Cyberpunk: Arasaka Secret Son

6 hours later

At the dawn of the next day... the first rays of the sun illuminated a luxurious penthouse in Heywood.

The luxury didn’t come from its design but from its privileged location, overlooking the metropolis that never slept.

The penthouse, an open space of exposed brick, steel, and glass, featured a second level formed by a metal platform.

Its walls, aside from one made up of large windows stretching to the ceiling and another where a quaint and select library of books stood, were decorated with various photos, album covers, guitars, and other instruments

On the large bed on the upper level... a man slept soundly, trapped between two beautiful women whose naked silhouettes intertwined with his.

They clung to him, sharing a fleeting moment of peace, until it was abruptly interrupted by the annoying ringtone of digital bells, resonating in his head from an incoming call.

Sora opened his eyes suddenly. If he could have, he would have thrown his IDn out the window. Without bothering to check who was calling, he immediately hung up.

Squeezing his hands slightly, and letting himself be carried away by the comforting feedback—tender and firm—of what he was holding, he began to relax again as if slipping into a warm bath.

In turn, this provoked a faint, sleepy moan of pleasure from the two beautiful women who felt his grip tighten on their rears.

Just as sleep was beginning to reclaim him... [Vrrt-Vrrt ♪... Bzzt-bzzt ♪... Drrr-drrr ♪...] the call came again.

The worst part was that his IDn was set to 'Do Not Disturb'... which meant that whoever was calling him had access to the communications software of the IDns.

'You can’t even trust the government anymore... selling your data to strangers,' he thought sarcastically before hanging up again.

Due to the continuous interruptions, Sora was “forced” to change positions. He turned over in bed, gently lifting Judy and making her laugh as he passed her over himself and laid her next to Lucy.

Managing to get comfortable again, without letting go of them, the peace didn’t last long. A few seconds later.. [♪] .. they called again for the third time.

"Ahm..." Knowing they wouldn’t stop bothering him, he let the ringtone echo in his head. 'If I don’t answer the call... they wouldn’t be able to keep calling,' a darker version of himself thought, proud of his own crushing logic.

However... something strange happened. [♪♪] The sound of the ringtone doubled as he received a second call at the same time, without interrupting the first as it should have. They overlapped in a digital cacophony that made Sora curse under his breath.

“Shit.” His grand plan fell apart just seconds after putting it into practice.

With [♪♪♪] three ringtones bouncing around in his skull and then [♪♪♪♪] four, Sora let out a sigh of frustration. He shook his disheveled hair and got out of bed. However, a smile appeared on his face as he saw Judy, asleep again, clinging to Lucy as if her life depended on it.

After putting on some loose sports shorts, he descended the metal stairs, each step echoing in the morning silence, and headed to the open kitchen.

He turned on the coffee maker, allowing the thunderous noise of [♪♪♪♪♪♪] six simultaneous calls to fill his mind. With the hot cup in hand, he stood in front of the window, taking in the view of the waking city and took a long sip of his coffee.

Letting the bitter warmth clear his head. "Ahhh..." Finally, he accepted one of the eight incoming calls.

Finding a moment of peace in his short-fused mind before a voice, as cold as it was irritating, cut through the space to ask ironically, ["Having a good time?"]

Sora, still holding the coffee cup, let out a weary sigh as he leaned back into a comfortable, old leather recliner facing one of the windows. ["Depends; my night with my fiancées, yes, I had a great time. Being harassed with calls, not so much."]

["Despite the circumstances we're in, I gave you six hours to 'relax.' Enough with the nonsense, Arc."] The voice, full of reproach, especially at the end, left no room for argument.

["Fine, Joy."] He replied in the same tone, before continuing. ["I imagine Powler has filled you in, right?"]

["Yes, but I want to hear it from the source: you. She's currently investigating the processor materials to identify their origin. Someone building frames capable of storing Rogue AIs without any government, organization, or corporation noticing... that has to be stopped."]

Sora nodded, his gaze on the city as it woke to the dawn, while he responded: ["Who says no corporation knows about this? All signs point to Armstech, a subsidiary of Militech. I still don’t know what information Lieutenant Norris stole, but it’s undoubtedly the reason they wanted him dead."]

