"This is your mission. Any questions?"
"List the equipment you need. I'll apply for it."
"Unfortunately, that portion of the intel is classified."
Arasaka Tower. Floor 21.
The conference rooms were alive with debates. Each squad voiced objections or made demands as mission briefings flooded in. But in Room Six, a heavy silence loomed.
"Mr. Danny, this is all the information you could gather?" asked Aiji Wilson, captain of the Sixth Squad, his brow furrowed as he scanned the thin three-page mission file.
"You know how tough it is to get through Militech's defenses," Danny replied with a half-shrug. "It's already impressive we got this much."
No need to elaborate. Everyone knew that a global arms giant like Militech guarded its secrets with fanatical paranoia.
"So… this is basically a suicide op?" scoffed Chuck Alvin, captain of the Eighth Squad. He tossed the flimsy file onto the table. "And you expect us to be okay with this?"
Leon Black, captain of the Seventeenth Squad, gave a wry smile. "The company really loves playing with its toys, huh?"
The mission was a farce—an address of questionable accuracy, unverified intel, and three squads ordered to infiltrate together. Anyone with half a brain could see they were being set up.
Danny folded his arms and leaned across the table. "Yes, it's difficult. That's why you were selected. You're not disposable grunts—you're assets. Or… are you saying you refuse the order?"
The room tensed, but no one spoke.
Satisfied with the silence, Danny stood straight and adjusted his tie. "Good. That'll be all. If anything comes up, contact me immediately. Dismissed."
Outside, the squads who had been waiting eagerly swarmed their captains.
Chuck waved a hand toward Leon and Aiji. "Hey, how about a drink? My treat. 'The Living Dead Bar,' tomorrow night at nine?"
Leon immediately grinned. "I like it already."
Aiji hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. See you there."
Chuck departed with his team, chuckling as always.
Leon turned to Aiji and extended a hand. "Captain Aiji, a pleasure to finally share a mission."
Aiji shook it firmly. "I thought your hacker was coming."
"Lena's out sick," Leon said, still smiling. "Won't be joining us for this one."
HQ didn't care if a squad was short a member—so long as the captain showed up, it was fine.
"I see."
"Oh, by the way, your brother—the one who passed suddenly last month—I meant to express our condolences sooner. Please forward this to his family." Leon raised his comm and initiated a face-to-face transaction.
Aiji's eyes narrowed at the sum—€20,000.
He stared at Leon's easy smile, then quietly accepted. "Thank you. See you tomorrow night."
Leon nodded and walked off with his squad.
---
Back in their vehicle, Arasaka Yuto leaned forward. "So, Captain—what's the mission?"
Leon slammed the door shut. "We're supposed to attack a small Militech outpost."
Yuto raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound too hard."
"You idiot," snapped Lily Cross. "If three security squads are involved, it's never simple."
Ethan Cross spoke up. "Must be guarding something valuable, right?"
Leon leaned back. "Word is, they've got experimental plasma shield tech there."
Yuto practically leapt out of his seat. "You serious?! Militech made a working plasma shield?"
In theory, it was a game-changer. Once activated, such a shield could withstand even high-yield explosives.
Leon sighed. "They say so. Remember the first two words: 'It's said.'"
Lily shook her head. "I swear, Yuto, you've got a one-second delay between hearing and understanding."
Leon shrugged. "We don't control the intel. Our job is to execute."
As members of Arasaka's Security Department, they were elite—paid well, but also sent into the fire. High risk. High reward. But refusal? Not an option.
Complaining in the meetings was a ritual—part of negotiating better conditions. But in the end, the job always got done.
Failure was acceptable. Refusal wasn't.
---
Leon looked around. "Tomorrow night's meet-up—Lily, you're coming with me."
She blinked. "Me?"
Normally, Lena Fox would attend these kinds of strategy sessions. But with her absent, Lily was the next best.
Leon knew her strengths—sharp instincts and a good head for diplomacy. She also gave off a harmless, 'new recruit' vibe, which could help lower defenses.
"We've already agreed to let newer members get more involved," Leon added. "Time to prove yourself."
Lily nodded with a rare seriousness.
"Ethan," Leon continued, "you'll be our shadow. Hang back and provide cover."
"You Dou—dig into the mission site. Find out what you can. Anything."
"Mike," Leon turned to the silent giant, "start prepping the charges."
Everyone nodded without hesitation. They'd done this dance many times. Each knew their role, and each trusted Leon's planning.
---
The next night, 9 PM.
The Living Dead Bar – VIP Room
Heavy beats throbbed through the walls as the squads gathered. Chuck's men stood guard outside the room, blocking eavesdroppers.
Inside, Chuck sprawled on the central couch, having just finished an obnoxious karaoke rendition of some classic Night City tune.
Aiji and Leon sat on either side, each bringing just one team member for discretion. Lily sat quietly beside Leon, scanning the room with practiced calm.
"Let's get to it," Chuck said, grinning. "You all heard Danny's pitch. What do you think, little brothers?"
Chuck's squad might have been Eighth numerically, but he was easily the oldest and most experienced of the three. Calling Aiji and Leon "younger brothers" was natural.
Aiji was the first to speak. "The mission is risky. Without solid coordination, it could go bad fast."
He wasn't trying to pull rank. In the Arasaka Security Force, squad number didn't always mean power—just seniority and mission stats.
Leon nodded. "Seventeen Squad's happy to follow your lead. We're all mercs from the street. We know how to fight together."
He smiled, but there was weight behind his words.
Everyone in the room knew there were two factions in the Arasaka Security Force.
The "local faction"—those born and raised under Arasaka's corporate wings—believed they were the rightful elites.
And the "outsider faction"—hired guns and freelancers brought in for muscle—were considered expendable cannon fodder.
Naturally, tensions brewed. The local faction saw the outsiders as thugs. The outsider faction saw them as pampered children playing soldier.
Danny, the Deputy Head of Intelligence, was a loyalist to the local faction. And he was more than happy to throw the outsider squads into impossible missions to curry favor with his bosses.
Unsurprisingly, Squads Six, Eight, and Seventeen were all outsiders.
If someone was going to get sent into the meat grinder—it would be them.
And they all knew it.
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