[Diving]
— Tammi Herren, Rune —
Hookwolf laughed to the heavens, right in the face of calling Valhalla, “Now, THIS is living! Rune! Bomb the bastards!”
Rune was less enthusiastic about their current situation, but only just. This was living, after all. It was the kind of challenge a legend of strength was built upon. It was exactly why the Fenrir party was here, fighting to prove their strength.
She frantically drew one of her runes on a frag grenade the party had brought into the Zone. It fell under her control. She threw it straight into the mass of creeping, crawling cunts.
The wind carried the frag, her spirit pulling its weight without having to be asked. A cocoon of air wrapped around it, and when the fuse hit zero, the wind carried the shrapnel wide and far.
A dozen of the creepy cunts got caught in the blast. Half a dozen more quickly surged to fill the gaps in the line Hookwolf was holding.
Rune aimed her MP5 submachine gun and pulled the trigger. She held it down to spray, accuracy barely a consideration in the back of her mind due to the sheer, writhing numbers they were up against.
9mm bullets punched through spiritual flesh. White blood burst into the air from the holes she’d created.
It was sticky, nasty shit, Rune had learned. So with a flex of Wind, her spirit whisked up the inconvenient spray before it could trap anyone from the party and threw it right back at the creepy cunts.
“Eat shit! Not a fucking step closer!” Rune shouted as she fumbled to reload her gun.
She didn’t know if the creepy, insect-looking cunts could understand her. They were just so, so inhuman. Her totem of the Wind whispered that they were unnatural. That they had no place in the world, none at all. They were invaders — alien, even to the spirits.
“~They will devour the world whole if given the chance,” The Wind said, a breeze in the back of her mind. “They push forth into the physical from the deepest metaplanes, twisting unknowing hosts to their spawning bidding. It starts with one summoning, consuming the summoner. From there, they incubate their spiritual larva within physical beings and SPREAD… These termites eat away at the very world they invade.”
Each looked vaguely the same and so very different at the same time. Barely, just barely, Rune could recognize them as termites. But that wasn’t all they were.
Some manifested as small, pale things, still the size of large dogs. Others manifested with greater size — comparable to big cats or bears —, brutal brown shells, and vicious mandibles. Some were humanoid, or humanoid in the way that a mantis was, at least. Others were mutated and merged with human flesh, twisted monstrosities of un-nature.
The Fenrir party had essentially been dropped right at the edge of their nest from the start of the Second Dive. The alien termites hadn’t responded well to the sudden intrusion.
While they’d been getting their bearings, scout termites had come across them. Hookwolf tore them to pieces, and with acceptable targets so close, he led them deeper into the nest.
“Are we going to shrink away from some fucking bugs?!” He’d exclaimed, challenging the party. “Just stomp ‘em!”
It helped that their totem spirits were all pushing them towards the insects the moment they revealed themselves. None of the spirits they were partnered with seemed to like the alien invaders. Rune couldn’t blame them.
Othala had almost cried at the sight of the initial scouts. That was unforgivable. Then and there, Rune vowed to wipe the creepy cunts off the face of the map.
Othala was strong in her own right, though. Rune knew she was. It just took more exceptional circumstances to get that strength out of her. Like a nest of creepy cunts and a spiritual partner standing at her back, giving her all the power she needed to strike back and squash some bugs.
Now, Othala was calling upon her Lover totem spirit with righteous compassion. She was bolstering the party’s will to fight. That will was already high. Ready. Othala pushed it farther, with gentle, spiritual hands on their backs and someone to protect.
From their drop-in point, they’d ventured into an abandoned factory complex. The edges of it were overgrown, but that growth quickly stopped in its tracks.
Past a point, every natural sign of life had been strangled out by pure infestation. It was wrong, so wrong.
Muddy mortar incorporated empty, crumbling buildings into the ‘termite’ nest. The alien spirits had built over the remnants of the Zone, and through them, too. A spire of twisted mud rose from the complex’s central factory. Even from a distance, they could see it teeming.
Terrifyingly, the design of the nest looked intelligent. An alien mockery of architecture. There were defenses built in mud and harvested concrete. Like the kill box they were currently forcing their way through.
Waves of the alien termites held back their righteous exterminators. Some spat globs of icky white spittle from the backlines. Others held the vanguard with mandible and claw. More still rushed like kamikaze drones, throwing themselves to their death in defense of the hive.
They were strong, both in their alien nature and in their numbers. But the Fenrir party was stronger.
They had Othala’s Lover fortifying their spirits from behind. They had Victor placing accurate AR shots into heads and thoraxes. They had Rune playing DPS, using both her power and her spirit to chuck everything she could get her hands on into the swarm. And they had Hookwolf right there at the front, a blur of blades blessed by the spirit of the Norse apocalypse.
“See them through,” Othala muttered — a prayer to her Lover spirit. “Protect those I love.”