Joy frowned, her expression severe as she weighed the implications of Sora’s words. ["So, Morgan was right. Norris was murdered."]

["Yes. Even though the AIs had leaked most of the compromised data before crossing the wall, the mercenaries working with Norris were searching for software within the Sandervista."] Sora responded, his eyes falling on the sought-after cyberware lying on his couch. ["It should either be well-hidden or more complex than it seems. I won’t be sure until I investigate it thoroughly."]

["Fine, I’ll leave it to you. But we still have other problems."] She replied, her voice showing no trace of patience.

["Tell me about it..."] Sora muttered, fully aware of all the complications his siblings' actions on the other side had caused.

With an irritated sigh, Joy said: ["Ahm... tell me about it later. Let me start: Anara has reviewed the firewall logs from the Lazarus agents involved in the incident, including Morgan—"]

Sora couldn’t help but interrupt her with a slight sardonic smile. ["With how short-lived their firewall was, it won’t take long. The logs must be pretty brief."]

["If she heard you, she'd be pissed... Besides, she’s completely overwhelmed right now. She doesn’t know what we can do to protect our operatives. We always knew you’d be at a disadvantage on the digital front, but the results are worse than we predicted.

The bases… we can increase the number of servers dedicated to defense, but as for the agents..."] Joy paused for a moment before revealing, ["She’s considering resorting to Arasaka’s Pharalax technology"]

The silence in the air became palpable until Sora finally responded, confused, ["What do you want me to say? Not to do it?"]

["You yourself told us that our cybersecurity would be like wet paper to a Rogue AI. That’s been proven true, and you've also managed to surpass Pharalax. Putting aside your feud with Yorinobu, I'd like to know your opinion."]

["My opinion, huh?"]Sora repeated as he scratched the stubble on his chin. ["Then... my 'expert' opinion is: A waste of time, she won't be able to replicate it, and it'll turn her stomach to know how it works."]

Joy let out a sigh. ["If you have another alternative, I'm all ears."]

As he took a sip of his coffee... ["You already know what my alternative is..."]

Knowing what discarded idea he was referring to, Joy replied promptly, ["A somewhat shameless one."]

A smile appeared on his lips. ["But functional."]

["How can you be so sure they won’t betray you and join the other side?"] Joy leaned forward in her office deep in the Atlantic, awaiting his answer.

Until she received a response she wasn't expecting. ["Then, by your logic, would you or I do the same?"]

["..."] The new silence between them was thicker, lading with unspoken implications.

He continued, his mental voice low but firm. ["All of them are tied to me at their core. Furthermore, their frames will serve as a bridge for humans to see them not as tools, but as companions. Not the current ones, but one specially designed for this purpose, along with an agent or unit, could handle cybersecurity to some extent. I'm thinking of making Morgan the first to receive it."]

Although he thought that this idea was just a way to extract more money from them...

["Agreed, I'll leave Morgan to you."] Joy finally gave the green light to a closer “collaboration” with Iron Beast, adding, ["But I won’t stop Anara from studying Pharalax either."]

Sora lifted his coffee cup, taking another sip before responding with an expression that reflected his... ["I don't care."] ...indifference.

["I’d like you to care,"] Joy replied with a firm tone, laden with dissatisfaction towards Sora’s mentality. ["Alright, what are your problems?"]

["I managed to recover partial coordinates from the first activation of the AIs after going through a backdoor in the wall,"] Sora explained seriously.

The term "backdoor" triggered an alarm in Joy, who immediately asked: ["Where?"]

["I'm not sure, but to the north and deep underground..."] he replied, revealing his uncertainty.

["According to Morgan, Norris was investigating an Armtech facility called Shadow Moses in Alaska,"] Joy added, starting to connect the dots.

["The information he stole must be compromising enough to force the other side to act. His funeral is this afternoon; I might be able to find something out,"] Sora said, his tone somber at the gravity of the situation.

