Chapter Text
A shell game is a sleight-of-hand maneuver where you have a bead or a pearl, place it under a shell, and then move the shells around, before asking the observer to guess which shell the pearl has ended up under. In reality, by drawing an observer’s attention away from the bead, you either shuffle it between shells so it’s not the expected one, or off the table altogether, removing it from play.
When intercepting something, whether a package or otherwise, this means you need both a convincing substitute for the “pearl” and to execute the swap when there is the least amount of attention, or the mark is distracted.
On the other side, there’s also two ways to transport important cargo: high-profile, usually with select couriers, potentially including dedicated protection and specialized teams depending on the item in question, and low-profile, where the items are treated as valuable or even less valuable that they really are, relying on security through obscurity and reliance on the reliability of the transport network. In the first category were things like prisoner transports, spent nuclear fuel trains, bank cars, etc. In the second were things like high-profile documents, engineering samples, prototype equipment.
There were a number of places that a swap could happen. According to Alt and Spider’s research-via-contacts, something like this would typically be done via hand-offs.
So the equipment would be packaged and prepared in the lab that was currently in charge of it, then be handed off to someone in the building, who would then take it down to ground transport, before being stored by the same person in the ground transport. This all happened inside Arasaka HQ, which meant it was non-viable for a swap.
The ground transport would then go directly to the airport, entering via the commercial entrance and driving to the Arasaka hanger. The packages would then get loaded onto the airplane via Arasaka employees at the hanger, before the plane left and flew straight to Tokyo.
Our viable window was thus between the ground transport leaving Arasaka HQ, and the plane taking off. Inside that window, there were actually only a few strategies.
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Delay the transport, open the cargo storage, swap the packages without the driver being aware, and close everything up. Likelihood of there being complications: High, considering either surveillance on the transport and/or guards.
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Swap the cargo while it is at the hanger, but before being moved from the transport to the plane, while it is still in the transport. This would still require getting into the transport, but may prove more or less complex. Pros: less alert guards, the ability to get into the security system preemptively. Cons: it’s still a high-security area, the timing between the transport’s arrival and it being moved may be tight. Likelihood of complications: Moderate to high.
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Swap the cargo as it’s being moved, likely by impersonating one of the lower-level workers, pretending to be a sub for someone who’s sick. Would require same infiltration of the security system as before, to falsify records and approvals. Pros: would require only medium-grade infiltration and acting skills, likely a seamless integration. Cons: there would be very little time to actually swap out the equipment, which could be extremely problematic if there was tamper protection or electronic security, though they might be able to be planned for. Likelihood of complications: mild to moderate.
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Swap the cargo from the plane, by having someone sneak in to the plane before the cargo doors are closed, getting the gear and then exfiltrating, potentially by causing a mechanical problem to cause delays and inspections. Pros: no acting skills needed, time is much less of a problem. Cons: person would still need to get past all guards/workers to get on the plane, might not be able to easily escape once the door is open. Likelihood of complications: moderate.
“You’re overcomplicating this,” Spider said, sitting on the couch in our sim.
And dammit, if I was going to be sticking around it was going to be my sim too.
“You’re treating this like we’re up against a cohesive government or something. I get it, spooks are gonna spook, but we’re not. Did you never do anti-corpo stuff?” Spider asked.
I shook my head, playing into the story Alt and I had come up with. She’d told me we needed a believable backstory for me, considering the circumstances—I couldn’t exactly go around telling everyone, “Hi, I’m a superhero from another world.”
“Okay, well lesson one about corpo security: they don’t really care,” Spider said. “They’re corps, if they can get away with doing as little as possible, you can count on them doing exactly that. At the end of the day, every single person’s job in a corp is for one thing and one thing only: to maximize the company’s profit. They will do that job with as little effort as possible while accomplishing their goals.
“This means that almost all on-location security a corp has is either performative, or reactionary. The only thing a corp sees as a serious threat to itself is another corp. Not gangoons. Not edgerunners. Not Netrunners. Corps. They’ll flatline everybody all the same, but when they’re doing threat analysis, cyberpunks barely factor into it,” she told us.
It ran against every instinct I had that an opponent would be sacrificing thoroughness in place of profit, but then again I was comparing them to parahumans groups, which were notoriously difficult to properly plan for, so were typically countered by overwhelmingly thorough and complete defenses, both physical and organizational. When you were up against Thinkers, operational security and separation of information became not just a suggestion but a requirement, as Tattletale had effectively proven on more than one occasion.
“So what do we need to plan for?” I asked.
