Chapter 83

Saburo was here. Yorinobu too. That meant any second now…

"Lucy, disconnect now!" I ordered.

I remembered all too well what was coming next. The impending shitstorm included a full system-wide purge—every foreign netrunner in the hotel's network was about to get fried.

"No. Not until you're out of there. That AV… it's…"

"Yeah. You got it right. Get out!"

"What the fuck is going on?" Panam hissed in my ear.

"We're leaving," I said with as much confidence as I could manage—before immediately second-guessing myself. "If that's even still an option…"

How fast would the hotel go into full lockdown? Yorinobu was gonna strangle his old man in a matter of minutes, then sound the alarm. Just getting to the van, without our gear, would take us at least five. Shit. We were already out of time. Konpeki Plaza had just turned into a trap.

What now? Try to force our way through one of the security checkpoints? Looked like we had no choice.

"We're moving," I told Panam.

"But the gear—"

"We're leaving! But grab the second bot and the controller."

With that, I stepped out into the hallway, scanning the empty stretch of corridor. Everything still seemed quiet. The chip was in a small pouch on my belt, secure for now.

"V, in the penthouse, right now, there's—"

"Yeah, yeah, fuck 'em. Lucy, get out—and before you go, set the cameras to record for a few seconds, then pull the plug! You hear me?!"

I reached the elevator, slamming the panel. Panam was right behind me, stuffing the bot into a black case. I could only hope we still had a shot at outrunning fate.

And as for Jackie… well, some people are born to drown, others to hang. Looked like he was the latter. I couldn't help him now. Right now, I just had to focus on getting my own ass out of here in one piece.

"Fuck!" Lucy's voice cracked through the comms, filled with sheer panic.

The Arasaka family drama had just reached its climax.

"He killed him, V. Just like that, he—"

"I don't care! Get out! Right fucking now!"

Rage and helplessness crashed over me. Why wouldn't she leave?! Her self-sacrificing bullshit was the last thing we needed right now. Why couldn't she just listen?! Precious seconds were slipping away, melting like snowflakes on a scorching sidewalk. Any moment now, the storm would hit, and the whole world was gonna hear it.

INTERLUDE: YORINOBU ARASAKA

The elevator carried Yorinobu toward his fate. He would face it in the company of two of Night City's finest—and simultaneously, its worst. Martinez had only just begun walking this path, but Adam Smasher? That title fit him perfectly.

Two massive figures stood behind the Arasaka heir. Two instruments of violence, primed and ready to serve.

Smasher had been swayed by the promise of another great war. As for David? Yorinobu's sympathetic allies in security had deliberately boxed him in—restricted him, stifled him—until the young solo was gasping for air. And then, at just the right moment, Yorinobu had stepped in as his savior. Years among the gangs had taught him well—he knew how to manipulate people like Martinez.

And now, that knowledge would carry him to victory.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the penthouse. Yorinobu stepped out first. Smasher and Martinez followed in silence.

The thieves? Already here. Yorinobu's implants let him see them—two mercs thinking they were hidden behind smart glass. The glass? Smart. The mercs? Not so much. They could've at least made for the balcony and jumped. Where the hell had DeShawn dug up these idiots?

'Like attracts like,' Yorinobu thought with a smirk before addressing his AI assistant.

"Are they here yet?"

"They approach from the landing pad," the robotic voice responded.

'Right on schedule.' He let himself relax, just a little, as he settled into a chair.

Smasher and Martinez had spotted the thieves, of course, but they had their orders—no one touches them without Yorinobu's say-so. The heir glanced up and caught an odd shift in David's expression. Strange. The kid had seemed more level-headed before.

"Just do as I tell you," Yorinobu reminded him. "The rest is my concern. By tomorrow morning, you'll wake up a different man—a man whose dreams have finally come true."

"Yeah… of course, Yorinobu-sama."

He was getting himself under control again. Good. Just in time.

Yorinobu was nervous, too—but there was no turning back. The bridges had already burned. The last embers were falling into the abyss.

He'd been wary when Evelyn vanished. But his instincts had been right—the biochip was too valuable a prize. Someone was bound to come for it. Probably the same people who'd been using Parker.

Ah, Eve. Maybe she got too ambitious. Maybe she refused to play by her employer's rules and got erased for it.

Didn't matter now.

The thieves were here. And Saburo Arasaka was descending the stairs, accompanied by… only Goro Takemura?

Just him?

Arasaka's guard dog was dangerous, but alone? Against both Smasher and Martinez? He'd never stand a chance.

'You walked right into it, old man. You shut the trap yourself.'

"I thought I told you not to meddle in my affairs," Yorinobu said in Japanese, keeping up the charade.

Takemura started sweeping the penthouse, scanning, checking every corner. In another second or two, he'd spot the intruders.

"Leave us," Saburo suddenly commanded.

"Arasaka-sama, I still haven't done a full sweep," Takemura protested, bowing.

He was just doing his job.

"This is my son," the walking corpse replied.

A wave of fury and disgust surged through Yorinobu. He barely managed to keep it off his face. That line—those words—encapsulated the sheer madness, cruelty, and utter stupidity of Saburo. His unshakable belief in his total control over his children.

