Cyberpunk - The Fall of Icarus

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"I hope you're right," she murmured, brushing her fingers gently along my cheek, her tone soft but laced with concern.

"I'm more worried about Lucy and Roxy. They're trying to act like nothing happened, but I can't shake this uneasy feeling. After all, I'm 'Dad,' and they always tell 'Mom' more than they tell me," I teased, pulling her closer.

"They were a little shaken, but nothing too serious. 'Dad's the coolest,'" Kiwi said with a mocking lilt, then burst into laughter. "You might think they're just clueless kids, but they've been through things that would break most adults."

"Back then, they were pumped full of drugs and other garbage to dull their critical thinking. Roxy only recently stopped having nightmares about those days," I countered, my voice a mix of agreement and reservation, leaning on my own experiences to argue the point.

"They're fine, don't worry," Kiwi said firmly, suddenly twisting around and cupping my face with both hands.

"Alright, let's say I believe you..."

"Alex, Marco's here for you," Vega interrupted softly, stepping into the room and pulling our attention toward her.

"What does he want?" Kiwi asked bluntly, narrowing her eyes at the Latino leaning casually in the doorway.

"Senorita, not happy to see me?" Marco teased, wiggling his eyebrows. "Oh, I see — I interrupted something..."

"Do you want me to kill you now or later?" the blonde snapped, pressing her knees into my stomach as she perched on top of me.

"Alright, let's not turn this into another one of your little standoffs," I cut in, scooping her up and rising from the chair with her still in my arms. "Marco, what do you need, or are you just here because you missed me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow theatrically.

"Just dropping by to visit an old amigo and pick up a little something for my needs," Ramirez said in his usual style, sprawling across the worn-out couch in the corner of the workshop. "By the way, you're quite the celebrity now. Took out a whole squad of cyberpsychos and even made it onto Channel 54."

"Keep reminding me, and I'll charge you the full rate," I shot back, not bothering to hide my irritation at the already overplayed story.

"Touchy today, aren't we?" Marco grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender as he caught the predatory smile spreading across my face. "Alright, alright, here's the deal. I need something specific."

His eyes gleamed with excitement as he spoke, and a hefty file landed in my inbox a moment later.

"Are you planning to rob the Emperor's palace or something? Why do you need so much?" I asked, staring at Marco in disbelief and waiting for his answer.

"My fixer, Zorge, landed me a pretty challenging gig. I'll need top-tier gear for this one. You know me — I enjoy living and have no plans to leave this world just yet."

"The big leagues, huh..." I nodded, glancing back at the "wish list" he'd sent over. "Six hundred thousand. And that's only because we know each other."

At the mention of the price, Ramirez choked, struggling to process what he'd just heard.

"That's almost a quarter of my payout! You're bleeding me dry, Alex!" he protested.

"The more you complain, the higher the final price will go," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, making it clear there was no room for negotiation. "You're trying to rob a megacorp, but your current implants are barely adequate. You'll need at least fourth-tier augmentations, and even those will have to be customized for you. And even then, it might not be enough."

"What's your solution, then?" the mercenary asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'll set you up with something way better than what Jeremy's got."

"And my brain won't fry from that? His implants are military-grade experimental tech, and the strain on the body is enormous," Marco countered, raising a valid point.

"There won't be any strain. The new gear will integrate seamlessly," I assured him, sending over additional details about the potential implants.

"Damn genius," Ramirez muttered, shaking his head.

"Still, you'll need to stay off missions for at least six months after pulling off something this high-profile. Big-league jobs come with those kinds of strings. Who are you planning to rob, anyway? Or is that classified?"

"Kan-Tao. I need to infiltrate their server room and retrieve something," he replied evasively, clearly trying not to give away too much.

"I see..." I said, nodding as I pieced together the likely motivations behind his client's request. Lately, tensions between the Union and China had been escalating, thanks to the latter's insatiable appetite for power. Kan-Tao had already been caught red-handed a few times — stealing secrets, eliminating high-ranking officials. It seemed the Union's patience had finally run out, and they were taking matters into their own hands. "Didn't realize you were on the Union's shortlist for special assignments."

"Neither did I, honestly. But I guess we've earned their trust, considering they gave Jeremy and me a job like this."

"Did you find an experienced runner for your team?" I asked, raising the last question on my mind.

"The client is providing one," Marco said, shaking his head.

"In that case, get in the chair. Time for an upgrade," I said with a grin, rubbing my hands together. Marco tensed up visibly at the gesture.

"Vega, Kiwi, you in?"

"With pleasure," Kiwi replied with a smile that made Ramirez visibly pale. "How could I not help an old friend?"

"Alex, she's scaring me," Marco muttered, trying to hide behind my back.

"She's joking, calm down," I said, rolling my eyes, glancing at the blonde as she shrugged. "Or maybe not..."

***

September 8, 2066

Michiko Arasaka (Sanderson) POV

"Michiko-san, we've compiled all available information regarding the recent incident."

"Thank you for your work, Martin. You may go," she replied, her voice tinged with weariness.

"Have a good rest," the man said before bowing slightly and leaving her office.

"Let's see…"

On August 28, 2066, a restaurant called Thousand Miles was the target of an armed assault. During the attack, one of the patrons intervened, successfully repelling the assailants and neutralizing several mercenaries teetering on the edge of cyberpsychosis. The attackers' intent was to tarnish the establishment's reputation.

While the mastermind's identity remains unknown to the public, we've confirmed it was Yao Lao, an entrepreneur planning to launch a rival Chinese cuisine restaurant within the week.

The identity of the individual who resisted the attackers has also been uncovered: Alexander Mitchell, a resident of Megatower Four in Santo Domingo. Dark-haired, twenty-one years old, of mixed-race descent. Mitchell is certified at level six in both medicine and electrical engineering. Interestingly, he is romantically involved with two women — biological sisters — and has officially taken guardianship of two girls, aged twelve and thirteen. Furthermore, he has ties to the underground fixer Wakako Okada in Japantown.

"An intriguing specimen," Michiko murmured, her gaze lingering on the young man's photo. "Who does he remind me of?"

The feeling of familiarity gnawed at her. She was certain she'd seen him before, but the memory refused to surface.

Almost on instinct, Michiko reached for a photograph on her desk — a family photo of her sister, captured alongside her husband and their son. Activating her optical scanner, she scrutinized the image. Her hand froze mid-air.

She ran the analysis three more times. Only on the fourth attempt did she set the old photo aside, her composure faltering for the briefest of moments before returning.

"The name and birthdate match, but the year doesn't align. My nephew should be seventeen, yet this man is clearly in his twenties," she thought, her mind racing as it tried to untangle the threads of this peculiar mystery.

"Perhaps it's best if I handle this personally," Michiko sighed heavily, steeling herself to uncover the truth behind the questions swirling in her mind.