These folks didn't look like they belonged in this city, seeming too prim and proper for the harsh streets of Haywood, too joyful for the cutthroat locales of the Waterfront, and far too confident in a town where a gang could pick you up off of the street and ship you off to Pacifica to have your organ put on the black market.
Fish out water.
That phrase came to Jose, watching out of the corner of his eye as the three prospective employers made small talk. He didn't pay attention to the conversation but he appreciated that they all wore pricey tailor-made Italian suits and fine gold jewelry that could probably afford a punk a month's rent in some neighbourhoods.
The guns on their hips seemed more for show with custom-made leather holsters and gem-encrusted grips. These irons seemed to bear a mix of religious iconography and gaudy displays of frivolous wealth in equal parts.
Jose hated working with Europeans.
He really did.
``So, Franz, what's Biotechnica's lay of the land?'' a man with a Latin accent asked.
Franz was the largest of the figures, with a tall and strong physique that made him stick out even before you accounted for his wealth. His hair was blonde and he had a matching beard that did little to hide the squareness of his jaw.
One of his eyes was a piercing and robotic red, an older augment that was extremely out of date.
As he spoke, his accent was Bavarian. Or at least, that's what Jose thought. Not like he'd ever been outside of Night City, let alone to Europe. Honestly, it just sounded like one of the bad guys who'd appear in old films.
``If you've traced the source of the attack on the ESA to Night City,'' he began to explain. ``Then it's either Arasaka or Miltech. All the other firms are either too small to care about the European market, too weak for an attack like that, or have a vested interest in keeping things warm between our corporations and the local community.''
The Latin man nodded. ``I highly doubt that it was Miltech.''
Jose seemed to recall that his name was Francisco, like the old city up north. He was slender with a tanned skin and rugged brown hair. His augments were more numerous than his companion though also more discrete, hidden away under flesh-coloured plates of metal.
The only woman at the table scoffed. Her voice was deeper than he expected, tainted with an accent that almost sounded German but not quite. ``It's Arasaka.''
She was a little older with a bit of grey mixed into her reddish hair. She was tall but lithe, looking like she was practically swimming within her suit. Yet, the fact that she looked out of place had Jose on edge. A sensation that was only added to as his gaze strayed to her rolled up sleeves. He couldn't help but notice the indents in her arms, recognizing mantas blades when he saw them.
Jose seemed to recall that her name was Helen.
Franz nodded. ``From what I read, the attack happened after a data sharing agreement between Miltech and the ESA regarding the discovery of some unlicensed mass drivers on our home turf.'' He hummed and tapped a finger against the table. ``Though are we certain that Miltech isn't just using this as a false flag?''
Helen scoffed. ``It'd be their funeral if they were caught doing it. I doubt President Meyers is likely to forget the last time an American administration made an attempt on our position in space.''
``Plus, Saburo has always been ballsy,'' Francisco added.
Franz nodded and then looked at Helen. ``May I ask why exactly our friend at De Beers have an interest in this?''
Helen smirked. ``The company has always been innovating and that has only accelerated since the loss of our... `home base'.''
``She's the imported muscle,'' Fransisco added before looking over at Jose. ``Though speaking of muscle. What sort of domestic stock are we looking at?''
Jose stirred as he realized that he was being pulled back into this meeting. ``If you're looking for some locally sourced labour, I have a few gangs who I can highly recommend.'' He shrugged. ``Though if you're planning to tussle with Arasaka, I should warn you to be careful. One of my clients got iced going after them pretty recently.''
Helen scoffed. ``Well, I won't be as ill prepared as your prior client.'' She smirked. ``How do you say it here? This isn't my rodeo?''
``First rodeo,'' Jose corrected.
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his pack of smokes, flipping it open and popping one between his lips. As he went to reach for his lighter, Francisco instead reached over and snapped his fingers, producing a bead of plasma.
Jose scoffed as he lit his smoke. ``Nice trick.''
``Started off as a welder before they uh...'' Fransisco grinned. ``Saw my real talents.''
``So why don't you folks tell me a little bit about what you're looking to do. I want to know what exactly I'm prepping my contacts for,'' Jose explained, gesturing between them. ``Are we killing someone, taking some property, blowing up a front?''
