Chapter 236

"So, that bastard named Solomon Reed really got killed by Arasaka's people?"

"Have no idea."

Upon hearing Pilar's question, Maine glanced at the news on the old satellite dish cable TV. Covered in bandages, he had only recently awakened from a coma, and his face was ashen.

He had blacked out from drug use.

All I remember is being in Falco car that was speeding left and right, escaping like a pig charging forward.

Because of Reed's scheme, Ben Hengtong's mission was turned into a full-scale attack, resulting in heavy losses. The more he thought about it, the angrier Maine became. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was panting heavily. He wanted nothing more than to tear Reed to pieces and devour him alive. In addition, the excessive use of [Sandevistan] and the severe physical and mental exhaustion caused by his injuries had brought his sanity to the brink of zero. He saw everyone as Reed and was about to suddenly attack someone.

Fortunately, Dorio was there; she was in the best physical condition among the four who hid in the underground safe house in the abandoned oil town.

Seeing that Maine was about to have a seizure, a large needle from a livestock was inserted into Maine's body.

It's 2077 now, not 2075. After taking on so many jobs with Maine, a potential Cyberpsychosis patient, I'm experienced and know how to prevent it. The life-saving drug with paralysis effect knocked Maine out.

"You'd better be really dead, Reed."

Suppressing the throbbing pain in his nervous system, Maine picked up the glass beside him and gulped down a large glass of thick liquid laced with sedatives. His fierce expression made it seem as if he would never drink it again.

"Never mind that idiot, what about Rebecca, and Kiwi, Lucy?!"

His former humor had vanished. Lying on his sickbed, Pilar, with his long arms and legs, struggled to ask, his voice urgent.

"Pilar, calm down. It's all NCPD and Sheriff Arasaka outside right now!"

Dorio gave Maine another injection of immunosuppressant and spread the first-aid kit out on the folding table.

The tray was filled with bloodstains and removed bullet fragments.

She, who had been busy taking care of the wounded for several hours, scolded, "If you tear open the wound and cause complications, we won't be able to save you with our current resources."

As a former athlete with some nursing experience and knowledge of the human body, she often acts as a temporary medic, but of course, that's the limit of what she can do.

"So we're just going to sit here and wait? Are we just going to watch them die?!"

"Alright!"

Seeing Maine's face grow increasingly dark, Falco, who had been squatting nearby smoking to stay awake, slammed his remaining left arm against the wall and shouted, "Pilar, you think I don't want to go save her? Going out now is suicide! Didn't you see the news?! Even Vera Russell was alerted! Even if your sister dies, you can still get her share of the money! At least there's hope. If we all die, who will get Wells' money?!"

"So what if I die? I'm not afraid—"

"You think you can escape by dying? If you're going to die, shoot yourself in the head! Then blast your brains with a bomb! So they won't find anything in your head!"

"What do you know? That's my sister!"

"If you play the mercenary game, you have to face the consequences. Do I really need to teach you that?"

Despite his pained expression, Falco still stood firm in his role as the rational person the team needed most. Maine, on the other hand, mostly played the role of the patriarch and confidant of the team, more emotional than rational.

"..."

After a long silence, Pilar, who had struggled to straighten her thin upper body, lay back down, leaning weakly against the tattered sofa like a reed stalk. "I understand."

"Well."

Dorio patted Falco on the shoulder, who was playing the 'villain,' and sighed. She looked at Pilar, who was still cursing Arasaka and Niimi even after lying down, and handed her a bag of hot ramen. "To replenish your energy."

It's understandable that Pilar was frantic with worry after his younger sister, with whom he had relied on for many years, went missing; it was just that his concern clouded his judgment.

"I don't know how things are going with Mr. Wells. As for Pilar and you, with my limited skills in maintenance and care, it's simply not enough to properly treat you. We'll have to call Cybernetic Doctor."

Dorio looked at Falco.

"It's not appropriate right now."

Falco shook his head. "Wait."

He said, "According to the established plan, we wait for Jackie Welles to give us news. He's the only one we can trust now; he has connections in Arasaka... unless his backer is also dragged out and brought to justice by Vera because of the internal strife. As long as this matter is classified as a reasonable 'competition' within Arasaka, and the head of Wells' backer gets promoted... most importantly, if New America takes the blame, we'll be safe."

Dorio followed Falco's gaze to the television screen.

"Yes."

She murmured to herself.

Just like the post-mortem reflection, after completing the mission and getting a beating, they reviewed the robbery and murder from a different perspective.

