Under the night sky, Arasaka Tower shimmered seductively beneath floodlights and neon holograms.
Arasaka Security Division – Mid-Level Tactical Command Center.
Network Operations Room.
The crimson hue of emergency lights bathed Song So Mi's face. Beside her stood V, Director of Counter-Intelligence, along with SP bodyguards. The blue glow of the monitors flickered across their expressions.
"...So Mi, any questions?"
The glowing half-body hologram of Vela spoke calmly through the holo-call. Her tone was soft, composed—so detached it was as if the San Francisco strike that had just occurred had nothing to do with Arasaka at all.
It had been barely a minute since the first alert from the Vela Adelheid Carrier Group detecting incoming missiles reached headquarters, yet the shrill alarms were already echoing through the command floor.
"No questions. It's my duty," So Mi replied without hesitation. She took a steady breath. "I'm an Arasaka employee now. I'll produce results worthy of the salary I receive."
After a brief pause for thought, she added, carefully choosing her words: "But I can't promise the outcome will meet your expectations. The White House has surely frozen my access credentials by now, and the FIA's clearance audits are likely well underway. There won't be many loopholes left to exploit."
"Do your best," Vela replied, her tone still placid. "You worked inside the White House—that's your advantage. Even if Myers cut off your direct access, the underlying structure of their internal security systems isn't something that can be rewritten overnight."
So Mi immediately understood the unspoken message: I'm satisfied with your public disavowal. Now continue.
Continue what?
Hunt her former masters.
"I understand," So Mi nodded.
"Good work," Vela said softly, giving a brief nod before the holographic transmission cut off.
Beep. Connection terminated.
"Phew… looks like you passed again."
V, who had been standing calmly a moment ago, turned to the side and gestured toward the setup behind her—a sleek array of high-end data equipment and a top-tier Netrunner chair.
The concave pod glowed faintly, lined with dozens of flexible, braided cables feeding into its base. Its metallic surface shimmered under the dim lights—both familiar and alien.
So Mi's expression shifted for a second, complicated but fleeting. She'd expected this.
Arasaka and Militech. Vela and Myers. Two sides of the same coin.
It was just a matter of who was less rotten.
The only difference was this: under Myers, she'd been forced to dive deep, to tear holes through the Blackwall, to dance on the edge of AI insanity and identity collapse.
Here, under Vela—she didn't have to dive. She could even be healed. The cost? Serving as a conventional Netrunner in Arasaka's cyberwarfare against rival corporations.
Especially Militech and its allied factions.
"We should hurry," V reminded, leaning against a nearby console. "The San Francisco branch is waiting on us."
In the background, split-screen monitors replayed live footage of explosions over the Golden Gate Strait.
"This is war," V murmured, glancing toward the SPs nearby—each one an elite counter-hacker equipped with top-tier ICE.
"I know. Plug me in," So Mi said simply.
Without hesitation, she reclined into the pod. The flexible metal panel on the back of her neck unfolded, exposing the neural port.
"Got it."
V, never one for modesty, stepped up and deftly connected the thick data cable into place.
In the past few days, while assigned to guard her, V had come to understand this tragic, pitiful, and faintly infuriating Korean woman better than she expected.
Between press briefings and interviews, So Mi had occasionally opened up—sharing fragments of her days at the White House, perhaps out of habit, perhaps seeking empathy. V listened. Sometimes she asked questions; sometimes she offered dry comments. In a way, she'd been acting as So Mi's therapist.
What was this? Building bonds, like in some old Weekly Shōnen Jump manga? The thought made V chuckle.
Protection and surveillance—the line between them was always so very thin.
Click. The neural connector locked into place.
"I'm in," Song So Mi said calmly, reclining fully and closing her eyes as her body relaxed.
After a brief burst of static—whirrr—
It wasn't deep diving.
There was no overwhelming, suffocating descent—no sensation of drifting through the abyssal darkness of the Blackwall, where isolation and dread pressed in like deep-sea pressure.
This time, it was smooth. Effortless. A horizontal transition.
Just ordinary cyberspace navigation. For her, it felt almost peaceful—like swimming in a calm, indoor pool after years of treading stormy waters.
Layers unfolded before her digital vision: segmented networks, migration vectors, cascading data surges. The cyberspace was alive—pulsating with information overload triggered by the San Francisco incident. Traffic volume skyrocketed.
And there it was—a private, authorized "highway." Arasaka's own. A secure cyber corridor linking Arasaka Tower's Night City LAN to the San Francisco branch's internal net.
After the DataKrash of the Fourth Corporate War, the days of free, global access to the Old Net had ended. Back then, freelance net legends could fry the brain of a trash-talking gamer halfway across the ocean. Now? Impossible.
In 2077, even the best unaffiliated Netrunner could only reign within a city's local grid. Crossing municipal or national borders? Only corporate hackers could do that—leveraging the private satellite networks and global infrastructures owned by the megacorps.
[Ding!]
[Arasaka SF Division: You're Song So Mi?]
[Song So Mi: That's me.]
As the digital avatars of the San Francisco Arasaka netrunners flickered into view, So Mi knew—it was time to work.
Using her deep familiarity with Militech and FIA network protocols, she began assisting the San Francisco branch and even the Vela Adelheid's command network to patch vulnerabilities, minimize risks, and trace any covert data intrusions from the New United States.
Now wasn't the time for sabotage. She wasn't suicidal.
