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aceghosts · 26 days

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Is This the End Or Is This the Beginning?

Summary: Stuck in an Arasaka Facility, Rooney Shepard makes a new friend/ally, an unexpected one: Yorinobu Arasaka. Title comes from Spiritbox's Too Close/Too Late.

Rating: M

Warnings: This fic deals heavily with Rooney's death, their resurrection, and subsequent feelings around this. Rooney is also a human being experimented on, and thus, this fic also kinda deals with that (Not much as death). It also discusses a near death experience involving dead family members and guilt over that. Also, Yorinobu and Rooney are kind of assholes to each other at the beginning. You have been warned; please let me know if I need to tag for anything else.

Words: 6,462 words.

Author's Note: Takes place before the events of CP2077, roughly six years before.

Tagging (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @captmactavish, @carlosoliveiraa, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @nightbloodbix, @clicheantagonist, @theelderhazelnut, @strangefable, @voidika, @cassietrn, @direwombat, @cloudofbutterflies92.

AO3

For once, Rooney is alone-blissfully, mercifully alone-and it’s sending them into a paranoid spiral. A day spent working on a fixer-upper of a motorcycle would be fantastic, under any other circumstances. But in an Arasaka facility? Where they are being held? And monitored continually? Where they are being put through tests to push the limits of their experimental modifications? Rooney snorts, shaking their head. This wasn’t a gesture of kindness or a way to help them heal, no matter what their physical therapist or psychologist might say. Rather, it was a carrot on a stick, a reward dangled in front of them to keep Rooney obedient and indebted. Make Rooney less of a stubborn pain in the ass.

Rooney also assumes that it’s meant to keep them distracted, from snooping around while the scientists are in facility-wide meetings today. They would love to snoop, but Rooney knows they’re at a disadvantage. Outside of the necessary tests, their combat mods are disabled. Their other mods are only left to do essential functions. Plus, they’re locked in the room with guards stationed at both ends of the hall, unable to leave until someone fetches them, which has only happened a few times. But Rooney knows that they have additional opportunities to snoop. When you’re silent and unassuming, most forget you are there, casually talking about matters that you shouldn’t hear. As Rooney stays silent during their testing or checkups, the scientists talk, leaving Rooney to listen and learn. They’ve learned that most of the scientists don’t care for the lead, Dr. Yūto Maeda, on the project, but don’t want to miss working on a subject as rare as Rooney. They’ve learned about the inner drama between some of the scientists, some of it useful and some of it irrelevant. Rooney also learned more about the Arasakas, especially the failed one, Yorinobu, whose wild escapades always seem to be a topic of gossip.

Sighing, Rooney pushes the thoughts out of their head, focusing on the motorcycle in front of them. When they were left to work in the room this morning, they realized the motorcycle could use some TLC. Well, a lot of TLC. They have made significant process since this morning, now into the late afternoon. As they pick up the wrench, placing it on the bolt, starting to turn it loose, Rooney hears the sound of expensive dress shoes coming down the hall. They stop, their muscles tightening as their body shifts into fight mode. Rooney’s heart pounds loudly in their chest, adrenaline coursing through them. By the door, out of your enemy’s sight line, their instincts tell them. Grab a heavier wrench; use it as a bludgeon.

Rational thought kicks in a moment later. It’s probably a corpo executive coming to check on them, make sure that the expensive line item on Arasaka’s R&D budget (A.K.A. Rooney) hasn’t attempted to kill themself yet. If someone wanted to hurt Rooney, they would need to be quiet. Without the element of surprise, any enemy would be in an uphill battle against Rooney, even without their combat mods. As for dealing with the executive, Rooney would stay silent and be about as interesting as watching paint dry. The corpo would talk for a few minutes and leave once they realized nothing would be gained. Unless it was him. Please don’t let it be him.

As they focus on the bike, the footsteps stop, a beeping sound as someone keys in the code. Rooney does not look as the door slides open, loosening the bolt on the motorcycle. A few seconds later, he clears his throat, and Rooney still doesn’t look. They hear a dramatic, annoyed sigh as the person shifts, finally speaking, “Shepard.”