Rune felt the strength of Othala’s prayer flood her. She fought harder, a burst of 9mm bullets riding the Wind to their targets.
Victor snapped off a whole magazine of shots in superhumanly quick succession. Every bullet cut down an alien spirit.
Hookwolf roared, an explosion of blades. He tore through armored soldier ‘mite carapaces. Their unnatural mandible blades failed to take a single piece of his transformation in turn.
With the prayer, they made a hole in the defenses. Hookwolf didn’t hesitate to plunge into it. Another of Rune’s precious grenades wasn’t far behind. It detonated without worry of friendly fire, shredding the nearest ‘mites and winning Hookwolf more space to rampage.
They were pushing now, all on the back of Othala’s Loving prayer.
The Dungeon had thrown this test at them. They would overcome it. They would prove their strength. They would survive and thrive.
Fenrir’s Chosen would never back down from a fight. Today, they’d write their names in bug blood.
IIIII
— Ancalagon —
The stream checked in on Hookwolf’s ‘Fenrir’ party.
The viewers watched with no small amount of awe as the party tore their way through an Invae nest. It was a brutal showing of sheer strength and determination in the face of an overwhelming, alien threat.
‘Ancalagon…? What the FUCK are those?!’ Madison asked in chat.
“Alien spirits, from the deepest, most eldritch metaplanes,” I answered. “The Sixth World most commonly knew them as Insect Spirits, but that name is something of a misnomer. They are not actually insects. Nothing even close, in truth. That is just what they most resemble from the world we know, and thus, how they end up presenting themselves when they invade the physical plane.
“And they are most certainly invaders. Their metaplanar homes are overcrowded in the extreme, though that knowledge is based on the invaders’ own testimonies, for no reasonable being has ever managed to see those alien metaplanes for themself.”
“That is a fact worth thanking magic for,” Calamitas added. “All but the darkest realms of Hell that I once knew are preferable to… whatever incomprehensible horrors lie that deep in the metaplanes.”
“The Insect Spirit invaders are a scourge,” Jenevelle shuddered. “It can not be overstated just how alien their minds are. Their very spawning process on the physical plane is parasitic, too. They reach out to unknowing mages, guiding them to take the invader as their totem. That ‘partnership’ will always drive the mage mad, mad enough that they willingly invite the invaders into the world, even through their own body and the bodies of their fellow metahuman.”
“Do not let their appearances fool you,” I continued. “The Invae are far from simple, as we commonly think of insects. They come in countless ‘species’ for lack of a better term, some solitary and some social, and can possess great power and intelligence. Wasp Queens, for example, boast intellects to rival Great Dragons.
“The only common motivation the Invae share is the need to spread until the physical plane is as overpopulated as their native metaplanes. They will stop at nothing to do so. When they first began to appear in the Sixth World, they overran Chicago so badly that the city had to be first nuked to limit the threat, and when that failed, biologically nuked to end it for good.”
‘Oh… Oh, holy shit. That’s, like, BAD-bad.’
‘A fucking nuke didn’t stop them?!’
‘You just KNOW there have to be roach ones ‘cause of that…’
‘Sounds like the bio-nuke did the job, at least. I would not have wanted to be the one to make that call, though.’
‘What the actual FUCK, MAN!’
‘… Please tell me they can’t escape the Dungeon.’
“The ones you currently see are mere simulacra,” I reassured. “And I’ve taken great precautions to prevent any unwanted magical resonance that would invite the Invae in truth. They will not subvert my Authority. As well, with my current position of Astral Gatekeeper, I can vigilantly ensure they do not find a way to emerge outside the Dungeon, either.
“Take heart, their homes deep, deep in the metaplanes are a defense just as much as they are the cause for concern. This Age is sufficiently warded against them. And if they do arrive, decades and decades down the line, you will be ready for them.”
‘Is that part of why you made the Dungeon? To get the world ready for invaders?’
I nodded, “Agency, independence, and the ability to defend oneself are natural consequences of Growth. And that Growth, grasped through all its adventures, will always be the most quintessential purpose of my Dungeon.”
‘… Welp, I guess I’m signing up with the Corps after all. I’ve been on the fence, but no bug is gonna catch me with my pants down, even if I’m 100 when (IF, fingers crossed) they finally arrive.’
Taylor made herself known in the chat, ‘The Spider spirit is backing up Ancalagon’s explanation. I think she might actually hate the… ‘Invae’ more than him. I don’t really know how to properly describe it, but she’s already… spinning a web to catch any bugs we might come across.’
‘See? This^ is why we stan spiders,’ Madison added.
‘Never thought I’d say this, but Hookwolf’s actually fighting the good fight right now. Fuck a bug.’
‘It helps that they’re literally fighting aliens. And unsympathetic ones, at that.’
‘He and his party make for half-decent exterminators, yeah.’
‘Rip and tear, people. Rip and tear.’
‘Does Hookwolf even care about the Dive’s main objective? Or is he just here for the fights?’
