“Let’s go.
We’ll talk after we get back.
For now, return to Arasaka Tower.” Victor rose from his seat as if the matter had already been filed away in some quiet, well-guarded corner of his mind.
There was no point spending more time on it here.
Night City rewarded speed, decisiveness, and the ability to decide which fires needed water and which ones could be left to burn until they became useful.
A few minutes later, Victor, Canris, and Brandt boarded the aerodyne waiting on the helipad.
The aircraft lifted from the roof with a low mechanical hum, its lights cutting through the evening haze before it vanished into the layered skyline of Night City, swallowed by neon, concrete, and corporate glass.
Unfortunately, for the surveillance team trying to keep track of him, the timing could not have been worse.
By the time the woman leading the assignment finally received confirmation of Victor’s last known location and rushed back to her vehicle, the aerodyne was already gone.
She stood beside the car for several seconds, staring at the empty sky above the district while her breathing slowly evened out.
The target had slipped away again.
At this point, she was beginning to wonder whether the job had been rotten from the start.
She was not some established mercenary legend with a name people whispered about in Afterlife booths, nor had her future in Night City been carved into stone yet.
Right now, she was just another capable operator forced to chase a corporate executive who moved faster than her intel could keep up.
The return trip to Arasaka Tower was uneventful.
Victor spent the remainder of the afternoon buried beneath the familiar weight of corporate responsibility.
Reports were reviewed, approvals were signed, and several internal problems were dealt with before they had the chance to grow teeth.
When the workday finally reached its end, he wasted no time informing Canris and the others that he was leaving for the day.
As a result, the surveillance team—who had nearly crossed half the city trying to close the distance—arrived only to discover that Victor had already departed once more.
For a long moment, the team leader stared at the information displayed on her agent.
The destination was painfully simple.
Home.
No secret meeting.
No unusual detour.
No suspicious corporate rendezvous.
Just home.
A vein pulsed faintly at her temple.
“Fuck.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled through clenched teeth.
“What kind of luck is this?” The others exchanged uncertain glances.
One of them finally asked, “Are we still following?” She took a slow breath, then another, forcing down the irritation before it became visible enough to damage her authority.
“We continue.” Her gaze shifted toward Arasaka Tower, its silhouette looming over the city like a blade pressed against the throat of anyone beneath it.
“Maybe this assignment is nothing more than paperwork for the people above us.
Maybe they only handed it down because someone needed a box checked and a report filed.
But for people at our level, excuses don’t matter.
If we fail, nobody will ask whether the job made sense.” That was enough.
Everyone understood.
Night City did not care how unfair a task was.
It only cared whether you survived the consequences.
The vehicle pulled back into traffic, merging with the endless river of headlights flowing beneath the city’s towers.
Night City had many districts, but only a few truly belonged to wealth.
North Oak was the bright, polished playground of celebrities, executives, and the newly rich.
Charter Hill, by contrast, had a quieter kind of prestige, the kind that came from old money, secured influence, and families who had understood long ago that land was power, even in a city built on chrome and violence.
Victor’s primary residence was located there.
His penthouse occupied the highest level of an exclusive apartment complex, complete with a private rooftop helipad and a swimming pool overlooking the city below.
To most citizens, it was the kind of place they would only ever glimpse in advertisements or crime reports involving someone far above their pay grade.
Of course, this was not Victor’s only property.
Several residences throughout Night City were under his name.
Some had been inherited from his parents, while others were investments he had chosen personally over the years.
In Night City, real estate remained one of the few reliable ways to preserve wealth, at least if one could ignore the blood occasionally soaked into the foundations.
Apartments changed hands often in certain districts.
Tenants disappeared.
Sometimes they vanished quietly.
Sometimes they left behind bullet holes, bloodstains, ruined cyberware, or worse.
Most landlords had long since stopped asking questions.
As long as the damage could be cleaned and the walls still stood, business continued.
If the remains were unusual enough, perhaps the NCPD received a notification.
If not, another tenant moved in before the smell had fully faded.
Such was life in Night City.
Inside the aerodyne, Canris reviewed a stream of reports sent from various departments.
One message made him pause.
“Boss.” Victor glanced up.
“What is it?” “An Arasaka operations team stationed in Watson is requesting support from a Special Services Squad tomorrow.” Victor raised an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t that normally be handled by the local team leaders?” “It would.” “Then why did it reach me?” Canris coughed lightly.
“Because it was forwarded specifically to you.” Victor understood at once, and a faint smile touched his lips.
“So the people below want the new executive to make an appearance.” “Something like that.” Canris gave a helpless shrug.
“They probably expect you to make a statement.” Victor leaned back slightly.
The old version of the line would have sounded like some antique proverb dragged out of another world, but the meaning was simple enough.
A new superior had arrived, so the people beneath him wanted to see what kind of man he was.
Some wanted favor.
Some wanted protection.
Some wanted to test the limits of his patience.
“What exactly are they doing tomorrow?” Canris checked the report again.
“They located a Scavenger hideout.” “Objective?” “Recovery of stolen corporate assets and employee data.” Victor stared at him for a second, then sighed.