Vela wouldn't have granted her immediate access to Arasaka's backbone servers unless she'd already put multiple safeguards in place.
The bridge…
Without a word of greeting or small talk, So Mi focused, her consciousness scanning across the digital landscape. There it was—the cyber Golden Gate Bridge, its suspension cables and towers replicated even here as data structures.
Technically, there was no "seeing" in cyberspace—but for netrunners, sight was a form of perception.
Data flow from the northern and southern beaches was plummeting—an exodus of people.
Scanning further, So Mi applied her knowledge of data-link layer protocols to sift for abnormalities, carefully inspecting the packets sent by her Arasaka colleagues.
Then—
[Shit! Missile breach detected!] a netrunner cursed.
So Mi saw it too.
A rapid, high-frequency O1-encrypted data chain streaked across the network, weaving through multiple defensive layers in a near-impossible vector, heading straight toward the Vela Adelheid's digital signature.
Then—
Huh?
A dud?
Nothing happened.
[Don't bother looking—it's the energy shield. Keep scanning! The NUSA bastards wouldn't stop at long-range strikes. Stay sharp!] their squad leader barked.
So Mi redirected her focus, continuing the search.
Moments later, one of the other netrunners shouted with excitement:
[We've traced an intrusion into the Adelheid's coordination system! Backtracking… locked—Castro District, Lombard Street 215! Notify SFPD and QRF! Deploy immediately!]
So simple?
So Mi frowned slightly.
Her attention drifted back toward the cyber Golden Gate Bridge—where countless data points shimmered, flickered, and fell into the digital "sea."
Those were people—and vehicles.
Then something clicked.
Wait.
So Mi began isolating anomalous data chains on the bridge. As she parsed packet frequency and sync intervals, she froze.
Among the filtered packets from the SF branch's sweep, she spotted a repeating data link—transmitting at steady intervals, always reappearing near the water's surface before dropping again.
Family outing traffic? No… it didn't fit.
The pattern linked multiple individuals and vehicles—all transmitting encrypted signals.
The first layer was light encryption, mimicking the standard municipal telecom frequency. The second—deeper—layer, however, bore a signature she recognized immediately: the Federal Intelligence Agency's proprietary cybersecurity protocol. If she hadn't been a former FIA senior operative, she might have missed it entirely.
People were one thing—but the vehicles? That was the real issue.
Song So Mi made her judgment instantly.
No need to decrypt or hack in. Just flag the anomaly. Warn the Vela Adelheid to monitor underwater activity.
[Song So Mi: This is So Mi. New anomaly detected. Alert the Arasaka SF coastal Netrunner team—watch the civilians falling from the Golden Gate Bridge. Among them are FIA operatives. Pay special attention to vehicles—especially vans and trucks—they may be disguised threats.]
...
Simultaneously, in Night City – Arasaka Tower.
Floor 120 – Intercontinental Division Executive Office.
The world was already buzzing with reports of the Vela Adelheid carrier group under attack. There was no way Vela could stay detached.
After all, she didn't plan on hearing that "she herself" had been destroyed or sunk within the next ten minutes.
That was exactly why she had ordered Song So Mi to assist the San Francisco branch the moment the first alert came in—to patch any overlooked vulnerabilities. After all, no one understands a traitor better than another traitor.
They say your enemies know you best. But what if that enemy used to be your ally—your subordinate?
Anticipating Myers' mindset, Vela had played the inverse. She assumed Myers would believe Vela wouldn't trust So Mi enough to grant her access—so she did exactly that.
Of course, there were risks.
Vela wasn't naive. She knew that this Korean woman's so-called loyalty was nothing more than a well-balanced equation of self-interest.
But that was fine. Intelligence, ambition, and ruthlessness—those traits made her useful.
Song So Mi knew what she wanted. She knew what she'd lost. And she had already burned every bridge back to Militech. Arasaka was her only sanctuary left.
Keep her monitored, keep her fed with small rewards—and she'd stay loyal long enough.
Besides, Vela wasn't careless. Routine surveillance, frequent scans, and full-spectrum neural sweeps during rejuvenation surgeries ensured no backdoors remained. If So Mi still managed to play her—well, then Vela would accept it as tuition. "Fine," she would say, "you got me. I've still got lessons to learn."
BOOM!
The live broadcast from San Francisco lit up—the carrier shimmered with a glowing aura.
Vela took a slow sip of her red tea, scrolling through the latest Arasaka America dispatches and the formal declaration of war just signed by Saburo Arasaka himself.
San Francisco was already burning. Micro-managing now would only hinder her subordinates.
"Blood for blood. Tooth for tooth."
Murmuring the words, she brought up a holographic map of North America. If the war had begun, she would not sit idle. Santa Fe, New Mexico... that's where it starts. Then push east—into the Lone Star Republic of Texas.
She reached for her comms directory—
BOOOOM—!!
A blinding flash. Light beyond comprehension.
Vela's head snapped up.
The image feed shook violently—the horizon torn apart. From the mouth of the bay, a mushroom cloud rose, swallowing the sky in white flame. The Golden Gate Bridge—melting, collapsing into the inferno.
Damn it! Another nuclear strike?!
"Myers… you really have some fucking nerve."
At once, she opened a comm line.
"This is Vela. Murata Katsutoshi, report!"
Bzzzt— static roared back—mixed with shouts and alarms. Then came Murata's strained but steady voice.
"Director Vela—the Vela Adelheid is unharmed!"