The holo call came unexpectedly. Sam was still a little tired from his short night in a small hotel room in northern Brandenburg and needed a whole moment before he accepted: "What?" Sara's professional voice boomed in Sam's hungover head: "Good morning freshman. I saw you completed your assignment. Good job. In addition, a few digital birds chirped to me that a Rogue Runner had messed with a corp and caused a lot of chaos." Sara let her statement hang over Sam as if in sword, but before he could say anything, she continued: "Sam... I beg you, tell me that you had nothing to do with it." "Well, as far as that is concerned... The assignment took me mentally more than I ever suspected and I wasn't quite with myself. But I haven't left any traces that can be traced back to me or you!" Sam tried to justify himself, but even to his own ears it sounded weak. Sara let out a sigh and switched from her avatar that was displayed during the call and sent the digitization of her face instead. She looked exhausted, deep circles under her eyes and her hair a complete mess. "Why?" She stared straight into his soul. "Um, me, so..." Sam took a deep breath and rose from his bed. "I'm sorry. Real. But as I said, it doesn't suggest anything about me." "It doesn't have to. The fact that a covert corpo wiretapping operation has been uncovered is causing massive instability in the entire area. The gang bosses have already called an emergency meeting to discuss how to deal with it. Everyone is on high alert because it has existed unnoticed next to everyone for so long." Sam stretched his tense muscles and looked around his small room. Gray plastic floor and anthracite walls made of a similar material. The small bed and a table with chair were all furniture and from the equally grayish ceiling shone a faint blue-white light. After leaving the large building complex in which the Corpos were located yesterday, he had looked for the nearest hotel and checked in with a false identity. Officially, Ahmed Irfan was here, for one night, before his important business meeting. It wasn't a watertight ID, but that was hardly necessary, he made sure that no cameras had tracked him to this place, so a name and fake description were quite enough. "But should we really care? As far as I know, the Aizutachi has no territory of its own here in northern Brandenburg. Besides, shouldn't that give us the chance to grab some security jobs?" "How beautiful it must be to live in your world, Sam. But the rest of us, unfortunately, have to exist in the real world and nothing is ever so black and white here. The few jobs we get out of here is hardly anything compared to the lost jobs we would have had at a more stable time. A few important people have put surgeries on hold until everything has calmed down here. Do you understand what that means?" Sam took a deep breath: "A lot of Verl-"
"A LOT OF LOSS, right!" Sam stared into Sara's projected image for a moment, she had never been anything but completely professional. But now her eyes burned with anger and her voice boiled with anger. "I'm responsible for you. So if you mess up, it goes back to me. I have to pay for your shit now. I guess I'll get a message at noon today that I have to come to one of the upper offices." "Oh. I didn't know that. Fuck, is there anything I can do to help you?" Sara's anger seemed to subside a little as she replied, "Possibly. I'll send you something later. If we can do something that makes the Aizutachi do more than your mistake did in damage, I might get out of this thing with all my body parts." "With all parts of the body?" "Sam, this isn't a gang of a bunch of pushing drugs. Here it is serious. I have to go now. I will send you a file later, I want you to take this file and give it to a corpo unnoticed. If everything works out the way I hope, it should give you a way into Digital Grave Inc. You will arrive there as a newcomer and be included in their training program. To have a mole in such a corp is worth millions." With that, the call closed and Sam was left alone with his thoughts. What did she mean by mole? Would Sam work undercover in a Mega Corp? Digital Grave Inc., was an armaments company that mainly manufactured distance weapons. From missiles to orbital cannons. And how should the whole thing work, such a company must have massive security precautions to prevent competitors from sneaking in. But Sam decided for the time being that guessing wildly wouldn't get him too far and that he had better wait for the file.
"Ok. Now look for something to eat" He turned to the closed door, pressed the small button with a red lamp and when it turned green, the door opened. The hallway was deserted and silent, only one person was to be seen. A guest who had apparently locked himself out of his room and desperately tried to pry open the door with his bare hands. He didn't seem to be the brightest as he tore at the frame of the door with force and breathed heavily.
The rest of the hotel was similarly deserted, there was only one person at the reception, but he was in an argument with the receptionist. Sam left the small foyer and followed the road north to find something that could soothe his cat. It was still quite early in the day, but the road was already full of vehicles and people. The shops along the way were all open and already had customers. The smell of various culinary delicacies filled the air and Sam was tempted to get something at the first restaurant that came along. A Korean with a long counter. But Sam didn't want to take the first best. He would feast today. After all the problems the day before, he really deserved it. He wandered along the crowded street until he saw a restaurant across the street that had very few customers. The entrance was decorated with high-quality looking false marble and onyx. The sign above it informed Sam that there was the finest food from all over the world. Sam was sure that this must be the main restaurant of a big gang, but that had never bothered him, as long as you always paid and left a good tip, such places were sometimes the safest in the entire city.