'You've been dead for years, old man. Hell, were you ever even alive?'

"Of course. Should I retrieve what we came here to…?" Takemura asked.

"I will handle it. You may go."

If the missing chip were discovered now, Yorinobu would have to dispose of Saburo… less quietly. Not that he minded. This was precisely why he had two of Night City's deadliest solos on a leash.

Saburo had always underestimated this city. Its rebellious spirit, its defiance, its worship of individualism. He despised Night City—but he'd already been burned by it once, thanks to Silverhand.

It would be poetic if he met his end at the hands of someone like Smasher or Martinez.

But… Yorinobu wasn't opposed to doing it himself.

'Stay calm. You can do this,' he told himself, clenching his fists.

And yet… something deep inside him still wavered.

'What are you afraid of? This ghost? You challenged him long ago. It's time to end this.'

The guards left via the elevator, leaving the highest echelons of corporate royalty alone.

Silence hung thick between father and son.

"Did you think I wouldn't know it was taken from me?" Saburo finally asked. His voice, dry and brittle, sounded almost inhuman.

"Actually, I don't think of you at all. Ever" Yorinobu shot back. "You see, that's your problem. You think the world revolves around you. Arrogant."

"Yorinobu…"

"Why did you come?" the son cut him off. "To humiliate me? To personally see to it that your son knows his place?"

Saburo answered with one of his favorite proverbs:

"The nail that protrudes from the wall gets hammered…"

"Couldn't think of anything original to say?"

"And do you think it "original" to sell our greatest achievement to Westerners - our future to these… barbarians?!"

The mention of the future sent another surge of rage through Yorinobu.

He shot to his feet, finally facing his father head-on.

'Not for you to talk about the future, you walking corpse.'

"Our future? Ours? You are mistaken. You've only ever cared about yourself… and your sick schemes"

"I knew this day would come. That sooner or later, your impudence would cross the line. There is much for which I could forgive you, but for treason - no." Saburo said, slowly stepping back toward the column, the one hiding the thieves behind smart glass. "I'm just glad you mother didn't live to see this. The heart should break but once."

It was easier than he thought it would be.

Yorinobu lunged at his father, letting his fury take over. His hands closed around the old man's throat. Saburo didn't even resist. That frail, decaying body—so weak, so pathetic—had no real will to live left. Just endless, insufferable arrogance.

For a split second, Yorinobu hesitated, loosening his grip. Some part of him wanted to stop, to shrink back in fear, to beg for forgiveness like he had in the past. But his mind knew—it was over. The last bridges had already burned to ash.

"You shall never have to forgive me for anything again," Yorinobu murmured darkly, cold sweat running down his back, rage curling like a vice around his gut.

He struck again, this time with complete abandon.

A second passed. Another.

The bio-mod should have kicked in by now.

Three months ago, in a hidden clinic in Tiba, a trusted ripper had installed this modification. Not cyberware. An organic implant, completely isolated from the rest of his systems. The Yakuza called it the "stingray's barb"—a needle-thin stinger, hidden inside the palm, tipped with a gland full of lethal venom. A precise press, and it would spring free.

Right now, that stinger should've already pierced through his father's withered, liver-spotted skin. Should've ended the old man's reign with one fatal dose.

Saburo crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor.

So frail. So utterly insignificant.

For a man who had dictated the fate of millions, his body held shockingly little weight.

The room swayed around Yorinobu. His biomonitor flashed urgent warnings—stress hormones spiking off the charts. But what about his soul? Did it feel the rush of long-awaited freedom? The breath of the future, now his to command? Or was this just a grotesque patricide?

He forced my hand! He left me no choice! He called our disgrace an honor and demanded I accept it!

Yorinobu couldn't pull himself together. He forced himself not to look at the corpse, cursing himself for the weakness. Even dead, his father terrified him.

He spent a few seconds just catching his breath. Then, steeling himself, he turned back. He forced himself to step closer, to crouch, to check for a pulse.

Nothing.

The fear drained away, replaced by something steadier.

Switching to English, Yorinobu said, "I wish… I wish to put the hotel on lockdown."

"May I ask why?" the AI assistant inquired.

"Saburo Arasaka has been murdered."

"Code Red initiated," the AI replied smoothly.

Then, across the entire hotel, an announcement rang out:

"Attention! Code Red has been innitiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow all instructions given by staff."

"Attention! Code Red has been innitiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow all instructions given by staff."

The elevator lurched to a stop. The lighting dimmed, shifting into an ominous red hue.

"Panam, can you get us out of here?"

"I'll get you out," Lucy cut in.

"No! Leave! You saw what just happened! They'll be swarming this place any second—physically and in the Net. Lucy, listen to me—I'll find my own way out!"

"What the fuck just happened?!" Panam grabbed me by the collar, yanking me around to face her.

"Saburo's dead."

"Fffffuck," she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Never thought I'd give a shit about a dead corpo, but he picked a really shitty time to croak."

"Done," Lucy's voice chimed in.

The elevator hummed back to life, its lights returning to normal. It resumed its descent, carrying us down to the service floors.