Goddamnit, they were right to feel paranoid. It was him, Yorinobu Arasaka, the Emperor’s son and the last person Rooney wanted to see. “Shepard,” He says their name again, his tone louder and sharper this time.

Rooney keeps their attention on the motorcycle, wishing he would leave them be. But Yorinobu isn’t one to be easily swayed. They hear him sigh in frustration, presumably pushing off the door. Rooney tenses, as he comes closer, ready to protect themself. Yorinobu is no Adam Smasher or Morgan Blackhand, but considering his history with the Steel Dragons, he is still a threat. Out of the corner of their eye, they see Yorinobu kneel next to them. He snaps his fingers in front of their face, Rooney flinching as he smirks. “Get your hand out of my face,” Rooney threatens, glaring at him, “unless you want to lose it.”

Yorinobu looks frightened for a moment, drawing his hand away. He eyes them warily as if Rooney might still make good on that threat. “You ignored me,” He replies like a petulant child, trying to justify his actions.

“Have you thought that I might not be interested in talking to you?”

“You were talkative during our last meeting.” Rooney’s mind flashes back to their last meeting, the first time that they met Yorinobu.

—

“Almost done, Shepard,” Elias says, tweaking some of the internal components of their mechanical arm, “Then, you can go to your physical therapy appointment.”

Rooney doesn’t respond, not that they ever do. The Arasaka staff learned very quickly that Rooney will not speak unless they need to. Most have grown accustomed to it, but for others, it’s frustrating. At their last therapy session, their psychologist, Dr. Naomi Kimura, broke down in tears, begging Rooney to say something, anything. But they wouldn’t, lest they give up something for Arasaka to use against them. Elias looks up from their arm, eyes widening as he glances over to the doorway. “Yorinobu-sama!” He exclaims, getting up to bow. “I didn’t know that you were coming to visit.”

“Last minute decision,” Yorinobu says, a lazy, unbothered tone to his voice, “I was curious about the old man’s new project.” Rooney looks over, their blue eyes meeting his brown ones hidden behind black square glasses. For the last few days, Rooney heard whispering from the Arasaka employees about him. Some seemed nervous, others annoyed. A third group seemed interested, leaving Rooney to question their sanity. All seemed to agree on one thing: Yorinobu was the fuck-up kid, Saburo Arasaka’s major disappointment of a son. Rooney holds his stare, staring blankly at him. He raises an eyebrow, almost waiting for Rooney to greet him. Instead, they look away, returning their gaze to the same spot on the wall.

“Don’t mind them!” Elias excuses, shooting Rooney a small glare for their perceived rudeness. “Shepard always behaves that way.”

“Do they?”

Out of the corner of their eye, they catch Elias glancing nervously between them and Yorinobu. He nods, rambling, “Shepard is always silent. They make the security robots seem chatty. But I guess that is what made Shepard a good soldier. Quiet and unfeeling, a hell of combo.” Rooney’s frown deepens, feeling like they’ve been smacked across the face. Not the first time that they’ve been told they are too emotionless, not human enough. Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

Yorinobu tilts his head. “What do you think of what Elias said, Shepard?” Huh, they hadn’t expected him to notice.

They stay silent, refusing to look at him. “Shepard isn’t going to answer. You’re better off-.”

“I heard you,” Yorinobu cuts off Elias sharply, “I want to hear from Shepard. Are you going to answer my question? Are you even still human?”

Funny he should ask the question that Rooney has been asking themself lately. What if they are some AI that is supposed to think it’s Rooney Shepard back from the dead? And how much of Rooney has to be replaced with metal and chrome before they are no longer human? Before they are no longer themself? An uneasy feeling settles in their chest, their stomach churning as they look down at their arm. What exactly are they? Does the old Rooney Shepard still exist? “Would you like to see the schematics for their arm? It’s a new design, one made for Shepard specifically,” Elias cuts in, sparing Rooney from more of Yorinobu’s interrogation.

“Yes, please show me.” They hear Elias sigh in relief as he and Yorinobu walk over to his desk, going over their arm schematics.

