Chapter Text
2070
"You secure the area and you take care of the wounded."
"Sir, I'll take a look at it…"
"No need, it's superficial and those men need help more urgently," Kurt Hansen waved his hand dismissively at the young female soldier assigned as a medic to his unit. Farida Nazeri, he remembered her name. He took special care to remember all faces and names, which made a good impression on people and improved morale. He irritably wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, blood running down it. A piece of shrapnel had cut his forehead. But he had still gotten off lightly. If he hadn't been wearing a helmet, he would have been dead. He touched the wound with his fingers and grimaced; it was deep. Probably needed stitches. He would definitely be left with another scar.
"The area is clear, Colonel," one of the soldiers returned to him.
"Good, hold the position," he ordered him as he picked up the radio. "Alpha One, this is Victor Nine, over." While waiting for the general's response, he walked away from his unit.
"Victor nine, this is Alpha one, over," came the quiet but clear voice from the radio. Despite his professional tone, Hansen thought the general sounded tired.
"We are in position, area secured, awaiting further instructions, over." Hansen looked back at his soldiers. Of the original twenty members of his unit, nine remained. Farida looked up from the soldier she was helping and, catching his gaze, shook her head. So there were eight of them left, four of whom were too badly injured to fight and two of whom might not live to see morning. Getting to the position was costing them too many men. But they managed it. Colonel Hansen never gave up and always got the job done.
"Victor nine, wait for orders, Alpha one out."
Hansen frowned, but still said: "Roger, waiting for further orders, Victor nine out."
'What the fuck was that?' he thought as he returned to the men.
"What now?" Lieutenant Colonel Bennett asked him. Hansen liked his approach, no sir this, sir that, he just asked straight out what he wanted to know.
"Now we wait," he said, folding his arms behind his back. "Cameras?" he asked the communications officer.
"We've got everything covered, Sierra Three and Echo Five are currently securing the area, while three other units are heading this way."
Hansen nodded and turned to Farida, who was approaching. "Casualties?"
"Bychkov can't walk, but he'll survive. I stitched Johnson's arm, but he'll be useless in combat. Rinder is unconscious, but he's not bleeding anymore and Hassan will probably join Rodriguez," she sighed. "Show me that forehead, Colonel." She immediately began treating his wound.
"Colonel, I've intercepted a message saying that the Arasaka supercarrier is heading for the port," said the communications officer, looking at him in surprise.
"That must be bullshit," Hansen frowned, but his internal alarm went off. First, the information to wait for further orders and now this? Something was going on here and it wasn't good.
"I also found a message that is for your eyes only, but it was blocked by command."
Hansen looked closely at the man. He enjoyed working with him; he always did his job beyond his duties and wasn't afraid to use less orthodox methods to get information. "Why would they block my messages?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.
"By blocking it, they probably wanted to censor it before delivering it to you, sir. I pulled it up and will send it to you," the officer said as he worked and a moment later, a notification of an incoming message appeared on Hansen's interface. He accepted it immediately and when he saw the sender, he frowned even more.
"Thanks, I'll take a look at it right away. Excuse me," he took the datapad from the table, turned on his heel and left for another room.
It was a small room, probably used as a staff room, with a kitchenette, table, chairs, and a vending machine. He couldn't understand how anyone could feel comfortable here, it was dark, there were no windows and it felt depressing. He made sure to lock the door behind him. He had no idea why, but if the command had concealed this message from him, it contained something they didn't want him to know.
That would make sense, of course, but the sender was his woman.
"Hi, honey," Hansen paused the video message.
They weren't married, but they had been living together for several years, basically since their first mission together, and even though she smiled when she greeted him, he could see that something was bothering her. His stomach clenched with a sense of foreboding and he sat down. The woman whose face he was looking at, her beautiful aristocratic face with alabaster skin, adorned with beautiful emerald eyes, framed by long black hair, his dear Nadya, had been carrying their child for six months.
He took a deep breath and started playing the recording.
"I hope you're still out there doing the impossible, as always." She was still smiling slightly, but that smile didn't reach her eyes this time. "I wanted..." She cleared her throat and her smile faded. "Fuck," she looked away for a moment, searching for words. "Kurt," she looked at him seriously again, "a few days ago, I gave birth..."