Downstairs? Chaos. Staff panicking. Security struggling to keep control. And now? The big guns had arrived. Konpeki's private guards were reinforced by combat teams.

Were they loyalists, prepped in advance by Yorinobu? Or just regular security? Didn't matter.

"Move, move, move!" A black-armored security officer barked orders, directing frantic personnel. "You—against the wall! What's in your hands?!"

His rifle locked onto some poor bastard—a terrified waiter clutching a tablet.

Panam and I slipped through the mess. Our disguises still held up, but there was no way they'd let anyone leave.

"Stop right there!"

A woman stepped into our path. High-grade chrome, a katana on her hip.

A close combat specialist. Arasaka loved those. Fucking samurai cosplay bullshit.

"Give me a sec," Lucy whispered in my ear.

"Return to your designated zone—" the woman started, one hand resting on her sword's grip.

Then, her eyes flickered—first white, then orange-red.

Lucy's Amnesia script hit her hard.

I fired the dart gun.

The tranquilizer hissed through the air, needle burying itself in the woman's throat.

She staggered.

Panam and I caught her before she could collapse.

"What… I…" she slurred, then her eyes shut.

We dragged her into a supply closet and locked the door behind us. Quiet. Clean.

"Should I take her uniform?" Panam whispered. "Lucy, can you spoof us as security?"

"Won't work," Lucy replied. "They're not letting anyone out. More of them are pouring in. Full lockdown. You need to fight your way to the van. I'll cover you."

Shit.

I stripped the katana and grenades from the downed agent. Standard issue—good enough. Panam took her vest and swapped out her pistol for a heavier revolver.

"Left door. Through the kitchen. There's a stairwell down. The elevator's too well guarded," Lucy directed.

I gave up trying to make her leave. She wasn't going anywhere until we were clear.

We moved.

Dimly lit kitchen. The hum of industrial fridges. A few deactivated cameras—Lucy's handiwork.

Two flights down, a guard lay sprawled, knocked out by a script.

Freedom was close.

I tugged at the realskin covering my cyberarm, tearing it off in pre-prepped sections. It was slowing me down.

Twelve guards at the parking garage checkpoint. Heavier weapons. Two auto-turrets online.

"Give me two minutes," Lucy said.

Panam and I ducked behind the stairwell door.

I passed her a grenade. Set my bag on the steps.

Didn't need a stray bullet fucking up the chip's containment.

I wasn't slotting that thing into my head. Way too many bad vibes.

"I'm ready," Lucy announced. "Now… go!"

And the chaos erupted.

One of the guards' optics flickered. White. Then orange-red.

Mind control script.

The guy turned. Opened fire on his own team.

The turrets spun around and also opened up—on their own people.

Jesus fuck, Lucy.

I followed up, frying enemy optics with a reboot script.

Then Panam and I made our move—both hurling grenades toward the panicked security detail.

Explosions rocked the checkpoint. Metal shrapnel shredded through corpo flesh.

"Comm-link's down! I can't—!" one of them screamed.

Lucy cut their comms, too? Fucking beautiful.

It was over fast. The remaining guards scrambled toward the elevators. Lucy dropped them with scripts before they even reached the doors.

Turrets dead. Guards down.

We owned this space.

I grabbed the chip bag, making sure it was intact.

"Time to go home, Johnny," I muttered with a grin.

Panam was already in the van, revving the engine. It seemed like we were finally in luck today when, all of a sudden…

I heard Lucy's scream and interference over the comms.

"Are you there?! Can you hear me?!"

A few seconds of silence stretched on like an eternity. Then a single word: "Error." And then silence again.

"Hey!" Panam was shaking my shoulder. "Time to go!"

I just stood there in silence, staring at the twisted corpses of the security guards. Tried to trace the signal. Static. Interference. Then, finally, Lucy's voice.

"I'm alive… I think."

"Disconnect now!" I demanded.

"I can't. Sorry. I fucked up. They locked the ICE. I can't get out of the subnet."

Fuck!

"Get out of here. I'll figure something out."

Her voice was weak, distant. She'd taken a serious hit on every level. Her body got fried by a virtual attack, and her mind was stuck inside the Net.

"V…" Panam whispered in my ear. "What's the move?"

"Take this." I handed her the bag with the chip. "Get to our people and hide it. And don't even think about saying you're coming with me. You're a damn good tech and driver, a decent sniper—but in a close-quarters fight? I trust myself more."

"What the hell are you planning?"

"I know how to get her out. I'm going back to Konpeki."

"No. No. Get out of here," Lucy's voice crackled through the static.

"Nah, that's not how this works," I chuckled. "My turn to ignore your warnings. Delta, Panam. I've got unfinished business."

She hesitated, took a few steps toward the van, then turned back, almost like she was confessing something.

"You know, I thought everyone in this city was shit. But you guys? You're alright. Don't get yourself killed. Your plan is fucking insane, but… I respect it."

"People do crazy shit for love," I said.

The engine roared behind me as the van pulled away. Muffled gunfire echoed from above.

And just like that—I was heading back into Konpeki.