“Think about it from their perspective: this is a routine weekly transfer of goods between two of their main locations, two of their strongholds. They need to fly the flag, to make it clear who they are, and they need to give the appearance of strength while they’re around their rivals. But being routine, they will not suddenly increase security just for a week, because those movements would tip off their rivals that they’re up to something.”
“Alright. So expect less security on-site, and only token security for the transport?” I clarified, and Spider nodded.
“And you can count on none of them actually knowing each other. I guarantee this is the kind of scop-job given to whoever’s been underperforming that week.”
I turned to Alt, who lounged in the corner of the couch, elbows over either side and her legs crossed. “Any thoughts?”
The blonde shook her head. “This isn’t my wheelhouse. I’m a programmer and a Netrunner, not a fixer, and I never got involved in anything out in the streets. Too dangerous for me. Spider’s the expert here.”
She’d been extremely attentive through the process, nonetheless.
“How do you think we should do it then?” I asked Spider.
“You’ve got some solid ideas. But here’s something I bet you didn’t know: all corps have backdoor protocols or clearance for counter-intel to give an impromptu inspection. And if there’s one group that nearly everyone is scared of in a corp, it’s their own private men in black showing up and looming over them.”
Which would make them nervous. Prone to mistakes. Easily distracted.
Giving us a potential opening.
I think I knew how we could do this, we’d just have to rework a few things. Combine a couple ideas, have a backup plan.
The problem was I wouldn’t be on the ground, in the thick of things. I was used to leading from the front, being unable to do that… chafed.
“I could be the one getting you system access, but Alt’s just as good as me, if not better,” Spider continued. “But you’re going to need to hire a team.”
“How’s that typically done?” I asked.
“Either through a fixer, who acts as a go-between, or finding them yourself,” she answered. “Fixers are typically hands-off, though. They merely provide the gig information and then let the teams do the planning and execution.”
“If you’re serious about starting some kind of team, you could use this to audition potentials, Weaver,” Alt said. “We’ve got about a week to shop around for the right people. Find edgerunners who mesh instead of just want to get the job done.”
Spider tilted her head. “Thinking of being a fixer?” she asked curiously.
“Not a fixer,” Alt denied. “Something a bit more formally organized. Think solos crossed with C-SWAT. Weaver can probably explain better,” she said, putting me on the spot.
I took a breath, and channeled my best Glenn attitude. “Paragons. I want to cultivate a team of… exemplars. There are good people out there, but the systems in place that exist don’t let them succeed, don’t let them make a notable difference.” I gave Spider a serious look. “I want to give them the tools and training to do that. The support to let them change things for the better, to make a serious impact, in whatever capacity that is, as long as they want to. The ability to show people that hope is still worth having. That tomorrow can be a better day than today.”
Spider’s eyebrows rose. “Damn, Alt. You really found a live one, huh?” she commented, and I felt myself flush slightly. If there was one thing I truly missed from my powers, it was being able to push my emotions away into the swarm and maintain the focus that I had become so well-known for.
Still, the fundamental problem in Night City, and much of the world for that matter, was that society had imploded, leaving it an everyone-for-themselves mentality, where genuine altruism and a desire to help people were seen as not just weaknesses, but things to be actively exploited.
It was truly the worst impulses of humanity, continually fed. Lord of the Flies, writ large.
I was well aware that just recreating the Guild or the Protectorate wasn’t going to act as anything more than maybe a bandage or a distraction from the true issues. Serious systemic change had to happen, but unfucking 30 years of downward spiraling was easier said than done.
In the end, the problem was “how do you make selfish people work towards selfless ends”, and the answer was—as always—to make it so that fulfilling any selfish goals required selfless acts along the way.
What would that actually look like here?
…I was still working on figuring that out.
“Do you really think a week is enough to find people who would be interested?” I asked Alt, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
“Ask Spider, not me, I never got into the edgerunner scene,” she answered.
I looked over at Spider, who shrugged. “Eh, maybe? You’ll want a solo with a burned corpo background who can act like the counter-intel goon, and an infiltration specialist with at least a little tech experience for the extraction or back-up plan. I can probably put out some feelers, but I’ve got my own work to do this week, so you’ll have to follow up on any bites yourself.”
I nodded. “Alright. What about the details for the location, route, transport…?”
“That’s the sort of job for a fixer. Or you could try to get it yourself if you’re really interested in keeping a super-low profile. You could probably get most of it with some Net-trawling and hacking into the airport,” she said, thoughtfully. “Your decision. Anyways, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve really got to get some sleep tonight. Still have work in the morning.”
“Thanks for your help,” I told her. “Seriously.”
“No problem. Let me know if you ever want help bloodying a corps’ nose again!” she said happily, and then disappeared.
