It's About Saving Yourself Ch 19

Oof, sorry for being kinda late. Wrote about a third of the chapter during the week, between way too much damn work. And the rest yesterday and today.

Still. I like how it came out. And I think you lot will enjoy it too.

Now, this chapter is certainly different from what I've done before. But I think it was necessary to show Alex's growth. In-setting, I mean.

You'll see what I mean. Hope you enjoy it and please drop me a comment!

Also, any advice you have on an artist that might take a commission to make cover page art for this story. I still think that'll be pretty fun.

=][=

Sebastian Ibarra suppressed his desire to sigh. The Coyote Cojo was far more subdued than usual, there was a palpable tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Madam Welles had already threatened all of the boys with her chancla, keeping them all in line. The presence of her hulking son, Jackie, and his glare, helped secure the peace.

All that tension was directed at one man, sitting at the bar, not touching the glass of tequila he ordered. The skull-masked man seemingly unbothered by the hostility his presence engendered, as if he knew beyond the shadow of all doubt that the Lord was on his side, and thus he was untouchable.

Alexander Martinez. The scourge of the Animals. Morgan Blackhand’s Bloodthirsty Grandson.

Redeye.

Most would be surprised to learn he was but a boy who had yet to reach his eighteenth birthday. Achieving in months what many spent years attempting, and more often than not, failing.

Ibarra had known him to be a levelheaded and polite young man, a hard worker, a family man. Dependable and canny.

He was old enough to remember Morgan Blackhand, and the young man’s modus operandi was more similar than not to the Legendary Solo’s. He could only wonder what had caused the senseless killing of Luiz Sanchez.

No, Ibarra knew. The boy had made it no secret. He had agreed to pay the Valentinos’ protection fees, made a verbal agreement not to harm the prospects of the gang so long as he lived in its territory. His one demand had been that none in the gang touched his family.

So long as he abided by his agreement, the Valentinos had agreed that his family was sacrosanct, the gang’s operations would not touch them.

Little Luiz, a young man of an age with Alexander, had not been in the Valentinos, not yet. His gang of hoodlums was a poser gang, but it was no secret that they would join the fold eventually.

Luiz had died for failing to abide by the terms of a covenant he’d had no way of knowing he was subject to. The punishment for the breaking of that covenant, far harsher than any had thought.

In truth, his death did not matter. What mattered was how public it had been, Alexander’s actions, his brazen taking of a life in Valentinos territory, this is what could not be allowed.

Thankfully, the young man understood. He’d contacted Ibarra, came clean with his transgression, and asked Ibarra to set up a meeting with whoever he had slighted so they could discuss reparations.

Still, even though the young man had a solid head on his shoulders, the situation was delicate. Alexander’s reputation spoke for itself. The best estimates were that he had singlehandedly decimated the Animals two times over.

The Valentinos couldn’t afford to make an enemy of him. But neither could they let him run roughshod over them. This is why his willingness to admit fault and give face were a Godsend.

Gustavo, Zoe, and Miguel had come for the negotiations, and they’d corresponded with the leader of the gang, Gustavo’s father, Campo Orta.

They’d asked Ibarra’s opinion and settled on a plan. One that would benefit them; it would allow the gang to regain its lost prestige and would see their relations with a powerful and dangerous mercenary not degenerate any further.

As the three highest members of the Valentinos nodded, Ibarra flicked a message at Alexander. Who rose immediately from the bar and made his way to their table. His back straight and his gait sure. He certainly did not look the part of the typical supplicant, but it would do.

“Please, Redeye, take a seat.” Ibarra said, gesturing at one of the chairs.

Alexander sat, clasping his hands together at the table.

“Gentlemen, lady.” He said, nodding to each of them in turn. “Let us cut to the chase, I feel I have transgressed and would like to provide reparations.”

“Transgressed is putting it lightly!” Miguel groused, leaning forward aggressively. “To so callously kill one of ours? We were waiting for him to ripen, all that investment, now up in smoke!”

Sebastian felt a bead of sweat form on his brow. That was a little aggressive, but within the bounds of what had been agreed to. The Valentinos couldn’t just accept Alexander’s apology, it would make them look callus and weak.

