Chapter 77: Biotechnica's Reaction
The assassination-purge struck the core leadership of both Militech and Biotechnica with direct, severe shock. However, due to the two entities' vastly different corporate cultures and core objectives, the aftershocks propagated through their systems in different ways, ultimately leading to divergent outcomes.
Inside the CEO's office at the apex of the Biotechnica Tower, the air was so heavy it was difficult to breathe.
Nicolo Logagia stood with his back to the massive window, the distorted lights of Night City sprawling below.
His Head of Security, Elliot Kwan, stood before him, all his usual composure gone. Kwan's suit was wrinkled, stuck to his frame with cold sweat. His tie was loose, his eyes were unfocused, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably.
"She... she just appeared in my bedroom..." his voice was a ragged, trembling whisper. "Mr. Logagia! In my own penthouse... in the sanctum... all the security... all of it... it was like it didn't even exist!"
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "I didn't even see her get in... one second I was alone, the next... she was standing over my bed. That weapon... pressed to my throat... I could... I could feel it vibrating, this low... humming..."
Kwan's voice suddenly pitched higher, cracking with hysteria. "Her voice... it wasn't human! Through some synth... so cold... it made my skin crawl. She said... she said we had to stop all operations against them. All of them! Surveillance, tracking, bounties... everything!"
He fumbled frantically in his pocket, his trembling hand pulling out a data-shard. "This... this is the list she gave me. She called it 'reparations'... payment for our 'transgression.' I... I haven't even dared to look at it..."
Kwan's breathing grew ragged. "And she said... Strange and Winters... they were... they were being purged. And that I... the only reason I'm still standing here... is because I had to deliver this message..."
Just as Kwan was stammering about the weapon, the high-priority comm on Logagia's desk chimed. Two crimson, encrypted alert-windows forced themselves open, hovering in the air.
Logagia's eyes scanned the first message. His pupils contracted. It was an internal security flash: "Board Member Julia Winters confirmed deceased at her Charter Hill residence."
His gaze was still locked on the first message when the second one arrived—an internal forward from Militech, concise and cold: "Special Projects Coordinator Lt. Colonel Karl Strange confirmed deceased."
The air in the office seemed to freeze. Logagia's fist slammed down on his desk, his knuckles white from the force. Kwan's report died in his throat. He stared in horror at his boss's twisted, ashen expression, finally, truly understanding what had happened.
"They... they're both..." Kwan's voice choked, and a fresh wave of cold sweat drenched his shirt.
In that instant, he realized why he was alive. He wasn't a survivor. He was a prop. A carefully designed instrument, left alive to deliver the message at the exact moment the other executions were confirmed. The sheer, cold precision of the timing was as terrifying as the act itself.
Logagia spun around, his hand smashing down on the heavy desk with his full body weight. The BOOM echoed in the sealed room. His face flushed a dark, blotchy red, the veins at his temples pulsing visibly.
"LAWLESS! UTTER ARROGANCE!" His voice tore from his throat, cracking as it echoed.
But beneath this performance of rage, his fingertips were trembling uncontrollably.
Winters's death... it hit him like a physical blow. The woman who fought him at every board meeting, the rival he had privately, idly, wished would just disappear... was gone. Not taken out by his own careful corporate maneuvering, but swatted like an insect by an unknown, unseen enemy.
The realization sent a shiver of pure, cold fear up his spine.
He forced himself to stand taller, to raise his voice, trying to bury his own fear under the sound of his command.
"RETALIATION!" he screamed at the executives now crowding the doorway, their own faces pale with panic, which only made him angrier, and more afraid. "There must be severe, total retaliation! At any cost!"
He jabbed a finger at his terrified Head of Intel. "Pull every analyst! I want every scrap of data on this assassin and whoever is behind them! Street-chatter, black-market rumors, everything! I want them found!"
His voice grew louder, trying to fill the suddenly-too-large office. The shadow of death had never felt so real. He thought of Kwan's description of the vibrating blade at his throat, and he unconsciously touched his own neck.
"Security! Maximum alert, effective immediately! Re-assess all executive protection details! And get a bounty on the Net. A king's ransom! I want every hunter-killer in Night City mobilized!"
He paused, his chest heaving. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple; he wiped it away angrily.
"I want to know what rat-hole in that desert they crawled out of!" His voice dropped to a near-paranoid hiss. "Find them... and crush them..."
The last words were ground out between his teeth.
He looked at the silent executives, saw their fear and their hesitation, and it only made him angrier. He knew, with sickening certainty, that if they could take Winters and Strange, they could take him. The thought was a cold snake coiling around his heart, suffocating him.
But he could not show weakness. Not to them. He forced his spine straight, using all his will to maintain the mask of rage, even though he knew, and they knew, it was nothing but a hollow, terrified performance.
(End of Chapter)