"They didn't report it."
Sasha's voice carried a mix of fear and frustration as she spoke.
To get that data out, she had been ready to die. If it hadn't been for Riku, she probably would have.
But the information she risked everything to send out sank like a stone in the ocean. News 54 didn't broadcast a single word about it.
They covered the attack on the biotech company, sure, but not a peep about the data she sent.
That data was all about a drug—a painkiller called Securicine.
This drug had massive side effects. It could slowly cause neurodegenerative diseases: brain ischemia, brain damage, epilepsy, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, Huntington's, you name it.
Sasha's mother had died because of this drug's side effects.
The biotech company knew about these side effects from the start. They buried the data, pushed Securicine to market anyway, and promoted it like crazy.
If this news broke, it'd be a disaster for the biotech company.
Even now, Securicine remains one of their best-selling drugs.
You can imagine how many people have died from its side effects over the years.
"Of course News 54 didn't report it. They're the mouthpiece for Militech, serving Neo-America. And biotech's cozy with Militech right now," Riku said, shaking his head.
The impact of that classified data was too big. It wasn't up to News 54 to decide what to do with it—those calls came from the big shots behind the scenes.
News 54 probably got a fat hush money payment from the biotech company, and that was that. Case closed.
"How can this be…"
Sasha's expression froze. She hadn't thought it through that far.
News 54 was old-school American media. Since the early 21st century, it had monopolized over 62% of the news broadcasted in the U.S.
Now, in Neo-America, they'd gobbled up almost every major media outlet.
The only other voice out there was WNS News, which always butted heads with News 54. But that was it.
And yet, even they were cherry-picking what to report?
"Isn't that just how it works? When was the last time you saw News 54 report anything negative about Militech or Neo-America?" Riku said, his expression tinged with resignation.
When a corporation wants to control everything, monopolizing the media and creating an information bubble is practically step one.
Militech rules Neo-America, so of course they've got News 54 on a leash. If they can't even control their own mouthpiece, how can they call themselves rulers?
"Then I'll send the data to WNS News," Sasha said, her voice uncertain. If News 54 wouldn't report it, maybe their rival would?
"You can try, but it's probably a long shot. Does this Securicine thing tie back to Zhuoma Medical, a subsidiary of Petrochem?"
Riku hadn't seen the specifics on Securicine, but if there wasn't even a whisper about it, the issue had to run deep.
If it only involved the biotech company, News 54 might not have been so quick to cover it up—unless Petrochem was in the mix.
Riku remembered something from the game: the biotech company had a "Nightingale" project that almost got leaked to News 54.
From how they handled it, it was clear they didn't trust News 54 to stay quiet, so they silenced the reporters and employees who tried to stir things up.
"Zhuoma Medical…"
Sasha paused. The name had come up in the Securicine data.
Zhuoma Medical, a Petrochem subsidiary based in Night City, specializes in developing and producing pharmaceuticals.
They're a global leader in new drug development, currently working with the biotech company on gene therapies, custom bacteria, and virus projects.
"Petrochem and Arasaka have always been tight, too," Riku added with a sigh.
And what did that mean? It meant WNS News, Arasaka's mouthpiece in Neo-America, probably wouldn't touch the story either.
Sasha's face paled as she caught Riku's meaning. Despair hit her hard.
All she wanted was to do something for her mother, for the countless innocent victims.
But in the end, it felt like a naive dream.
"…"
Riku stayed quiet. He understood Sasha's mindset.
In the game, he'd met others like her—people whose families were destroyed by corporations, who burned their lives away for revenge, only to make no dent in the company's armor.
Night City was full of them. The world was full of them.
Their actions never succeeded. Their sacrifices went unnoticed, just another nameless body under the corporate throne.
In this world, taking on a corporation as an individual was nearly impossible unless you were some kind of prodigy like Rache Bartmoss.
But even a genius like Rache Bartmoss couldn't bring the corporations down. He just burned bright, left a mess, and that was it.
"I'm not giving up."
After the despair, a spark reignited in Sasha's eyes. She'd faced death for this. What were a few more obstacles?
"I'm not giving up, Devil."
Sasha looked at Riku, her eyes shining with determination. She was grateful for him.
Thanks to Riku, she didn't die clinging to a false, wishful dream.
Because of him, she had a chance to do more—for her mother, for the innocent victims.
"You…"
Riku's eyes widened. He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words.
He'd wanted to tell her to give up. If she kept pushing, she'd likely draw the attention of the biotech company, maybe even Petrochem.
But what right did he have to tell her to stop?
Avenging her mother, seeking justice for those killed by Securicine—was there anything wrong with that?
Of course not. It just didn't fit this world. Her humanity shone too brightly.
"This world, this city—it needs more people like you, Sasha."
The words of caution stayed unspoken. Riku gave a relieved smile. If he wasn't willing to fight, what right did he have to stop her?
This rotten world, with no hope or future, needed people like Sasha every now and then.
In a place where everyone chased selfish dreams, scrambling over each other for a shot at the top, it was rare for someone to show the beauty of human responsibility, dedication, and sacrifice.
(Chapter End)