Gustavo leaned forward, placing his hand on Miguel’s shoulder and spoke in a placating tone. “Calmado güey, calmado. Mister Redeye, I understand that we too are partially at fault. None who should have known better thought of informing Luiz of your…colleagues’ status. But please understand, a life was callously taken, monetary compensation will not be enough.”

Alexander nodded. “What must I do for you to consider the matter settled?”

Zoe, the council’s one female member, leaned forward, tilting aside a delicate decorative scarf. “You took the life of one of ours; to make up for this, you will return those who have been stolen from us. We protect our territory as best we can but cannot be everywhere. In penitence, you will find and return to us those who have been kidnapped by rival gangs, and you will punish those who took them, publicly and without mercy.” She presented Alexander with a shard that held the deets that Ibarra had painstakingly compiled. “Do this for us, and you will be absolved.”

And then, right as Sebastian was getting ready to thank the Almighty for His aid and wisdom, the thing Sebastian feared most happened.

Miguel went off-script.

He leaned forward and slammed a hand down on the table. “And in case you get ideas, remember that we know where your associates stay!”

This time, Sebastian was unable to stop himself closing his eyes and hissing out a breath.

Fortunately, Miguel did not die, as Sebastian had feared would happen.

No, what happened was much worse.

Alexander’s right eye glowed red, set in an imposing green skull. An infantile trick, but one that sparked fear in the deepest recesses of Sebastian’s soul. An atavism left over from the time Man feared the things in the dark that were not each other.

Alexander leaned toward Miguel, and began speaking in a cold, detached tone. “Hector Rodriguez, Maria Rodriguez. Annabelle Rodriguez.”

He continued, naming not only Miguel’s parents and his wife, but his wife’s parents, his brothers and sisters, his wife’s brothers. His children, his grandchildren, his cousins and nephews.

In a bored, detached tone, Alexander Martinez named every single person who carried a drop of Miguel’s blood. As well as their family and friends.

Then, as Miguel was trembling with fury. Alexander said one more name that stopped Miguel in his tracks.

“And let’s not forget little Carlita, living with her mother in the prestigious Japantown Apartments in Holly and Floyd Street.” He said, naming not only Miguel’s mistress who he truly, deeply loved but the illegitimate daughter whom he saw as living proof of said love, and most worryingly, her location, a secret even Sebastian had not been privy to.

Miguel sat white as a sheet. And paled further when Redeye was suddenly behind him, the fingers of his Chrome hand sinking into Miguel’s shoulder.

Redeye leaned down until he could growl into Miguel’s ear. His voice clipped, dripping with venom and a promise. “Do. Not. Play. This. Game. With. Me.”

As every Valentino in the room got ready to fight, and in all likelihood, die. Sebastian did the very same thing Miguel did and went off script.

He cleared his throat loudly and lied to their audience. “Redeye, please, forgive Miguel, the boy you killed, he was a close friend of one of his children. It was grief which made him speak and spit upon the terms of your agreement.”

The glowing skull turned to regard him, staring soullessly but for its malevolent, cyclopean eye. And Sebastian knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that Redeye knew he was lying.

“I see. I, of all people, understand grief making a man do unreasonable things.” Redeye stated. Clenching his hand and making Miguel grunt, before letting go, his fingers coming out with a worryingly wet squelching/sucking sound and red to the second knuckle. “I apologize, I did not mean to show a man of the cloth such an unseemly sight. If you will excuse me, Padre, I have some people to rescue.”

Without another word, he strode out, leaving a small trail of Miguel’s blood, all the Valentino boys wisely stepping out of his way. Sebastian held his breath until the normally unflappable young man left, then exhaled, his shoulders sagging as the danger passed.

Zoe slapped the side of Miguel’s head with a curse. “We agreed we weren’t gonna threaten his family, pendejo!”

=][=

Okada Wakako blinked as her Agent informed her of the incoming call. Young Alexander was calling, not unwelcome, but certainly unusual.