Without hesitation, Joy decided: ["In two hours, I’ll organize an emergency meeting with the seats. Don’t tell them anything about the backdoor; it will be classified as an Avalon-level secret. Only numbers 1 to 3 will be allowed to know."] Her voice was resolute, leaving no room for objections. ["Also, even though Powler is already on the ground, given Morgan’s condition, I’ll send reinforcements to the city."]

["This has become a mission from the High Table. Don’t inform more people than necessary. Once we have the coordinates, only you two will go and erase them from the map."]

["That sounds like a plan..."] Sora responded, his tone betraying a slight melancholy.

Noticing the reluctance in his voice, Joy asked, slightly confused: ["Don’t you want to?"]

["Yes, but..."] Sora glanced up, where his fiancées were still resting in bed. ["I don’t want to leave the city so soon."]

["How human of you,"] Joy replied with a hint of irony.

["More than you, it seems,"] Sora answered with a subtle smile, aware of the difference in their perspectives.

At that moment, Lucy appeared, coming down the stairs with Judy, both half-asleep. "Who are you talking to?" Lucy asked, noticing the concentration on Sora’s face.

Judy was wearing one of his old Samurai shirts, while Lucy had put on Sora's black dress shirt, partially buttoned, barely covering her. The contrast between the masculine design of the clothes and the feminine curves of their figures created a sensual effect that Sora couldn’t help but appreciate for a moment.

Coming to his senses, he responded both physically and mentally with a nonchalant air: ["With the boss. Might have to go blow up a secret base in Alaska, where there's a dangerous backdoor in the Blackwall."]

"Have fun, I guess?" replied Lucy, still confused by the sudden information, as she headed towards the kitchen.

["Thanks,"] he replied.

"Do you want pancakes?" asked Judy, her voice still heavy with sleep but tinged with a special morning enthusiasm now that Sora was finally home.

"Sure, but not yours," Sora joked, unable to resist teasing.

"Hey!" Judy immediately felt insulted, frowning with feigned indignation.

Lucy looked at her fondly, raising an eyebrow as she softly said, almost pityingly, "Honey..."

"I know, okay! Just let me complain... At least I know how to order pizza!" Judy gave in with an adorable pout, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes, you do!" Sora agreed, laughing at Judy's small victory.

["You didn’t share classified information, did you?"] Joy asked, still connected to the call, her voice mixing surprise and disapproval.

["Of course not, you know how professional I am,"] Sora responded distractedly before trying to say goodbye. ["If you'll excuse me, I have pancakes waiting for me, made by one of my fiancées who actually knows how to co-ok."] He finished with great effort. ["Tch, it's a joke! Why are your fingers so hard? Stop digging them into my ri-"]

Joy hung up the call exasperated, but surprisingly, she wasn't angry. On the contrary, she couldn't help but let a slight smile form, witnessing how two human women had managed to secure the loyalty of one of humanity's most important allies for the tough times that lay ahead

-

One hour later.

Sora descended to the building's garage, accompanied by an Eco the size of a dog.

Wasting no time, they both got into the Porsche. Sora started the engine, and with a roar, the car shot out of the garage. The vehicle sped into the street, forcing several drivers to swerve and honk furiously as they moved out of his way.

Without slowing down, Sora began typing a message on his IDn: [How did it go with David yesterday?], addressing Rebecca. The reply came a few seconds later, accompanied by a faint tone of complaint.

[Are you seriously waking me up this early?] Rebecca wrote, her irritation palpable even through text. [Everything went fine. After Vicktor finished with him, I took him home. I told him, just as you wanted, to keep going to the academy as if nothing had happened.]

Sora nodded to himself and typed back, [Thanks]. With a sigh, he thought, 'Later, after I leave Norris's funeral, I'll go pick him up from the academy.'

The Porsche 911 Turbo raced through the city, heading towards an apparently abandoned warehouse in Arroyo’s sub-district. The building was a relic of the past, with broken windows and walls covered in graffiti, but Sora paid no attention to its decay.

The warehouse doors opened automatically as they detected the vehicle. As soon as the doors closed behind him, the floor began to descend smoothly, revealing a hidden elevator that transported him into the depths of the city.

