"Someone's secretly selling Arasaka's gear to Dogtown. Militech is itching for an excuse to cause trouble, and Hansen is putting the blame on both sides, saying the company isn't following protocol."
The man's words dripped with tension, the kind that carried the stench of betrayal.
"We've got someone playing both sides—selling out Arasaka and Hansen. That's the long and short of it."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing. "Now, tell me about your Mewtwo. After that, you can go wherever the hell you want."
V, arms folded and expression unreadable, weighed her options. She had been considering several tactical approaches before coming here, and this demand wasn't entirely unreasonable. After all, William clearly had some pieces of the puzzle she was missing.
Still, she wasn't about to spill everything. Revealing Arasaka's internal struggles was a line she wouldn't cross. She gave him only a carefully edited version of events, a "general account" that scratched the surface without exposing the fault lines threatening to crack open the corporation.
William nodded slowly as if confirming what he had already suspected. His instincts told him this wasn't just some small-time game. The company was involved up to its neck, and Hansen—ever the viper—was maneuvering to silence anyone who knew too much. The fewer witnesses, the easier it would be for him to negotiate terms with the corporation for his own benefit.
William and his crew were just pawns in this larger board. Dogtown was a battlefield, and Hansen's "fishing trip" was really nothing more than a warning shot aimed directly at the company's heart.
For a moment, William debated whether to hold back. But finally, he told V everything he had witnessed regarding Mewtwo. With the corporation breathing down their necks, whether he stayed silent or not hardly mattered. Since this woman had managed to appear here in Dogtown, she clearly had the backing to deal with whatever fallout came their way.
The Arasaka name carried weight. Heavy, crushing weight.
William still remembered how V had reacted when she was first discarded by Arasaka in her own story arc. The woman had barely managed to crawl into Dogtown alive. Now here she stood, poised and unshaken, as if she belonged here.
"Turbo-R… Golden Tiger figurine… speaking Japanese… hmm."
V murmured thoughtfully as she slipped the conversation chip into her pocket. Her movements were precise, deliberate—practiced.
William considered adding something more but stopped himself. Loose lips were dangerous. Still, the thought gnawed at him: What if the Mewtwo given by Hands—the Pacific middleman—wasn't even real?
He grimaced, chewing on the consequences of false intel.
"What if the information from the Pacific middleman is fake?" he asked.
V's face didn't flinch. Beneath her raven hair, her voice was like ice. "Then you lie down and wait for death. We'll find you. And we'll find the middleman too."
A shrewd company dog through and through.
William smacked his lips in mock admiration. "You really live up to your reputation, V Shockwave. No wonder the streets can't stop talking about you."
In his eyes, she was a paradox. Half mercenary, half corporate hound, caught in a tug-of-war between independence and the gilded chains of Arasaka.
But William could already see the writing on the wall. It wouldn't be long before V became a cybernetic husk, a soldier incapable of madness no matter how many implants were grafted onto her. And when the Soulkiller Relic chip finally found its way into her skull, she'd carry not her own will but the ghost of a madman—a king destined to burn bright and vanish in a city that chewed legends for breakfast.
William shook his head, dismissing the thought. To him, middlemen and pawns were only for mercenaries and the bottom rungs of corporate ladders to worry about.
By his own reckoning, V's career was already blazing upward. Perhaps she was now a prized hand in Arasaka Counterintelligence, maybe even climbing fast under Jenkins's wing. A future Platinum-tier Trauma Team member, armed with silver membership and a list of benefits that made the average street merc jealous. Impressive, but predictable.
"But tell me," V's sharp voice cut through his musings, "isn't there a Dexter Deshawn in Pacifica? They say he's made quite the name for himself."
She crossed her arms again, her gaze drilling into him. It wasn't just casual curiosity—it was habit. The kind of instinct honed through years in Arasaka's counterintelligence division. Every word she spoke was bait, every pause an invitation for intel.