She answered the call, an image of the young man in his Edgerunning outfit appearing in her HUD. “Redeye, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

[Missus Okada.] Redeye said, the boy’s politeness a nice change of pace to the brutes, thugs, and self-deluded buffoons she normally dealt with. [I am sorry to say, I have unpleasant business to discuss.]

“Oh?”

[The Tyger Claws operation on the Ho-Oh (鳳凰) Club, in Watson, Kabuki.] He said. Wakako knew of it, a casino with a side business of human trafficking, prostitution, and XBDs. Led by one Shobo Jotaro. A depraved thug and a long-time thorn in her side. Too blunt an instrument to use effectively, too profitable to merely be ‘disappeared.’ Redeye continued. [I am sorry to say, I will be ending that operation.]

“I see.” Wakako murmured, showing no reaction. “Why do you come to me with this information?”

[So you can get your people out, missus Okada.] Redeye stated, no frills or bullshit, as usual. [Any member of the Tyger Claws who is there when I arrive? Their life is forfeit. This will be neither silent, nor bloodless by client demand. I would hate for this necessity to sour our business relationship.]

That made sense, Redeye was not one to delight in senseless slaughter. So long as one wasn’t a member of the Animals, anyway. But who cared about the lives of those degenerates?

“I see.” Wakako said, tapping her chin. In truth, she would be loath to lose Redeye’s services. The boy was solid, with the rare capability to be either a scalpel or a sledgehammer as the situation called for.

Clearly, someone had hired the sledgehammer.

There were some good boys and girls caught up on Shobo’s charisma, just like there were some bad ones in other operations. This could be an opportunity to prune away some of the more troublesome members of the organization. Now, how to spin this…

“Many thanks for the warning, Redeye.” Wakako said slowly. “How long do I have before hostilities begin?”

So, the attack was imminent, and he remembered at the last second to call her. Sounds about right, as smart as that boy was, his mind had a tendency to both wander and be hyper focused on odd details.

“Could you give me four hours?”

He remained quiet for a long few seconds before shaking his head. [My apologies, missus Okada, that is not possible. I can, however, give you two.]

Not ideal, but she could make it work. “Very well, two hours. Many thanks, Redeye.”

He nodded. [Once again, my most sincere apologies, missus Okada.]

“All is well between us. We will speak later.”

On her HUD, Redeye nodded a final time, then his image vanished as the call ended.

Yes, a very thoughtful and polite young man. The world would be better if there were more like him around. Her life, at least, would be significantly less stressful. She’d need to call him back, check up on his health after whatever job this was. She had a delicate operation she needed handled, and Redeye never turned down a lucrative gig for his crew.

But first.

She pulled up her contact list, marked the ones that worked in Alexander’s target location, and picked the three most promising ones to save from Redeye’s coming rampage.

=][=

Ana Orteña flinched as what sounded like an explosion joined the gunfire and screams from above.

She, and the others she’d gotten to know over the last few days, trapped as they were in the tiny concrete room. Four of her five companions were young women, much like herself, but there was the one boy who, at any other time, she would be jealous and angry because he was way prettier than she was.

“That’s a lot of gunfire.” Said Tsutsumi, one of the girls, a niña rica who attended Arasaka academy. Sure, she said she wasn’t from a well-off family, but she was a corpo rat through and through. “An Arasaka retrieval team is finally here!”

Ana sighed. With all the shouting and the screaming? It was probably a gang war. Still, she didn’t pop the girl’s bubble.

A part of her dared to hope Tsutsumi was, against all odds, correct. But with her luck, it was probably Maelstrom.

The gunfire fell away, except for the occasional shots, always two in quick succession.

No…double taps. Someone upstairs was executing survivors. Ana felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Most gangsters would not bother executing those who were out of the fight. Maybe Tsutsumi was correct after all.

They all remained quiet, then flinched when they heard a muffled. “You fucker!” Followed by a grunt.

A woman’s shrieks got steadily louder, until the door shuddered as something was slammed hard into it. The same woman who shouted earlier going into a tirade about exactly what she would do to the balls of whoever was throwing her around.

A tirade that was cut off by a blood-curling scream, followed by whimpers.

