Cyberpunk: Infinite Progress Begins with Arasaka

"After the incident, over ten media outlets interviewed the unnamed superiors, colleagues, and neighbors of NUSA Federal Intelligence Agency senior agent Mendoza Laurie."

"One superior said: 'My subordinate had a heart of gold. What happened to him was a tragedy.'"

"A colleague stated: 'Mendoza suffered from severe mental illness. Losing comrade after comrade—like losing family—nearly drove him mad with PTSD. But he loved his job, his teammates, and his country.' This colleague added, 'Two days before the incident, I reserved a hospital bed for Mendoza in Washington and was preparing to send him for treatment.'"

"Lastly, a close friend of Mendoza's from the FIA training base in Quantico, Virginia, remarked: 'He was a kind-hearted guy—a little too kind, maybe—a big kid who liked to talk to people... Sure, Mendoza attacking the Arasaka diplomatic delegation was wrong, but can we really say that Arasaka, that Miss Vela Adelheid, with her aggressive posture, is entirely blameless?'"

For the entirety of April 2076, the North American press focused on a single issue: the East-West Confrontation sparked by the Mendoza Laurie assault incident at the US-Mexico border.

The ongoing media war between Arasaka and Militech, the blame-shifting between Free States regional parties and Washington, and the emerging Barghest Mercenary Group openly challenging industry veteran Lazarus...

Bang!

"Damn it, the op's a bust! Fall back—"

"Going somewhere?"

A raspy, metallic voice cut through the ceiling. With a thunderous crash, the wall shattered, and concrete shards exploded like buckshot across the room, corridor, and roof.

"Oh shit!" Inside the building, over a dozen street-thug-dressed but heavily armed FIA agents stared at the blood-soaked steel juggernaut that emerged from the breach.

The battlefield legend, the meat grinder—Adam Smasher!

Ratatat! Boom boom boom—!

Instantly, waves of gunfire surged forth: hackers, shotguns, large-caliber rounds, anti-materiel EM tungsten penetrators, smart bullets, micro-rockets—all launched at once in a desperate barrage against the charging colossus.

Rounds bounced off Adam Smasher's tank-grade exoskeleton, leaving only tiny iron-flecked scratches.

"Pathetic!" he growled. At the same time, he hit the activation on his handheld black case. With a hiss of vented pressure, he charged forward like a steamroller, slamming into two just-activated portable gun turrets, mangling them completely.

With one brutal shoulder check, he sent a sniper-wielding agent flying into the wall.

Clang!

Flesh and metal burst in a spray, debris raining down. The entire floor seemed to shake, fractures spider-webbing out from the impact. Rubble crumbled in cascades. That shoulder slam—pure brute force—rendered even subdermal armor and titanium-reinforced bones meaningless.

"Retreat!" One FIA agent, veins bulging in panic, issued the order while slamming a detonator.

BOOM—

Pre-planted high-yield explosives and EMP charges detonated within the building.

As orange-red fire lit the space, whoosh whoosh whoosh!

One by one, the 'street kid' agents made their escape.

Through the eyes of a Sandevistan user, the world slowed to a crawl. His full potential—reflexes, perception, coordination—was pushed to the limit by the elite active OS cyberware. He and his comrades streaked out like motion-blurred phantoms.

But—

Someone was faster.

Bang bang bang bang...

Like a timeline in video editing software showing stretched and overlaid motion frames, the terrifying silhouette of the steel cyborg surged forward.

Faster. Stronger. More relentless.

"Sandevistan. Is this basic implant really your last resort? You call this confrontation the second meat grinder against the Free States separatists. But baby, you're the meat. I'm the grinder."

Holding a heavy metal warhammer that pulsed ominously and bled a crimson mist, Adam Smasher spoke with unnerving patience—like he'd hit the jackpot.

Then his patience ran out.

With a shriek that tore through the air, he swung the hammer. The weapon's head bristled with layered, churning chainsaw teeth that spun with feral speed. Shrrriiip—!