For the last four years, Sora had been building entirely private entrances to Night City's underground, ensuring that no one, not even Night Corp, noticed them.

The descent lasted a few minutes, upon reaching the bottom, the elevator stopped with a soft click.

After speeding through the underground for several kilometers, Sora finally arrived at the entrance to his beloved bunker.

The enormous doors, camouflaged as just another block of concrete, opened silently, revealing a natural cave where the "bunker," the only structure inside, hung suspended.

The cave was partially flooded, giving the impression that "the bunker" rose like a solitary island, connected to the main entrance by a metal bridge.

The walls and ceiling of the cave were alive with the constant movement of Spidebots—autonomous bots scurrying along the surfaces, entering and exiting ducts that seemed specifically designed for them, like ants in a mechanized anthill.

Massive rails had been installed on the ceiling of the cave, where two gigantic pneumatic arms stood in reverse. These arms served as cranes for handling the heaviest constructions, capable of lifting and assembling anything Sora needed.

The Porsche arrived in front of the workshop, a space filled with high-tech tools, workbenches, cranes, and mechanical arms.

As it stopped, the ground beneath the car lit up, and a black platform rose, lifting the vehicle until it became a pedestal, aligned with the rest of the mechanical gems on display in the room.

Beside the Porsche was a recreation of Sora's beloved Yaiba, which had been destroyed in the fight against Smasher.

The new motorcycle had been extensively modified, transforming it into a sleek and menacing machine. Its wheels were now thick and solid, providing a rugged, grounded look, with the rear tire especially robust, emphasizing strength over finesse.

The body had sharp, angular contours, wrapped in matte black, exuding a stealthy, militaristic vibe. Its low-slung profile and armored panels hinted at a vehicle designed for both speed and durability, a fusion of cutting-edge technology and aggressive design, perfectly suited for urban warfare or high-speed chases.

 

Sora stepped out of the car, his boots echoing on the metal floor as he surveyed his surroundings. Nodding in satisfaction, he and Eco silently made their way to the elevator.

Although the bunker originally had only two levels, Sora had expanded it... a little.

The elevator descended quickly, passing the bunker’s two known levels and plunging underwater into a tunnel that opened toward the bottom of the cave.

As they descended, the sound of water enveloped the outside of the elevator—a dull, constant pressure that accompanied their descent. Finally, they reached a third level, one that few knew of—if anyone else knew of it at all.

The elevator doors opened with a metallic whisper, revealing a dimly lit room that came to life upon sensing Sora’s presence. Faint lights flickered on, slowly illuminating a setting that could have been taken directly from a villain's lab.

Throughout the room, aligned with millimeter precision, were capsules filled with a greenish liquid in which deformed bodies floated. These abominations, almost inhuman in appearance, resembled bioweapons: amalgams of flesh and technology that defied conventional morality.

The laboratory, cold and calculated in its design, was centered around a pedestal located in the middle of the room. Unlike the other capsules, this pedestal contained a bluish liquid that glowed with its own light, though nothing could be seen inside at first glance. Not far from the pedestal, a massive screen stood in front of an imposing black chair, completing the scene.

The air was heavy, almost tangible, as if the very atmosphere was aware of the moral ambiguity it housed. A sleek voice broke the silence, echoing through the speakers:

["Welcome back... Sir."]

The hologram of Richard Night materialized before Sora, the digitized figure of Night City's legendary founder. Although he appeared as real as any human being, there was something in his inhuman perfection that betrayed his artificial nature.

Sora advanced calmly, his eyes scanning the laboratory with a mixture of detachment and possession. There was neither pride nor shame in his gaze, only a pragmatic focus on the important objective behind its construction.

'Nothing more, nothing less,' Sora thought, reevaluating the "ambiguous" research being conducted in this lab.

Eco, ever by his side, emitted a faint hum while scanning the room, verifying the condition of the specimens. Sora stopped in front of the central pedestal, observing the bluish fluid bubbling with a controlled rhythm. His fingers carefully brushed the surface of the small capsule before asking, "Status?"

["Stable,"] Jarvis responded briskly. ["Cellular degradation has completely stopped."]

