Cyberpunk 2021

April 14, 2021. 20:40. Vancouver.

"The hell is 'Autumn Blade'?" I stop reading the document and turn to Wissen, confusion clear on my face. "Never heard of these guys before." Everyone knows the big corporations like Arasaka, Militech, and Kang Tao. They practically control everything related to weapons, but even the most advanced publicly announced weapons are just improved versions of older models. The mention of a railgun is something you'd only find in fictional media like movies or games. I stop crossing my legs and lean forward toward Wissen. "Are they legit?"

Wissen gives a brief, confident nod. I know better than to doubt his intelligence or his methods of acquiring information.

"I assure you, they're very real," Wissen says, pointing at the folder in my lap. "The pages you're holding contain everything I currently know. Take a closer look." Following his instruction, I move aside the page I'm on and turn to the next one. Each page was crisp, suggesting recent printing. A few coloured pictures of various news articles and videos detail a mysterious organization. Boogeyman? Internet horror story? Just a myth? The headlines dismiss the concept of Autumn Blade as if it were an urban legend. I put the page aside and look back.

"Okay, so a mysterious organization that people think is just a fun name to say around a campfire. Give me the short version—I'll read the rest in my spare time." I close the folder; I'm not one for reading long mission debriefings unless absolutely necessary. Thankfully, Wissen knows me well.

"Autumn Blade, for the past few years, has been a niche internet horror story. An organization that exists only on the darkest parts of the internet. They're a service that offers its skills to the highest-paying clients for either protection or assassination." 

"Big deal, bunch'a organizations already do that. They lend out elite bodyguards or small armies all the time." I shrug skeptically but keep my focus on him. "What makes these guys special?"

"What if I told you they also manufacture weapons, equipment, vehicles, and even implants on the same level as other major corporations?" I blink twice in rapid succession. "And the earliest mention of their existence was five years ago."

"Wait, how is that even possible? You're telling me a ghost company—that can compete with the big corpos—has only been around for five years?"

"That's the first mention of them based on my sources; it doesn't necessarily mean they've only been around for five years."

"Okay, but still—where are they getting their buyers or recruits? How the hell are they funding this operation and accessing such high-end technology?"

"As of right now, I'm in the dark on that too. I'm not sure how Autumn Blade recruits or makes contact, but I'd imagine it's an invitation-only network, maybe something on the dark web or through specific brokers who act as intermediaries." Wissen taps the side of his glass in contemplation. "Even my best agents have struggled to dig up any data on them."

"So even your best netrunners and local fixers have come up with nothing? No leads on the internet or on the ground?"

"Nothing. My netrunners have been trying to trace their presence online, but so far, they've had no luck. Any contacts I have across the globe know as much as we do. People who ask too many questions either hit a dead end or… go missing."

I shudder at the thought. I've had my fair share of missions go sideways, but it's never fun to track down missing people. "Alright, hard to track, and they're good at staying hidden. So, how did they even get discovered?"

"I suspect it to be intentional. They first surfaced in the East Asian black market, with local gangs getting their hands on Autumn Blade gear. Whenever we tried to trace a common vendor, that person would disappear."

"Alright, so what about the services they provide? Is it the same story—an unknown contact, and somehow word gets out that it's Autumn Blade?"

"Correct."

"Realistically, no company can rise to power that quickly without serious backing. I wouldn't be surprised if they have support from other organizations or even governments." 

"It's likely."

"So then what's up with this mission? You're not planning on flying me to China or something, are you?" Wissen pauses to refill his glass. He opens a new bottle of whiskey, and I fight the urge to ask for a glass as well.

"No, and that's the concerning bit. For the past few months, they've been spreading across the globe."

I tilt my head, surprise evident on my face. "Worldwide, huh?" A suspicion creeps into my mind. "Let me guess, they're here in Vancouver?"

"Correct again. Arasaka and Militech are especially on edge. The rumor of a new megacorporation capable of creating weapons on their level—or better—has been the talk in executive circles."

"So, you want me to prove if it's true?" I show Wissen the page with the words prototype railgun printed on it.

"No, we know it's real. There have been multiple reports worldwide that they've released it and have even provided live firing tests. What I need you to do is acquire one."

"Wait… what?"

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but there was a gang shootout in Richmond earlier tonight."

"Uh… I was gaming at the time." I laugh sheepishly. Wissen raises an amused eyebrow and takes a sip from his glass.

"A few street gangs in Vancouver have been informed they'll have a chance to buy a railgun. You can imagine the chaos that's stirred up."

"So you want me to take it from whoever ends up with it?"

"Yes. But you won't be doing it alone. You're my ace in a team of contracted aid. I'll introduce you to them."

At this point, the limousine passes through the dense suburban area and stops near a large, bustling shopping mall that I know well. People are coming and going in the vast parking lot, loading shopping bags into their cars or heading inside. The mall is an architectural behemoth, illuminated by neon lights and plastered with advertisements—a hub for shopping and entertainment, with multiple towers connected by a massive central building.

The limo maneuvers past the main area and heads toward a dimly lit section near an alley, where I spot two people waiting. One is a tanned man with a mullet and a partially open vest, revealing a toned physique covered in tattoos: anchors, sharks, and other aquatic themes. Seems like someone that's comfortable in his skin. He's got the build of a brawler but doesn't look like a merc. The other is a pale woman with long white hair tucked under a green beanie, dressed in baggy, functional streetwear. She wears a cropped top, light jacket, and cargo pants, giving her a casual yet practical look. Skinny and casually dressed. She doesn't seem like much of a fighter, she's probably the brains. 

Wissen notices my gaze. "Two of your teammates. You'll have a few more later." I turn back to look at him.

