Arasaka Waterfront was also located in Watson. Back during the Unification War, when the fighting reached California, Mayor Rhyne invited them here.
Since then, this territory has been effectively occupied by Arasaka's military forces, becoming one of their strongholds.
The entire complex was built to strict standards of urban military architecture. The NCPD had no jurisdiction here. Once you crossed into Watson's waterfront, the streets were patrolled exclusively by Arasaka's drones, mechs, and heavily armed soldiers.
Leo had secretly coordinated with Kaneck, disabling the surveillance and tracking gear aboard the AV, but within the perimeter around the Waterfront, flight was completely restricted.
Would Arasaka just let a Trauma Team AV through?
Maybe they'd assume someone needed rescue—likely Kaneck's idea. But the chance of Arasaka letting him stroll in uncontested? Slim to none.
Traffic around there was sparse, and Arasaka's soldiers weren't fools—they'd notice a compromised AV.
If they got exposed, Leo doubted Kaneck could come and go so freely inside Arasaka Waterfront.
He had to stay closer.
BOOM—
"Do you even know how to drive?!"
The rusted-out van weaved dangerously through traffic, darting like the wind.
The van itself was junk, but David's driving skill was top-notch.
120 km/h wasn't much in Night City, but he'd already slammed the pedal to the floor—any harder and his foot would be in the gas tank.
Hard brakes into sudden acceleration, swerving through the lanes—reckless as hell. Fortunately, Night City's definition of "reckless driving" was loose:
As long as you didn't kill pedestrians or ram into NCPD, you were fine.
Even smashing into other cars was "just a fender bender."
A sharp corner nearly lifted the van's wheels off the ground. Pedestrians scattered—except for one idiot who floored it, trying to show off.
A flashy sports car roared up alongside. The driver scowled, switched into sport mode, and floored it.
A rustbucket Columbus freight van, daring to pass him?
Time to humiliate it and cut it off.
VROOOOM!
Clearly this hothead wasn't local. Any Night City native knew Columbus freighters, G240s, and Vipers weren't used for racing—unless a psycho behind the wheel was ready to turn the streets into a warzone.
"Asshole!"
The sports car pulled up alongside Leo, its driver flipping him off and angling for a cutoff.
Leo gave him a flat glance. Road rage, huh?
ROAR!
From the next intersection, Maine's Mackinaw plowed forward like a charging beast.
Compared to that monster pickup, the sports car was a toy. The driver glanced back and went pale.
The Mackinaw's chassis towered nearly three times taller than his Mizutani Shion. Even without Maine's legendary reputation, the truck was a straight-up road tank.
But it was too late—he couldn't stop.
CRASH!
Maine spun the Mackinaw in a clean drift. The pickup barely felt the bump, but for the Shion, it was catastrophic.
The car lost control, slammed into the divider, and crumpled around the concrete.
Behind the wheel, Maine flashed a wide grin and gave Leo a thumbs-up.
Leo ignored the wrecked hothead. His eyes lifted skyward.
The thing he feared most was happening: Kaneck hadn't stayed downtown. He was flying high above the city's outskirts—headed straight for Arasaka Waterfront.
But his target? A mercenary.
If the merc had infiltrated Arasaka facilities, that only meant one thing: the merc worked for Arasaka.
The situation was spiraling.
The van and the Mackinaw merged onto the overpass. Leo decided to ping Regina for an update.
Perfect timing—Regina messaged first.
[From: Regina]
[I dug up info on Woolie Crowley. He's just a merc, but last week he stirred trouble with the Valentinos.
He clashed with both mercs and Valentino gangers. Maybe check with a Haywood fixer to see what went down.
As for Kaneck, I found his cyberware models and firmware versions. That might help keep him alive.
This gig's different—my client's paying extra for him alive.]
Leo immediately texted Padre.
[To: Padre]
[Burger King: Padre, what happened last week between the Valentinos and some merc named Woolie Crowley?]
[Padre: Complicated.]
[Burger King: Better decide quickly. A cyberpsycho's chasing him right now, headed for Arasaka Waterfront. That merc's employer isn't ordinary.[
[Padre:Arasaka?]
[Padre: Fine. Here's the deal—last week, a netrunner hired some Valentinos to cover mercs while they planted bugs and surveillance gear. Didn't say who the target was.]
