A Token and a Veteran's Attention
Apartment 414, Russell Residence.
Zzzz...
Ding.
Vela opened her eyes.
She gently rubbed her slightly heavy temples and instinctively licked her dry lips. Every time she retrieved something from another version of herself—another "multiversal lifeform"—it left her completely drained, forcing her into deep sleep. Still, it was a remarkably effective way to guarantee high-quality rest.
"Whew... I'm exhausted, but... that was so satisfying."
As her drowsiness faded, a tingling current surged through her forehead—soft and electric—making her body shudder.
Compared to her previous retrievals—like that paper, or various minor test objects—this time, the quantity she pulled through had been much larger. It truly felt like her soul had been hollowed out.
Luckily, her recovery abilities were extraordinary. Despite the physical and mental toll, by morning her thoughts were clearer than ever.
Just as she estimated, one standard suitcase was still within her tolerance. No lasting damage, though her vitality would remain low for a few days.
Her soulscape would need time to refill and stabilize.
Practice makes perfect. She needed more training.
Gurgle~
"Hungry."
Feeling the hunger, she rubbed her flat stomach in a slow clockwise motion. Tilting her head, her orange-red eyes flickered.
Signal connected. Command issued.
Domestic Unit One: Prepare breakfast. Modify menu to triple the usual lunch standard.
Rolling out of bed, Vela padded barefoot toward the washroom. She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, rinsed her mouth, then let the automated service arms dress her in her Arasaka undersuit and slippers.
She headed down to the basement bio-research lab.
Swish—
The automatic sensor doors opened, recognizing her biometric signature. Inputting the storage room's access code, she retrieved the T-virus and vaccine samples from the powered refrigeration vault.
Setting the case on the table, she opened it.
With a bare hand, she extracted one of the green, spiral-shaped containers and studied the slightly viscous, pale green fluid inside.
"Need to find the right time to test it."
Now wasn't the moment to bring it out.
Vela never intended to use the virus as a weapon. This was the Cyberpunk world—it was already 2075, and cybernetic augmentation was a way of life.
Everyone, even those not obsessed with modification, had some outdated synthetic stomach, lung, or esophagus installed. Even civilians had augmentations to avoid dying from bad food or drink and then incurring outrageous medical bills. Survival was a skill.
Vela even suspected some chromeheads could drink the T-virus like soda and be totally fine—because they barely had any real flesh left. How would the T-virus infect them?
It's an RNA virus—what's it going to infect? Synthetic flesh made of metal and chemical polymers?
Dump T-virus into a river ravaged by cyberwar pollution and hostile to all life, and how long would its virulence last?
Even if someone were infected and turned into a zombie… how would they bite into a pile of metal plates?
Plus, in the Cyberpunk world—especially in a place like Night City—almost everyone was armed. Guns outnumbered people. And their aggression levels? Bioterror survivors couldn't even compare.
Here, if some creepy, blood-smeared mutant limped toward you with ill intent, the average Night City citizen wouldn't scream and freeze up.
They'd grab their gun and shoot first.
The value of the T-virus here lay in its potential to create high-strength B.O.W.s—like Tyrants or
Then, augmented with custom cybernetic implants, weapons modules, and neural interface systems, it could become a smart-controlled cyber-soldier—immune to pain, devoid of emotion, and either unhindered by cybernetic strain or equipped with hardware that could far exceed standard limits.
Extracting value from the byproducts of T-virus research—that was where its real worth lay.
Umbrella had developed countless high-end medical products from its T-virus research—ranging from cosmetic wellness solutions and common anti-inflammatory and analgesic treatments to advanced therapies for open wounds, and even anti-aging pharmaceuticals.
The former? Worth a try. Arasaka might be interested, though expectations would be modest.
What their manufacturing division really focused on were exoskeletons, powered armor for individual soldiers, and even larger mechanized suits. These had been deployed in parallel formations for years.
Arasaka's Tokyo garrisons operated entire divisions of power armor troops, along with heavy vehicle brigades, an air force, a navy, and future plans to heavily fund an aerospace division. These forces were the company's true trump card.
And they were under direct command of the Arasaka family—specifically Saburo Arasaka or those few he personally trusted.
Same went for Militech and the European banking syndicates.
Vela's current role within Arasaka's Security Division gave her overwhelming superiority over most states, gangs, and mid-tier corporations. Her strike teams could slaughter gangs and merc groups with ease. To them, Vela's tactical units were heavy assault teams.
