Chapter 75: Moiré's Operation
Corporate Plaza and the City Center are the eternal heart of Night City's power. Even in the dead of night, this district never truly sleeps.
Skyscrapers rise like cold, metal titans, their silhouettes carving sharp lines against the artificial sky. Arasaka Tower is the most dominant, a silent monarch presiding over the city. Its skin is alive with massive holographic ads and real-time data-streams, bathing the streets in a bright, sterile, and inhuman light.
The Plaza itself is paved with gleaming synth-material, reflecting the glare, almost entirely free of grit or damage. Pedestrians are few, moving with hurried, clipped steps, dressed in tailored corporate-wear, their faces locked in standard, detached expressions. AVs glide silently overhead. Security patrols are heavily armed, their red-glowing optics systematically scanning every corner.
Despite the light, the district is cloaked in an unnatural silence, like a precision instrument—efficient, cold, and intolerant of any disorder.
Moiré, once a Militech Lieutenant, was now a sanctified weapon, her will bound to a single Master. She moved through these familiar, yet alien, streets, hunting the targets her Creator had designated.
The first was Elliot Kwan, Biotechnica's Head of Security. He was holed up in a high-security private penthouse near the corporate HQ, hiding behind layers of automated defenses.
Moiré chose an unconventional approach.
Using gecko-grip climbers, she moved up the sheer glass facade like a shadow, her movements fluid and steady, perfectly avoiding the periodic sweeps of the surveillance drones. Finding a purchase point below the target's balcony, she paused. The balcony was sealed, its locks tied to the main security grid.
Moiré placed a small device against the glass near the lock. A near-inaudible pulse. The lock's indicator light died, and a nearby hidden camera glitched. In that instant of electronic blindness, she used her monowire to cut a clean, silent circle from the glass. She reached through, manually bypassing the backup mechanical lock, and slipped inside.
She immediately began her infiltration of the apartment's internal network. While it was air-gapped from the main Net, it was no match for the advanced intrusion protocols Joric had sanctified within her. She fed it a forged "systems diagnostic" command, seamlessly seizing control. Motion sensors were set to "maintenance mode"; cameras were fed a static, empty loop.
Intel showed four guards: two in the main living area, one by the kitchen, one outside the master bedroom. Kwan's life-sign was in the bedroom.
Moiré chose the ventilation system.
She silently removed a grille, entered the narrow duct, and moved with augmented grace toward her target. Emerging into a dark walk-in closet, she passed through the sliding door into the sleeping area. Kwan was passed out on the bed, a victim of alcohol and sleep-aids.
Moiré did not move immediately. She scanned for hidden panic-buttons or independent alarms. Finding none, she melted into the shadow by the bed, slowing her own biological functions to almost zero. She waited patiently until Kwan's sleep-cycle naturally lightened, his breathing becoming heavier, his body stirring.
At the exact moment his eyelids began to flutter, Moiré stepped forward. Her right arm rose, and the Transonic Razor slid, without a sound, from her wrist. Un-activated, it was just a dull, strangely shaped piece of metal. But as she thumbed the activation-rune, an invisible, ultra-high-frequency field enveloped it, causing the air around it to shimmer with a sickening, silent vibration.
Kwan's eyes snapped open and locked onto the figure and the thing in her hand. His pupils dilated in pure terror. He tried to scream.
Moiré's left hand moved faster than his nerves, clamping down on his jaw, silencing him. At the same time, the tip of the razor hovered inches from his throat. The faint, prickly vibration and the overwhelming threat of it froze him completely.
"Be silent," Moiré's voice was a flat, synthesized, low-decibel monotone. "Listen carefully. It will determine if you see another sunrise."
She held him, the blade steady.
"First: All hostile actions against the Edgerunner crew and the entity they serve will cease. Immediately. This includes all surveillance, tracking, bounties, armed-assaults, and intel-gathering. You will retract your tendrils. Completely."
As she spoke, a short-range data-burst from her systems sent a detailed list of specific minerals, rare earths, and high-precision equipment to Kwan's bedside terminal. The screen lit up, the long, demanding list glowing in the dark.
"Second: You will pay reparations for the losses you have inflicted and for my Master's wasted time. The list is on your terminal. These are not requests. They are terms."
The razor moved closer, the vibration making the hairs on Kwan's neck stand on end.
"Third: Your two co-conspirators, Karl Strange of Militech and Julia Winters of Biotechnica, are being purged. This is the direct consequence of your actions. Their fate was sealed the moment you made your foolish decision."
"You, Elliot Kwan, have been permitted to live. Your sole value is as a messenger. You will deliver what you have seen, every word I have spoken, and that list, to your superiors. Make them understand that the consequences of continued engagement will be far... far... more severe than the loss of two executives."
"Of course," her voice remained cold, but offered a single, logical alternative, "if your masters are... wise... and choose to show 'sincere' contrition, my Master may consider a limited, equitable exchange of technology in the future. The choice is theirs. Continued attrition, or a path to co-existence. Your life, right now, is on loan. Whether you keep it depends on how well you perform your duty."
The message was delivered.
She released her grip. The razor retracted. She did not look at the hyperventilating, broken executive again. She moved back through the closet, into the vents, and sealed the grille, leaving no trace. Back in the living room, she confirmed the guards were undisturbed, slipped out the balcony, and retrieved her device.
She descended the building's glass skin and vanished into the city's lower-level darkness.
Total operation time: thirty minutes.
Target Elliot Kwan: physically unharmed, but on the verge of total psychological collapse. He lay in his bed, shaking, for a full minute before he could even summon the will to grab his terminal and make the frantic, terrified call to his superiors.
Joric's warning, carried by his new, terrified messenger, had been delivered to the very top of Biotechnica.
(End of Chapter)