The abandoned factory grounds lay eerily quiet beneath the pale moonlight, shrouded in a deathly silence. The streets were desolate, and no one living nearby dared step outside. The fear of running into a stray killer and meeting a sudden end was enough to keep people locked away indoors.
Just an hour earlier, the place had been alive with the chaotic revelry of Scavengers. But now, those same revelers lay motionless on the ground, dead and forgotten.
The stench of death filled the air—blood, gunpowder, and the foul odor of human waste released upon death. The factory was now a graveyard.
In the daylight, Night City's scavengers would likely brave the risks to loot the bodies, eager for a chance to profit from the wreckage. But it was still too soon. For now, the only ones who dared to come would be those far higher up the chain: the ones who managed everything from behind the scenes.
A sleek, silver Chevillon Emperor 620 rolled to a stop at the factory's gate, its heavy frame purring softly. The door opened with a low click, and a sharply dressed man in a well-tailored suit stepped out, his gaze scanning the blood-soaked scene.
"What the hell happened here?" he muttered, his brow furrowing as he cautiously stepped into the complex.
His hand hovered over his sidearm as he moved forward. His cybernetic eyes were already scanning the surrounding bodies, analyzing the damage.
"High-caliber rounds... small-caliber precision shots... and... decapitations?" His voice grew more uncertain as the full extent of the carnage became apparent.
He knelt by one of the bodies, staring at the clean cut across the neck. The heads had been severed with surgical precision, some propped grotesquely against walls or machinery.
"How the hell do you get cuts this clean…?"
The more he examined, the more the man realized how methodical the slaughter had been. A chill crawled down his spine. Only a group trained in elite combat could have done this—this was far beyond a simple gang dispute.
"Arasaka's ninjas, maybe? Could they have pissed off Arasaka?" he muttered to himself.
Realizing this was well beyond his pay grade, the man quickly tapped a call into his internal comms. His eyes glowed with a faint orange light as the call connected. A cold, authoritative voice answered.
"Yes? Report. Is there a problem with the transaction?" the voice asked, firm and businesslike.
The man wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "Mr. Goodwin, I've arrived at the location... but something went wrong. The entire Scavenger crew here—they've all been wiped out."
There was a pause on the line before Goodwin responded, his voice laced with disbelief. "Wiped out? I just spoke to them earlier today."
"I'll send you some pictures," the man said, quickly snapping several images with his optics and forwarding them to Goodwin. He made sure to obscure the worst of the carnage.
The silence on the other end lasted longer this time. Then, Goodwin's voice returned, colder than before. "It looks like a damn slaughterhouse. Go to Warehouse 3, down in the basement. See if the product is still there."
"Understood," the man responded, following Goodwin's directions.
He made his way to the basement of Warehouse 3. But when he reached the door, his heart skipped a beat. The reinforced steel door had been cleaved in two by a single, clean cut.
"What in the hell…?" he whispered. Who could slice through reinforced metal so effortlessly?
Steeling his nerves, he entered the basement. The dimly lit corridors were eerily quiet, the air still thick with the aftermath of bloodshed. Normally, he'd never step foot into this place—he usually met the Scavs outside, traded the money, and left. He'd never had to witness their sick operations up close.
Now, with the gang wiped out, the man got a glimpse of just how depraved their operations had been. Crude operating tables lined the walls, smeared with blood and stained with the horrors they inflicted on their victims. His stomach churned as he saw the leftover tools of their trade, grim reminders of what happened to the people who fell into their hands.
Following the blueprint Goodwin had sent, the man finally reached the storage room where the product had been kept. He opened the door cautiously, a blast of cold air hitting him as he stepped inside. The room was chilled, designed to preserve cyberware and, occasionally, human organs.
But it was empty.
"They bled out..." the man muttered as he scanned the remains. His optics picked up on the faint residual heat from the corpses. These people had been dead for only a few hours, killed long before the blood could fully coagulate.
Grabbing his communicator again, he called Goodwin. "Sir, the product isn't here. It's gone."
"Understood," Goodwin replied, sounding unsurprised. "Keep looking for any clues. I want to know who wiped out the Scavengers."
The man wasn't a detective, and the idea of investigating a massacre this large was overwhelming. Still, he moved deeper into the basement, looking for anything that might help. He knew the Scav gang fairly well. They'd been nearly a hundred strong, with decent funding from various corporations, including some top-level gear. Whoever did this had cut through them like they were nothing.
As he walked, the man kept up his conversation with Goodwin. "Mr. Goodwin, do you think losing this shipment will affect the project?"
"It'll cause a few delays, but it won't stop the release," Goodwin said flatly. "We have other sources for the material. Still, it's a shame. If we'd caught that Edgerunner crew last week, we'd be ahead of schedule by now."
The man nodded to himself, though Goodwin couldn't see him. "I see. Well, the product's development is worth any delay. Our new Berserk software will crush everything on the market. Hell, it might even give Sandevistan a run for its money. A little extra time won't hurt."
Goodwin's voice warmed slightly with pride. "True. And in this line of work, setbacks are part of the process. A few missing test subjects won't slow us down."
The man smiled, pleased with himself for easing his superior's worries. As long as Goodwin was in a good mood, he wouldn't dwell on the failure of this mission.
"So, have you already found replacements for the product?" the man asked.
"Of course. Finding new stock in Night City is never a problem. But for now, focus on figuring out who did this."
"Uh—what the hell?" The man's sudden outburst cut Goodwin off mid-sentence.
"What is it?" Goodwin demanded.
The man's face paled as he stared at the body in front of him—Brutus, the Scavenger boss. His corpse had been sliced cleanly in two, his arms missing, and his severed head nailed to the wall.
"Brutus... he's been cut in half..." the man whispered.
Goodwin's voice remained cold. "He's dead. Like the rest of his gang, I assume?"
The man nodded, even though Goodwin couldn't see it. "Yeah... but not just dead. He's been butchered. Whoever did this wasn't playing around."
He tore his eyes away from the grisly scene and continued searching the area. Eventually, he reached the control room and connected his personal interface to the security system. After a few minutes of searching, he found exactly what he expected.
"The security footage has been wiped," the man sighed. "Whoever hit this place was thorough. They erased all the data, no chance of recovery."
"Nothing at all?" Goodwin asked, his tone clipped with frustration.
"No, sir. But based on the evidence at the scene, it looks like Brutus and his crew put up a hell of a fight. There are signs of explosives being used. But in the end, it didn't matter. They were taken apart, piece by piece," the man reported. "The cuts are so clean... it had to be professionals. Maybe a team of elite mercs."
"So, what's your conclusion?" Goodwin asked, intrigued.
"I'd bet it was Arasaka," the man said confidently. "Brutus had high-grade cyberware, including Sandevistan. For someone to take him down like this? It's got to be a corporate strike team."
Goodwin fell silent, contemplating the idea. It didn't sit well with him, but there were few other plausible explanations. Not many Edgerunner crews had the skill to pull off something like this, and even fewer were known for using blades.
"It could be Arasaka," Goodwin mused aloud.
"Only a force like that could wipe out a Scavenger gang this completely," the man added.
Goodwin sighed. "A shame. We've lost a valuable source of materials."
"Shall I keep searching, sir?" the man asked.
"No. If the product's gone, there's no point staying there. Head back," Goodwin ordered.
The man exhaled in relief, thankful to be done with the grim task. "Understood. I'll return immediately."
He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as he made his way back toward the exit.
Clever as I am, he thought, feeling a sense of pride. I've managed to get through this mess without getting myself killed.