Hansen immediately stopped the message and forced himself to exhale, only now realizing that he had been holding his breath. Panic began to grow inside him. At six months, it was too early. When he played the message again, his hand trembled slightly.
"...to our daughter."
"Oh my God," he whispered, watching Nadya's expression closely. They didn't ask about the sex of the baby, they didn't care.
"I named her Anastasia, after my grandmother." She smiled, but he knew that the inevitable "but" was coming. That it would be big and ugly, but he didn't want to admit it. "Kurt," he watched as tears slowly began to roll down her cheeks and he knew. "She didn't make it."
Nadya burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. For a moment, he just watched her cry and wanted so badly to be there, to hug her, to stroke her hair... It wouldn't have changed anything, of course... But... They would have shared it together. He couldn't take his eyes off the screen, not knowing what to do. After a moment, she raised her head and fixed her tearful eyes on the camera, trying to regain her composure.
"She fought for four whole days and it looked like she was gonna make it, but she didn't. I just got back from the hospital, I looked around the apartment and saw the crib, the things... And she is just..." she blurted out and couldn't speak anymore. Hansen stared in shock at the datapad, watching as the woman, who had gone through the most difficult tasks as a top spy with ease, just broke down, his mind unable to comprehend what he had just heard and seen.
After a while, when she calmed down a little and breathed deeply, she wiped away her tears, looking firmly into the camera. "Do you remember our last conversation when you were here?"
His hand was shaking so much that he could barely stop the message. Of course he remembered, they had talked about it, that Nadya was planning to leave active service for six months after giving birth and then transfer to a position where she would no longer have to go on missions and travel around the world. In fact, she would be taking early retirement. He had asked her then if she thought Myers would allow one of NUSA's best spies to just quit. To which she jokingly replied that she would rather kill their child. He forced himself to breathe deeply. No, they wouldn't do that. No sane person would go that far.
He started playing again.
"I'm planning to take a look at it and you finish your mission," she said seriously and then her expression softened. "And remember that I love you more than anything, big boy."
And in the next moment, Hansen was staring at his own face on the datapad. He immediately found her contact on the interface and called her.
"The number has expired, please leave a voice message," the AI told him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, no," he said quietly and tried again. And again, and again, and again.
"FUCK!" he shouted in frustration and threw the datapad against the wall, where it shattered. She desperately needed support and he wasn't there. Her contact is deactivated, as he knew her, she threw herself into it, alone and would not give up until she found something. She may be in danger, she may be dead and he didn't even know anything about this whole shit! Because someone sitting miles away from here had decided so. He stood up abruptly, grabbed a chair and began demolishing everything he saw until he broke it too. Throwing away the remains of the chair, he continued to demolish the room with his bare hands until there was nothing left to destroy.
Kurt Hansen stood in the middle of the room, breathing deeply, watching the destruction he had left behind, not caring that blood was flowing from his knuckles. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, leaving bloody traces behind. His little girl, whom he never even had the chance to see. Anastasia. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing, but he couldn't prevent the inevitable. Feeling his eyes fill with tears, he placed his palm on them and took a sharp breath. Slowly backing away, he sat down heavily on the floor and simply let the crying go.
"Victor Nine, this is Alpha One, over," came the voice in the silence.
Hansen rested his forearms on his bent knees, leaning his back against the destroyed cabinet, staring into space.
"Victor Nine, this is Alpha One, do you copy? Over."
He wasn't interested at all, he didn't even move.
"Victor Nine, this is Alpha One, report! Over."
Slowly, without even looking in that direction, he took the radio from his vest and pressed the button.
"Alpha One, this is Victor Nine, I hear you, over," he said mechanically.
"Victor Nine, you have orders to retreat immediately, confirm, over."
"I have wounded men here, over," he said absently.
"There's no time for that, over," replied the general.
That finally snapped him out of his lethargy. Did he really just tell him to leave the men who had covered his back behind? "General, where is my woman?" he asked quietly, but anger began to rise in him again.
"Colonel, what..." He was clearly taken aback.
"When did you want to deliver her message to me?" he continued in the same tone of voice.