The door to the cell beeped and slid open. Revealing a fucking huge man in black and grey military gear with weirdly reflective stripes. Ana swallowed when she saw a glowing green skull with a malevolent red eye glaring at her as he surveyed the room.

“Oh my God…that’s Redeye.” A high voice said in sheer awe.

Ana blinked and turned to look at the pretty boy in shock. That was the first time she’d heard him speak. And of all the things that her brain could have gotten caught up in, it chose to zero in on the fact that his voice was prettier than hers too!

“Out.”

Ana turned forward again so fast her neck creaked. The skull man, Redeye, had ordered them out. He turned around, dragging something with his right hand, and she saw the blonde woman in charge of the gangsters that had kept them penned in like animals. He was dragging her up the stairs by the hair, ignoring her weak punches to his sides.

One of her legs had several more bends than it should, the other ended a little above the knee, the meat of her leg torn into ez-beef.

In the short glimpse Ana had taken of the woman’s face, she realized Redeye had torn her eyelids off. The red smear on the biometrics-scanner by the door revealed the reason why. But it still made her shudder in revulsion and fear.

Tsutsumi led the way up the stairs, that girl needed to learn some careful restraint before she got herself killed.

When Ana reached the surface, she gasped in shock and horror.

The ground was a quagmire of blood and shredded meat. Ana did not know how many people had died, but there were a lot. One of the girls, or maybe the pretty boy, retched somewhere behind her.

“Where is the rest of the retrieval team?” Tsutsumi eventually asked the big, heavily armed, masked man.

“Came alone.” He tossed the woman, the badass leader of the huge group of 6th Streeter lowlifes, to the ground and stepped on her back to keep her still. She didn’t get much chance to wriggle before he drew a big, unadorned, black pistol and shot her twice in the back of the head, the thunderous shots making them all flinch, the sudden ringing in Ana’s ears not quite drowning out the hissing of the spent brass as it fell into the bloody mud. “Ana Orteña.”

Ana jumped as he called her name.

“A car will arrive in one minute twenty seconds.” He said as he put the gun away. “It will take you home.”

Ana was speechless.

Someone had hired the big scary Edgerunner to rescue her?

“Wait…but…wh-what about the rest of us?” Tsutsumi asked, her eyes wide and her voice trembling.

Redeye turned to the niña rica, shrugged and started walking. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Wha? H-Hey! That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair.” Redeye shot over his shoulder, then ignored any other calls for him to return.

A minute later, her mom showed up on her beaten up old Thorton, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

She kept the presence of mind to bundle the corpo rat and the pretty-boy in the back. Hopefully they’d be able to get a few eddies for providing a safe place for the niña rica to be picked up by her family.

As for the pretty-boy…well, what true-blooded Valentina would say no to her very own femboy?

=][=

Big Boom couldn’t fucking believe he was stuck guarding the fucking door of the Totentanz like the two gonks next to him. He was Big Boom! Far too fucking preem to slum it with these fuckheads!

It wouldn’t be so bad if only something interesting happened, but so far? Nothing, zilch, fuckall, nada. Tinnitus, the official Maelstom band, was putting out Nova fuckin’ tunes, real good shit, the shit that vibrated the reinforcement in his skeleton at a frequency where it hurt just right.

And he was stuck outside. Guarding the door. From dumbasses too fucking cowardly to try anything at the heart of Maelstrom’s power.

He was so fucking bored.

Bored bored.

Bored bored bored bored.

BORED!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—

Oh hey, a skull-faced gonk walked in. Big Boom remembered something about that. It niggled something in his memory, something to do with his Brothers in Chrome and weird disappearances.

Big Bore walked forward. “You! I remember you you fuckface! You’re the fuck that killed Strong Terry!”

Big Boom would blink if he could, but he’d long replaced his meat eyeballs with Superior Chrome. This tiny ‘ganic fuck killed Strong Terry? Impossible! Strong Terry never skipped leg day!

He had also been five hundred pounds of chrome and muscle enhancements, rumor had it he was an Animal before he heeded the call of Superior Chrome.