Before any of his prospective employers could reply, Catherine came up to the table with a tray of beverages, placing them down upon the table. Jose of course had his lemon sour, Fransisco a glass of red wine, Franz a bottle of beer, and Helen a cocktail that looked like it was more whiskey than anything else.''
``Thanks Cat,'' Jose said.
Catherine nodded. ``No problem, choom. Your food will be on its way shortly.''
With that she was gone.
``Choom,'' Helen said, feeling the word in her mouth. ``Choom. You Americans always have such fascinating slang.''
Jose cocked a brow. ``Thanks?''
Fransisco took a sip of his wine, wincing as he recoiled away from the glass. ``Dear God.''
``Best wine that can be grown in a lab,'' Jose chided before smirking at Franz. ``I hear that the folks at Biotechnica are the ones supplying it.''
``What have you done to this Franz,'' Fransisco grumbled, shaking his head.
Franz chuckled. ``The best that I can, my friend.'' He looked at the beer and took a sip, wincing at the flavour of it as well. ``But I agree that I miss the stuff from back home.''
Fransisco shook his head, clearly still shellshocked by the experience. ``You should be arrested and tried at the Hague for this.''
``It'd have to get above water first,'' Franz chided.
Helen scoffed. ``Good luck with that.'' She seemed to be the only one content with her beverage as she helped herself to another sip of it.
``Anyways, the job,'' Jose interrupted, gesturing to them. ``I'm going to need some direction here.''
Fransisco nodded. ``We're looking for a `tit' to match Arasaka's `tat'.'' He leaned in, glancing around the venue as he lowered his voice. ``They killed half of our board and crippled the other half. Now I'm under no illusion that we'll be able to do the same but I want one of them strung up by his entrails for this.''
Jose blinked.
Helen chuckled. ``Fuck, you're intense. I like you... choom.'' She snickered at her pronunciation, feeling the word in her mouth. ``Choom.''
Jose sighed. ``You are aware that this is an Arasaka town, right? I'm not above picking a fight with them but just know that they'll rain fire and fury down on you and your companies if you push them too far and get caught.''
``We're aware,'' Franz chided. ``But just because one party controls the venue doesn't mean that the guests are totally helpless in how they conduct themselves.''
``And while this might be Arasaka's domain, there are still plenty of people who are willing to look the other way,'' Francisco followed up. He managed to sample another sip of wine, not cringing nearly as hard this time around. ``We have a target and we have a window to strike. The only thing that we need from you is a crew of six who'd be willing to conduct this operation on our behalf.''
Helen smirked. ``Personally, I was going to lead the charge but the suits are too cowardly to face the firing line if I get caught.''
``I just prefer the opportunity to make it to seventy-five and retire,'' Franz chided.
Jose nodded and worked his jaw, unfocusing his gaze in order to open his internal interface. A virtual notebook opened up with a list of names and qualifications. This seemed like a pretty seasoned job which meant that about two-thirds of his usuals were immediately cut from the roster.
``What type of team are you looking for?'' he asked.
Francisco smiled. ``A netrunner for sure.''
``Pair of solos?'' Franz followed up.
``And definitely a media to get that shit done like it's from a studio,'' Helen followed up. ``Do you know anyone in the underground BD scene? They'll know how to make that shit as graphic as fucking possible.''
Jose smirked. ``I might know a couple names.''
``Oh, I like you,'' Helen quipped, grinning at him as she wagged her finger.
``Helen can you please stop acting so excited,'' Francisco chided, giving his eyes a rather pronounced roll. ``I don't bother you with what gets my rocks off and I'd ask that you'd extend me the same courtesy, okay?''
Helen shook her head. ``I swear that this conversation is strictly professional.''
``Uh huh,'' Francisco replied.
Both Anastasia and Catherine dipped out from the back, each of them holding two separate plates. They darted over and started to place them down in front of their respective parties. Of course, Jose had his usual while Helen had a bowl of some sort of red noodle soup, Francisco a large plate of fried dumplings with a spicy sauce, and Franz a plate of sausages, perogies, and sauerkraut.
``Thank you,'' Jose said, nodding towards them.
Catherine grinned. ``So, you folks are from Europe?''
Franz grinned at her. ``We are.''
``What's it like?'' Catherine asked.
Franz hummed and pondered this question. ``The buildings are older, the food more expensive, and a different breed of person is trying to stab you compared to over here. Personally, I don't mind the trip away from home.''