[Padre: But they botched it. Woolie Crowley caught them.]
[Padre: The guy's a beast. Blew up an entire building, killed everyone. Word is he cyberpsyched—took out several Trauma Team responders, too.]
[Padre: That's what made me suspicious. Why would Trauma Team show up there? Now it's clear—his employer's high up.]
[Padre: Since you're involved, I'll toss you a job. Find out who else was in on this.]
[Burger King: Sure, but it'll cost.]
[Padre: Don't worry. I know your rates aren't cheap.]
At Arasaka Waterfront, an Arasaka-branded Emperor 620 Ragnar idled near the complex gates, followed by a sleek Qudra Turbo-R 740—a high-performance city racer, far too expensive for average mercs.
On the far side of the road stood Arasaka soldiers and mechs. If you were meeting Arasaka, this was as safe as it got—
Unless an AV came crashing from the sky.
Inside the car, Deputy Mayor Holt and Woolie Crowley treated the space like their office.
Holt, bald and smiling warmly in his usual public appearances, carried himself quite differently in private. Behind closed doors, he mirrored his Arasaka patrons: cold, arrogant, domineering.
Across from him sat Woolie, outwardly just a merc, but his body was loaded with premium military-grade cyberware.
One eye was a custom Arasaka compound model, packed with multiple sensory lenses. His arms—biomuscle and bionic skeletons—provided power and finesse, synced with smartgun chips for perfect recoil management and balance control.
His legs were built for super-jumps and double leaps, anchored with retractable grapnels for vertical or surface locks.
Under his skin: reinforced skeleton, subdermal armor, cyberkidneys, combat lungs.
He wasn't large, but his combat output dwarfed 99% of street muscle.
Clearly, Holt had invested heavily. And it was paying off.
Woolie grinned, twitchy, his mental scars showing—the mark of someone who'd already fallen to cyberpsychosis once.
"Two names," he said. "Chuqiaoxi and James. Give me some time'll erase those little shits. When's the next batch of immunosuppressants?"
"In the trunk." Holt pointed lazily.
Too many netrunners lately, almost succeeding. But with Arasaka's backing, most were erased quietly.
This time, Holt used his own man. Flashier, sure, but that was good—it proved to Arasaka he wasn't dead weight.
Woolie moved to leave, then stopped.
"Oh, right—how much did Trauma Team charge to patch me up?"
"120,000." Holt lit a smoke. "Pocket change."
"You corpo types, man… 120k's 'pocket change'? I killed—"
"Not important. Just do your job."
Had he not killed those two Trauma Team operatives, the bill would've been cheaper. But for Holt, money was irrelevant. So long as he kept his deputy seat, Arasaka's funds—and his cut of city hall graft—could bankroll an army of Woolies.
The problem: men who could pack this much chrome and still function were rare.
One man against dozens, leaving twenty corpses behind? Impressive.
But Holt noticed something odd. He knew every piece of Woolie's chrome—but not that weapon.
"Where'd you get the auto-grenade launcher?"
"This?" Woolie pulled the component from his waist pouch, caressing it like treasure. "Black market. NC's been buzzing lately."
European imports, Holt realized.
Maybe he should court their support, too. They had deeper pockets than Arasaka.
"Fine. That's it."
"Got it. Time to kill your enemies."
Woolie leapt from the car, landing with a heavy thud. His wiry frame weighed far more than it looked.
But then he froze. His gaze, along with every Arasaka soldier's around him, lifted skyward.
Guns followed.
"Trauma Team? Or some corpo dog with cash to burn?" Woolie chuckled.
But the laugh died quickly.
The AV locked onto him like a predator, engines screaming as it dived—straight at him.
The altitude dropped fast, but the speed didn't.
Woolie's combat chrome went hot. Arasaka troops reacted even faster.
"OPEN FIRE!!"
Tracer fire and missiles tore upward, shredding the sky.
But the AV never slowed. It streaked toward Woolie like a falling star, relentless.
Kaneck's vision tunneled—locked on Woolie's face. His mind burned with memories of his girlfriend, all consumed in searing pain.
His consciousness itself was ablaze.
"AAAAAAHHHHH!!!"