William chuckled under his breath, remembering Royce's infamous taunt from the Maelstrom: 'Punching out the Animals and kicking that fat pig from Taiping Island? That guy's still breathing?'
The memory almost made him laugh, though he kept it subtle.
"You got wrecked by the Netherhound, and you can still laugh?" V's eyes narrowed.
"The Netherhound brainwashed you corps," William shot back. His voice was calm, yet edged. "Dogtown has its own way of handling business. Take Hanz, for example. He sold me out. I plan on paying him a visit."
V tilted her head. The man in front of her wasn't just stubborn—he was reckless.
"You actually plan to go back to Dogtown?"
William shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Why not? What, you dying for me to return? Or maybe Arasaka's still waiting on intel from Dogtown. Otherwise, you wouldn't still be standing here."
That earned him a flicker of approval in her eyes. V liked smart people. People who reminded her of Jenkins—always thinking two moves ahead.
"Alright then," she said, lowering herself back into the chair, "tell me. What's your plan?"
William leaned back, fingers steepled. "I have my ways. But that Arasaka dog—the one who sold you out—"
"No," V cut in sharply. "The company dog who sold you out. If he's really playing both sides, Hansen will meet him eventually. Why don't you just track him and pull the data yourself?"
William gave her a look, his silence saying everything.
V's expression darkened as realization hit her. This bastard had been playing her—waiting for her to suggest it, watching her make a fool of herself.
Damn it.
"Fine," she snapped. "So, you're suggesting I run intel-gathering in Dogtown? It's doable, but the price won't be the same."
William smirked inwardly. Teasing beautiful women had its perks, though he knew better than to push his luck too far. He wasn't just chasing thrills—he wanted extra cash, and in Dogtown, cash was survival.
Aligning himself with company dogs came with risks and rewards. For now, Arasaka's thirst for revenge against Hansen worked in his favor.
Besides, cyberware wasn't cheap. Money was fuel, and he needed a full tank.
"As for Hands's racket," William continued, "I'm not planning to squeeze him again anytime soon. A cornered rat bites. For now, I'll let him breathe. My real focus is splitting his business. Dogtown needs a shake-up, and I plan to be the one holding the bat."
V studied him, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her arm. "What's your reward, then?"
"Simple," William replied. "Get me a discount from Dr. Victor for body mods and repairs. On top of that, whatever jobs you throw my way, I'll pay the middleman's fee upfront. Clean and fair. Sounds reasonable, right?"
V tilted her head, analyzing him. The man was bold, perhaps too bold. Arasaka was no playground. Yet here he was, cutting deals with one of its rising stars, like it was nothing.
"Suppose," V asked quietly, "I told you to join Arasaka instead?"
William blinked. "What for?"
"Counterintelligence, Field Team. Salaries on time. Bonuses for big jobs. No punching the clock. Silver-tier Trauma Team membership. Benefits. Perks. The whole package."
It was tempting, dangerously so. A stable salary. A company at his back. Protection. For most mercs, this was the dream.
But William also knew the truth: a dream wrapped in chains was still a cage.
"Doesn't the company run background checks?" he asked cautiously.
"They do," V admitted. "But I can arrange your file. Plenty of shady field workers slip in under fake identities. You'll just need to do your part—craft an alias, something clean, something that won't trigger scans."
She leaned in. "Think of a new name. A codename works too. But there's one condition: I'll have access to your location. Personal terminal tracking."
William wasn't a fool. He knew corporate money never came without strings attached. But stability had its own allure. For now, having Arasaka at his back wasn't the worst option. And V… she was useful.
Future troubles could be dealt with later. Cut the chain when the time came.
"Alright," he agreed.
"What's the name then?" V asked.
"Call me Rin. R-I-N. Short. Easy to remember."
V shrugged. "Fine."
And just like that, the deal was struck.
For V, it was one more step up the corporate ladder. For William, it was another gamble in a city where every hand could be your last.