‘His party kinda has to make it out of the nest alive to care about the rest of the Dive. Not their fault they had the bad (or good) luck to drop right into it, basically.’
‘Let’s be honest here, even if they didn’t drop right into it, Hookwolf would’ve thrown himself at any fight that presented itself.’
‘What do you think the loot is like from an Insect/Alien/Invae nest?’
‘*Rainbow hands* the real loot was the violence we did along the way!’
With the Fenrir party stuck in the thick of it for the foreseeable future, Calamitas relegated the ‘camera’ following them to a side stream, and I switched the main stream to follow another party.
The Guild party had not been dropped straight onto the edge of an Invae nest. Instead, they had a relatively peaceful start to their Dive on the northern side of the Zone, quickly organizing themselves and heading south.
By the time I tuned in to follow them, however, they’d run into a hint of trouble — trouble of a different kind than what the Fenrir party was going through.
The Guild party mounted up and simply drove south at the start of the Second Dive. Along the way, they got their first taste of the Zone: its scenery, mostly. Contact with its inhabitants would come a bit later.
They drove through the resurgent, abandoned beauty of the Zone, an area that was once Luxembourg. The North of Luxembourg had been sparsely populated when the country still existed, consisting of forests and farming valleys, the hills and holdouts of a forgotten nation.
Small European towns and quaint villages broke up the nature, being consumed by it in turn. They were the remnants of a proud and peaceful people, content with their small slice of the world. So many lives had been ruined by the Zone’s creation, and here, it showed at its most serene.
Small castles, summer manors, and elegant estates were left to ruin. Monasteries were open to the elements, no longer having anyone to share their rich histories with. Picturesque forests had crept into those rare remnants of civilization, growing wild once more.
But the Zone there was not absent of activity. It was simply… private, cultivated property. And the Guild party soon discovered as much, stumbling right into the true rulers of the SOX.
“Oh, this should be interesting,” I chuckled.
‘What the-’
‘They look… way too well put together for what we’ve seen of the Zone so far. Even the PMCs Lady watched didn’t look so… coherent.’
‘Is it the actual army, then? I didn’t really know Luxembourg had one.’
‘Luxembourg’s essentially dead, though. I don’t think it can be them.’
‘Megacorporations rule the Zone, remember? Ones with more power and resources than Luxembourg once enjoyed within its own borders.’
‘Yeah, those are corpos if I’ve ever seen some.’
“Correct,” I answered the speculation in chat. “The Megacorps administer and rule the Zone. They are the only officially recognized powers within it. Their influence is vast indeed. Now, let’s see how the Guild party comes to terms with it.”
IIIII
— Dragon —
Within her mind and power armor, Dragon blinked, “… There’s a checkpoint up ahead.”
She had the best view of their drive through the Zone, embarrassingly not able to fit within the IFV transportation Ancalagon had provided all of the parties. She sat on the top as Myrddin drove, as a result, keeping in communication with her party through the open top hatch.
“Checkpoint?” Narwhal asked. “That… doesn’t sound good. Are we looking at raiders or…?”
“Not raiders,” Dragon said, shaking her head as she examined the distant checkpoint.
They were cresting one of Luxembourg’s hills, and in front of them, the road they were following led into one of the country’s many, many small river valleys.
They’d seen many such valleys already. But they’d all been left to nature with the Zone’s creation, a fact that pulled at Dragon’s heartstrings. It was a beautiful land, and she felt for the people who’d once called it home.
The valley before them hadn’t been left to nature. It looked like an actual nation’s border within the Zone, something only possible for true, well-organized, outside powers.
A wall stretched down one side of the coming valley, through the river as a travel-limiting dam, and back up the other side. Past the edges of the valley, Dragon could see the wall extending into the distance.
It wasn’t a particularly large wall, but the statement it sent was clear. She could see turrets posted along its length, and at the road and river gates of the wall, there was a certain level of vigilant activity.
With her suit’s optics, Dragon could see that the guards at that border knew they were coming. Uniform-looking soldiers clad in red and black had closed off the way forward, waiting for them to make their way down the road.
“I think that’s one of the corporate powers of the Zone,” Dragon reported to the rest of the party. “I couldn’t tell you which one; I simply don’t know enough about the Sixth World’s megacorporations. But I don’t think we’ll be able to pass them by easily.”
“Going back and trying to find another way would be a pain,” Myrddin advised.
“And they have no reason to just… let us through, do they?” Narwhal sighed.
“Not likely,” Dragon confirmed. “This… I’d say this is the start of their territory in the Zone. Ancalagon told us the Megacorps essentially operate whole, corporate-based cities here. Arcologies? I very much doubt they want just anyone walking through their space.”
“Looks like it’s time to get our talking booties on, then!” Mouse Protector chimed.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Narwhal muttered.
