Sapphire Blue—the infamous base of Colonel Kurt Hansen—was a place whispered about in Dogtown. To the locals, it was not just a den of soldiers but a nest of vipers. Everyone who entered left with scars, either on their body or their soul.
Hidden deep in the shadows of his office, Colonel Hansen ended a call with one of Night City's officials. His voice had been calm, even friendly, but his steel-blue eyes revealed the ferocity of a predator plotting its next strike. To him, even a firefight that cost dozens of lives was merely another kind of business transaction. He knew risks were part of the trade. But this incident had been far too public, far too damaging. The reputation of the Nether Dogs—and by extension, himself—was at stake.
He needed to manage the fallout. And someone had to pay for it.
That was the way of Dogtown.
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William, held captive and forced to kneel in the cold, sterile hallway of Sapphire Blue, lowered his head. His arms were still numb from the restraints, and his body trembled with exhaustion. The rhythmic sound of Colonel Hansen's heavy military boots echoed closer and closer across the spotless floor. Every step sounded like the ticking of a clock counting down his fate.
"Let him go," Hansen ordered without looking back. His voice was sharp, commanding, carrying the tone of a man who had long stopped needing to repeat himself. "Our friend's bones are still broken."
The soldiers obeyed, shoving William forward. He stumbled, shaking his sore arm and gritting his teeth to hold back a groan. His determination kept him upright, but beads of sweat rolled down his temple, betraying the pain coursing through his body.
In front of him stood Colonel Hansen himself—broad-shouldered, his muscles stretching the fabric of his crisp military T-shirt. His face was sharp, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were cold, like a wolf sizing up prey. Those eyes flicked briefly to William and the other two battered soldiers who had been dragged in alongside him. Once proud Nether Dogs, now they looked like broken strays—defeated, humiliated, barely clinging to life.
"Tell me," Hansen said simply. "What happened?"
William drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. He had only one chance to speak. "Colonel, it was the Cyberpunk Squad. They ambushed us."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. William knew Hansen was a master interrogator, sharp enough to smell deceit with a glance. Too much detail, and Hansen would grow suspicious. Too little, and he might think William was hiding something.
Of course, Hansen already knew. His gaze was sharp, his patience thin. He stepped closer and tapped William lightly on the chest, though the gesture felt more threatening than friendly.
"Of course I know that, kid," Hansen said, voice low and edged with disdain. "The real question is—why didn't you wait for reinforcements? Why abandon your post?"
William's stomach sank. So that was it. They were going to use desertion as the excuse to bury him alive.
He swallowed hard, his fists clenching reflexively.
With a subtle flick of his eyes, Hansen signaled one of his soldiers. The man behind William hesitated, then placed a heavy hand on William's shoulder.
"Sorry, buddy," the soldier muttered under his breath.
William's thoughts raced. The Cyberpunk Squad. The Dogtown soldiers. The convoy of military-grade weapons and equipment. Something wasn't right. He had missed something, some crucial detail hidden in the chaos of the attack.
He stepped forward desperately. "Wait, Colonel Hansen!"
Immediately, two rifles pressed against his ribs, making him wince as they dug into his already broken bones. His face twisted with pain, but he refused to step back.
"The Cyberpunks aren't here to steal goods," William blurted out quickly. "They're not after the weapons. They just want to sabotage us—to make us bleed and retreat in confusion. Think about it, Colonel. Why would a gang of mercenaries need this shipment? They can't even afford it!"
The room grew silent. The rifles remained pressed against his side, but no one fired.
"You have to consider the possibility," William continued, his voice rising with urgency, "that someone else is behind this! Someone who knew our route. Someone who wanted to see us humiliated."
Colonel Hansen finally raised his hand, halting the soldiers. His cold eyes locked onto William's face. "Go on."
William nodded quickly, seizing the moment. "This shipment—it's all Arasaka gear. State-of-the-art. It's passed through at least three different hands before it reached us. How could the Cyberpunks possibly know our schedule? Our path? It doesn't add up. This isn't about profit. This is revenge. Someone is playing us, Colonel. They want us to look weak."