``Sounds amazing,'' Catherine whispered. Jose swore that he could see actual stars glimmering in her eyes.
Anastasia shook her head as she placed a hand upon Catherine's shoulder. ``Come on. Jose needs some time alone with his new chooms.''
``Chooms,'' Helen whispered, grinning. ``I still love that word.''
``Choom,'' Francisco repeated, seeming equally amused by it.
``Mein Gott,'' Franz whispered, spearing a sausage with his fork and examining it intently. ``I didn't think that I'd be able to find food like this, so far away from home.'' He popped it into his mouth and closed his eyes. ``God bless Ukrainians.''
``You travel all the way across the world and you want to eat that,'' Helen said, shaking her head. ``I don't understand you.''
Francisco scoffed and gestured to Jose. ``Anyways back to business.''
Jose nodded. ``Back to business.''
``I guess Helen has a point about the media. If we can amp up the footage and make those executives feel what we'd just done, there is probably something to be gained from that,'' Fransisco murmured. ``Though it does add some fresh complications to things.''
``And complications are why you folks are paying me the big bucks,'' Jose said, winking at them.
Francisco nodded but continued to work his jaw, chewing on this new question.
``I still can't believe the lack of respect that Miltech and Arasaka are showing for our firms,'' Franz grumbled. He had apparently overcome his food euphoria, returning to Earth with the rest of the mere mortals. ``Both are just upstarts in the grand scheme of things.''
Jose wanted to sigh as they were once again torn off topic. Long-winded, the whole lot of them.
Still, he kept his eye on the prize, practically feeling his bank account shoot up to a brand-new level of disposable wealth. Maybe even enough of it to finally secure himself a berth on one of those shuttles to Hawaii.
``You don't hear about European companies very often anymore,'' he quipped. ``But-''
Franz huffed, interrupting him. ``We've innovated in every field before Saburo had even invested in his first microprocessor.'' He growled. ``Biotechnica owns a majority of the farmland in Europe and a plurality of it in the Soviet Union. And that's not even including the properties that we have in Brazil and Africa. We're essentially the largest landowners in the world and these two little shits couldn't give a fuck about that.''
Francisco smirked. ``Land isn't where the money is anymore.''
``Well, it used to be,'' Franz grumbled. ``And I feel like we should really reorientate the world order around that view once again.''
Fransisco smirked. ``And even if people don't respect land, they should respect resource rights. Don't forget about what your subsidiary branch did with water rights. That was incredibly difficult to pull off before we openly owned politicians.''
``Oh, I haven't.'' Franz chuckled. ``Nestle has done a fine job of selling water at a profit. Those two wished they were so smart with their investments.''
Helen shook her head. ``The big two really don't respect the fact that we walked so that they could run.''
``And what exactly did De Beers do to get their reputation?'' Jose asked.
Helen smirked. ``The fact that you have to ask tells me that we don't teach history like we used to.'' She sighed. ``Some of the old timers talk about the glory days back in the eighties. Then that fucker Klerk decided that he couldn't stand up to the pressure anymore.''
Jose blinked. ``Uh...''
``And you'd think that those two would realize how that the ESA could potentially drop a great big rock on their heads at any time of our choosing,'' Francisco grumbled, popping a bite of food into his mouth. ``But here we are having to pussyfoot around with espionage instead of teaching the savages what it costs them to fuck with Europe.''
``Such a shame,'' Helen murmured.
Franz nodded. ``Agreed.''
Jose just sat there, unsure what to really say. It wasn't every day that he got to see the mask so totally removed.
``It's the Nordic model,'' Francisco said.
Helen smirked. ``How so?''
``Fuck over everyone equally and then paint over the damage done to make it seem beneficial to the outside world,'' Francisco replied, shrugging. ``Norway invented that shit when they started shitting on the atmosphere to get oil money.''
``Anyways,'' Jose blurted out, drawing in a breath to steady himself. He really needed to get them back on topic, herding them along like sheep. ``We were talking about a team for this little shindig that you're talking about putting together.''
``Shindig,'' Helen said, snickering as she tried out the word for a second time. ``Shindig. I just love that word. Sounds like something out of one of your American cowboy BDs.''