Dragon chided her lightly, “Oh, don’t be like that, Narwhal! I’m sure we’ll be able to come to a perfectly reasonable agreement. They must have reasons for occupying the Zone, after all, and it’s not like we intend to intrude upon those! All we have to do is convince them to let us pass through, maybe with an escort, and then we won’t bother them again.”
Mouse Protector giggled, “Ya know, I think that’s tempting fate just as much as Narwhal’s ‘bad feeling’ is.”
“It’ll be fine! I’m sure of it-!”
IIIII
“-Stop right there! You are violating Renraku law!”
“Greg, stop it with that shit. We’ve talked about this,” Another of the border guards, who looked to be the officer in the room, chastised the overly eager first contact.
“Sorry about him. He’s not wrong; he’s just an asshole. Still, you are being detained. Don’t resist. This area of the Zone is under Renraku jurisdiction. One step farther and we will have full legal authority to open fire. Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be, runner.”
“Wha-?” Dragon sputtered slightly, caught off guard by the immediate hostility they encountered at the checkpoint. “We’re not doing anything! We just want to pass through.”
“Good luck with that, chummer,” One of the checkpoint’s guards deadpanned.
Another guard stared them down through their armored helmet, “You think Renraku can just let obvious Shadowrunners pass through restricted areas? Fat fraggin’ chance.”
“Easy now,” Narwhal said, taking the lead. “There’s no need for violence. You’ve got us caught in my eyes. We won’t start anything if you don’t.”
“Better not. I’m just here to guard the border and keep my boys whole. The sooner I get you lot out of my hands, the better. Your fates will be up to the execs in the main arc. They’ve already sent someone to collect you,” The checkpoint’s leader replied.
“They really leave you out to dry here, don’t they?” Mouse Protector asked, casual and easygoing.
“It’s corp business,” One of the guards shrugged. “You know how that is. I’m sure you shadowrunners are here on your own business.”
“Perhaps,” Myrddin admitted. “But if we are, it isn’t business against Renraku-…”
The leader held up a hand, “No, I don’t want to know. That’s above my pay grade, chum. If you tell me, the suits might want to debrief me, too. So just keep it to yourselves, and keep those hands and spirits there, too, while you’re at it, neh?”
“Hey, we’re cool, man,” Mouse Protector raised her hands unoffensively. “We don’t want to cause you any more problems than we already have. How’d upstanding, normal boys like you end up here in the Zone, anyway?”
“Punishment duty, chum!” One guard laughed. “You think we came to this hellhole willingly? After… Seattle… well, you know.”
“The big one?” Mouse Protector guessed, fishing for information.
“Nah, not DEUS, thank Spirit,” The guard waved. “Just a little eco-terrorism when SCIRE was still being built. Wrong place, wrong time, neh? But the suits needed someone to shuffle about to show they were doing something. We just drew that straw.”
“Kinda glad we did. The Crisis was bad business all around,” Another guard commented.
“Just the way the cheese crumbles sometimes,” Mouse Protector joked.
A few guards snorted laughs at her pun, “Yeah, you could say that.”
“How long have you been stationed here?” Dragon asked.
“A few years,” The lead guard shrugged. “We should be shuffled back out again in no time now. Hopefully, at least, if the suits don’t end up with any funny ideas.”
“It’s not so bad,” One guard said. “The Zone’s proper drokked, of course, but the arc keeps us comfortable, even on the border here. Just gotta keep the Radpunks honest, the Glowpunks scared, and cultists far, far away.”
“C’mon, as if any of those punks would dare attack Renraku!” Mouse Protector laughed.
The lead guard chuckled back, “You’d be surprised. The Glowpunks are always trying to slip past into the… spicier test areas. Those idiots are just itching to geek themselves on some fresh rads.”
Dragon remembered the Glowpunks from Ancalagon’s briefing, but it was another thing to hear about them from an ‘insider’ perspective. The idea of radiation-worship was an undeniably strange one.
“Truly?” She asked, her bemusement coming through clearly. “They’re that eager to kill themselves?”
“Welcome to the Zone,” The leader said flatly. “This place does bad juju to a metahuman’s mind. Whatever you’re here for, I’d advise that you don’t stay for long.”
Their conversation with the Renraku border guards didn’t go much further from there. A blacked-out luxury car soon pulled up to the checkpoint from the other side. From it, two figures stepped out.
Both were almost unnaturally perfect, as if their features had been crafted as much as they’d been born with them. Dragon recognized the look from putting together her own avatar… It was just strange to see it on naturally born… metahumans.
On the right, a young, purely human woman, with striking, lavender-highlighted white hair and delicately fine features. If Dragon had to put her in one word, she would be ‘elegant’. Everything about her was perfectly styled to embody the concept of corporate nobility.
She was cool and composed, but not completely unapproachable due to the softness her youthful appearance gave her.
Dragon could see very understated signs of augmentation in her beautiful features, but she doubted it was enough for the woman to be considered a cyborg, considering how Ancalagon said chrome and magic interacted.
