"A rogue AI, huh..."
Hearing Kiwi's report, Roland wasn't particularly surprised. He'd long known there were rogue AIs hiding throughout Night City.
The only question was which corporation this one had originally worked with.
"You must be Miss Kelly?"
Roland turned his attention to the blue-glowing β-Type Intelligent Security Robot standing beside Kiwi. At this point, he felt like his β-Type units were being played with to death—every time someone possessed one, it came back dyed a different color.
"Mhm."
Kelly shrank her neck slightly and nodded, then nervously glanced at the green-glowing β-Type robot beside Roland.
Yes—Lissandra was the one controlling that body. The moment Kelly was brought into PROJECT's data zone by Kiwi and Jhin, she sensed something was wrong.
And once she saw Lissandra's true form, it was too late. Lissandra pinned her down immediately and taught her a few "rules."
Which was why Kelly was absolutely terrified of Lissandra now.
"Welcome to PROJECT Corporation."
Roland extended his hand with a warm smile.
"Th-thank you..."
Kelly shook his hand gently, flashing an embarrassed grin.
"Alright, Lissandra, go take care of your own tasks."
"Understood."
Hearing Roland call the robot "Lissandra," Kiwi looked over curiously. This was her first time meeting the mysterious chief netrunner.
Once Lissandra left, Roland could clearly feel Kelly sigh in relief while looking him over with curiosity.
"Um... what you said—about returning me to my body—is that really possible?"
"It is. But it'll take some time. Our scientists are still running tests."
Roland nodded. After agreeing to the requests Kelly had made, he assigned another task to Mudor.
Mudor: ?
The research into body reconstruction and gene restoration had originally been planned using Johnny as the test subject. Now that they had another subject, moving the schedule up a bit wasn't a problem.
Getting the answer she wanted, Kelly made her β-Type unit display an emoticon: ＜(￣︶￣)＞
With Kelly's situation settled, Roland turned to the data Tina had pulled from her overtime grind.
But the information was extremely limited. When the enemy realized they couldn't hold, they wiped everything—only fragments had been salvaged.
"Moore Technologies, huh... Looks like they're working on a second-generation Berserk Cyberware..."
Roland rubbed his chin. Moore Technologies used to be a major name in Berserk Cyberware, popular with soldiers, mercs, and edge-runners alike.
That was until Zetatech and Militech caught up. After that, Moore's Berserk units didn't quite measure up—especially once BioDyne released a whole wave of new products.
Still, Moore's gear held a good place in the market—not because it was superior, but because it was simply more affordable.
Their weakness showed only at the high-end level. For standard combat power, their Berserk Cyberware was still decent.
But comparing it to top-tier units from Zetatech or Militech? No contest. Then again, gear at that level wasn't built for normal people anyway.
Put simply, giving extremely powerful cyberware to someone without the strength to handle it was like shoving an over-tuned engine into a clay pot. Any after-sales issues? Not their problem. They'd already made that clear—they were just selling cyberware and knew nothing about "upper limits."
So if you had an issue, that was on you, not them.
"Go shake them down a bit. After that, have a team leak this info to Zetatech, Militech, and BioDyne."
A smile tugged at Roland's lips as he addressed the β-Type robot beside him.
"Understood. I'll have the intel department handle it right away."
...
Meanwhile, while Roland was thinking about how to squeeze a hefty sum out of Moore Technologies, in a bar somewhere in Night City...
Maine sat hunched over a drink, face full of conflict.
The military had given low-ranked soldiers like him a proposal: accept military funding, undergo cyberware augmentation, pay nothing upfront, and serve for several years afterward.
But they offered zero responsibility for side effects. At most, they'd hand out suppressants. Everything else was on the soldier.
So Maine was torn. If he refused, he'd probably get transferred to logistics. If he accepted... the risk was huge. And not just medically—there was the risk of being sent straight into combat.
Word was that tensions between Northern and Southern California had been rising lately.
"Hey, Joren, what do you think?"
"My opinion? I'm taking the deal."
Joren downed a gulp of alcohol, then sighed.
"Why?"
"Plenty of reasons. But the simplest? I need money. And accepting means more money. That's it."
"...Got it."
Maine nodded. After thinking a moment, he remembered the figure he'd encountered that night. His fist tightened, and he threw back the rest of his drink.
"I'll accept too."
...
"Mr. Gareb, have you reached a decision?"
Abby Ron, PROJECT Corporation's head of public relations, smiled politely at the stiff-faced Gareb.
Prompted by her words, Gareb forced a smile and replied, "Alright, I'll accept. The payment for the serum will be transferred to your company shortly."
"That's wonderful. I look forward to working with you."
Abby Ron nodded with satisfaction and happily left with the contract—Moore Technologies' "funding" to PROJECT Corporation.
Funding, not investment.
Once she was gone, Gareb's expression darkened. He truly hadn't expected this to fall on his head.
The entire group he'd handled had already been "humanely disposed of"—probably drifting in a river somewhere by now—yet they still managed to trace it back to him?
Fortunately, PROJECT had promised to destroy the samples and keep things confidential. That made it acceptable. He'd just treat it as extra research funding.
Gareb rubbed his chest, trying to calm himself.
...
Happy New Year to all my readers!
Wishing you good health, peace of mind, and a year filled with positive energy and strength.