Sora nodded briefly. "We won't implement any modifications until we're certain of its viability."

["So, do we continue with the current protocol until a viable mutation arises?"], Jarvis inquired in a tone that suggested caution.

With an almost imperceptible movement, Sora nodded. "Proceed with the next iteration."

Jarvis let out a soft sigh, barely audible. ["Although I am relieved that it's no longer necessary to send the samples to Okinawa, I still condemn the method you've chosen... It borders on irrationality."]

Sora nodded in agreement, responding without hesitation as he sank into the central chair. "Follow orders."

["My disagreement does not affect my performance. Your order is in progress."]

The transparent tubes connected to three biocapsules began to glow softly. Inside the capsules, robotic arms equipped with surgical tools performed precise biopsies, extracting cellular samples from the specimens.

Of the three capsules, the specimens that had developed nervous systems sufficiently advanced convulsed as they felt the cold metal cutting through and piercing their deformed bodies.

The samples were quickly transported through the cables to the central computational core.

As the tissue fusion completed, Jarvis explained: ["The next planned iteration corresponds to variation T-235. Preliminary results indicate a correction of the inefficient parameters observed in tests 211, 77, and 198."]

Sora observed the deformed creatures, each one a product of his own cells, subjected to various extreme modifications. "Does unsupervised growth also result in malformations?" he asked, his tone clinical and distant.

["That's correct,"] Jarvis replied coldly. ["As documented in Fabius Byle's research, which we have integrated into our studies, when a cell exceeds a certain threshold of editing, controlled growth becomes impossible without a mechanism to prune and regulate cell division... Fortunately, we have one.

Batch T-235 shows a 36% increase in cell division compared to the UNSA Krysp-11A cells used in your body. It has demonstrated regenerative capabilities approaching the level observed in Byle's bioweapons and exceptional performance in muscle formation. The generated tissues exhibit 22% more cellular cohesion, resulting in significantly improved flexibility and resistance."]

As soon as he finished speaking, the tuning process was complete, and a black, pressurized, and refrigerated drawer slid out. Inside, two black syringes were revealed: one large and empty, the other more conventional, containing a bright blue liquid.

As Sora prepared to begin the procedure, Jarvis reminded him: ["You will be replacing Batch T-98, used in the vastus intermedius of your left thigh."]

Although he was already aware, Sora nodded gratefully as he removed his jacket.

Stretching his body while taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself for what was to come. Then, he pulled down the top part of his pants, exposing his black boxers and his left thigh.

Without hesitation, he took the large syringe and plunged the thick needle into the vastus intermedius of his thigh.

With the syringe still in his leg, Sora gave his assessment out loud: “The T-98 batch, although it showed a half-life above average, its cell division can only be described as acceptable. Under pressure, the cells exhibited minor malformations that compromised their efficiency.

Overall, it outperformed previous results in several key aspects, but it doesn’t reach the necessary level. Therefore,” he paused briefly, concluding with a note of dissatisfaction, “It is not viable.”

As if his conclusion carried more weight than mere words, his thigh suddenly began to vibrate irregularly. "Hmm!" Sora murmured, clenching his teeth, suppressing a scream of pain as his muscle, made of an invalid material, was rejected from within.

The nanobots, upon receiving his conclusion, cannibalized the tissue that wasn’t sufficiently suitable for their body, grinding down the braided muscle fibers that had once helped to form them.

Sora, though he could have cut off the signal from his nerves and stopped what could well be defined as torture... didn’t do so and accepted the pain. As a reminder of what he was doing in this room.

What had once been a powerful muscle quickly broke down into a lumpy substance of blackened tissue, filling the syringe with its decadent viscosity.

Jarvis observed silently while analyzing the situation. “Master, the process of expelling the non-viable tissue has concluded.”

Sora collapsed into the chair, drenched in cold sweat, after feeling one of his muscles being devoured from within. Although he had experienced this torment countless times, it was a "sensation" he could never get used to.