``Sorry, sorry, I did get a little off topic,'' Francisco grumbled, sighing. ``I'm just pissed off with how brazen Arasaka's attack was.''
Jose nodded. ``And if you want fire and fury, I can provide that to a limit. There are plenty of groups who are looking to take a swing at Arasaka. Just know that there are limits to what you can really do in this city. Only place more friendly to their money is fucking Tokyo at this point.''
``Well, what can you provide?'' Helen asked.
``The tower is off limits from a technical standpoint,'' Jose stated, motioning with his hands. ``They already lost it once when that nut job Silverhand took a swing at them. And things have only gotten worse since the Martinez crew tried to raid it. They aren't likely to lose it again and have it geared out to the fucking nines. We're talking a whole army of security, automated defenses, and that fucker Smasher waiting in the wings if things get especially hairy. I could get all the gangs in this city together and it still wouldn't be enough to even get through the front door of that place.''
``Unfortunate,'' Franz scoffed.
Jose nodded. ``And if that impacts your prior request then I can offer you a list of juicy targets which are actually feasible with the resources I have. There are a bunch of smaller offices in the city and production facilities that are a little more vulnerable. Plus, I'm sure they'll have plenty of middling executives going between them.''
``Do you have any recommendations?'' Francisco asked.
``Well, they fucked with your space shit, right?'' Jose replied as he looked at Francisco, meeting his eye.
Helen smirked and nodded to this. ``They did in fact fuck with his space shit.''
``Arasaka has a joint venture with Orbital Air in this city,'' Jose started to explain. ``Apparently they're making rockets and parts for their fancy spaceport on the edge of town.''
Francisco scoffed. ``Those fuckers are working with Arasaka?''
``You'd think that the Kenyans would know their place,'' Franz grumbled.
``Everyone in this city is working for Arasaka,'' Jose explained. ``So don't take it too personally.'' He snapped his fingers and shot off an aerial view of the facility to his prospective employers, watching their eyes briefly flash blue as they received it. ``But that place is expensive and pumping out millions of dollars worth of stuff every single day.''
Franz nodded. ``This might be a `kill two birds with one stone' kind of moment.''
``How do you suppose?'' Francisco asked
``Orbital Air is a weaker player in this city. So, we wouldn't expect much clapback from them on the global level,'' Franz started to explain. ``In exchange, we hit Arasaka in the pocket books and remind our wayward friends in Africa that there are costs associated with stabbing Europeans in the back.''
``Isn't that killing three birds with one stone?'' Helen smirked as she glanced at Francisco. ``Still, I like the sound of that.''
Franz nodded. ``Same.''
Francisco worked his jaw, looking at his meal. Though his gaze seemed distant and unfocused. He still appeared on the fence about this. Which wasn't the kind of look that Jose liked to see. That was the kind of look that might result in this European getting up and walking away from the deal.
``I also know that Arasaka likes to send suits to that facility on the regular,'' Jose added, smirking. ``We time it right then you get that body pinned to the wall with all of the gory BDs that you're so obviously craving.''
Francisco sighed. ``I suppose that's the best that we can really ask for. At least short of dropping a rock on this fucking city.''
``Hey, if that's the way that you want to go then I can't stop you. Just do me a favour and give me a heads up,'' Jose added, smirking. ``But I have a feeling that doing that probably wouldn't result in prolonged health for the European markets going forwards.''
``It would not,'' Franz said, reaching over and patting Francisco on the shoulder. ``Perhaps we should take Jose up on his offer instead of seeking out a Fifth Corporate War?''
Francisco sighed and brushed his companion's hand away. ``Fine.''
``I can picture the BD now,'' Helen stated, framing her fingers and looking through them as if she were a camera that was filming the whole thing. ``I'll nail that executive to a fucking rocket and then start filling it with fuel. Give him time to really feel the pain as the whole thing grows less and less stable. Then...'' She grinned, snapping out her fingers as if they were an explosion. ``KA-BOOM!''
She cackled like a madwoman.
Jose just gawked.
``Don't mind her, she?s a little feisty,'' Franz quipped.
Francisco drew out a chip and tapped it with his finger before sliding it across the table. ``A finder's fee. You'll get paid ten times this amount if you successfully pull off this job.''
Jose looked at the chip and touched it himself. The figure nearly made him choke upon his drink.
Maybe the Europeans weren't all that bad after all.