‘Ganic Skull-Fuck-Face stopped in front of Big Bore and spoke so softly Big Boom could barely hear him over the noise that Tinnitus was putting out. “Step out of my way or suffer the consequences.”

Big Boom stepped forward, drawing his pistol. The gun was the biggest fuckoff gun with the biggest fuckoff round he could find. It was a revolver, because revolvers are cool. Big Bore and Rusty were not far behind.

Big Boom spat. “You think you can just show up and make dem—” was as far as he got before his own arm shoved the barrel of his revolver in his mouth and cocked back the hammer.

What.

And he could not stress this enough.

He cast his camera cluster in the direction of Big Bore and Rusty in desperation and saw that the two of them were in the same predicament. Rusty pointing his gun at a point in his skull, because he didn’t have a mouth anymore.

Impossible! Their cyber-ware used Maelstrom’s Raven Control Ware! Its ICE was way too good for some random fuckface to hack that quickly! Especially three of them at the same time!

Besides! This fucker wasn’t a Netrunner! Netrunners didn’t dress like a Solo! Or, looking at his guns, pack that much heat!

It was like that horror movie! The AI Uprising had begun! This fucker was their Herald!

Before Big Boom could swear his undying allegiance to the Daemonic Digital Overlords, Skullface spoke.

“Say, nothing. Listen, with utmost care.” He said, and though Big Boom could not exactly talk while being forced to give his gun a blowjob, he upped the gain in his audio receptors as instructed. “Members of your gang kidnapped some people; I have been sent to retrieve them. I am prepared to provide your gang with monetary compensation in exchange for their safe return. I sincerely do not care how many of you must die for me to achieve this, though I would prefer a minimum of bloodshed. I’ve killed more than enough people today; I am frankly tired of it. You will take me to your boss so I can negotiate. If you do not, your hands will squeeze the trigger of your gun and blow your brains out. Do you understand? If you do, flicker the lights of your optics off and on, once for yes, twice for no.”

Big Boom flickered his optics. As did Rusty. Big Bore’s optics remained glowing.

Wait, Big Bore was never good at handling his HUD.

Oh shit!

Before Big Boom could explain to the Herald that Big Bore wasn’t standing up to Him, Big Bore was just fucking stupid. Big Bore squeezed the trigger of his gun and splattered his brains all over the floor…and the walls…and the ceiling…and Big Boom and Rusty.

Though none of it got on the Herald. A clear sign of His divinity.

“The two of you will take me to your boss.” The Herald stated.

Big Boom and Rusty both flickered their camera cluster’s light off and on.

The Herald nodded. “Lead the way.”

Big Boom walked into Totentanz, Rusty on his heels.

Most were too busy partying to notice them escorting the Herald. Which was good. Big Boom didn’t think he looked all that cool while guzzling the muzzle of his gun.

Rusty took the Herald to Patricia’s office. Which was probably a bad idea. The Herald had asked to speak to the boss. And while Patricia was the boss of them, she wasn’t the boss, and a smart gonk did not displease the AI Overlords lightly.

“The fuck is this!?” Patricia shouted to be heard over Tinnitus’ music.

The Herald spoke, but He could not be heard of the sheer glory of Tinnitus. He sighed and glared at the stage, and all sound immediately died.

Well, it was replaced by the angry shouts of the fuckers who showed up to Totentanz to drink, but who cares about them?

“There, couldn’t hear myself think.” The Herald said. “I’m here t—”

Patricia stood up, drawing a Satara. “The fuck you think yo—”

She cut off as the Herald was suddenly there, having grabbed the gun while it was in her hands and pressing the barrels of her Satara to Patricia’s chin, His thumb on the trigger. “If you want to live, be silent.”

The light from Patricia’s optical receptors brightened as she glared.

“I am here to speak to your boss. I’m not interested in speaking with a middle manager. Take me to your boss, or I will kill you. Now, I beg of you, do not test me on this. I cannot stress how little regard I hold for your life. But I’ve had my fill of killing for the day, so I am offering you this one opportunity not to commit suicide via stupidity. What will it be?”