The minutes pass, and Rooney sits quietly, listening as they wait for Elias to finish with Yorinobu so he can return to work on their arm. Yorinobu asks plenty of questions, some surprising Rooney. He seems awfully interested in this project. Yorinobu is rather perceptive, catching small details that Elias tries to skim over, but rather impatient. They notice that he seems to get short with Elias when he thinks Elias is taking too long to get to the point.

As they listen to the conversation, Rooney realizes they will be late for physical therapy if Elias does not finish soon. Physical therapy is the only thing that Rooney finds useful, a way for them to get back to normal or as normal as they can be. Clearing their throat softly, Rooney watches the pair. Elias seems unaware, but Yorinobu looks up over his shoulder, meeting their eyes once again. He smirks, a challenge in his eyes. Great.

“Elias,” Rooney’s voice sounds a little rusty, “I hate to bother you, but-.”

“Now, you are able to speak?” Yorinobu asks, crossing his arms over his chest as Elias turns to face Rooney with a surprised look.

They ignore Yorinobu. “Would you please finish working with my arm?”

“Do not go to them,” Yorinobu orders Elias, who freezes in place, “Shepard-.”

“I don’t want to be late for my physical therapy appointment.”

“Answer my question.”

“Which one?” They ask.

“Are you still human?”

Rooney tilts their head, narrowing their eyes. Why does this matter so much? “Why?”

“Answer it.”

What a frustrating, annoying man. “No,” They lie, giving the answer that everyone already believes, “Elias, would you please-?”

“Liar.”

Elias glances between the two of them, fear stricken. “Excuse me?” Rooney asks, their tone frosty.

“I do not believe you,” He uncrosses his arms, coming closer to them.

“It doesn’t matter what you believe. That is my answer.”

“You are happy with-?”

Rooney cuts him off. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish, but I’m not interested in playing your game. Elias, would you please finish with my arm?”

Yorinobu holds out his arm, blocking Elias. “Do you think you are better than everyone else?” Not even remotely. Rooney is well aware of their skills and strengths, but also keenly aware of their faults. Did Yorinobu think that Rooney thought they were too good to speak to the Arasaka staff? Mighty rich coming from Yorinobu, who definitely thought that he was better than everyone else here. He comes closer, and Rooney feels the disgust toward them radiating off him. “Do you believe you are special because you were chosen for this? Do you think my father will see how well you are behaving and reward you for being a good little soldier? Do you think Arasaka will not toss you in the trash the moment you are no longer useful to them? Or do you think you are the exception?”

Rooney clenches their right fist, the human one, fighting the urge to punch Yorinobu. Did he seriously believe that Rooney wanted Saburo’s attention? (Frankly, they hoped that Saburo choked.) What was Yorinobu’s aim here? Was he jealous? Was he here to make everyone as miserable as he was? Whatever the reason, Rooney had enough of this little tantrum. They were going to put an end to this.

“I understand now,” They state coldly, giving him a slightly pitying look, “You’re jealous.”

“What?”

They nod, using their words to twist the knife. “You’re jealous. You gave it away when you started talking about your father. We all know about your strained relationship.” Well, the Arasaka employees did; Rooney just picked it up from listening to them. “Everyone knows that you ran away, and when you couldn’t cut it on your own, you came back, tail tucked between your legs, begging for your father to bail you out.”

“You know nothing,” Yorinobu hisses, glaring at Rooney, rage palpable, “You do not know what you are talking about.”

Elias steps between them, perhaps afraid that a fight will break out. As he should be. Rooney might be one arm down, but they’re still going to put up one hell of a fight. “Yorinobu-sama, please,” He begs, “Allow me to finish with their arm, and I can tell you about the rest of the project later.”

Yorinobu watches Rooney, glaring at them with intense disgust. “Fine,” He acquiesces, and Rooney feels a sense of relief, “Report to me immediately after you’re done with them.” Yorinobu turns away and walks out, leaving Elias and Rooney both alone.

“You,” Elias snarls, turning to Rooney, “You should apologize. The Arasaka Corporation is the only reason you’re still alive.” Rooney doesn’t acknowledge his words, Elias scoffing as he returns to work on their arm. Why was Yorinobu here? And why was he interested in the project involving them?