Hansen studied him for a long, tense moment, then downed a glass of whiskey in one swallow. The sharp scent of alcohol clung to his breath as he leaned close to William, wolf-like eyes boring into him.
"Bring him here," Hansen ordered suddenly.
The soldiers obeyed. They dragged a body into the room and tossed it at William's feet. William's heart lurched when he saw the familiar tattoo on the man's arm. It was Seno—a fellow Nether Dog, someone he had eaten and fought beside countless times. His face was unrecognizable, smashed nearly beyond recognition, his throat barely able to rasp out sounds.
"Deserter," Hansen spat with disgust, kicking the barely-living man.
William's blood ran cold.
"He wanted to leave paradise," Hansen sneered. "Guess who sold us out?"
The realization struck William like lightning. "Seno…?"
"That's right." Hansen's voice dripped with contempt. "I don't care whether you were in on it. Honestly, I'm too lazy to find out. But you should thank your friend here—he confessed. He admitted selling our intel."
Hansen's lips curled into a thin smile. "You two were close. You ate together, fought together, bled together. By all rights, I should have executed you both. But I'm a generous man. I'll give you a chance."
He pulled a pistol from his belt and leveled it at Seno's broken body. William froze, torn between horror and helplessness.
"Bang!"
The gunshot shattered the silence, echoing through the room.
William's whole body jolted, his ears ringing. Hansen fired again. And again. By the time the smoke cleared, Seno's twitching body lay still. The muzzle of Hansen's pistol, still steaming, turned toward William's forehead.
William gulped hard but held his ground. He knew if he flinched—if he showed weakness—Hansen would put a bullet through him without hesitation.
The Colonel smirked faintly. "Go, my old friend. Your place in the Nether Dogs is finished. From this moment forward, you no longer exist among us."
He lowered the gun. "But remember—you owe me. I spared your life. You will pay me back. Someone has to give me an explanation for this disaster."
William's chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to process Hansen's words. He had been expelled. But at the same time, Hansen had chained him with invisible shackles—an unspoken debt.
The soldier behind him gave his shoulder a pat, nudging him toward the exit. Stiffly, William obeyed, forcing his trembling legs to move.
As the elevator doors closed around him, his body nearly collapsed. His broken bones screamed with every breath, and only by gripping the handrail did he keep himself upright.
"Hey, William. Maybe it's not that bad."
It was Otto, the soldier who had earlier whispered to him. Otto's tone was almost kind, but his words were laced with grim truth.
"No Nether Dog wants to leave Dogtown," Otto said quietly. "If you're lucky enough to sleep at home, sooner or later someone will come knocking for revenge."
The threat was real. The Nether Dogs had brutalized Dogtown for years, and their enemies would seize any chance to strike back.
"And then there's the pay," Otto added with a bitter laugh. "No salary. No benefits. Most of the guys—money's their lifeline. Without it, they're corpses walking."
He gave William a firm look. "But you—you're different. You stared Hansen in the face with his gun pointed at your head. You didn't blink. That takes guts."
William barely heard him. His mind was a storm. Was he really fired? Expelled? Or had Hansen simply set him up as a pawn in some larger scheme?
No one would tell him the truth. He was just another expendable soldier in the game. Reality was cruel.
The "God's Eye" perspective was only for the players. NPCs like him had no such privilege.
A notification flickered in William's mind:
[Character "Kurt Hansen" Favorability Updated]
[Favorability: 10 — Do your job well, keep your head on straight. This isn't the first time you've danced with death.]
[Reward: +1 to all attributes. Access granted to other legendary figures.]
[Reminder: From now on, you are on your own. No more guidance.]
William's last thread of support snapped.
As his body sagged, Otto quickly caught him, pressing a small inhaler to his lips. The bitter taste of the drug [Qinglizhi] rushed into his lungs, loosening his locked muscles. The tension drained from his body.
"Easy, William. Easy. Just rest…"
Otto's voice faded into the distance. Darkness swallowed William's vision, and his body went limp.
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(End of Chapter 3)