She looked more the part of a corporate mage than a cyborg, wearing a futuristically stylish and classy robe-like suit.
In contrast, her companion wore a more traditional suit — gray pants, dress shoes, and a gray vest over a red, silken shirt. He embodied ‘professional’ more than ‘elegant’.
His augmentations were more obvious, if centered on one body part, leading Dragon to believe he wasn’t a mage. The man’s hands were strikingly chrome.
Then, there was the rest of him, where he stood apart from his peer even more. The man was tall, slender, and graceful, with decidedly pointed ears — an Elf of the Sixth World. Dragon couldn’t help but notice that the signs of that elven nature were more understated than Dharla’s or Jenevelle’s.
The two Renraku execs walked side by side — equals, Dragon assessed — and both held themselves with the undeniable air of people used to power.
Dragon was suddenly struck by the realization that Earth Bet didn’t have anyone like the two corporate executives in front of her.
These were agents of megacorporations, given free rein to operate so long as they brought their megacorp profit, and essentially given corporate diplomatic immunity due to the Sixth World’s rather extensive take on extraterritoriality.
She didn’t know how high up the pair were in Renraku’s corporate structure, but she couldn’t imagine execs were all that common in the Zone. So at the moment, unwilling to fight their way through, the Guild party was almost certainly at their mercy.
To Dragon’s pleasant surprise, though, the Renraku execs seemed to be going for a relatively soft sell to start.
“Hello, Shadowrunners,” The female exec smiled openly. “Thank you for waiting patiently. I am Alina, and my partner here is Shoto. We’ll be escorting you to the main arc and hopefully handling this situation in a mutually beneficial manner.”
“How do you intend to do that?” Narwhal asked, somewhat wary but not showing it much.
“You’re still being detained,” Shoto said. “And we’ll have to interrogate you on your intentions within the Zone. If all goes well, though, you’ll be treated as guests, not hostile shadowrunners. May we get something to call you by?”
Seeing that diplomacy was still in play, Dragon nodded, “I go by Dragon usually. I do hope we can resolve this peacefully. We really don’t have any reason to go against you. Our job is deeper in the Zone, so we’re just passing through.”
“Dragon?” Shoto raised an eyebrow. “That is a… bold handle.”
Dragon… didn’t quite like the way they were looking at her. Looking at her suit, more accurately. It wasn’t a greedy look, but it was certainly assessing and almost clinically curious. Ancalagon had warned her that, even if at Sixth World’s technological level, her suits would be advanced and eye-catching.
“I’m Mouse!” Mouse Protector cut in, pulling the pair’s attention onto her. “Cheesed to meetcha!”
Alina tittered, “Oh, that’s very cute. I like you already.”
“Myrddin,” Myrddin introduced himself with a nod. “A pleasure.”
“A classic and cultured handle,” Shoto returned the nod with one of approval.
“… Narwhal,” Narwhal went last, keeping her introduction curt.
Alina saw through Narwhal’s wariness and quickly began trying to open her up, “I love your style, Narwhal. It’s daring. Striking. Utterly unashamed. Does it offer as much protection as it does aesthetic appeal?”
Narwhal, despite herself, chuckled, “It does. A body like mine deserves to be protected just as much as it deserves to be displayed.”
“I’ll say!” Alina laughed. “Biomods? No… No, you’re all natural, aren’t you~?”
“All this,” Narwhal cocked her hip and gestured down her body. “It’s me and me alone, yeah.”
Alina seemed to like that, all but purring, “Ara ara~?”
“-Anyways!” Dragon cut in before her best friend could be seduced by the friendly corporate exec (or seduce her in turn…). “S-Shall we get moving? We really do have things to do. For our job! Things deeper in the Zone, not against you!”
Alina giggled to Narwhal, “Can I assume she’s not your team’s face?”
It was working, to Dragon’s slight dismay. The cool, elegant, and personable corpo exec was making her best friend open right up!
Narwhal laughed in reply, “No, Dragon’s great, but the important talkie-talkie stuff usually falls to me.”
“Or me!” Mouse Protector jumped in. “I’m lovable as all heck!”
“Yes, I can see that you think that,” Shoto deadpanned. “Now, come along. We’ll be escorting you in your vehicle to the main arc, but we will require at least one of you to ride with us. As insurance. I’m sure you understand.”
“After seeing the Zone, I could use a bit of luxury right about now,” Narwhal volunteered.
“Oh, you’ll love the car, then,” Alina assured. “It’s actually mine. Shoto just hitched a ride today. Tell me, have you experienced Rolls-Royce’s 10th-generation massaging seats yet?”
“I have not, but now, I desperately want to,” Narwhal said, grinning flirtatiously.
“Oh, no…” Dragon whispered to herself. “She’s already lost…”
Her lost best friend willingly stepped into the beautiful and fancy executive’s web. Dragon was left to worry herself silly from atop the IFV as it followed the car deep into Renraku territory.