—

“No more insults about how I am the failed son?” Yorinobu’s words bring them back to reality. They shake their head, unwilling to dignify him with a proper answer. He pouts, seemingly frustrated with their cold demeanor and lack of reaction. “Why?”

Was he asking them about their lack of insults? Truth be told, as they reflected on their words, Rooney regretted them. They don’t regret standing up to Yorinobu, but they do regret taking the low road. It was unbecoming of them, and Rooney was better than that. Everyone always expects them to be the bigger person, and they need to live up to that expectation, just as they would live up to every other unrealistic expectation set upon them. “Why volunteer for this?”

Rooney frowns, looking over at him. Wait, did Yorinobu not know? They just assumed that everyone knew that Rooney didn’t have a choice in being here. “What benefit do you get from this? Is it worth it to become a better soldier?” He grabs their left wrist, the metal one, a shiny new black and red arm, courtesy of Arasaka. “Why allow them to mark you like this? Do you think you will be rewarded for this? Do you think this makes you special? That you are the exception?”

“You think I volunteered for this?” A realization dawns on Yorinobu’s face before Rooney looks down at their wrist in his hand. Ever since Rooney woke up in that damn hospital bed, the arm never felt real, never felt like their own. It was a parasite, one that they couldn’t remove. Well, Rooney had thought about removing it once or twice, but they knew that the Arasaka scientists would make damn well sure that Rooney would never be free of it. Their head spins, chest tightening. Everything starts to feel like it’s a million miles away. A numbness settles upon them, a faint static feeling in their limbs.

“Shepard?”

“Yes?” They ask, their voice sounding like it was coming from another room.

“Do you feel well?”

They hate the concern and pity in his voice. “Yes,” Rooney replies, looking Yorinobu in the eyes as they compose themself, unable to read the expression on his face, “I’m fine.”

“Liar,” He responds, but it’s softer this time, not a damning indictment but rather unwanted recognition, “Come with me.” Yorinobu releases their wrist, standing. He holds out his hand for Rooney to take.

“Where are we going?” Rooney asks, staring at his hand suspiciously.

“Somewhere we can talk privately.”

A war rages within Rooney. They know that they should probably stay here and continue to work on their motorcycle… but Rooney can’t deny their curiosity to know more despite their disdain for Yorinobu. Mutely, Rooney takes his hand in their metal one, allowing Yorinobu to pull them up to his feet. “Follow me.” He leads them through the labyrinthine halls of the facility, never letting go of their hand.

After a short elevator ride and a walk through the hallway of the executive level of the facility, Yorinobu opens the door, holding it open for Rooney as he lets go of their hand. Rooney steps into the luxurious office, clearly meant for Saburo or his son. “This will be my office for as long as I am at this facility.” Wait. Does that mean? “You and I will see each other often, Shepard.” Their eyebrow twitches in annoyance at his smug tone.

“Sit,” Yorinobu orders, Rooney taking a seat on the black leather L-shaped couch. Neon red lights decorate the edges of the couch, a black coffee table in front of them. As they look around the office, Rooney notices that all the furniture is black with hints of red lighting. They look back to Yorinobu, who is shrugging off a maroon and black leather coat. “Here,” he tosses the coat towards them, “You are shaking.”

Rooney catches the coat, only now realizing they were shaking. They pull on the coat, noting the woodsy scent. Was that cedar? And maybe a hint of nutmeg? “Would you like anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea is fine.” What they really wanted was a beer, but Rooney doubts he would be able to get that for them.

Yorinobu refuses to accept that answer. “What do you really want?”

They pause. “I want a beer, but I doubt you could find the kind I normally drink here.”

He laughs, slightly surprised by their answer. “If I leave for a few minutes, promise me you will stay?”

“I promise.” Their curiosity has gotten the best of them; Rooney will see this through to the end.

“I will return.” With that, Rooney is left alone in the office, crossing their arms over their chest. As they sit in silence, Rooney wonders: Have they misjudged Yorinobu? Why he is being kind to them? Obviously, Yorinobu was seeking information on the project involving Rooney, but they remember the way he looked at them earlier. That was something else, something Rooney couldn’t quite identify. The door opens, Yorinobu returns with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in hand. “It is not beer, but I hope it will suffice.”

