67: Chapter 66 Aftermath
The streams of light dissipated, revealing three digital figures of distinct styles. On their bodies appeared the official certification emblem of Netwatch—a cold, precise eye symbol.
"Damn it, it's this bunch of Voodoo Boys vermin again, haunting us like ghosts," one digital figure complained. His appearance was modeled after a drifter covered in rusted metal plating, with tattered rags made of data fluttering behind him without a breeze, as if he had just crawled out of some data junkyard.
He spat, and a data stream representing a deletion command completely erased a lingering mark left behind by a collapsed Voodoo Boys member nearby. "Ptui! All they do is add to my workload."
"Rust Nail, stop complaining." The only female member of the trio spoke, her voice calm and clear.
Her appearance was that of a nun composed of constantly flowing, flickering, ghostly encrypted code, her face obscured behind a veil of data, appearing mysterious and solemn.
"The energy peak of this Cyberspace eruption nearly touched the Level 2 alert threshold, yet it was forcibly quelled in an extremely short time. This isn't normal; there must be a reason. Quick, scatter and check the residual data at the scene, reconstruct the sequence of events."
The member known as "Rust Nail" muttered a curse that no one could hear clearly, but he obediently began to scan.
Meanwhile, the other member who had remained silent all along appeared as a prism-man made of countless broken mirrors, each mirror frantically reflecting the chaotic data landscape around him, making it impossible to see his true appearance.
He didn't speak, just silently set to work.
After a brief silence, Rust Nail broke it with a mocking and incredulous tone: "Yo! Look who this is? Isn't this our old acquaintance Maman Brigitte and her seven... uh, bastard lackeys?" His digital avatar leaned close to a slowly dissipating remnant of Brigitte's consciousness, his tone exaggerated. "Oh my, you look... more than just a little dead, don't you? How did the whole family end up lying here all in a row?"
"Rust Nail!" The code nun's voice carried a warning tone.
"Alright, alright, Boss, I'm working." Rust Nail dropped his joking attitude and began to efficiently extract and analyze the residual data fragments at the scene.
A few minutes later, the three reunited in the center of the space, piecing together the fragments of information they had each collected.
The prism-man was the first to present his conclusions using a concise, emotionless stream of data.
The code nun silently digested the information, while Rust Nail let out a strange cry: "Wait! So, simply put, these Voodoo Boys bastards got their hands on something incredible from somewhere, and lured out that big shot from outside the Blackwall called Alt Cunningham?" He pointed at the collapsed Voodoo Boys data remnants. "And the result? A meat bun hitting a dog—no, wait, the meat bun's mom had the whole bowl kicked over by the dog! The entire main hacker force of the Voodoo Boys got 'wiped out' right here in Cyberspace?"
He waved his arms, his digital avatar flickering with excitement: "Then, Alt and that mysterious person who popped out of nowhere had a fight, didn't gain any advantage, and retreated back outside the wall? No... man, this... every single thing taken separately I can barely understand, but combined together, why the hell can I not make sense of it at all? Is this reasonable?"
The code nun sighed, the hem of her data-constructed nun's robes fluttering slightly: "Sigh, Rust Nail, having worked in this business for so long, you should have realized by now: don't worry about whether it looks reasonable or not. According to the residual data at the scene and the forced records in the underlying logs, the chain of facts... is indeed exactly like this."
She paused, her tone taking on an unquestionable commanding edge: "Now, write the report, mark the incident level, and archive it. Then, pull out immediately."
"Roger that!" Rust Nail seemed to instantly cast his previous doubts to the back of his mind, his tone becoming relaxed. "Let's get this done quickly; I have a date tonight, can't let this crap delay me."
The Netwatch team, just as they had arrived, quickly collected the necessary evidence and then transformed into three streams of light, disappearing into this gradually calming space.
However, the violent fluctuations in the Pacifica Cyberspace were like detonating a bomb in the silent deep sea. Ripples were rapidly spreading outward.
