Adventure 1 Samurai Part 3
Janitor Outfit – This is going to be
embarrassing in so many ways. You'll be blending in
at the absolute lowest rung of corporate pecking order. No one respects a janitor. No one even looks at a janitor. But that's the advantage, isn't it? The
biometric badges could be an
all-access pass, or they could be completely useless. You won't know until you're inside.
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The Corporate Janitor uniform belonged to a little-known subsidiary of Night Corp, which meant one thing—you weren't just putting on a disguise. You were donning the perfect cover. In the right hands, this uniform wasn't just a way to blend in. It was a skeleton key to every restricted hallway, security checkpoint, and executive lounge that the corporate elite thought was beyond reach.
But the real prize?
The biometric keycards attached to the uniform.
You turned them over in your hands, feeling the cold, unassuming plastic. At first glance, they seemed like standard access passes, the kind any mid-level corpo drone would carry. But as you inspected them further… something caught your attention.
Examination: D20 => 17+1 = 18
They weren't just ordinary access keys.
They were blank slates. Still waiting to be imprinted.
Your heart skipped a beat. These weren't just standard Night Corp security passes that could get you through one area and that was it. They were top-of-the-line biometric access cards, part of Night Corp's latest advancements in city-wide infrastructure control. Normally, these would be programmed to allow specific personnel into restricted areas. But these? They hadn't been assigned yet.
Meaning, with the right imprinting you could turn them into whatever the hell you wanted. All over night city with nary a single person to stop you.
Of course, Night Corp didn't just make access easier for the people running Night City—they made it harder for everyone else. Their technology was meant to lock down, control, and restrict in every way when it came to protecting, or prevening data or information leaks. These blank cards weren't some everyday security measure. They were meant for something bigger. And you had your hands on it.
And the real question was…
What were you going to use them for when you were done with this job?
White_Rabbit: [Are you happy with what I have prepared?]
You frowned, gripping the phone tighter as you spoke.
"How do I get them to link to my biometrics?"
[Drop of blood. Do not worry about forensic tracking. Once they are used, the biometric data encrypts itself—impossible to read, even for Arasaka and other Corps. It would take a master hacker to get through so you'll be safe.]
Sounded simple enough. You gave a slow nod, then pricked your finger with the edge of your knife, watching as a single drop of blood welled up and fell onto the card.
And then—
agony.
Linking: D20 => 2+1 = 3
A sudden
surge of electricity shot up your arm, turning every nerve ending into a live wire. Your vision blurred, twisting into static. Your knees buckled as a violent dizziness slammed into you, and for a moment, you were
falling. The world twisted, warped, and dimmed until it was almost
pitch black.
Then—
you jolted awake.
Your breath hitched as you gasped for air, your pulse thundering in your ears. Your whole body felt like it had been wrung out and electrocuted all at once.
"What the fuck was that?" you hissed.
[That was… not good.]
"What do you mean, 'not good'?!"
White_Rabbit went silent for a moment. Then—
[Your blood caused a short circuit in the—wait. That's not right. No. No no no. That's very not good.]
A pause. Then White_Rabbit's next message flashed across the screen, the letters coming in
frantic, rushed.
[GET TO THE VIP AREA NOW. THE TARGET IS TALKING TO SECURITY. IF THEY LEAVE, BAD THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN. AND IF HE HAS SECURITY, YOU'RE FUCKED!]
No hesitation.
You bolted.
Your legs moved on pure instinct as you took off in a dead sprint, following the neon signs that White_Rabbit was feeding you. The crowd was a blur—bodies pressed together, voices shouting, flashing lights and smoke from the stage making everything more chaotic.
And then you hit a wall.
Not a literal one, but a
group.
A cluster of
corpo rocker fans stood in front of you, decked out in ridiculous, high-end custom leather jackets with flashing neon patterns, their hair done up in wild mohawks or cyber-dreads. They reeked of money—
new money—and they weren't in any hurry to move.
"Hey, choom," one of them slurred, clearly already high on something expensive, "where you running off to? Show's just getting started."
You did not have time for this, but you stood quiet for a moment.
