"Is this what you consider allowing yourself to have some fun?", judgement and annoyance mixed in general Roberts' voice as he approached with a group of soldiers backing him up.

The way his thick eyebrows were drawn together gave away that he was anything but relaxed. Probably because the status report had turned out quite fatal.

You knew that already, of course, because you had been smart enough to request the report from the NUSA database before landing. You had read the important parts on the flight.

In short, the military had taken a few extra nasty blows from both Arasaka and Militech while trying to regain control of Pacifica.

Some of the territories had been secured, but they had incurred heavy losses. Especially because Militech, as a former investor in Pacifica, was reluctant to part with its ownership claims.

Arasaka had finally realised that this war would not bring them any advantage, but they had stayed in the game to harm their rival Militech for as long as possible.

And the NUSA now found itself caught in the crossfire, because without the tech from Arasaka or the supplies from Militech, the weapons depots were emptying faster than seemed healthy.

Soon the military would be left high and dry and President Meyers would have to admit defeat. Although, from what you had heard about the woman, this ending seemed unlikely.

Before that, the whole of Night City would go up in flames. Not that that wasn't already the case. But if there was one thing you had learnt, it was that things could always get worse.

How long would it take for the fire to completely melt the huge skyscrapers of glass and steel?

The thought made you chuckle.

"Whistler!" General Roberts angrily snapped two fingers in front of your eyes.

Irritated, you let out a growl.

"You know, General, the last person who did that to me now has two prostheses on as their hands.", you remarked with an icy glance.

The expression in your eyes was enough to make the general take a big step back.

His eyes darted uncertainly between you and the colonel. Hansen saluted, as one does when one had a lower rank, and then folded his arms behind his back again.

But he didn't leave your side. Or your back, because he stood with both feet firmly rooted in your shadow as if he were trying to merge with it.

"General.", Kurt straightened his back, though it felt more like a threat than a sign of respect.

General Roberts had to clear his throat before he managed to turn his attention back to you.

"Whistler, the goods arrived this morning. I have been informed that you are to go to Camp D immediately.", his gaze jumped to Kurt again as if to warn him to keep his mouth shut about this conversation. "The other soldiers want the goods out of their eyes. In an instant."

You smiled wearily at him, raised your eyebrows and then your chin. A snide remark was already on the tip of your tongue but in the end you decided against it.

It wasn't worth the breath.

With a mockingly deep bow, you indicated that you were leaving. However, you didn't miss the opportunity to give Kurt one last, charming look.

His face didn't move, but something flashed in the white of his Kiroshi optics. A twitch chased through the corners of his mouth. A tiny crack in the façade of the perfect soldier.

"Good boy.", you whispered as you turned your back on him.

Quickly you made your way through the base, between piled up crates of ammunition and grenades, past huge vehicles that were so heavily armoured that their weight blew cracks in the asphalt.

The three large warehouses on the south side of the base were the best protected. The NUSA hid only its most valuable resources there. From rare weapons and ammo to implants they had removed from fallen Militech soldiers.

Officially, looting the dead was a war crime. But President Myers seemed to be a strong proponent of where there's no plaintiff, there's no judge. What was never made public could not be condemned.

Your fingertips itched a little to take a look inside the crates. Maybe you could find something that would look good in your collection of chrome. One piece more or less no longer mattered.

But Myers had made it clear that you also had to respect boundaries. And possible theft of military tech was beyond the pale. Especially in wartime.

You were reckless, unimpressed by authority. But you were by no means stupid. Sometimes it was better to keep your feet still.

Besides, there was something waiting in Camp D that got your pulse racing just as much. Cool metal nestled in your palm as you pushed open the door to the hall.

A drone flew in, red light flashed over your body before the lens turned green and a sound was heard. Access permitted. Of course, this warehouse had been locked down specifically for you and your dogs.

Your footsteps echoed off the empty walls as you moved between the black boxes with masses of cables sticking out of them.

The humming of electricity filled the silence. It smelled of iron and plastic.

"There you are~!", you chirped, resting an arm on one of the boxes, which were lined up in a large circle.

In front of you, in the centre of the warehouse, six chairs were lined up in a row. In the empty space between them, a huge tree of black and red cables grew upwards, each connected to a monitor above a chair.

Vitals were played, along with heartbeats and brainwaves. And there was a person in each chair, dressed in the black suit of the Netrunners.

Only these weren't netrunners.

They were puppets, soldiers who had lost their own will due to complications during the war and were now considered brain dead.

Now you used them as obedient dogs to carry out orders that even the devil would have condemned.