"You made the news, Karl."
"Mm. I figured as much."
Karl nodded to Jack, then turned his eyes to the holoprojection playing in the Tavernier Suite on the 100th floor of the Azure Tower. "Morning's shootout, reported by noon. That's fast."
"You didn't delete his footage?"
Arasaka Seisen watched the video with a mixture of curiosity and quiet awe at Karl's performance. "I thought mercs like you were all about keeping a low profile."
"Mercs and privacy—those two don't really mix, Mr. Seisen. You've been in the corp world too long. Out on the street, a merc's info is never really private. Get a bit of a name, and the fixers already have your file. They're just waiting to throw you into some suicide gig nobody else will touch."
Karl watched the aerial POV footage as he continued:
"Besides, I dug into the reporter's profile. He's no saint—helped bury plenty of dirt for small corps, licks the boots of the big ones. But he also submitted reports on industrial pollution in Santo Domingo and child abductions in City Center. None of it ever got greenlit, but at least he tried. That's enough for me to leave him be."
Because he once tried to do the right thing—even if it wasn't out of conviction—that's enough?
Seisen found his thoughts drifting toward Arasaka's core business model.
The corp didn't just provide protection for politicians and megacorps. Their so-called security was often a front for intel gathering—spying, blackmail, leverage. That was Arasaka's real currency. And its true business.
Secrets were shackles. Arasaka wielded them to bend people to its will.
Countless mercs had ended up enslaved by the corp once their dirty little secrets got exposed.
But Karl was different. Detached. Even though he was a merc, he didn't behave like one of those dogs on a leash.
Was it really true that mercs didn't care about privacy? No. It was just that their real secrets hadn't been exposed yet.
Once they were, once execs caught wind of them, every decision that merc made—every move—would fall right into the corp's control.
Seisen remembered one such case.
The legendary solo, Sai Ito—codename Satan—had waged a personal vendetta against Arasaka. For the longest time, nobody knew why he kept hitting their operations.
Until someone dug deep enough.
Sai Ito's secret landed on a boardroom table: a close female relative had been assaulted by someone in the Arasaka family. After that, tearing down the corporation became his life's mission.
Once they found out, Arasaka began using that secret—baiting him, luring him into traps. They almost killed him several times. Only reason he survived? He had Militech backing him.
But even Militech wasn't clean. They too knew his secret, and they exploited it. Fed his hatred. Pointed him at Arasaka like a weapon, and cashed in on the damage he did.
Once his secret was out, Sai Ito became a pawn—caught between two megacorps playing tug-of-war.
That's the weight of a secret, Seisen thought.
A shackle.
He remembered something Saburo Arasaka—his father, the man he hated most—used to say:
"Everyone has their shackles. And secrets make the best ones."
Was Karl so free because he had no such shackles? Or was he still hiding one, buried deep where no one had found it?
What kind of merc had no secrets? No hidden cyberware, no off-grid past? Maybe family? An underground lover? A bloodstained origin?
And that's when Seisen caught himself.
He was doing it. The very thing he despised.
He was starting to think like Saburo. Manipulating. Controlling. Using secrets to bind people.
He could almost hear Karl's voice echoing again in his head:
"You've been in the corp world too long."
The fire in Seisen's heart had never truly faded. His convictions were sharp as ever.
But the way he thought… the way he acted… it had shifted. Warped by years in the machine.
When had that started?
Was it when he realized you couldn't topple a corp from the outside?
Was it when he accepted that working with rebels, idealists, and hackers wouldn't bring real change?
That the only way to destroy the corps… was to become one?
Was that when the idea took root—that only a corporation could destroy another corporation?
And was that how he started to use Saburo's tools?
He looked at Karl again. Remembered the Iron Lotus. Remembered Steel Dragon. Movements born not of control or coercion, but unity. Shared ideals.
Kindred spirits.
Not pawns. Not blackmail. Not threats.
Allies, walking the same road, burning with the same fire.
That was what it meant to fight for change.
His mission had never changed.
His will had never faltered.
He was not Saburo Arasaka. And he never would be.
If he truly needed Karl—needed his strength—then there was only one thing he had to do.
Trust him.
Trust that this young man—this merc who still carried some shred of light in his eyes—could help him cut through the darkness.
"By the way, Mr. Seisen," Karl said, breaking his thoughts. "It's almost lunchtime. You hungry?"
"Yeah. Just give me whatever us corporate drones usually eat."
Seisen's tone was calm. Composed.
"Street food it is, then. Noodles okay?"
Seisen? A corp dog?
Might as well be a street rat.
And street rats? They always have time for noodles.
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