"Listen, I really have to deal with an emergency—"
You kept your tone polite, trying to disengage, trying to avoid a fight. If you could just slip past them, make it to the VIP area before the target left, then maybe—
A hard shove slammed into your chest.
Your feet left the ground. The world flipped.
You hit the floor hard, pain bursting up your spine as you tumbled backward, your breath knocked clean out of you. The club lights overhead blurred in your vision, flickering like dying embers.
And then your phone was gone.
One of the corpos had ripped it from your grip.
You barely had time to scramble upright before you heard the sickening crunch of metal on plastic.
The corporo fuck who had taken it opened his chrome-plated hand, letting the shattered remains of your phone fall in a clattering heap onto the dirty floor. The LED screen flickered weakly, then died completely, a final spark extinguished.
He laughed. A deep, nasty thing that sent heat flashing up your spine. "You don't get to leave until you clean up the mess you made."
And that was when you saw the others.
His friends were moving, shifting in their designer leathers, their fingers twitching toward holsters, toward concealed weapons.
You were outnumbered.
And outgunned.
Then you saw it.
The laptop.
The screen flickered weakly, displaying a single message from
White_Rabbit—
[PREPARE TO RUN!]
Your stomach dropped.
Then—
The entire stadium went dark.
A tidal wave of blackness swallowed the crowd, leaving only the stage still alight—bathed in burning neon reds and violent strobes.
For a split second, Johnny Silverhand stood frozen in confusion, then his instincts took over.
You heard the unmistakable roar of a Malorian Arms .351.
Johnny's chrome-hand gripped the pistol, barrel aimed into the seething darkness, the muzzle flash briefly illuminating the chaos. Someone had taken a shot—maybe not at him, but at someone close to him. A fan? A Corpo target? You had no clue.
But what you did see was a blonde woman nearby with a strange-looking white hand… running towards him. And right before you made your move, and the emergency lights blared on again...
She hugged him in fear, and comfort, like she was with the only thing that could protect her...
But you saw your chance.
Kiroshi optics—even the best on the market—had a flaw. Just like real eyes, sudden shifts from blinding light to darkness left them momentarily struggling to adjust.
And that fraction of a second was all you needed.
You moved.
Diving forward, you rolled across the floor, hands snapping up the laptop.
And then—
You ran.
The stunned corpos barely had time to react before you were already
gone.
Luck:D20 => 18
Then, the laptop screen flickered one last time, the dying glow of its display casting eerie light onto your hands.
One final message from White_Rabbit.
[RIGHT IN FRONT. DRAW IRON. TAKE THE SHARD. SECURITY CLEARED!]
And then—
The laptop went dead. The damage that the corpos gave it was enough.
No time to think. No time to hesitate.
You pushed through the door to the VIP section—
And you saw him.
A man in a Corpo suit. His sharp features were etched with irritation, his posture stiff, like he'd rather be anywhere but here. But beside him—practically bouncing in her seat, caught up in the sheer electricity of the concert—was a girl.
His daughter.
A punk-rock princess, draped in leather and neon, hair dyed in jagged streaks of electric blue and pink.
She must've dragged him here.
And now, you were here too.
With a gun.
And a choice.
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What do you do?
[]
Draw and Take It: No hesitation. No negotiations. You draw your iron and take the shard by force. If he resists, he gets put down. Simple as that.
[]
Negotiate: Maybe you can appeal to his corporate instincts, make him see reason. Every suit has a price—maybe you can find his. A smooth tongue might get you what you need without making a mess.
[]
Take a Hostage: He brought his daughter here. That was his mistake. Target his emotional weakness—use her as leverage. He'll hand over the shard if he knows what's good for her.
[]
Kill the Corpo: No loose ends. No witnesses. A quick squeeze of the trigger and the problem is solved. Hope that the noise gets drowned out by the music, and pray that security doesn't move too fast.
[]
Stealthy Approach: The room is dimly lit, the Corpo distracted by the concert. Maybe you can
lift the shard without him even noticing—get in, get out, and disappear into the chaos before anyone realizes what happened.
[]Write in
AN: Enjoy.
Also your little stunt in this mission will cause a butterfly.
Have fun.