They give him a small smile. “Anything would do right now, even if it tasted like drinking pure gasoline.” Yorinobu smiles, sitting on the other side of the couch, leaving some space between them. He places the glasses down, before opening the whiskey bottle and pouring. As they watch the amber liquid pour into the glass, Rooney asks, “Is it Arasaka protocol for executives to drink and work?”

“When the occasion calls for it, Kaneko likes to drink while he is working. Fortunately for us, he is out of the office. Otherwise, he would insist on joining.”

“I’m glad he isn’t joining us.”

“Do you find me to be a suitable drinking partner?” Yorinobu asks, sliding one of the glasses over to Rooney.

“You’ll do,” Rooney teases, “Normally, the people I drink with are much rowdier.” Nights out with their fellow soldiers were always interesting. Rooney usually played babysitter, making sure the younger ones behaved and stepping in when the situation called for it.

Yorinobu smirks, a playful edge to his tone, “You have no idea how rowdy I can be.”

“I’m sure I don’t.” They take a sip of the whiskey, relishing the taste. It’s nice to have something expressly forbidden, even something as mundane as alcohol. Rooney’s diet was strictly controlled, lest any of their dietary intake mess with the mods. The scientists also wanted to make sure they were getting enough calories to have enough energy for the tests. Their mods burned up more energy, an unintended side effect.

He takes a sip, the smirk dropping from his face. “Does my father have someone special to you?”

Rooney tilts their head. “What do you mean?”

“My father,” Yorinobu sneers those words with such venom, sending a chill up Rooney’s spine, “will use a person’s loved ones to manipulate them, to force them into doing what he wants.” He glares down at the whiskey in his hand, and Rooney realizes how much he must hate his father. Another realization dawns on them. Was Yorinobu now concerned that Rooney was being forced into this, under the threat of their loved ones being hurt? Yorinobu looks up from his whiskey glass, an earnest, pleading look on his face. “Who does my father have on you, Shepard? Your family? Your child? Your lover?”

“Saburo doesn’t have-.”

“You do not have to lie for him, Shepard,” Yorinobu cuts them off, placing his whiskey down on the table, “We can help you protect them. You have to tell us.”

“He can’t hold my family hostage because they’re dead. They died when I was sixteen.” Just like the rest of their town when it was attacked by bandits, leaving Rooney the sole survivor of the slaughter.

Yorinobu recoils in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer. “I am sorry for your loss,” the typical response of most to that revelation, not that Rooney could blame them, “Do you have a child? Or a romantic partner?”

Rooney shakes their head, taking another sip. “I don’t have any children, and I don’t want any.” They had already made sure that would never happen. “As for a romantic partner, there is no one.” Any potential partners usually left when they realized that Rooney would always choose duty over them. Rooney couldn’t blame them; they deserved someone who could put them first. Not some broken soldier, who seemed to live for their mission. “You’re asking the wrong question. You should ask: who gave my body to Arasaka?”

Yorinobu’s face drops as Rooney finishes off their glass of whiskey. They hand the glass over to him, silently asking for another. He pours Rooney their glass, handing it back to them. Yorinobu picks up his glass, finishes his glass, and pours himself another. “You were not alive?”

“I was not.” Their right hand, the human one, holds the glass tightly, trembling as the memories rush back. Fire. Explosions. The vast emptiness of space. Choking. Panic taking over as the world grew dark. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part came after they died.

Rooney awakes, standing amongst the golden wheat. Above them are blue sunny skies, no clouds in sight. Ahead of them stands their childhood home, an older white farmhouse. Rooney was home; they were really home. They pull off their helmet, casually tossing it to the side as they breathe in the fresh air. The helmet lands with a thunk in the dirt. If they were home, did that mean-?

