#arako

the lighter she's turning over in her hands isn't the proverbial olive branch that n54 had claimed she'd arrived with. gabriel bore a horn upon him - but the sainted lady is no angel, and this is not yet judgment day; though it very well could be, if she allowed things to continue on the path both titans had been walking. she remembers donald lundee and his temper, that rage that burned him up inside. will militech not act? act for its country, its people? will it not act? act! she remembers the strike upon their own offices; the way the dust had settled and the quiet that smothered them after. she remembers the retaliation; the blood, the casualties almost in the millions. the circle had to be broken, it had to stop somewhere; or they'd eat up the world before it could ever know peace. 

she's been here before, all too often. she knows she has. the settings and faces may change, but the habit remains. in many ways, our lady thinks of herself and hanako as two sides of the same coin: damage control; providing empathy for a megacorp that had never had a soul. and yet, there is a difference; small as it may be, but still keenly felt all the same. militech may be a mess of employees and chairmen all fighting for control, but arasaka? the heart of an entire family - fail to defend it, and it would splinter and crack; never to be repaired again. how poetic, she thinks. how dangerous. and where does hanako fit in all of this? it is not lost on her that it took all this for them to meet face to face. all this, and a few dozen armed guards at the door - for insurance, she'd been told. never know who might try what in night city - from within or without. 

❛  but  you’re  the  one  who  came  to  me,  miss  arasaka.  ❜  it’s a bold fucking move, and at times like this samara wish she had alcohol to give her some kind of liquid courage. however, it’s a delicate game the upper echelon play; like chess before a crowd. one slip up, one slight and it is simply over. no going back. no safety net. it’s a game samara learned how to imitate with ease out of necessity. a street kid from pacifica would never have risen to her level in militech had she done anything else that would’ve shown her humble beginnings. she shifts, white eyes taking in the leader of the dove faction of arasaka, and she swallows.

... it’s unavoidable,  she figures;    as experienced fingers and RAM trickle into her space past layers of ICE that she only cultivates out of boredom, does she gaze back.  She is within, just as much as she is without.  You’ll feel her before you can see her;  an omnipotent construct that’s grown too big for her shackles gleaming a dire red.  But this was Mikoshi, a place made solely for her viewing whenever she wanted (  * control was never an option for the dearly departed ) and when she steps forwards the familiar dead girl comes into view from behind the glass.  Old habits are the only comfort, and she doesn’t know where the cigarette comes from but she rolls the tip between her white chromed plated fingers,  staring at the other.  Alt takes a long drag of her cigarette, exhaling with a smile.   “   Liar.   ”

...  She blinks, and reality shivers ;    an engram of code that exists in a liminal space made finite, tangible, and as real as Hanako wants to believe.  From the digging she’s done inside her head, she knows she’s smarter than she looks.  Alt Cunningham isn’t fully here. A smile curls under a dead-eyed stare. A closed fist bangs against the glass that separates them both. 

“   You like seeing me in here.   “    

....   The sum of her research existed before her, under her playground, ready for whatever she so desired. And Alt knew it, just as much as Hanako played at not knowing it because she was always on the high ground, wasn’t she;   a saint in Night City. Playing god with the animated dead, dissecting caches of data from what her engram was comprised of. No saint took souls for granted, did they?  

“   But what else was I to expect from Hanako Arasaka?  “

Isca's power is that she cannot lose. However, they key to The Game of Rassilon is this:

"To Lose is to Win. And He Who Wins Shall Lose."

[ encrypted ] It is not my desire to get involved with faction politics. I’m here to manage my sector, ensure compliance to company protocol, which in turn protects our employees’ lives and our company’s reputation. Information recently passed my eyes which interferes with those objectives, incriminate your brother further, and could spell the end of the Kiji faction. A faction which my brother, uncle, cousin support. The coverup is extensive but not all is wiped clean ...

@arako​ ( Hanako Arasaka ) asked : and you have this why?  | the umbrella academy pilot script starters [ selectively accepting ]

          There is little anymore one can hold in confidence. Inside Arasaka Tower, Brianne scrambles to keep her sector afloat, but at times she feels she can only play witness to an empire’s downfall. Having dedicated her life to Arasaka, it is disheartening, angering. And as one who now kowtows before the new CEO, in front of Hanako Arasaka, she has nothing to show for trust but a father, a retired director and ever the stanch advocate for the Kiji faction.

          The data shard in question holds that which, by company records, no longer exists: the gaping holes in the security procedures followed during the matsuri, a sister’s rescue meant to go awry. What was hearsay is given proof in a few files. 

❛  you  know  your  brother  gave  me  a  pretty  sweet  deal  to  join.   ❜  samara tilts her head, her eyes glowing gold for a moment.  ❛  thought  arasaka  was  a  united  front,  but,  given  that  you  wanna  meet  me  i’m  assuming...  not  so  much?  ❜