Not long after they left, several data streams with distinct styles, yet equally powerful, quietly probed the area one after another like ghosts.
One data stream, carrying the unique, precise, and strict corporate style of Arasaka, coldly scanned every inch of the scene, attempting to reconstruct the details of the battle, especially the characteristics of that "mysterious person" who could contend with Alt.
Another was full of Militech's utilitarian color, bearing obvious militarized traces. It focused more on the "bait" used by the Voodoo Boys and the deeper meaning behind Alt's appearance and retreat, evaluating the potential impact of this incident on the stability of the Blackwall.
There was even a data tentacle with Eastern aesthetics and extremely high efficiency, belonging to Kang Tao, which cautiously collected all data regarding the "mysterious person's" combat style, attempting to analyze their technical path and potential threat.
These behemoths' probes were brief and covert, keeping a tacit distance from each other, like giant beasts wary of one another in the dark.
After obtaining the information they each needed, they quietly retreated as if they had never appeared, leaving only the Voodoo Boys' data remnants to gradually "degrade" into nutrients in this Cyberspace.
But beneath the ice surface of Night City, something had already begun to quietly change.
Arasaka Tower, top-floor office. Yorinobu Arasaka stood before the giant floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city beneath his feet—a city he both hated and was forced to exist within.
He had just finished playing a game of pretense with the hawkish elders inside the company, and a hint of ferocity still lingered between his brows.
At this moment, his exclusive, highly encrypted communication channel lit up. A joint report from Arasaka's internal network security department and an external surveillance team appeared in the interface of his cyber-eye in the most concise text format.
His gaze rapidly swept over the keywords in the report: "Pacifica," "Voodoo Boys Annihilation," "Alt Cunningham," "Unknown Third Party," "Repelled."
Yorinobu's pupils contracted slightly.
He immediately pulled up more detailed action logs and energy fluctuation charts. The deeper he looked, the more the ferocity in his eyes dissipated, replaced by a glow mixed with surprise, appreciation, and extreme curiosity.
"The 'Silverhand's mark... so they really did take it." He whispered to himself, the corners of his mouth twitching upward uncontrollably. It wasn't anger, but the excitement of discovering treasure. "Using my stuff as bait to lure out the Voodoo Boys, teaming up with Netwatch to wipe them out... and even managing to clash head-on with Alt and force her back?"
He could almost imagine the uninhibited yet precise and efficient style of that team when they operated.
In this era where the vast majority of people are either oppressed until they are twisted out of shape, or dying in numb silence, could such figures actually emerge?
Not only did they not submit, but they chose to resist in the most direct, most violent way, and even... played the hero to act on behalf of heaven, clearing out this bunch of human traitors, the Voodoo Boys?
"Heh..." Yorinobu couldn't help but chuckle softly, and then, this laughter became somewhat complex. What should this be called? A "great philanthropist" of this era? No, it's more than just kindness. Behind this lies immense courage, formidable strength, and a clear strategic mind.
His gaze sharpened. He immediately issued the latest and highest-priority order to the surveillance team through the same encrypted channel: [Try to get their specific information and contact details first. No matter what means you use.]
The order was sent, and the communication interface dimmed. Yorinobu turned around, no longer looking at the night view outside the window.
His gaze landed on a multi-encrypted file on his personal terminal titled "New Architecture Proposal - Top Secret." He tapped his fingertip, and the file expanded, with countless clauses and architecture diagrams scrolling rapidly. Finally, his gaze rested on a bolded, repeatedly emphasized keyword annotation. [Steel Dragon].
His eyes became deep and firm. Originally, this was just a vague concept in his mind, a symbol belonging to his past rebellious years. But now, he looked at the Pacifica incident report, then back at this term... Perhaps, this dragon was no longer just a phantom existing in the past, nor was it just a flag he waved in solitude.
It needed flesh and blood, it needed fangs, it needed... peers who could burn down the old world with it. "Very well." He whispered, and this time, his voice was filled with unquestionable determination.