Her worries were pushed to the side soon enough, though, as Renraku’s main arcology came into view.
It was cut into the landscape, a futuristic complex the size of a small city. A whole valley was dedicated to Renraku’s arc, stretching miles upon miles through the full extent of its length. Yet even then, with the space the arc carved for itself, it seemed to live mostly in harmony with the surrounding nature.
It was solarpunk and post-modern, futuristic, corporate architecture, all dedicated to Renraku Computer Systems, a megacorp the likes of which Earth Bet could scarcely comprehend.
The architecture was delicate and advanced, genius in both its planning and its execution. Smooth lines, cool colors, and gleaming glass claimed the valley, standing out against the natural landscape in curated contrast.
The river that ran through the valley had been incorporated into the arcology, a picturesque park at ground level. They used the land to their advantage, every inch of it dominated by Renraku’s arcology vision.
Skyscraper-tall walls had been built onto and into the hills that made up the valley. They were constructions of glass and steel that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a purely urban environment, but they were also topped by natural terraces and high, angled roofs of solar panels that generated all the energy the arc might need.
But Renraku wasn’t content to leave their energy needs to solar alone. The sensors in Dragon’s suit shone light on a reactor of some kind — nuclear, by the power readings she was getting — deep within the arc.
That was perhaps the strangest fact of the arcology in Dragon’s mind. She knew nuclear power was ultimately much, much safer than most thought, but surely, the optics of building a new nuclear reactor in the Zone weren’t good ones.
Renraku, it seemed, didn’t much care about outside optics; they did what they needed to do because they could.
On the terraces and on the valley floor, flora had been built around instead of being fully demolished. Not all of that flora matched the surrounding environment, either; some examples were clearly transplanted for aesthetic purposes. Cherry blossom trees weren’t native to Luxembourg, but for a Japanese Megacorp, Dragon imagined they were all but necessary to Renraku’s image.
Maglev Trains ran through the arcology’s valley walls, connecting miles and miles of complex construction. Bridges crossed over the valley floor, and roads wound below, both bustling with life and business. Terraces were mounted with buildings that rose from within the built-up valley walls.
The initial sight of it was ridiculous in the best of ways. It made Dragon further realize just how unprecedented the Sixth World’s megacorporations were when compared to the corporations she knew.
“~A testament to the heights of progress, advancement, human ingenuity,” The Fire-Bringer whispered to her. “This is the inspiration I seek to bring the world.”
Funnily enough, the Guild was probably the closest thing Earth Bet had to a megacorporation.
That was… a terribly fitting realization. Ancalagon had said the Dungeon tailored its adventures to the adventurers. It was startling to think it was capable of doing so, even in such a diverse Dive, but about expected from Ancalagon.
Also expected, but startling to realize, was the sheer depth of the Dungeon’s simulation. It was as good as real, a fragment of his past Age transplanted wholesale into the Dungeon’s present. The people they’d encountered so far were as alive as any other by Dragon’s reckoning, and every new scene bore so much weight.
The arcology, for example. Saying it must’ve cost a fortune would’ve been a gross understatement of things.
And Dragon could see how every ‘nuyen’ of that fortune had been spent with how painstakingly it’d been recreated in the Dungeon.
They had the resources to build this in an isolated containment zone. Renraku alone had built a whole city, without any outside help. They kept it running on their own, too, and this was only one of their arcologies in the Zone.
Alina’s car led the way into the arcology’s valley. There, driving along perfect roads, Dragon looked up at the complex around them. The valley’s walls towered higher than they naturally should have, glass and steel built atop terraced nature.
Within the windows of those embedded buildings, Dragon spied offices, apartments, and whole districts. The arc was undeniably alive, a liveliness tuned to Renraku’s profit-focused frequencies.
She couldn’t help but wonder what technologies and magicks lay within the arc. Some of Renraku’s most advanced, most experimental, most secret projects, she guessed. Why else would they be in the Zone, this isolated extraterritorial space?
Were there… Dragon hesitated on the thought. Were there other AI here? AI of Renraku’s creation?
Ancalagon had mentioned such developments in the Sixth World, but only briefly in the take-home information packet for the Second Dive. He hadn’t gone into detail, merely mentioning that true AI certainly existed.
Now, in the arcology some of those AIs might’ve called home, Dragon couldn’t stop herself from wondering.
The thought burned up in an inspiring, spiritual flame, concealed from meddlesome observers before Dragon could linger on it.
Their small convoy eventually stopped in a garage set within one of the valley’s skyscraping walls. Narwhal emerged from her ride in good spirits, to Dragon’s continued dismay. She couldn’t yet tell if Narwhal had her claws in Alina or if it was the other way around. Maybe it was both…
“Welcome to the main arc,” Alina announced. “Come, let’s get you situated so we can begin. You are guests of Renraku. Limited guests, but the hospitality is still there, to be certain.”
“I’m feeling rather welcome,” Narwhal flirted.