But if a full-scale corporate war broke out, her squads would suddenly become light infantry—not quite cannon fodder, but hardly elite.
Her reason for attending the University of Tokyo was to climb the ladder—to become one of those true "trusted few" who could command real military assets, even if only a single squad of power armor troops.
It was a long shot, but everyone needed ambition.
The T-virus derivatives? That was the token she prepared to gain entry.
"Still need to plan how to present this logically. Get it all set up before the spring term begins..."
Musing to herself, Vela returned the green T-virus vaccine to the metal case. Clack. Sealed. She placed it back in the vault and exited the lab.
Ding-dong.
Right on cue, the housekeeping bot laid out a high-carb, high-calorie spread on the living room table per her request.
Ramen with rice, miso soup, steak, fried chicken, tempura—a fusion of Japanese and Western classics. A carbon-heavy Arasaka salaryman's diet.
Soon, her empty stomach was full. Sipping ice water and rubbing her belly in contentment, the energy deficit from her earlier soul-draining faded.
After a short break, she threw on a coat and headed for the helipad.
She boarded the AV. A bit late, but nothing urgent.
Lately, Vela had been on standby in Night City—preparing for her upcoming enrollment in the University of Tokyo's Law Department as a special Arasaka recruit.
With no field missions, going to the Arasaka Tower office was just for appearances. Light workload—the main thing was maintaining visibility before her subordinates and peers.
She grabbed the seat's PAD and began reviewing reports submitted by her staff.
[Evaluation Report: 2074 End-of-Year Field Exercise at Arasaka Tower Academy — Security Division]
Shuta Furuta.
Terry Wolfe.
...
Katsuo Tanaka.
David Martinez.
Clicked.
Her eyes naturally stopped on his half-body portrait: a mohawk, eyes still radiating youthful cluelessness.
Security Division's evaluation: Although socially awkward, from a poor background, and equipped only with standard baseline implants, this student showed strong academic performance, high personal initiative, and decent physical potential. Further observation through detailed medical testing recommended…
Vela lit a cigarette, tapping the armrest with her finger. Her lips curled into an irrepressible smile.
"Judging by the timeline, decent grades, solid foundation, and he's picked up a few things... 2075—it should be about now."
While she was off polishing her credentials in Tokyo, she couldn't let a promising, bullet-catching subordinate get snatched away. Especially not by that silver-and-white cat-thief that roamed the subways.
Hmm... time to orchestrate a little chance meeting between a senior and her junior.
"Poor, huh? Then I'll grant you a low-interest education loan slot."
Beep.
She slid David Martinez's name into the Security Division's list of outstanding students to receive a commemorative internship gift.
[Confirm] → [Send]
"So, little one... how will you repay me?"
Through the AV window, Vela gazed at the approaching black tower of City Hall.
...
Santo Domingo, Arroyo District.
Old H4 Apartment Megabuilding.
Rusting security bars, peeling paint, yellowed iron stains. Despite the overflowing trash and loitering homeless outside, the weathered building was still structurally intact.
Inside one of its cramped rental units—
"Mom, you're sleeping on the couch again. That's not good for you..."
"Ah—David, I'm sorry... I was just so tired. Wait—what are you doing home at this hour?"
"Don't change the subject, Mom. It's the weekend. School's out. I just got back from the Arasaka Academy field program—remember how happy you were about it? How could you forget?"
David, dressed in casual clothes, stood in front of Gloria, frustration and helplessness mixing on his face.
"...Ah, you caught me."
Gloria chuckled awkwardly.
Her face held both pride and deep resignation. Pride in her son's accomplishments and concern for her own shortcomings. She struggled just to pay for tuition and updated learning software.
"Mom, if it's really that bad, I can just—"
"David."
Her stern gaze silenced him.
"That's not your concern. What, quit school? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get accepted into the Arasaka field training program? I—"
Just as another mother-son argument over money was about to explode—
"Yo! Corpo dogs!"
"Move it!"
"Get outta here..."
A ruckus erupted in the hallway.
Then—Knock knock.
Gloria looked up, face pale with alarm. "Did they find out...?"
But before her spiraling anxiety could take hold—click—David opened the door.
"Can I help... huh? A-ah?!"
His voice trailed off as if struck by lightning, eyes wide in shock.
Two Arasaka Security agents in black suits with crimson trim stood before him. One held a briefcase.
"David Martinez. Participated in the Border Zone Field Exercise. Student, Arasaka Academy Class of 2074—correct?"
"Y-Yeah. That's me."
"Lucky kid. This is your Excellence Award for Field Service."