Gearbound: Cyberpunk 2077-Chapter 134

She wasn't actually heading for Santo Domingo itself—she only needed to reach the closest border checkpoint, located in that district. Staying inside the city was a death sentence now that JoAnne had pinned her as the scapegoat. Just fleeing Night City wouldn't be enough, though; Diana made a hurried phone call to someone in the hopes of securing a safer exit.

"Come on...pick up...pick up!"

Finally, the line connected, and before the other person could speak, Diana started rattling off words like a machine gun:

"I need help—Biotechnica is in deep trouble. The research JoAnne Koch and I have been running just got exposed by WNS News—yes, that's right, Arasaka's mouthpiece. Now JoAnne wants to make me take the fall for everything, dumping all the blame on me while she and the others walk away squeaky clean. And it won't stop there—they want me dead, so I can't defend myself or leak their wrongdoing to the public.

I'd know—this is exactly how we handled messy problems in the past. I want out of Night City, today. Price is no object!"

---

*In Japantown, inside a Pachinko Parlor*

From the outside, it looked like any cramped pachinko joint among dozens, if not hundreds, of similar establishments. But only a select few knew it was far more than a mere gambling den. Okada Wakako lounged in a wooden chair, the image of poise and composure, phone in hand. A screen on the nearby wall played Biotechnica's PR broadcast, in which their comms team tried to spin or deny any wrongdoing about the Nightingale Project. They promised to "bring the main culprit, Diana Kuno, to justice," restoring "peace and order" to Night City.

"Here's my answer: No," Okada Wakako responded calmly into the phone.

"You're in too deep, and I'm not about to soil my hands saving you."

She could have hung up then and there, but she remembered Diana had once been a valuable client who brought her profitable jobs. Reluctantly—if only for old time's sake—she offered a short piece of advice.

"I will say this: if you want any chance of seeing the sunrise tomorrow, run. Now. Immediately."

Diana tried to speak again, but Wakako ended the call with one decisive tap.

"Shit!"

Seething with rage and helplessness, Diana slammed a palm on her steering wheel.

"Screw fixers! Screw Wakako! Useless, all of them! They're never around when you need them. Ugh!"

In truth, Diana had always known fixers were hyenas who flocked only when they smelled profit. They were fair-weather friends, never joining a losing game. She had called Wakako anyway on the off-chance the woman might make an exception. But as usual, no miracles.

"JoAnne... you bitch," Diana muttered, flicking on her hazard lights as she sped down the road. "Think it's that easy to set me up? Joke's on you, I have plenty of dirt on you too. Once I'm out of the city and holed up in the Badlands, I'll make sure you regret this. Other megacorps will be very interested in what I have to sell."

She clenched the wheel, her mind whirling with plans. Right now was too hot—no corp would openly take her in. Once the scandal calmed, though, she'd approach someone else, maybe Arasaka, and trade them her knowledge. The very idea helped clear her head and calm her nerves.

If she were JoAnne, Diana mused, she'd definitely plant a security team on the roads out of Night City and wait for her target to pass by...

Right then, a black armored SUV pulled alongside her. The large Biotechnica logo was unmistakable. Diana felt her heart plummet.

"No, no... wait—"

She watched in horror as a window slid down on the SUV, revealing several long barrels. There was no time to react. Gunfire erupted, muzzle flashes strobing the night. Shell casings scattered across the asphalt with an ear-splitting rattle.

Bullets punched through her sports car, tearing it full of holes. Losing control, she veered off the road and skidded across a patch of grass before smashing into a spruce tree, finally lurching to a halt. Even then, the SUV continued its pursuit, parking some distance behind. A squad of Biotechnica security troops hopped out, forming a tactical wedge as they advanced on the wreck.

"N-no... let me... let me go..." Diana rasped from the driver's seat. She was riddled with bullet wounds, barely alive, but still trying to bargain feebly. The troopers gazed at her, impassive. A moment later, they raised their rifles without hesitation and pulled the triggers, finishing her off.

---

*Back at Corpo Plaza*

At the entrance to the Biotechnica tower, streams of employees lined up for work, swiping their badges and passing through a scanner gate. When it was Emilia Morton's turn, she held out her ID as usual and stepped under the scanner. But the blue lights abruptly flashed red, emitting a shrill alarm.

"Hold up, we've got an issue," the security guard said, grabbing Emilia by the arm to tug her aside. "The scanner's not registering you as an employee. You're not in Biotechnica's system."

Emilia's mouth fell open like she'd just heard the entire country of Japan was about to sink into the ocean. The disbelief on her face was palpable.

"You see me come through here every damn day, and now you're saying I don't work here? Are you kidding me?!"

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The guard shrugged. "Not my words. The scanner says you don't exist in our database."

Furious, Emilia kicked the scanner. "Then your shitty machine's broken!"

She cursed her superiors—JoAnne, Diana—neither of whom ever tolerated tardiness or accepted any excuse. Over the past year, Emilia had never arrived late or left early. She knew they'd happily dock half her annual bonus for something as minor as a five-minute delay. Now a "broken scanner" threatened to mess up her flawless record.

The guard didn't budge. He knew her face well enough but also knew his job: if the system flagged someone, he had to stop them. Otherwise, he'd be in deep trouble.

"I doubt it's broken. You saw everyone else breeze through. Why only you? If you try to force your way in, I'm authorized to use force." He patted the gun holstered at his hip. "Night City Hall granted Biotechnica the right to protect our property and interests with necessary violence."

As soon as he reached for his gun, the swagger drained from Emilia. She raised her hands in surrender, stepping back with a glare. That glare promised retribution later—but for now, she wasn't about to get herself shot over a door scanner.

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