Patricia took a deep breath. “Fuckin’, when I find your Netrunner, I am going to skin them alive and make a fucking jacket out of their hide.”

“Shame.” The Herald said, and Patricia died, her body seizing as her chrome betrayed her, arching her back so hard it snapped, and her brain set itself on fire, the office quickly filling with the stink of overcooked meat and burnt plastic.

The Herald inspected the Satara. “You know, this is actually in pretty good condition. I’m keeping this.”

He turned, and suddenly Big Boom was staring down the barrels of the railgun shotgun. “Last chance, take me to your boss.”

Big Boom nodded and escorted the Herald to the VIP area where Brick liked to hang, he was busy shouting to get the music system back to work.

“My apologies, but the sound system will not return to working order until our business is complete.” The Herald said.

Brick and the three other fuckers from the gang he kept around all turned to look at the Herald. “The fuck is this? And why are those two idiots deepthroating their guns?”

Rather than answer, the Herald repeated the offer He made at the start.

Brick laughed in the Herald’s face and waved at his bodyguards. “Kill him.”

The three drew weapons, and promptly shoved them into their mouths.

Brick snarled, drew his trusty Carnage shotgun, aimed it at the Herald, and when he pulled the trigger, it did fuck all other than ‘click!’

And then the Herald blurred. And Brick was on the ground, the barrels of Paricia’s shotgun held to his face. “I will repeat my offer.” The Herald said in the exact same tone, halfway between bored and bone tired. “You have kidnapped a number of people. I will give you monetary compensation. In return, those people will walk free. If you refuse my offer a second time, I will see myself forced to kill you, and every Maelstrom gangster in the building. And just so we are all aware that I am, in fact, not bluffing.” He pointed to one of the bodyguards, who promptly blew his brains out.

“Who is your Netrunner?” Brick demanded.

The Herald sighed, and pointed at another of Brick’s bodyguards, who also blew his brains out.

“Alright, alright!” Brick’s photo receptors changed color, a moment later, Big Boom got a message from the Boss as he sent it to the whole gang in Totentanz.

“Alright ass-wipes, I just finished making a deal, the meat we picked up? They walk, they belong to the skull-faced asshole now. Anyone fucks with him, they fuck with me.” He turned to the Herald. “There, you happy now?”

“Far from it.” The Herald said, taking the shotgun off Brick’s face. “But I am a man of my word. Word of advice; do not try to double-cross me. I am tired and irritated, and I will burn this whole place to the ground with you still in it.”

The Herald left without a backward glance, and a few minutes later, Big Boom was able to stop blowing his pistol.

The boss turned to glare at him and Rusty. “Which one of you fuckers brought him in?”

Big Boom immediately pointed at Rusty.

There was a deafening boom, and Rusty changed from a Maelstromer to a pile of macerated meat and scrap electronics.

Thankfully, while the boss was still trying to decide whether or not to kill Big Boom, the music came back on, in the enjoyable confusion Big Boom slipped away.

It was up to him to spread the knowledge to the Brothers in Chrome! The Herald of their gods had arrived!

=][=

“Sir, we have an update on the Tsutsumi case.”

Tanaka looked up from his terminal and met the eyes of the orderly before him. “Go ahead.”

“She has been found and returned; she was picked up from Valentino territory. At her request, standard compensation was given to those she resided with. According to her, she was kidnapped by the 6th Street gang and rescued when the Valentinos hired the services of an Edgerunner to retrieve one of their own. The description of the mercenary in question matches the one from the Urawa case.”

Tanaka scowled. Urawa…Urawa…part of the marketing department, with a daughter who was one of his son’s classmates. Tanaka faintly recalled that she had been abducted.

Tanaka had still been…indisposed. His therapy for the wounds suffered during his own kidnapping attempt being a severe setback, he was still catching up on missed work.

For this one mercenary to be involved in Arasaka kidnappings, once was happenstance, twice was coincidence.

Tanaka was not the type to allow a third time.

“Do we have the BD Scroll for both?” He asked.

“Yes sir, both are on file.”