The colossal strike nearly crushed a titanium-reinforced exoskeleton on impact. Then came the grind: synthetic flesh, skin, artificial muscle, wiring, and electronics were all shredded by the chainteeth in a grotesque whir of destruction.

The unlucky one on the receiving end burst like a rotting melon or a bruised fruit splitting open.

"Hahahaha... Come on, baby, let's grind!"

In crude, savage, and cold-blooded laughter, one cyberized body after another was ripped to shreds.

The last of the 'street punks' tried to leap from the window—only to be smashed mid-air against a glowing holo-billboard by the swinging warhammer. The fireball from the detonation finally rolled through the floor, BOOM!!

Smoke and flames surged skyward, windows in nearby buildings exploded outward.

Thud! A heavy mass hit the ground. Pink, wet entrails and blood splattered against the walls and Adam Smasher's armored frame.

He walked slowly, dragging the blood-soaked hammer in his right hand. It squirmed and pulsated like a living thing, complete with pulsing vessels.

The air was thick with burning debris. Blood, shattered implants, and scorched flesh were scattered everywhere.

"Not bad for a prototype... Biotech module Quinque 'Dōjima,' huh."

Adam Smasher looked at the glowing blood-red hammer in his hand.

He shook off chunks of flesh clinging to its thick head and examined the slightly cracked frame and missing teeth from the chainsaw. He weighed it briefly. "Stealthy and portable, but too light. Chainsaw durability is lacking..."

In his crimson cyber-eyes, data streams flickered.

[Reporting Agent: Adam Smasher]

[Recipient: Vela Adelheid Russell]

[Report: 'Quinque' Live Combat Data and Suggested Modifications]

Famed battlefield butcher or not, reports still had to be filed.

"They've retreated," he muttered.

After clearing the NUSA assassination squad from the building, Adam gazed toward a distant high-rise.

His high-precision tactical optical implants zoomed and focused.

He could see clearly—small squads of 'street punks' were retreating in tight tactical formations. Smooth. Fast. With coordinated vehicle exfil. By the time he reached them, they'd be gone. He could pursue—but this was a protection assignment, not a termination op.

Adam Smasher turned around and faced his charge.

Barghest's recruitment center in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Onstage, stepping out from behind the Cyber Tyrants, Kurt Hansen looked unfazed. To supporters and sympathizers startled by the sudden explosions, he offered a casual shrug.

"See, sometimes life's just funny like that. Break up with her, and she's head over heels in love. Every minute of every day, just dying to love me to death."

As Hansen quipped, the Cyber Tyrants beside him disengaged their magnetic fields.

Bullets clattered down onto the roughly welded steel stage with ding ding clang.

Among the crowd, exposed plainclothes Arasaka agents and Barghest security were dragging out several bloodied corpses.

These had been the suicide assassins aiming to take Hansen out up close. But Arasaka's security detail proved, yet again, why they were the global No.1 in this field—even Militech had to admit it.

Among them, several plainclothes Arasaka agents wielding silver-white cases—transforming into katana-like blades and metallic umbrella-shaped gear—stood out especially.

Hansen couldn't help but glance from the corner of his eye at the Arasaka case-carriers standing near the Cyber Tyrants, ever-vigilant.

Just moments ago, when gunfire rang out and Adam Smasher moved, it was one of those case-carriers who reacted first, unfolding a metallic umbrella-like shield from the case to block a close-range shot aimed at Hansen.

Quinque.

Hansen repeated the name silently in his mind.

Another of her creations? No wonder the old Arasaka emperor Saburo valued her so highly as the chief director of the "Sonnentreppe Project."

Such talent…

Once more, Hansen reaffirmed his commitment to a long-term partnership with Vela.

To deserve it, he would need to deliver an even better answer.

He lifted his head and looked hundreds of meters ahead—toward the New United States federal law enforcement headquarters in Santa Fe.

Apparently, a fire had broken out earlier due to unrest. Several parts of the fourth and fifth floors were burned and collapsed.

Outside the building, scorched patches from Molotovs and bullet-riddled walls were visible.

The ground still bore traces of fresh blood from earlier clashes.