From the inside it was even more impressive than from the outside. Fine gold accents ran through the ebony counter and a selection of very rare liquor bottles, lined up along the wall behind the bar, testifying to the class and exclusivity of this place. It was not possible to directly deduce which gang this place belonged to, but it had to be one of the top 5, as it was a true power statement to present such an expensive place so prominently here. "Good morning. Welcome to the Golden Wine Barrel. A table for one?" Sam greeted a small, good-looking waitress, with golden synth hair and a perfectly fitting uniform. "Yes, of course. I also need a counter-beer right away, it was a long evening." "Of course, you can choose any seat in the house, there are no reservations yet." With these words, she retreated to the kitchen and Sam looked around between the tables. There were two types of tables, for couples and for groups of four. He chose a pair of tables at the back that sat directly in front of a large work of art that Sam had never seen before, but he recognized the artist's style. It had to be one of the lesser-known works by a 2030 artist named Bankman. Sam didn't know much about art and only knew about said artist through memes. He had seemed to have been an eccentric. The picture itself was definitely more than just plain and simple... eccentric. The work must have driven the value of this establishment even higher. The soft seats of the chair were a gift from the gods for Sam, he enjoyed the comfort until the waitress appeared with a beer and a small tablet. "Here you go," she put it right in front of Sam, it was dark and cold, with a nice head of foam, "this is a beer that is produced here in the city, in the style of the past." She also handed him the tablet, on which a menu was already displayed, which made Sam's mouth water. "If they have chosen, it will be prepared for them immediately, and breakfast will also be available in the next hour." With that, she withdrew again, leaving Sam alone. He was a great friend of good food, but he was mostly out of town and therefore rarely had time to dine finely. Money was another point that kept Sam from eating like this every day. But since he had earned a lot of money through the Aizutachi lately, he could also treat himself. The menu, as the sign outside promised, listed a variety of dishes from different cultures, with a wide variety of drinks that could sometimes outshine an ordinary car in terms of prices. Sam decided on a "Tokyo Den Steak" after long and difficult consideration, he didn't quite know what it was, but online it had the best reviews. While he was waiting for his food, Sam saw three men enter the store. The foremost was small and broad, but dressed in expensive fabric, the two next to him seemed to be bodyguards, also well dressed but much more subtle and with obvious weapons strapped to their legs. Large revolvers, which were probably used primarily for intimidation. The trio made their way to the back, towards Sam and as he approached, he realized that it was Latano Gurisha, a mob boss who led the most culturally diverse gang in all of New Berlin. Explained the selection in the menu, Sam thought.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Gurisha was known to be in the pockets of almost all corps, and the first choice was when asked who was the most dangerous. Sam tried not to be intimidated, in vain. So he at least tried not to let it show to the outside world, with a little more success. As the boss passed his table, Sam raised the beer in greeting and lowered his head respectfully. That's how they did it, right? Since Sam was still in a piece, he assumed that he had behaved correctly. His hair stood out for some time after the three had already disappeared into a back room. But the food that was now on its way helped Sam calm down. The fine scent of soy in the sauce and countless, albeit synthetic, spices filled his nose and he had almost forgotten his throbbing head until he noticed a message in his HUD. The icon for Unread flashed slowly and Sam opened it while enjoying a meal like rarely before. 'IdentityAdminRun.fl' was the name of the package that was sent. The file Sara had told us about earlier. "Well then, let's see," Sam muttered to himself as he opened it and studied. It appeared to be a daemon that could create a new entry for Sam and infiltrate the system in such a way that the identity program could be permanently monitored. It was a powerful daemon. It had to be worth hundreds of thousands. Why was such an expensive tool burned just to put Sam in a corp. Sam tried to study the daemon's code, but it was too complex to analyze properly with his hardware. Sam had the uncomfortable feeling of being drawn into something far beyond his abilities and influence. As if gods were using it to play chess. But if he could make sure that he and Sara weren't punished, it was probably worth it. Sara would be severely punished, but Sam would probably disappear without a trace, only to be found weeks later on the riverbank. But maybe Sam could also use the situation to his advantage. When did you have the opportunity to get deep into a company, to be trained by them and to be paid for it. How much he would get, he also had to ask Sara if he would also receive Neuros from the Aizutachi. But better not immediately.
Behind him, Sam heard two muffled shots and the fall of heavy bodies. Time to leave. He got up and sent the waitress the money plus tip and made his way to the exit, but he hadn't been fast enough. The back door was slammed open and the little mob boss trudged out with a large shotgun in his hand, which was more like a Renaissance cannon. As he walked across the restaurant, he called out to the waitress: "Sina, honey, can you please clean up? Boris thought he had to question me and I wanted to fire Dieter for a while... Hehe. Fire." Sam tried to sneak out of the store, but Gurisha seemed to have good eyes, because Sam heard behind him: "Hey you there, come here" Damn. Slowly he turned around and slowly raised his hands: "I didn't see or hear anything" he said quickly, but the little man shouldered his gun and laughed: "Don't worry, I won't hurt you, but I need someone to deliver a message without using the net. You look young and athletic to me. Gurisha took a small folded piece of paper out of his pocket and trudged towards Sam. "This one has to go to Derv, a fixer in downtown. Do you know him? Mostly hangs out in the Atlantis bar, tell him Gu sent you" Before Sam could reply, 2000 Neo-Euros were sent to his account. "1000 for the task and 1000 so that you don't look at the piece of paper. Did we understand each other?" "Oh, um, yes, of course" came from Sam, who toyed with the idea of testing his luck and just running.