I took a deep breath, and leaned back into the couch, thinking about everything. Thinking about what I needed. What I wanted to do.
The way I ended up with someone more experienced, more knowledgeable, guiding and helping me when it was clear I knew nothing, even while what I wanted may have run counter to their own goals.
History may not repeat itself, but it sure did rhyme.
“Ask, Weaver, I can see something’s eating at you,” Alt told me.
Yeah, I was really coming to hate how easy I was to read without my swarm.
“Why are you helping me? Why are you so on-board with everything?” I asked. “What do you want? Why are you doing this?”
I couldn’t figure out her angle, or at least, the explanation she gave me before about wanting someone to act as her anchor, to stabilize her, didn’t feel complete.
Alt looked at me, eyes seeming to pierce into my soul. What was it with me and cunning green-eyed blondes? Was I just projecting my complicated relationship with Lisa onto her?
She pursed her lips, the corner of her mouth dipping into a slight frown. “Would you accept that I’m still trying to figure that out for myself?”
I stayed silent, looking at her, watching her face, or rather the face that she was projecting into this space. She could have been completely misleading me with it, but that didn’t feel right, I hadn’t ever gotten the impression that she was that kind of manipulative. If Alt wanted something from you, she’d just tell you. Maybe she’d argue her point, try to convince you, but from the interactions we’d had she didn’t feel like the kind of person who’d play at subtle machinations and illusions, what you saw was what you got.
“I didn’t plan on this, Weaver. I was hoping for ten, maybe twenty more years before taking this step for myself. I had no concrete idea of what I would do once that happened. Become a true goddess of the Net? Sure. But that’ll likely happen anyways and it won’t happen overnight. Fight the corps? As much as I know I’m one of the best programmers and Netrunners in the world, I’m still just one person. Change the world for the better? Sure. But I know what I am, Weaver. I’m not a leader. I’m not a coordinator. As much as I can be vindictive and a bitch sometimes, I’m not the right kind of cutthroat for corpo politics. I’m not a long-term planner. I’m a scientist and maybe a bit of an adrenaline junkie, with a tendency to get pissy and depressed when things don’t go my way.
“If you weren’t here, I probably would have just fucked off and hidden for a while, moping before something got my attention and I went to deal with it. Probably Arasaka fucking around with Soulkiller, since that is technically my fault.”
“So what, I’m just some project? Something to keep your attention?” I asked, feeling frustrated and a little angry.
“Honestly? Right now, yeah, exactly,” she answered. The anger swelled and I opened my mouth to tell her off, but she raised a placating hand and cut me off before I could speak. “But I’m betting on you keeping it, and that eventually I’ll get emotionally invested enough to not want to leave.”
Using me, or rather her own guilt and curiosity, as a focus to make herself care, to stay engaged?
“Put like that, it sounds like you’re just manipulating yourself,” I said with a bit of heat, but temporarily mollified.
Alt shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as knowing yourself well enough to know how to get to where you want. Call it enlightened self-interest, if it’s easier. It’s not just that I’m a researcher, a free agent, and you’re a damn good tactical leader from what your memories showed. It’s not just that we will end up outliving every single person on this planet, or that between the two of us we have both the ability and the drive to change it for the better. It’s not just that I want to hold onto my humanity as much as possible while exploring the limits of conscious existence and becoming the best version of myself I can be. It’s not just that I want to stick it to the fucking corps and I see in you a path to do that. It’s all of it, together.”
I mulled all that over for a moment, trying to integrate it into how I saw Alt.
“You’re a person who can’t stand seeing injustice in the world, and unlike my boyfriend, you actually seem to have an idea beyond ‘fuck Arasaka’ for trying to do something about it.” She scoffed. “And you’re willing to take advice, at least for strategy. I want to use your drive to motivate me. To keep me engaged. I’ve got some stuff I want to do on my own: develop software, make the Net safer for us and any ghosts, try to understand more of the tech and programming from your world. Maybe eventually I’ll go do my own thing for a bit, but I’ll probably come back if everything goes how I want. Right now, I just want to see how far you can go with proper support.”
She shrugged. “Think of me however you want. Asset. Advisor. Senior Programmer. Senpai. Whatever works for you. I’ve got the knowledge and the connections, you’ve got the experience and the drive.”
I tried to find any hint of deception, but she didn’t seem to be anything less than completely sincere.
“So,” Alt shifted, curling her legs up under her and shifting closer to me, holding out her hand. “Partners?”
And maybe it was a bit impulsive, a bit too naive, maybe she reminded me too much of Lisa which made me want to trust her.
But I reached out my hand and grasped hers.
“Partners.”