They start running, their spacesuit slowing them down as the farmhouse comes closer and closer. Rooney climbs up the steps, onto the porch. They open both doors (a screen door and a red one), before stepping onto the fake wood floors of the home. Heading towards the dining room, Rooney hears familiar voices. They pick up their pace, sliding to a stop in front of the entryway to the small dining room. At the dark brown table sits their family: Jack (their younger brother), Danny (their cousin), their aunt and uncle, their dad (Aiden Shepard), and their mom, Hannah Shepard, at the head of the table. Their mother rises from the table, walking slowly over to Rooney. Tears burn in their eyes as they try to hold back a whimper. Is that really her? Is that really their mom? “Rooney, my baby,” She comforts them, pulling Rooney in for a hug.

Her arms feel so real, and oh God, they had their family back. The one thing Rooney yearned for all this time. Rooney cries into her shoulder, only able to cry ‘mommy’ over and over as their mom rubs their back.

As Rooney openly weeps into her shirt, holding on tightly, their mom speaks, “You can’t stay here.”

“What?” Fear grips their heart as they look at their mom, sadness in her eyes.

“Your mom is right, honey,” Their dad gets up from the table, “You can’t stay here with us.”

“You don’t belong here,” Jack adds, getting up from the table.

Are they being punished? For not being able to protect Jack and Danny? For not being good enough? Rooney can be good enough; they’ve tried so hard to prove that. “I want to stay. Please let me stay. I promise I can be better!”

“You have to go, baby.”

Something starts to pull on them, fighting to rip Rooney from their mom’s arms. “Mommy, please!” They beg, holding on as tightly as they can. “PLEASE! LET ME STAY! I don’t want to be alone; I want to be with you!”

“I’m sorry, but you have to go, Rooney. Be brave for me.” The force pulls them from their mom’s arms, dragging them back down the hallway.

They scream. For their mom. For their dad. For their brother. For their cousin. For someone, anyone, as they fall into the darkness. Suddenly, they awake on a surgery table, Arasaka scientists standing over them. Rooney starts swinging as someone yells for them to be put back under. The darkness swallows them once again, pulling them into a dreamless sleep.

—

Someone touches their hand. Rooney looks down to find Yorinobu taking the glass out of their hand and placing it on the table. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.”

He does not look convinced, brushing away tears on the right side of their face. “Please tell me: why are you upset?”

“No,” Rooney shakes their head, wiping at their eyes,”It doesn’t have anything to do with Arasaka, and I don’t want to talk about it.” That dream…hallucination…vision…whatever one wanted to call it was one of the few things that Arasaka could not touch. Could not take from Rooney. Could not taint.

“I think it is related. Tell me.” Yorinobu sounds like he’s trying to order them.

“No.” Their voice is sharper, a definitive end to this conversation. Rooney won’t tell him; Yorinobu can’t make them tell him. He might not be part of the group who did this to them, but he is still Arasaka, and Rooney would not allow him to take this from them. They could not allow him to take this from them.

Yorinobu sighs in frustration, mercifully letting it go. “How did you die?”

“Our spaceship was attacked. The pilot and I were the last two people on the ship. Eventually, it came down to one decision: my survival or his. And I chose his life.”

“Why?”

“Because he is my best friend.” Jeff’s face flashes in their mind. Rooney hopes he is okay; they really do. Jeff was their first friend in the military, eventually becoming like a brother to them. Rooney would trust him with their life, and they would gladly sacrifice it again for Jeff. “He’s like a brother to me; I wanted him to live.”

“Even-?”

“Even at the cost of my own life,” Rooney picks up their whiskey glass again, “If you’re going to ask me if I regret it, I don’t. I would do the same again if given the choice.”

They take another sip as Yorinobu asks, “Who gave Arasaka your body?”

“The Northern California Militia. I served for them during the Unification War and was still a part of the Militia after the war.”

“Do you plan to return to the Militia if you are able to?”

The question catches Rooney off guard. Arasaka couldn’t keep them forever, right? At some point, they had to return. And even if Rooney wanted to go somewhere else, which they didn’t, where would they go? The Militia was now their home; it was their family. Without it, Rooney was alone, completely and utterly alone. “Yes.”

“You would return to them? After what they did?”

Rooney nods. “Yes. Where else would I go?”

“Anywhere,” Yorinobu looks at them with pity, thinking they are pathetic for crawling back to the Militia like a beaten dog, “You could go anywhere else.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, but it ignores reality. I don’t have a safety net like you do. If I leave, I’m on my own. I’ll have no one; I’ll have nothing.”