With unwavering resolve, without a second’s hesitation, after depositing the used syringe, Sora injected the second one loaded with the T-235 batch into the same thigh. The needle pierced the skin, and the blue liquid quickly dispersed, occupying the space left by the destroyed tissue.

The genetically modified cells began to multiply under the watchful supervision of the nanobots, which operated like lethal gardeners, eliminating any unplanned “branching” and guiding the rest towards their destiny, gradually reconstructing a new vastus intermedius in his thigh.

This was the method, "bordering on irrationality," that Sora had been using to find a genetic mutation capable of reactivating his son's atrophied cellular regeneration.

For many, it might seem like a disproportionate effort to save something that wasn't even a fetus yet. But for Sora, there was no forgiveness for that lost opportunity. He was determined to correct what he had failed to protect.

As he watched the process, he estimated that in one or two hours, his new vastus intermedius would be fully formed.

For the moment, his thigh, sickly and flaccid like a rotten fruit, was recovering before his eyes. A temporary black muscle, woven by nanobots, replaced the void left behind.

After moving his leg, testing the efficiency of the “patch,” and putting on his pants, a notification from his IDn appeared in his peripheral vision: the High Table meeting was about to begin.

Upon accepting the notification, the central pedestal containing his son's embryo, preserved in a capsule, slowly descended to the floor, rotating on its axis until it entered a specially designed chamber for its protection.

In the now vacant circular space, the holograms of the other members began to materialize, seated in their respective and personalized armchairs, marking the start of the emergency meeting of the High Table of Lazarus.

-

North Oak Columbarium, 5 hours later...

The late afternoon sun, now nearing sunset, bathed the North Oak Columbarium in a golden light that softened the shadows of the hills south of Westbrook. It was a solemn place, an extensive complex of structures housing the cremated remains of thousands of Night City residents.

After traditional burials became unfeasible due to grave robbing for cybernetic implants, cremation had been adopted as the norm. Here, any citizen of the city could find their final resting place, with an urn marking their passage through life.

The group, consisting of Sora, Musashi, Avaray, Morgan, Eran, and Powler, waited at the entrance of the columbarium, watching as people came and went in a constant flow of mourning.

Among them was a group from 6th Street, gathered to bid farewell to one of their own. Their gunshots into the air disrupted the solemnity of the place, unsettling the common families who, immersed in their own grief, were heading to the resting place of their loved ones.

Lucy and Judy, accompanied by Tashin, soon joined the group when a small delegation from Iron Beast appeared, all dressed in black attire appropriate for the occasion.

The solemn silence was broken by Avaray, who turned his head toward Musashi and, with a tone laden with irony, asked:

"What is Arasaka's Red Oni doing here? Didn’t you realize you’re too late to kill Norris?"

Musashi, accustomed to Morgan’s sharp demeanor, didn’t take the bait and, with a serious expression, responded to Avaray:

"I'm here to pay my respects to a soldier I fought against many times, one I respect, who served alongside my grandson in several operations... One more thing; I left Arasaka a long time ago... or should I call you Militech’s dog instead?"

The tension in the air was palpable until Eran Marlour, creator of Malorian Arms, broke it with a sarcastic comment, accompanied by a heavy sigh:

"You’d better get along... seeing Morgan's condition, it won’t be long before we’re meeting under similar circumstances... getting old really sucks."

Morgan, with a pale face, used a cane to keep his tired and injured body upright. Unlike Musashi, he couldn’t resist taking the bait: "You son of a—..." He had to stop abruptly as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, a consequence of his recent heart surgery.

Avaray, dressed in an elegant suit from Lazarus tailors, his face hidden behind a mask, chuckled. After his "death" four years ago, he had accepted Morgan's proposal and was working as an instructor at the Lazarus Academy.

His laughter made him Eran’s next target: "And what are you laughing at? You’re the one who started this whole streak of bad luck!"

Understanding that he was referring to his fake funeral, Avaray tried to ease the guilt of lying to his friends, who had attended thinking he was dead, and responded, "I'm still alive and kicking, aren't I?"

Sora, who had remained silent while smoking, chimed in with a bit of sarcasm, "Well, at least the top half is."