Unfortunately, whether this plan succeeds or they can escape unscathed, no matter how you look at it, they are playing with fire. The decision is not in their hands at all, but in the hands of the television, and in the hands of that group of well-dressed 'beasts'. To be precise, it depends on how Arasaka defines this matter—whether he is a petty thief or an old rival, and whether other large corporations have reacted.

Thinking of this, Dorio cursed under his breath.

Damn it, Reed! Damn this world!

On TV.

Following the broadcast of the Night City Inquirer, there was a press conference from the Night City Arasaka Tower Foreign Ministry.

People came and went, media personnel gathered, greeted each other, expressed their regret for the murder of Director Abernathy, men were silent and women shed tears, making them seem like truly devout believers.

At the press conference, amidst a flurry of flashing lights, Vera slowly walked to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I must admit that today will be a tragic day in the history of Arasaka and the world. Someone has premeditatedly murdered our Director of Special Operations."

At the same time, in Washington.

The White House, the Oval Office in the West Wing.

The New America president, watching the press conference with annoyance, slammed a tablet displaying the Federal Intelligence Agency's operational logs onto the Resolute table.

"Useless! He betrayed my trust. I authorized him to make timely judgments and proactively accelerate the war's progress, yet he couldn't even manage to smuggle the 'goods' out? He let the duck that was almost in his grasp fly away, and even lost the newly established Night City intelligence network?"

232

Chapter 232 Vera's 'Hot War' Speech, and the Others—

"... The Federal Intelligence Agency's incompetence led to the failure of the operation, resulting in the loss of troops and the disgrace of the nation."

"The person responsible for this matter will be held accountable, and the matter will be investigated to the end."

Thump, thump. Sitting behind the rustic, sturdy teak table, Rosalind Miles tapped the surface heavily with her knuckles, her face ashen, her tone resolute as she definitively declared the defeat.

Tsk, what a terrible attempt to shift the blame.

The Night City intelligence network's operation was authorized by you at the time. Now that news of his death has just come back, the blame for the failure is being placed entirely on him. Is the Federal Intelligence Agency incompetent? This operation was inherently risky, and you, Miles, were one of the instigators and urgers at the time. Isn't saying this just an attempt to absolve yourself of responsibility, use this opportunity to purge political enemies, consolidate power, and further plant your own cronies within the Federal Intelligence Agency?

Several Federal Intelligence Agency officials were inwardly grumbling, but their words were a different story—respectful, with a bitter tone. "Yes, Your Excellency!"

"We will hold those responsible accountable, weed out the inferior and select the superior, and further improve the quality of our special agents to make full preparations for winning this operation against Arasaka! To win honor for our motherland."

Other White House advisors and staff, who were not directly involved, were preoccupied with their own affairs and ignored the words of the president and intelligence officials.

It's nothing unusual.

Keep the good things to yourself, share the bad things.

That's just basic political maneuvering.

President Miles's actions were simply a case of good intentions from above being executed poorly by those below.

After all, the goods they had obtained during "Operation Gift" seemed to be genuine; otherwise, Vera wouldn't have reacted so strongly, directly launching a hypersonic missile, willing to forgo the carefully prepared gift for Michiko Arasaka, just to wipe out the bandits along with their vehicle.

From this perspective, the president's decision was impeccable; he seized the fleeting opportunity and almost succeeded. It was just that the quality of our military agents was low, and their weapons were not sophisticated enough.

In short, Reed lost, but the president did not.

The press conference for Night City Arasaka Tower, broadcast on television, is still ongoing.

"To everyone who is troubled by the hypersonic missile launch, I sincerely hope you can understand the anger of a younger sister, a superior, and a person in charge at that time..."

As Vera delivered her eloquent speech, the camera cut to a split screen.

First, there's the Arasaka logo, then the exterior shots.

Badlands, crash site.

Under the illumination of the lights, sand and dust swirled in the Gobi Desert.

A group of NCPD detectives and Arasaka technical experts are working through the night to gather information from the firefight scene.

The scene was filled with criminal investigation equipment, including holographic imaging, laser pointers, and real-time visualization, which could directly input data into the subnet.

The bodies were photographed before being transported to the morgue, and now each location has been marked with a semi-transparent 3D holographic model.

Thin green streaks crisscrossed the air, connecting the two sides of the gunfight. Some bullets struck corpses, while others disappeared into the distance. Meanwhile, technical experts typed furiously on their terminals, calculating bullet trajectories and making real-time corrections.

There were also sliding images of the deceased next to it, covered with a thin layer of mosaic.