“You think Arasaka is a safety net?” He retorts bitterly. “It is a cage; one you and I are both stuck in.”

“If Arasaka is a cage, why come back?”

“I tried,” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “I tried, but I could not get done what I wanted from outside.”

“Which would be?” He doesn’t answer, picking up and sipping on his whiskey instead. Perhaps, asking a different question might yield them the answer they want. “Does Arasaka normally do this to people?”

Yorinobu looks uncomfortable, unable to look them in the eye. “Arasaka does many terrible things.”

Not an actual answer. “I’m not the worst of it, am I?”

“You are not,” He confirms, looking back at them wearily. Yorinobu seems like a man who has been burdened by many secrets, both his family’s and his own. “You would not believe me if I told you.”

“I think I would,” They answer honestly, “I’ve seen a lot of strange and terrible things. I doubt what you have to say could surprise me.”

He shakes his head. “No, I will not put you in that position. You still have a chance to get out.”

“And you don’t?” Yorinobu doesn’t answer, looking back down at his whiskey again. Something else nags at them: Yorinobu’s hatred of his father. Obviously, Saburo was a bastard, but Yorinobu’s hatred of his father seemed to run deeper than just hatred for his father being a bastard. “Why do you hate your father so much?” His face darkens, pure rage in his eyes as he looks at them. Rooney holds his gaze, refusing to be deterred.

Yorinobu sighs. “For many reasons. My father is the type of man, who believes it is better to be feared.” He takes another sip of his whiskey. “He uses people’s weaknesses against them to bring them under his rule. Families, Secrets, Ambition, Money, whatever will be easiest to collar around their neck. He doesn’t even need to do anything, just the threat alone is enough to bring others to their knees. He is an old fool, stuck in his ways. He believes in a world that no longer exists and refuses to be part of the world that does. My father does this all in service of making Arasaka more powerful, to bring back an empire that has long been destroyed.” His hand tightens around the whiskey glass. “The world fears him, believing he is too powerful to bring down. They refuse to stand up to him. If they refuse to stop him, then I will.”

“How?”

Surprise overtakes him for a moment, before he narrows his eyes, slightly suspicious of Rooney. “When I admit to having plans to take control away from my father, many believe I am crazy, heretical even.”

“I’m not most people,” Rooney sips their whiskey before honestly admitting, “I think you mean it. You sound like it at least. Whether you will succeed is a different story.”

He rolls his eyes, unamused at their light jab. “What do you know of the bombing of Arasaka Tower in Night City in 2023?”

Not much. Rooney read some of the books available on Night City, curious to know more about the autonomous city. Fellow Militia members, who grew up in Night City, also mentioned the disaster, especially some of the old-timers. They heard more about it when Arasaka started supplying the Free States with weapons and soldiers. “I know the towers were bombed, and it devastated Night City for a while afterwards. Quite a few of the history books covered it in extensive detail.”

Yorinobu looks pained. “History books?”

“I was born in 2042.”

He mumbles something under his breath. “On that day, I learned that nothing could stop Arasaka or my father, except for that nuke. It is the only time that I have seen the old man falter, truly fear something with all of his heart. I knew that he could be stopped, that he was still a man. I will be the nuke that destroys Arasaka from the inside, once and for all.”

“I hope you stop him, Yorinobu,” Rooney means every word of it; they hope Yorinobu can bring Saburo and Arasaka crashing to the ground, “I hope you stop him and Arasaka once and for all.”

Yorinobu looks touched, perhaps not expecting that from them. In return, he says, “I hope you make him and Arasaka regret doing this to you.”

“I will.” Rooney will get out of here, and when they do, they are determined to be a huge pain in the ass for Arasaka. Reflecting on his words, a thought occurs to Rooney. Yorinobu must be here for information, and Rooney can provide that. Or at least, they hope they can. It might be information that he already knows, but it is all that Rooney can do to help. In this facility, Yorinobu is a potential ally, someone they might want on their side. “Do you have a holopad?”

He tilts his head, slightly suspicious. “Why?”