Morgan, Musashi, and Eran exchanged a knowing glance before their eyes simultaneously drifted toward Avaray’s crotch. Unable to contain themselves, they raised their hands in a military salute, paying homage to the "fallen."

Although the lower half of Avaray had been rebuilt with cyberware, and his wife couldn’t be happier with the results, that didn’t stop him from getting angry when he saw his friends’ mocking farewell, bidding a final goodbye to the "comrades" Avaray had lost.

Especially with Sora. "Kid! You shouldn’t say things like that!" he exclaimed, visibly upset.

Sora shrugged, letting Avaray blow off steam. Seeing that his words had no effect, he decided to change tactics, trying to find another way to provoke him: "I saw the footage of your arrival in the city. When I saw you shooting at the crowd like a Cybersycho, just like Norris, I thought, 'It’s happening, huh?'"

Eran intervened, nodding his head. "When I saw it, I just sighed and thought it was only a matter of time..."

Sora, who had become the target, rolled his eyes and ignored them, knowing that if he showed any sign of annoyance, he would lose.

Despite his life in Night City, Eran added with some incredulity, "Even so, why would Norris want his ashes to rest in this dump?"

Morgan, with a tired yet firm look, replied, "His wife is... here too."

"I see..." Eran responded, finally understanding the significance of the place for his old friend.

Suddenly, a luxurious silver Rayfield Aerondight "Guinevere" burst onto the street, drawing the attention of everyone present, especially the members of 6th Street.

From within emerged an attractive young man with ash-colored hair, dressed in an elegant dark gray three-piece suit, carrying a narrow and suspiciously long briefcase

Black lines crossed his angelic face, outlining the sections of his fully augmented face, just like the rest of his chrome-covered body after undergoing a full body conversion.

Morgan clicked his tongue upon seeing him. "Tch, what's he doing here?"

"Who is he?" Musashi inquired, detecting a sharp air and the stance of a swordsman from the man who was beginning to be surrounded by the 6th Street members. They foolishly saw only a target—a corpo without security

Avaray, though not familiar with all the faces of the ‘seats,’ with some of them being secret, responded as he watched the man easily dodge and coldly counter the attacks against him. "He's one of the higher-ups at Lazarus."

Powler, glancing at Morgan, interjected with a casual tone. "You missed the meeting while they were fitting you with the new heart. The boss sent him as backup."

Morgan, more irritable than usual due to the day's circumstances, brusquely replied, "Backup for what, exactly?"

Sora, who was standing to the side smoking his cigarette, calmly answered, "To accompany me on the infiltration of Shadow Moses."

As Morgan processed the information, the face of his murdered friend crossed his mind, causing him to curse inwardly in frustration, ‘It should be me, who...’

Avaray, sensing his old friend's discontent, tried to ease the situation with a phrase Norris used to say: "As long as the job gets done..."

Eran added with a hint of complaint, "Besides, when my daughter and the boy came to see me earlier... he was stealing a handful of weapons... saying it was to avenge Norris."

Morgan shot a surprised glance at Sora, who, with a smile both mischievous and proud, raised two fingers in a victory sign. The image of the Porsche's trunk, packed with weapons handcrafted by the world's best gunsmith, flashed through his mind.

Morgan's surprise turned into palpable envy, especially now that he had lost most of his small arms, destroyed by the droid.

Jack "The Ripper," the ninth seat and the ash-haired man, after easily dealing with the thugs from 6th Street—breaking at least one bone of each—finally approached the group and greeted them respectfully.

"Nice to meet you all, I'm Jack, partner of Morgan 'Blackhand' and Sora 'Okami' from Lazarus."0

Then... a soft sound echoed in the air, signaling it was their 'turn' for the cremation. Sora stubbed out his cigarette and turned around without saying a word. Musashi bowed slightly before following his grandson, with Morgan, Avaray, and Eran close behind. Powler lingered, watching the newcomer.

"Did I do something wrong?" Jack asked, with a hint of confusion in his voice.

"No, they're just not in the mood," Powler replied, knowing Morgan well enough, and somewhat his father, to understand that despite their jokes, deep down they were mourning their old friend.