He waved the man away and got his BD wreath out, downloaded the BD Scrolls into two shards, then went to his private room.

He slotted the Urawa Saori shard, put on the wreath, laid back and activated it. It wasn’t long before the bright lights stabbing into his eyes resolved into the filthy inside of a makeshift cell. He powered through the dissonance of being in the body of a girl a full foot shorter and over a hundred pounds lighter than he was.

He watched dispassionately as the point of view flinched at every shot, explosion, or scream. The girl-child’s emotions spiking constantly in dissonant randomness. This is why he paid top Eurodollar for Jimmy Kurosaki’s work. Eventually, the door opened and a figure that would be imposing if it could stand on its own power limped in, supported by a small whore with chem-skin and implanted hair.

The man was covered head to foot in blood and viscera, his right arm was matte black chrome, and his face was a glowing green skull with a malevolent red eye.

Tanaka brought his heartrate under control, forcing himself to study the scroll. He watched as the mercenaries removed the foul-tasting rag from her mouth, cut her free, and escorted the girl out. The mercenary did not cut an imposing or intimidating figure, at least, not until Urawa Saori left the area she had been kept in and witnessed the massacre.

Dozens of hulking bodies, all of them with their head missing or severely damaged. They escorted her out to the front, where another Edgerunner in a pink trench coat and hiding her face behind a pink respirator cooly but professionally checked on her while they waited for a vehicle to arrive and pick her up, the black coated mercenary going to speak with a white-haired Edgerunner.

He switched to editing mode, but the only things of approximate value he was able to find, was the white haired Edgerunner using the code ‘Apex’ with their leader, and a wholly asinine conversation between the mercenary and the chem-skin mercenary, about…femboys?

Really? Femboys?

The uncultured youth had forgotten about tomboy superiority.

Slightly disgusted, he switched it out for Tsutsumi’s BD scroll.

This one was much the same as the last. The girl in a cell, surrounded by others the gang had abducted. Then the mercenary showed up, dragging around a woman with broken legs and no eyelids.

When the girl exited, she saw the massacre perpetrated by the Edgerunner and vomited. He made a note to put a mark on Urawa’s file. For her to be of proper use to the company such weakness would need to be hammered out of her. This BD had even less of use. As the Mercenary, Redeye, spoke very little. Still, he had clearly upgraded his gear and his chrome, and in all likelihood had used himself as a node for a Netrunner to hack his enemies through him, a dangerous combination that was not often encountered, as such required a great amount of trust to be placed on another.

And trust was a resource with which one was, by necessity, miserly in the extreme.

Still, with a scowl and a feeling like he was forgetting something, he went through his XBD collection and eventually found himself scrolling Jimmi Kurosaki’s Edgerunners number Thirty-Three. He’d have to check in with the eccentric BD Editor, he probably missed a few releases while on rehab.

Scrolling Edgerunners Number Thirty-Three, he finally saw why he had such a feeling of familiarity. Redeye was the red-eyed mercenary with milspec chrome. Terrible timing had simply driven any thought of the man off Tanaka’s head.

Checking through his older emails, he found an email sent by his secretary, showing the disappointing results from the Intel division.

They had very little on Redeye, beyond a list of his feats and likely cyber-ware. His career was certainly impressive, and he’d done a number of jobs for Arasaka through the usual proxies. But he apparently guarded his identity closely enough that the most the Intel division could do was provide an insultingly large number of likely candidates.

Glancing through the list of possible identities, they ranged from, of all things, an Arasaka Academy dropout, to a veteran of more than thirty years. The investigation had been abandoned as it was deemed an inefficient use of company resources.

Tanaka scoffed, had he not been incapacitated due to the poorly timed kidnapping attempt, he could have done something to keep the investigation going. Now it would reflect poorly on him if he were to demand it be resumed.

Not for the first time, he cursed whichever of his many enemies attempted the kidnapping.

He took stills from the Urawa BD. The images showed the mercenary’s three female companions, he submitted an order to bring him as much information on the three of them as possible, as well as a request to lean on the local fixers for Redeye’s identity.

With that taken care of, he returned to his desk and resumed his work.