A Motive with a Universal Adapter 02

Then there was another sound, like water through a pipe, growing louder by the second. Ritz's head instinctively jerked towards the ceiling.

"Screamers?" I asked.

"No. Zoomers."

Across the stadium, Director Robertson's photo from a magazine interview last year filled the JumboTron. It suddenly exploded in a progressive fulmination of fire and glass as one, two, three, four missiles struck the screen from left to right. A pair of fighter jets streaked overhead as debris rained down on the crowd in the stands.

"... just because it took a little bribery and blackmail to bring it about." The picture was gone but Robertson's voice continued over the PA system unabated.

"They're coming around." Ritz pointed at the two jets banking into a hard turn in the distant sky. "Everybody out! Now! Move, move, move!

Seventy-five thousand people simultaneously had the same idea. Seventy-five thousand souls scrambled for the exits, screaming and clawing and trampling one another.

There were more explosions behind and above us. The lights flickered. The stadium trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling and the screams were deafening.

"Stay together!" Ritz shouted over the din. "Keep your head down and follow Carl!"

Casting aside any subtlety or grace, Mount Carl bulldozed his way through the chaos like the offensive lineman he was built to be. Philosophy was traded for physics as raw power propelled his forward momentum. We followed in the wake of humanity he plowed for us, Owl and I and Ritz in the rear, her shotgun out and at the ready.

The attack lasted less than a minute. I don't know why it stopped, but the chaos and panic continued long after the jets were gone. It seemed like it took an eternity to fight our way out of the stadium into the open air.

We fled with the crowd, filtering out into the surrounding neighborhood, merging into the normal street level masses. I kept my head down like Ritz had told me, and I didn't count the blocks as the tide swept us along through urban canyons, clogging traffic. There were sirens coming from everywhere. Police and Trauma Team AVs raced between the skyscrapers.

I flinched at the sound of the screamers and looked up.

"Wait, wait, stop! Ritz, Carl, Owl! Look!" I shouted, pointing at the twenty-meter vid-screen mounted to the side of the building ahead of us.

The Net54 logo sat in the top corner and next to it was my face. Net54 was running my full exposé. Below the story, the chyron proclaimed "World News Alert!" The stock ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen was dominated by red text and the subhead above it read "Militech stock down 28 points."

The crowd swirled and flowed around us but we ignored the grumbles and taunts as we stood and watched the screen. The subhead changed from 28 points to 29. And then to 30.

"What does that mean?" Ritz asked no one in particular. She turned to me. "Rhoades, what does that mean? Did we win?"

"Yeah..." Militech dropped another point. "Yeah, I think we won."

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Epilouge

Militech attempted to declare martial law in Night City. The NCPD wasn't having it though, and resisted. Arasaka even loaned their troops and equipment to the city at cost. There was about a day and half of sporadic fighting and chaos in the city.

It seemed like Militech was in disarray. Soldiers were sent to seize broadcast studios and transmitters, but then they withdrew for no reason. Fighter jets and troop AVs flew over the city, but never engaged. Militech spokesmen released public statements and then different spokesmen retracted them. Their stock continued to drop.

The sell-off destabilized markets across the globe, triggering a minor crash. Senates and parliaments from every nation with a Militech contract convened hearings and opened investigations. The scandal dominated the news for months.

Militech threw Robertson under the bus.

He was subpoenaed in every investigation and named in every indictment. Nations argued over who got to extradite him first. But he vanished from his home in Washington, DC before he could testify. Despite a global manhunt, he was never heard from again. Ritz is convinced his bosses silenced him for good, and while she would have liked to do the job herself, she's satisfied that Savage Joe has been avenged.

The Militech board of directors pledged massive reform and transparency, but they couldn't stop a slew of new laws and regulations. Contracts were canceled, rewritten, or re-bid. They were forced to accept greater oversight. Militech was too big a Goliath to slay with one stone, but it lost the impunity it had before. The giant was smaller and, for the moment, in chains.

Was the world a safer place because of it? No, probably the opposite. But the world was a little more interesting. In the chaos and the fear there were stories to tell and lights to shine into dark corners. The world needed reporters to do the job.

Net54 offered me one. Network Fifty-fucking-Four! And I turned it down.

Carl pointed out that I needed Network 54 News as a brass ring to keep striving for. What if I achieved my wildest dream only to find that it couldn't live up to my expectations? What if I got there and found another Murray Laska waiting for me? What if Net54 was my Militech? No, Network 54 needs to stay out on the horizon—pure and unsullied—a dream to pursue, not a goal to reach.

I took a job at ICS instead.

The suits convinced me they had dreams of knocking Network 54 News out of its number one ratings slot. Their newsroom was hungry and willing to take risks to go after big stories. They wanted reporters who were just as hungry. There was euro to invest in equipment and people and data and ICS gave me the chance to help guide all of that. Why join a great news organization when you can help build one?

I insisted they let me bring on Ritz as my personal security escort. She almost screwed it up though. She wouldn't accept the responsibility until we found her a lab that could produce Lucidrine. Using Lucidrine to treat Lucidrine withdrawal isn't a long term solution. It's the kind of choice you make when you live your life on the edge.

ICS also hired Owl as my field technician. They let me contract Whistler as often as I needed and they paid him through a Swiss bank account.

Mount Carl turned down my offer. He told me I would need a human being outside of the corporate machine to keep me in touch with my own humanity. He said that could be his job, and he hoped I'd keep him busy. Whatever that means.

There was one thing that really sold me on ICS though. I didn't have to answer to Murray Laska—at least not directly.

When Militech had showed up asking questions about Ritz and me, Murray realized I must've been onto something. He rolled the dice on my story and shorted five thousand shares of Militech stock. That one trade earned him a shattering amount of money and he wasn't shy about giving me the credit. He didn't give me any of the money, mind you, just the credit. The money he used to buy himself a seat on the ICS board of directors, where he claims my work as his success.

But he funnels me the juiciest stories and approves all of my expenses.

Someday, I'm going to turn around and I'm going to bite the hand that feeds me. I'm going to lop it off at the wrist along with those of several other slimy creeps I've met along the way. There are dirty secrets in the ICS board room, just like every other board room of every other corporation in the world.

Someday I'm going to have the fame, the credibility, and the data I need to expose Murray Laska and everyone like him.

But not today.

The End

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The setting of this story is based on the Cyberpunk 2.0.2.0. role playing game published by R. Talsorian Games Inc. It also includes several minor tributes, references, and tips of the hat to other genre classics. All characters and events are original creations.

Special thanks to blind_justice.