"That's good boy, so come on, get moving!" Sam was lost in thought for a moment, but then turned around, stowed the note unopened and left the store. Behind her, Gurisha shouted "I have your data with my runner, so don't do shit!" Sam was quite sure that a runner would have triggered the traps if someone had tried to crack Sam's Data Safe. But the threat itself was enough to assume that it was probably best if he simply handed over the note. No matter what was going on here, he was a small cog that was no longer needed after the abandonment and could disappear.
So Sam set out to do a task for people who were so far above him that he couldn't even imagine what the big plan behind it was. And then he would do another task, which was also so far above his salary grade that he could only speculate what they wanted to get him at. Wonderful. The day starts as shitty as the last one ended. Sam sighed and called his motorcycle over his HUD, his Vanguard and waited on the side of the road until the autopilot drove it in front of him. The power of the superbike, which is difficult to control, was able to lift his spirits at least a little. Downtown, huh? He would drive between all the super fancy Corp cars, surrounded by cops without end, which means he would have to follow the rules of the road. Grand.
Atlantis was more than just a bar, as Sam had expected. It was a full-blown nightclub, with an adjoining casino, three restaurants of different nationalities and a hotel. The building was gigantic, it looked like an ordinary Corpo Tower, one of hundreds. But that was only true from the 20th floor. Among them was the Atlantis and brought bright colors, high-quality holo animations and daring architecture to the desolate gray of the city.
Sam was on one of the big highways that ran right through New Berlin and saw that each one of them had its own exit, especially for Atlantis.
Big players were on the move here. So quickly in, hand in notes and out again. Quite simply. What can go wrong? With a jerk, Sam forced himself neither to think the sentence any further, nor to have it in his head in any form. Even in the most intricate corners of his brain there could be no trace of it! It wasn't that Sam was superstitious, but when you were raised by a nanny who was more abuelita to him than his real family, you let it influence you. Abuelita Sasa had been a very spiritual woman. From tarot cards, to magical runes, to witch spells, she was an expert, as only someone could be who was firmly convinced that all that magical stuff was real. While Sam had managed to never let himself be lulled by the other things, he couldn't prevent a lot of Abuelita Sasa's superstition from being burned into him.
He was good at hiding it, but deep down he always feared that there was a grain of truth in the matter. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the motorbike's autopilot take over until he regained his composure. Then he shifted down a few gears and turned the throttle all the way through. The superbike broke out into explosive acceleration and shot past the rest of the traffic towards the descent towards Atlantis.
Sam felt the wind pulling at him and how his innards fought against the still pressing acceleration. At just under 200 km/h, he cut through the remainder, sluggish traffic and only had to let go of the gas a few times before he could race down the descent.
It felt as if he had strapped himself to a rocket and roughly aimed in the direction of Mars and pressed the launch button. He was now traveling so fast that his biological body was no longer able to keep up and react if something happened. His eyes, however, allowed Sam to continue to perceive everything, even if he was now little more than a glorified passenger.
However, all this did not last long, as the safety features of the autopilot slowed the bike down and limited the throttle to 5% as Sam approached the club. It was probably better that way, he thought to himself as he freed himself from the rigidity in which he was trapped during the last seconds. Everything about him was shaking. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his arms were covered with goosebumps. Only now did the adrenaline seem to do its job properly and Sam felt an ecstasy that resembled the effects of designer drugs or street chems.
He let his motorcycle chauffeur him the rest of the way while he indulged in a frenzy of tension, nervousness, excitement and euphoria.
He couldn't say the last time he'd felt so incredibly alive. Even fights to the death no longer gave him the feeling. He should probably be careful with it before he should find himself as a kind of junkie.
Even when he had stowed his Vanguard in one of the automatic parking elevators, he was still shaking and with knees as stable as the contents of a guacamole pack, he slowly walked towards the main entrance.
A mighty staircase, decorated with LEDs, led up to five large doors, at each of which two bouncers stood and controlled the guests. Each of them was a mountain full of muscles, even the one female guard Sam could just grab and fold like a shirt. All of them were dressed in classy suits with the exact same styles and wore sunglasses that could probably do more than just block UV rays. And due to their stoic faces and short-shaven heads, they all looked incredibly similar to each other, if you ignored the difference in size of some. Only the colored sashes brought individuality. Each had its own color, from dark purple to bright yellow. Sam had no idea what the style of clothing was called, but it gave the whole thing a certain authority that didn't come from the gigantic bodies themselves.
Before he arrived at the stairs, he took a deep breath and forced his body to function normally again. A short breathing exercise later, he took the first step up the steps.