“Scavengers?” “Yes.” “Forget it.
They’re gutter trash.” There was no reason for someone in Victor’s position to personally involve himself in a cleanup operation against Scavengers.
The danger was not the problem; the waste of time was.
Still, one detail made him narrow his eyes.
“Why are employee records inside a Scavenger den?” Canris reopened the file.
“The case is messy.
One of our employees was hit during a roadside attack.
The initial report suggests a netrunner breach was involved, possibly tied to compromised vehicle systems.” “Dead?” “Very.” “Continue.” “Before recovery could arrive, Scavengers stripped the body and the vehicle.
Cyberware, shards, storage devices, anything they could sell or crack open.” Victor rubbed his forehead.
“How long did it take before the company noticed what was missing?” Canris looked away for half a second.
Victor understood immediately.
Bureaucracy.
Delayed reporting.
Departmental blame-shifting.
Someone had probably tried to bury the problem until it became too large to hide.
Typical corporate efficiency.
“Tell them to handle it themselves.” “Understood.” “And if another request like this lands on my desk without a real reason, their bonuses disappear.” The moment the word bonuses entered the conversation, Brandt’s eyes brightened.
“Boss.” Victor did not even need to look at him.
“You want in.” Brandt coughed into his fist, trying and failing to look innocent.
“Tomorrow’s operation might have some worthwhile salvage.” Scavenger hideouts were filthy, dangerous, and disgusting, but they were also full of stolen equipment.
Most of it was junk.
Some of it was not.
Brandt had always been good at telling the difference.
Victor gave a short laugh.
“Company property comes first.” “Of course.” “Then go.
Consider it approved.” Brandt grinned, clearly pleased with the arrangement.
Canris merely shook his head, already imagining the mountain of paperwork that would follow.
After that matter was settled, Victor turned his attention elsewhere.
“The Danger Gal negotiations.” Canris straightened immediately.
“I’ll handle them tomorrow.” “Good.” That subject mattered far more than a Scavenger raid.
Danger Gal was not just some minor private security outfit.
It carried Michiko Arasaka’s shadow, and anything connected to that name deserved careful handling.
A future partnership, even a limited one, could affect far more than a few recovered shards from a gang hideout.
Scavengers would still be crawling through Watson tomorrow.
Opportunities involving Danger Gal required more precision.
As the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, the aerodyne finally approached Charter Hill.
The onboard systems established contact with Victor’s residence, and the building responded immediately.
Security protocols activated.
Scanners swept across the rooftop.
Recognition systems verified the aircraft, the passengers, the flight path, and the access codes.
Only after clearance was granted did the aerodyne begin its descent toward the private landing platform.
Below them, Night City stretched toward the horizon like a sea of artificial stars.
The aerodyne touched down smoothly.
Before the hatch opened, armed drones launched from concealed compartments around the penthouse.
Military-grade security robots followed, moving into predetermined patrol routes with cold mechanical efficiency.
Sensors synchronized.
Weapon systems entered standby mode.
Internal alarms remained quiet.
Only after the entire perimeter returned green did the hatch finally open.
One of the security operators completed the final scan.
“Boss.
No abnormalities detected.” Victor nodded and stepped onto the helipad.
Cool evening air brushed against his face, carrying the distant noise of traffic, engines, sirens, and lives being ruined somewhere below.
Canris and Brandt followed behind him.
Brandt looked around at the drones, the combat robots, the reinforced access points, and the layered security system protecting the residence.
Even though he had seen it before, he still shook his head.
“Boss, no matter how many times I come here, your home security feels excessive.” Victor laughed softly.
“Excessive?” He glanced around the rooftop as if judging whether the defense network was truly complete.
“I call it reasonable.” Then he shrugged.
“You only get one life.” Canris and Brandt exchanged a look.
Their boss’s caution had become almost legendary among the people close to him.
Not that either of them could truly blame him.
In Night City, paranoia was not a flaw.
It was a survival trait.
Victor himself was already a dangerous combatant.
Both men knew that better than most.
He had access to Arasaka-grade implants, elite combat training, layered defenses, a high-end Sandevistan, subdermal armor, titanium reinforcement, military-grade artificial organs, and customized cybernetic enhancements accumulated over years.
But even with all of that, he was not foolish enough to believe one man stood above every monster Night City could produce.
Adam Smasher existed.
Morgan Blackhand had once existed in the nightmares of soldiers.
Legends were not born from empty air.
That was exactly why Victor never relied on personal strength alone.
Anyone planning to kill him would first need to bring down the aerodyne, bypass its countermeasures, survive the drones, breach the combat robots, get past Canris and Brandt, break through the building’s security, and only then face Victor himself.
It was not invincibility.
Invincibility was a fantasy people sold to fools.
This was something far more practical.
Layers.
Enough layers that most enemies would die before ever reaching the man they came to kill.
Victor walked toward the entrance without looking back.
Behind him, the city glittered beautifully, as if it were not built on betrayal, blood, and contracts signed over corpses.
In Night City, safety did not exist.
But preparation did.
And Victor had always preferred preparation over luck.
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