
Also, that foam looked like it'd really hurt if it hit him.
Arasaka Raptor-9 drones emerged from the shadows, and the dim basement lit up with a galaxy of red optics focused on Faelan—probably because whoever was leading the operation figured there was no point hiding after that shot.
As for why they were still able to move—it was because Faelan allowed it.
He had bulged his aura into a U-shape, hoping to extract more information while keeping the enemies in that area active. If they all collapsed instantly, he wouldn't learn much.
Now then, where was the commander in all this?
"Faelan Verdant Kusanagi, you're surrounded!" came a voice through a loudspeaker—clearly the platoon leader, though the fact he wouldn't show himself was almost funny considering his attempt at intimidation. "If you surrender, you'll be treated better as you're escorted back to the Arasaka facilities…"
Uh-huh… escorted back… treated better… sure.
Makes sense.
Wait, no it doesn't.
"Back… to where, exactly?" Faelan asked, looking at the whole group aiming their weapons at him.
He had nothing personal against them—he knew they were just following orders—but the situation left him with few options.
"Hoping Faraday was conveniently nearby was unrealistic, huh?" he thought, realizing the fixer was nowhere in sight.
"Give me that, you useless idiot!" a different voice came through the speaker, more impatient and arrogant. "Listen, VK-17 project—better not do anything stupid and return willingly to the lab that gave you life. Do you have any idea how much money and resources you cost the company?"
Oh boy, one of those guys.
"Bill me. I'm sure I can cover the cost of my own life," Faelan said dryly—he could almost imagine some stereotypical mad scientist on the other end of the line, maybe something like Caesar Clown from One Piece. "If this was all about money, you could've just said so instead of staging this whole charade. Who even are you, anyway?"
Was he playing along? Of course! Villains always end up revealing something useful without meaning to.
"How dare you speak to me like that—I'm the lead scientist of the VK project, appointed by Hanako-sama herself! The one and only Shou Tucker!"
There it was!
"The lead scientist?" Someone's compensating for something, uh…
But Hanako being involved? That was surprising, to say the least. Last Faelan checked, her expertise leaned more toward digital programs and netrunning abilities. This "VK project" didn't sound like her type of operation at all…
"Wait, say that again?" Faelan straightened as he processed the name. "What the hell did you say your name was?"
He must have misheard.
"I'm the brilliant Shou Tucker!" the speaker repeated proudly. "Now do you understand who you're speaking to?"
First off—no, he didn't know anyone in this world with that name.
Second, yes—he already hated this guy just because of it.
"All right, great Shou Tucker," Faelan tried not to drip with sarcasm, "what exactly is this VK project you keep talking about?"
Instead of answering, the loudspeakers fell silent for a few seconds.
"Is he messing with me, or is he serious?" Shou asked in what seemed to be a whisper. "Hey, Ren, are you sure this guy's VK-17?"
"The horns on his head don't lie, professor. You told me to look for people with horns—after clarifying you didn't mean metaphorically 'horned'—the job was easier," replied Ren. "We double-checked with high-range scanners—the horns aren't implants, they're growing out of his skull."
"You sure? Hard to tell with that hood he's wearing…"
Faelan stared at the speakers, speechless. The tension of a life-or-death confrontation in the room had been completely ruined.
Were they really talking to each other… without muting the channel?
Seriously?
Judging by the soldiers' awkward stances, the Arasaka troops seemed resigned—like this happened more often than they'd like.
But at least he'd gotten something useful from their conversation.
Apparently, they weren't specifically after him, but were looking for someone with horns (for whatever reason), and he just happened to match the profile.
So they labeled him the target—by mistake.
"Wait, wait, let me check the data you've got. Yeah, let's see… blood type, weight, height… Says here his father is Adam Jensen Verdant (Aitsu wa dare da?) and his mother is…" Shou paused, breath catching as he read the final file. "Ren, you complete idiot! This guy's not VK-17! (Chikushō!)" he swore. "He's the son of Motoko Kusanagi!"
"You mean…"
"Yes, that Motoko Kusanagi," Shou's voice sounded on the verge of tears. "Do you have any idea what Hanako-sama would've done to us if we so much as laid a finger on him?"
Okay, now even Faelan was lost. What the hell was going on?
"Are we expecting a visit from Sandayu-sama?"
"You're the one who's going to get a visit for this!" Shou didn't sound pleased, and the sharp sound of a slap echoed clearly. "How the hell didn't you realize it when the information was right there in his compiled profile?"
It's even bolded and underlined!
"Kawatatsu witnessed how Motoko-san and her baby died during childbirth!" Ren defended himself hastily. "He's supposed to have been dead for nearly two decades—how was I supposed to know it was him?"
Faelan's ears perked up, silently committing the name Kawatatsu to memory.
"Kawatatsu?" Shou sounded confused, clearly thrown off by Ren's answer. "What are you talking about? I was there asking for more funding for the VK project when the orders were issued. The person Hanako-sama sent to assist Motoko-san was Kenichi Zaburo-sama," he replied. "Kawatatsu is a bastard who's not even in the same league! And you know the rumors surrounding him. He's not an honorable man—Hanako-sama would never entrust someone like that with a mission of such importance."
Okay, maybe it was time for him to step in.
For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that SAV's shadow was behind all this mess...
Considering what happened with the traps—what the hell had she done with his backstory?
If he ever saw her again after leaving this world, he was going to file more than one complaint.
"Yeah, about that..." The Arasaka soldiers jumped and pointed their weapons at him. They had been so engrossed in the juicy argument that they had forgotten Faelan was even there. "I'm not exactly sure how you guys knew my mother, but as far as I know, after her death during childbirth, someone took custody of me, withdrew all my family's funds, and then decided to sell me to a factory as child labor."
The speakers fell silent, though Faelan wasn't sure if it was because of what he'd said or because they had just realized their private conversation had been overheard by everyone.