Beside Dragon, Myrddin whispered with some worry, “Should we be doing something about that?”
“I don’t know…!” Dragon whispered back.
“Shhh! Let her cook~!” Mouse Protector insisted.
They were led deeper through open-concept arboretums and spacious, luxurious working halls. People were present everywhere within the arc, but their party wasn’t disturbed while Alina and Shoto were leading them.
Dragon did take a moment to appreciate the diversity of Renraku life, though. Ancalagon’s information packet had painted the megacorp as a conservative one — most of the Japanocorps were, it seemed — but only in its most core holdings in Japan. External holdings and subsidiaries were less strict in their conservatism.
Because of that, Dragon saw that humans were still the dominant majority of the arc’s population, but there were also the occasional Elf and Dwarf. Orcs and Trolls still seemed suspiciously absent, though…
Soon enough, the party found themselves in a well-appointed and equally well-secured room deep within the arc.
“Please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable,” Shoto invited. “We do have questions for you. This may take a while.”
“Any chance I could get a drink, then?” Narwhal asked.
“For you? Of course,” Alina agreed, pouring it on thick.
“I’ll take a bit of snacking cheese if you have it,” Mouse Protector shrugged, mounting a seat in the room from behind and flopping comfortably into it.
Myrddin sat more calmly and with a simple request, “Just water for me, please.”
Executive eyes turned to Dragon, the question clear. She awkwardly waved a hand, “Oh, nothing for me. Thank you, though. The suit makes eating and drinking somewhat difficult.”
Alina fetched a drink and a glass of water from the room’s bar, while Dragon caught a vague transmission from Shoto requesting Mouse Protector’s cheese. Then, they were all settled in and ready for the conversation to begin.
Dragon had her suspicions…
This was all… too peaceful, too easy, too accommodating. She couldn’t help but think the execs were going for a soft-sell of some kind. What they were selling, though, she didn’t know.
“Now, we have your names,” Shoto began. “Can I confirm you are indeed a shadowrunning team?”
“We are,” Narwhal confirmed, answering honestly. Ancalagon had called them shadowrunners for the Second Dive, after all.
“Any runs we might’ve heard of?” Alina asked. “Do feel free to brag~…”
“Nah, we’re super secret, super elite!” Mouse Protector chimed. “You wouldn’t have heard of us. That would defeat the point!”
“I will say that we’re all experienced and accomplished in our individual fields,” Myrddin said.
“Hmm, let me guess…” Alina teasingly put a finger to her chin in thought. “Myrddin is obviously your mage. A hermetic, I’d say, not a shaman. Mouse is your street samurai; she has that dangerous edge to her under the adorable exterior. Narwhal would be your face with teeth. And Dragon… Hmm.”
“I’ll confess, I’m at something of a loss there, too,” Shoto said. “A rigger, perhaps? But with power armor like that, she could just as easily be a samurai of the not-so-street variety. It looks like rather good kit. Shockingly good, even.”
“Eheh,” Dragon chuckled and shrugged. “I made it myself.”
Shoto sat back in his seat, visibly impressed, “That is no small feat, Dragon. I can see why you took such a bold handle now. I think even the Red Samurai would be drooling after a suit like yours.”
“Rigger, then,” Alina nodded. “And I’m beginning to believe your team may just be as elite as you claim. If Dragon is good enough for… that… what can the rest of you do?”
“Psh, we aren’t gonna just spill, girl!” Mouse Protector laughed dismissively.
“Dragon is undoubtedly the best of us,” Narwhal earnestly praised. “But that doesn’t mean we’re lacking. All of us have seen at least a decade of action.”
“Closer to two,” Mouse Protector admitted with a grin.
“And we wouldn’t have heard of you?” Alina pressed.
“You might’ve,” Narwhal demurred. “We simply aren’t telling.”
“That’s fine. I like a challenge,” Alina grinned.
“I’m more ‘challenge’ than you can handle, love,” Narwhal flirted.
“Yet still, I am willing to try.”
“You are. I think I like that about you.”
Shoto said nothing, letting his fellow exec work. Dragon couldn’t quite tell who had their claws sunk into who there, who was ‘topping’ so to speak. It was mutually assured corporate seduction, and Dragon was just a bit worried about it getting out of hand.
They still didn’t know what the execs were after. She quickly scrambled for a change of subject to stave off the flirting (and not at all because she was embarrassed at how good her best friend was at this!).
“-Can! Can I ask what your positions are in Renraku?”
Shoto looked at her strangely, slight confusion in narrowed, elven eyes, “… Executives.”
… As if that answered everything. To someone native to the Sixth World, it might have.
Dragon winced within her mind, “Executives, of course. Is there a reason you two are the ones to deal with us, then? Specialties in recruitment? Or… problem solving?”
“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of ripping you from your ongoing job, whatever it may be,” Alina claimed, polite and elegant as ever. “And problem solving? Is that not what all executives do? As shadowrunners, I’m sure you can sympathize.”