Even though the world has degenerated to this state, some kids who haven't even started elementary school have seen or even witnessed countless restricted scenes, but there are always some stubborn insistences, such as the idea that the bigger, more traditional, and more official a program is, the more conservative it is.

It seems that only in this way can they distinguish themselves from those sensationalist third-rate tabloids and maintain their own high-class image. This is in addition to the columns specifically for those seeking endless pleasure, entertainment, and excitement that the major newspapers themselves have.

The corpses that appeared, upon closer inspection, revealed that regardless of whether it was Arasaka in uniform or the attackers with their varied outfits, all points from which useful information could be extracted had been destroyed—their heads were cracked open, and their network storage units were burned by the Puppet Virus.

Until a mutilated corpse, vaguely recognizable as Black, with a large build, symmetrical prosthetic marks on its forehead where the skin had been burned off, and only its right arm and a few bent, severed fingers remained, slid across the television screen.

"That is..."

Song Zhaomei, the "nightingale" who had been sitting silently in the chair behind the resolute table, changed her expression slightly upon seeing this, revealing a very complicated look.

She recognized who it was.

Reed... your death was truly gruesome.

I thought we'd meet.

The others present may have only heard of him but never seen him. President Miles had seen him but secretly called him "dog" and referred to the awakening token as "dog whistle," never taking him seriously. But Song Zhaomei couldn't do that. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Reed was her mentor, a relationship that could be described as an experienced agent guiding a newcomer.

Even though she sometimes complained, and even hated Reed for dragging her into the bottomless abyss of the Federal Intelligence Agency, leaving her with no freedom from then on.

I wonder what her life would have been like if she hadn't accepted Reed's invitation in New York, hadn't been chosen by Miles, and hadn't stepped into the political vortex of Washington that she couldn't control.

However, it's true that Reed did her a favor, that he saved her multiple times when she was a rookie, and that she escaped Night City by backstabbing him at the end of the Metal War in 2069... Whether her feelings for Reed were hatred or something else, Song Zhaomei herself couldn't say for sure.

If Reed successfully gets the goods and returns to Washington, how should she deal with him?

This problem once troubled Song Zhaomei.

Now it's not necessary. It's fine to die on the road of serving one's country... to die on the road of fulfilling one's oath.

Seemingly unable to bear watching any longer, Song Zhaomei lowered her eyes.

"Okay, go down. Time is of the essence, so we need to be quick and report our progress to me regularly."

Miles's furrowed brows relaxed, and he glanced at his seemingly saddened 'beloved general,' his eyes narrowing slightly. He then rubbed his forehead and waved his hand, signaling the Federal Intelligence Agency agents to hurry up and carry out their orders after taking over the blame.

"Yes."

The group of people got up and left in a state of fear and trepidation.

The leather shoes made a very light sound as they stepped on the thick carpet, and the heavy, antique-style oak door opened and closed with a deep 'click'.

The rest are all close associates of the current White House administration.

For a moment, the only sounds in the office besides the staff smoking, rubbing, and drinking water were Vera's proud voice blaring from the television.

After the footage of the people from Arasaka pushing the stretcher to prepare the body for burial was finished, the camera cut back to the director and the screen was closed.

The press conference has now entered the media interaction and interview phase.

The question is now being asked by a reporter from News Channel 54.

The question was raised whether Arasaka was using this as an excuse to make a fuss, and whether this matter involved departmental infighting within Arasaka's department.

The camera zoomed in to show Vera's upper body.

The beautiful woman, with her long hair styled in a light gold bun and dressed in an elaborate, dark-colored Arasaka- style high-class uniform, placed her hand on the edge of the podium, looking down at the camera. Her indigo eyes were deep and cold. "... Overreaction? Excessive self-defense? I like your description."

"Defense is for self-preservation, and self-preservation inevitably infringes on the rights of some people. Is that clear enough?"

"I know that people all over the world are very simple and love peace."

"But the situation is different now. My men have died in someone else's war!!"

"This has once again shifted my primary consideration from development to confrontation."

Vera turned to the side and smiled faintly, "As for your talk of compromise? Taking a step back opens up a whole new world? Then why are they the ones advancing, and we the ones retreating? Are you saying that my men only lost their lives, but the world gained a generation of peace?"

Vera raised her voice and answered herself, pressing her left hand firmly against the table while raising her right hand with her index finger pointing straight at the camera. "Arasaka has the right to defend himself, and even more so, the right to demonstrate a responsible attitude towards his employees!"

"Therefore, I feel I have the right to speak on behalf of Arasaka and tell certain people that your war is completely useless!!"