Police sirens howled. Rows of ambulances stood by as bodies were carried out in body bags.

Lazarus mercenaries and federal agents now stood in a tense standoff with Barghest's forces, guns leveled. Meanwhile, local police and SWAT—controlled by the regional party—played the role of peacekeepers, though their bias toward Barghest was obvious.

Initially, Lazarus held the advantage in this city.

But then Hansen arrived.

And with him, his ordered Arasaka security detail: Adam Smasher and the Cyber Tyrant unit. The situation flipped instantly. With Smasher's deterrence and the Tyrants backing him, Lazarus halted their riot suppression offensive.

Hansen's eyes flickered with data.

The giant holographic screen behind the stage synced with his figure and magnified it. Using the broadcast, his speech was transmitted well beyond visual range.

"Hey, friends of Lazarus. I don't think I need to introduce myself. Kurt Hansen. Like many of you, a NUSA veteran. Except I wasn't honorably discharged—I was discarded by the esteemed Rosalind Myers."

"Look around. Has Myers sent you any real backup? No. You've been abandoned, just like I was six years ago. Pathetic, tragic, and laughable..."

...

"Look at that traitor spewing bullshit again," muttered a Lazarus merc officer, watching Hansen's projection flare to life. "Talks smoother than a porn actor. What's he now—Arasaka's lapdog? Or did his silver tongue just make Vela Adelheid cum real nice?"

"Fucking outrageous. He's recruiting right in front of us. We just stand here and watch?"

"What else? You want to go up against Adam Smasher? Shut it."

Another Lazarus officer crossed his arms, face complex.

"We're this passive now... because let's face it—after the Unification War, Washington does owe Hansen an explanation."

He knew Hansen. More precisely, he knew Colonel Hansen—six years ago.

Just like how they were technically hired by Santa Fe's city hall, and Barghest was supposedly hired by the opposition party. Everyone knew who the real puppeteers were. Though the violence nearly tore them apart, both sides hadn't yet torn off the mask of civility.

That's politics—the art of blatant lies told with a straight face.

Still, even now, the way things were unfolding had insiders in Lazarus and the Intelligence Agency feeling like they were sitting on pins and needles.

Barghest's growth was too fast.

Breaking free from Dogtown's shackles, whitewashed from a gang into a company officially registered in Night City, backed by Arasaka and SovOil's "humanitarian" aid, and with Kurt Hansen's iconic presence, Barghest absorbed disillusioned veterans from the last West Coast war—those who hated Washington and Myers. Well-equipped and organized, they only needed time to gel before becoming a frontline force.

Lazarus didn't have a clear edge anymore.

"Another failure from the Intelligence guys. Arasaka's going all in on him—even sent Adam Smasher."

"Fuck! What the hell is Washington waiting for? If the opposition stirs up more mobs to storm the compound, will they authorize live ammo or not—dammit!"

Before the words even settled—whoooosh!

There they came again. Behind Barghest's mercenaries, a new surge of shouting rose.

Freshly regrouped, Santa Fe citizens raised banners reading "Stop Myers" and "Independence & Sovereignty" and surged toward the standoff.

The Lazarus officer's face turned grim.

The opposition crowd was only growing—and their own pro-Washington civilian support was weak.

Was Arasaka focusing its attention on New Mexico and Arizona?

He couldn't be sure.

After long thought—balancing orders and survival—he made his call.

"Request reinforcements from Washington HQ."

...

Elsewhere in Night City, Vela remained composed as ever.

She was touring Arasaka's new research district construction site with Deputy Mayor Wilton Holt, top engineering execs, and shrewd investors.

Fights were one thing, chaos another—but Vela never believed scheming and dirty tricks alone won wars. Arrogance must be grounded in strength. To outmaneuver others, she first had to strengthen herself.

Building and creating value—that was her fundamental strategy.

Everything else was in service to that.

"'Pig,' finally stirred, huh."

At the district's best observation point, Vela stood with her hands behind her back. Her indigo eyes flickered with the data glow from broadcast feeds. Her lips curled into an ambiguous, half-smile.

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