“I do find myself ‘solving problems’ rather often,” Myrddin honestly considered. “There’s always something, is there not?”
Shoto chuckled, “Always something, yes. Thankfully, with Renraku at our backs, we always have the resources we need to address those… somethings.”
“Corpo style,” Mouse Protector nodded. “Must be nice, nice, nice~! I’m way too used to running solo to ever tie myself down like that, though.”
“So far,” Alina shared, seemingly honest. “You haven’t proven yourselves to be problems we need to solve. Just curiosities. I do hope it stays that way.”
“Curiosities… that you’ve detained…?” Dragon asked.
“As opposed to the alternatives?” Shoto returned her question with a question and a raised brow. “Should we have let you go freely through Renraku territory? Should we have ordered the border guards to shoot on sight? In my mind, we’ve been rather reasonable in addressing the… curiosity you represent so far, Dragon.”
“And I’m sure we can continue to be reasonable,” Narwhal said. “We aren’t Renraku’s enemies.”
“So you claim. I might even believe you, Narwhal,” Alina admitted. “But if true, the question remains as to what you are.”
“We’re newcomers to the Zone, here with a purpose that shouldn’t be at odds with your megacorp,” Myrddin claimed. “Our job here concerns a mystery of the SOX… Feuerschwinge.”
Both Shoto and Alina blinked, processing that information. Shoto was the first to react, laughing, “Feuerschwinge? Treasure hunters seeking rumors of her hoard, then?”
“I’ll admit, that’s not what I was expecting,” Alina hummed.
“Her hoard?” Dragon asked before she could stop herself, something about the mere word calling to her.
Alina cocked her head, “Yes…? Those rumors that the slain Dragon somehow hid her hoard before her death?”
She snorted dismissively, continuing, “As if she had the time. She was much too busy wreaking havoc. If that’s why you’re here, I’m afraid you’re bound to leave disappointed. I’d be a little disappointed myself if it’s the case. I thought your purpose for coming to the Zone would be more interesting than that…”
“We’re not here for the Dragon’s Hoard,” Narwhal openly stated. “We were given a different objective.”
“Oh?” Alina’s interest in the party visibly perked back up.
“Yes, we’re looking to unravel the mystery of Feuerschwinge herself, not whatever hoard she might’ve left behind.”
“I wouldn’t touch a Dragon’s Hoard, even if the Dragon in question was dead,” Mouse Protector scoffed. “Especially then.”
“You really, really, really shouldn’t…” Dragon muttered, a soul-deep certainty of how bad that would end rising from… somewhere within.
Alina hummed, “You seek her corpse, then? Or just information on her fate? What a strange objective for a shadowrun.”
“Given?” Shoto asked, zeroing in on a single word Narwhal had said.
Narwhal hesitated for just a moment before nodding firmly, “Given. Our Mr. Johnson for this run didn’t really concern himself with anonymity.”
“He readily revealed himself to be Ancalagon the White, sending us to discover the final fate of his peer Dragon,” Myrddin continued.
An unblinking moment stretched at that reveal. The drop of a pin could’ve been heard. Shoto and Alina stared.
“… Ancalagon?” Shoto eventually asked, seeking confirmation.
“… Ancalagon?” Alina repeated.
“Yep~!” Mouse Protector chimed, teasing. “The Big Guy, A-Dubs! Betcha didn’t see that one coming!”
“No-… Ahem,” Shoto cleared his throat, trying to regain his corporate composure. “Not in the slightest.”
“… Ancalagon?” Alina repeated herself again, her voice strained.
“Does that… change things about the situation?” Dragon asked. She already knew it must have by their reactions, but she was enjoying putting the execs on the back foot now.
“You could… say that,” Alina forced out.
“Indeed,” Shoto nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “You have quite the sponsor behind you. Saeder-Krupp won’t be enthused to hear Ancalagon’s agents are operating within the Zone. Yet… perhaps that opens a certain opportunity for us…”
Mouse Protector nonchalantly buffed her nails, “Yeah, we’re kinda big cheese. Lucky you. I suppose we could put in a good word for you with the Big Dragon if you decide to be extra helpful.”
Alina seemed to pick up what her fellow exec had in mind, purring, “Oh, we can be very helpful~…”
“Uh oh,” Dragon muttered to herself.
She had a bad feeling about this. The corpos were scheming. And their party looked like they were about to be caught in the middle of it.
“Are we still being detained, then…?” She asked.
“Any agent of Ancalagon is an enemy of Saeder-Krupp,” Shoto said, seemingly ignoring her question to push forward his plan.
“So, for your time in the Zone, you can consider yourselves friends of Renraku, too,” He continued. “We’ll help you with your objective, shadowrunners… But I do believe we’ll do so on our terms.”
“Looks like you’ll be keeping our polite and helpful company a while longer yet,” Alina giggled.