“You came here for information, right?” Yorinobu nods slowly, unsure of what they are getting at. “I can write down what I know for you. What they’ve modified and any additional information that I know of. The scientists and engineers talk when they forget I’m in the room,” They admit, slightly sheepishly, “I don’t know if any of it will be helpful, but if it can set you on the right path-.”

Yorinobu raises his hand, stopping them. “Shepard, I cannot involve you in this.”

“Why not?” They don’t fear danger; Rooney is well aware of the risks of something like this. “I know what is at stake. I’ve made a decision and decided that I’m okay with that risk.”

“You have no idea, Shepard,” he responds, “and you are making that decision after drinking.”

“If I was sober, would you accept my help?”

He searches their face, looking for any possible deception. “I would think about it.”

“Ask me tomorrow.”

“You do not take no for an answer, do you?”

Rooney shakes their head. “Not when it comes to something important.”

Yorinobu smirks, a playful look in his eyes. “So, I am important?”

They roll their eyes at his teasing tone as he lets out a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He asks, still teasing them. “I think I like you thinking I am important.”

They scoff, rolling their eyes again. Rooney finishes off their glass, looking down at the bottle. “I think we finished it.”

“We did,” He confirms, looking down at the watch on his wrist, sighing, “Allow me to escort you back to your room.”

Rooney nods, placing their glass down as Yorinobu stands, holding out his hand for Rooney to take. They place their human hand in his, allowing him to pull them up from the couch. “Follow me,” He orders, releasing their hand. And they do.

As they walk down the hall, Rooney comes to a realization. They need to apologize to him. From the beginning, they had Yorinobu all wrong. (Granted, he hadn’t made it easy.) After his kindness this afternoon, even if it was a ploy to get information, Rooney owes him one. The pair reach Rooney’s sleeping quarters, a small room they’ve been given to stay in at the facility. Shrugging off his jacket, Rooney hands it to him. “I need to apologize for what I said the other day when we first met. My comments were rude and uncalled for-,” Yorinobu smirks, a small snort of laughter escaping from him as they frown, “I’m being serious-.”

“Do you think that is the worst that anyone has said to me?” Rooney doubts it. Others have probably said much worse, including his father. But that did not excuse their behavior. “I will accept your apology. I must apologize as well; I misjudged you.”

“I think most people would just assume that I volunteered if they weren’t aware of my death.”

“Not only that,” They tilt their head slightly as Yorinobu’s hand comes up to their face, tucking a dark strand of red hair behind their ear, “When I asked you if you thought you were still human, I did not think you were. I knew your answer was a lie, but for the wrong reason. I think you are very human, Shepard, but I do not think you are used to others treating you as such.”

“Yorinobu, I….” Words seem to fail them.

“Go to your room,” He motions, “I will see you tomorrow.”

They watch as he leaves, their shoulders dropping. Yorinobu’s words echo in their head: “I think you are very human, Shepard, but I do not think you are used to others treating you as such.” He was right. Everyone always expected the best from them, a dedication to a mission that could not be swayed. Now, Rooney has a new mission: helping Yorinobu gather information. First step: convince him that they were serious about this. Second step: find something to record their observations with.

As they step into their room, they catch sight of the black leather journal and pen. Dr. Kimura suggested that journaling might be easier for Rooney than speaking. They never wrote anything in it, knowing that Dr. Kimura would read it and use the contents to further harass Rooney. Grabbing the journal and pen, Rooney heads to the bathroom, slightly closing the door. If anyone came into the room, this would hopefully buy Rooney time to hide the journal. They open the journal and uncap the pen, slightly daunted by where to start. Perhaps they could start with their implants, working through what they know about them one by one. Afterward, they could write down what they knew about each scientist.

This also posed another question. If someone did find the journal, what would stop them from reading what Rooney had written? A solution pops into their head. During the Unification War, Rooney and their team used code to communicate with command, especially on sensitive missions. The code was crude, but it would buy Rooney time if someone at Arasaka was to discover the journal. Hopefully, it might dissuade the person that it was nothing but junk. They put the pen to page, furiously writing. One way or another, Rooney would help see Arasaka fall even if they were just a pawn in a larger game.