"Where are the others?" Wissen's eyes glow blue, and a faint whirr fills the air as a polished metallic arm extends from the red velvet. The arm takes his glass as the door swings open and he steps out. 

"They're on the way," he says, gesturing for me to exit. The door on my side opens. "Come."

I step out, careful to avoid puddles on the wet concrete as we approach the two figures. The alley is shadowed, lit only by a flickering streetlight at the corner. The figures of my teammates are casted in stark, shifting shadows. The girl with white hair waves energetically, speaking in a playful, expressive tone. "Heyyy! Name's Shock." Her grin is wide and bright, matching her energy, and her nails flash a holographic sheen of purple and blue. "Nice to meet you." 

"Hello." I smile back at them. "I'm Artemis. Pleasure to work with you." The man nods at me with a laid-back attitude. 

"Tetra. How's it going?" He extends his hand for a handshake. I raise an eyebrow out of surprise; I rarely see someone do such a thing. I accept Tetra's incoming handshake, noting his firm grip.

Wissen clears his throat and appears on my side.

"Tetra, Shock—this is the solo I mentioned. She's a trusted gun-for-hire and will be additional support for your team." Tetra and Shock nod in acknowledgment. Just then, the door behind us swings open, and two more people step out, both in formal attire but with distinct styles. 

The first is a European man with a fair-skinned neck covered in tattoos and slicked-back hair. His sharp features and dark, sunken eyes belong to someone seasoned in the art of killing. He has a cold, serious demeanor and wears black gloves, stained with blood. Piercings and necklaces featuring crosses and skulls suggest a religious streak. A religious man who has no problem getting his hands dirty. Interesting. The other one wears a strange motorcycle helmet that completely covers their face, with a large trench coat draped over their suit and tie. The helmet itself has a visor that reflects the surrounding lights in a warped, indistinct way, obscuring any hint of identity beneath the metallic gleam. Height and build especially seem to blend in with the clothing, as if they don't want anyone to pay attention. Wissen turns to look at them and smiles politely in their direction. 

"Artemis, meet Dante and Mister," he introduces them. Dante, the man with sunken eyes, nods.

"Pleasure to meet you, Artemis," Dante says, then shakes Wissen's hand. The one with the motorcycle helmet looks directly at me. When they speak, it's a male voice, but heavily filtered by vocal edits produced by the helmet.

"Good evening, Artemis." He speaks with a calm demeanor, but his voice is so heavily distorted that it takes me a second to process it.

"A-Ah, pleasure to meet you both." I slightly dip my head in acknowledgment. Wissen and Dante enter into a conversation shortly after.

"I assume the others are arriving?" Dante looks at Wissen while removing his bloody gloves. Wissen's eyes brighten as he talks to Dante.

"They'll be here shortly. While we wait, I'll introduce each of them." Wissen turns to point at me. "Artemis will be your solo—her skills and reflexes are some of the best that Canada has to offer." I smile but keep my hands at my sides.

Dante nods with approval, and then Wissen points to Tetra. "Tetra is a nomad from the Thelas nation. His connection to his international family will be a useful asset, as well as his experience as a physical laborer." Oh, I see. So he's a nomad. That explains his look. Tetra crosses his arms. Wissen continues with the introductions.

"Shock, your netrunner," Wissen says, turning to look at the rest of us. "She's Dante's sister, by the way." They do NOT look related. What the hell. I blink twice in surprise, and Shock does a theatrical bow with a smile. 

"Mister, the local fixer of Vancouver. His anonymity is his greatest strength." Mister gives a quick nod in response. I then hear the faint sound of a motorcycle approaching from some distant streets. The revving of the bike catches my attention. Whoever's on that thing must be having fun. I notice a faint figure approaching us in the alleyway. Nobody else seems to notice them. The faint sound of their steps and silhouette in the night become a noticeable speck that I easily focus on. 

"As for the remaining two. The local techie—" Before Wissen can continue, the sound of the motorcycle gets closer, and my head snaps to the other end of the alley. The rest of us turn to see an incoming bike. Is that a Kawasaki? I watch as a lone figure in a racing jacket and jeans on a black motorcycle comes to a stop near Wissen's limousine. They rip off a black helmet and set it on their bike, revealing a young man with snow-white hair and icy blue eyes. Who the hell? His features are almost angelic, with a combination of sharp and soft lines in his nose and jawline that hint at both Asian and Caucasian heritage. He raises his hand in a casual wave. 

"Yo." I raise an eyebrow but then turn back to look at the faint figure approaching us, taking in her appearance. 

A pale Asian woman with dark hair, cut into a bob with short bangs, and styled into two small buns on top. She wears a confident, lopsided grin that makes her seem carefree and spirited. Her outfit is dark and minimal: a sleek turtleneck with simple pleated pants. Her steps are deliberate, with a slight swagger that exudes self-assurance, as if she owns the space around her. She winks at me and walks closer until the sound of her footsteps and voice draws the attention of the rest of the gang. 

"Hope I wasn't too late. I came here as fast as I could." Wissen turns to look at the woman and the man before continuing.

"As I was saying," he points at the woman, "Azure, one of the best techies in the city." At this point, Azure joins us, standing just a bit behind me. Wissen then turns to point at the young man by the bike. "And that is Remi, the rising star of Vancouver, a real rocker." My jaw drops. That kid is a local CELEBRITY? Memories flash before my eyes of scrolling past trending headlines about a 21-year-old gaining prominence on social media. I was still fumbling around university at that age, but, to be fair, I'm a 26-year-old model and assassin now.

Wissen turns back to look at Dante and gestures to the collective of us.

"And this is your team of edgerunners for tonight."