There was silence on the other end. "Colonel," the general said after a moment, in the tone one uses when trying to speak calmly to a madman, "that message would jeopardize your performance."
"It would jeopardize my performance..." he said each word slowly, becoming more and more angry with each one. "You were afraid that my daughter's death would jeopardize my performance?!" he suddenly shouted. "Where is my woman?!"
"Colonel Hansen, calm down." Oh, how he wanted to kill just because of the tone of the general's voice. "You have been ordered to retreat. I will explain everything to you personally when you return to base."
"Tell me now!" he shouted into the radio.
Again, silence on the other end. "Your woman committed suicide two days after sending that message," he said quietly.
And then he was sure that the general was lying to him. Because Nadya would never do that. She was highly trained to withstand any form of psychological pressure, and besides, he knew her well. Even if she were absolutely desperate, she would not take her own life before finding out what had happened to their daughter. It seemed to him that she had stumbled upon something.
"Colonel, confirm the order, over," said the general quietly.
So week ago. They had known for one whole fucking week. And they hadn't told him. Meanwhile, he was wading through dust, mud, shit and blood, trying at all costs to capture this fucking piece of land to secure NUSA's access to Night City... And the two most important people in his life were no longer there. Hansen was unable to say a word.
"Retreat, Colonel, you don't have time, Arsaka is on its way and we're not going to risk war," the general ordered him. When he didn't respond for a long time, he added in a raised voice. "Colonel, confirm, over!"
Hansen slowly picked up the radio and pressed the button. None of that mattered now. Not anymore. "Fuck it, we're staying here. Over and out."
"You told him what?!" Bennett asked incredulously.
"I told him to fuck himself and that we're staying here," Hansen said matter-of-factly.
"So we've basically deserted?!" Albert Murphy chimed in. "Didn't you at least want to consult us first?!"
"You still can go back," he shrugged, completely unconcerned that they were angry.
No one dared ask him what had happened because, despite putting on his commander's mask firmly, it was clear to everyone that his thoughts were completely elsewhere. And he had injuries on his hands that he hadn't had a few minutes earlier.
Bennett looked uncomfortable. Hansen knew it was because Bennett was well aware that if he wasn't there, there would be no one left to protect him from military courts.
"Besides, he wanted me to leave the wounded behind and I don't obey such cowardly orders," he said, glancing involuntarily at Bychkov, Rinder and Johnson. Hassan followed Rodriguez, just as Farida had feared. "Arasaka got involved, it's confirmed, so NUSA just backed out."
That was only half the truth as to why he had made his decision, but he had no intention of letting anyone into his personal affairs. Ever. None of them knew anything about his private life, not even his deputy Bennett, because it was classified as top secret, just like his entire career. In addition, he lived with a top NUSA spy, so keeping their status secret was also imposed for their protection.
"Those bastards," Murphy lit up angrily, "I'm staying," he declared as he exhaled smoke.
Hansen nodded and looked questioningly at the others.
"I'll try to contact the other units immediately, find out their position and status, and see if anyone else is in a similar situation," the communications officer Jack Burreau wasted no time and got to work. As always.
"I'll take care of the wounded," Farida simply shrugged and went to check on them. And to inform them, since Rinder had regained consciousness. Hansen watched as Johnson stood up and walked over to him. "Colonel, I just wanted to say, that it has been an honor to serve with you... and it will continue to be an honor," he saluted him with his good hand.
And then Hansen, not only as a NUSA soldier, saluted for the last time in his life.
Thanks to their quick action, they managed to coordinate with other soldiers who had been left behind to their fate or who, like him, refused to abandon the wounded and successfully made their way to an unfinished hotel magnificently named Black Sapphire. Since there was no electricity, the elevators were not working, so they were able to comfortably take over the hotel lobby for themselves and guard it. They managed to obtain several generators and access to the PA system, thanks to which Hansen was able to coordinate the individuals outside who were worth anything.
Because as soon as the army left the area, the scum of Night City began to flood in, and the last thing they needed was for those junkies and homeless people to get their hands on military equipment. He managed to gather the remnants of Militech soldiers, who helped him restore order with their weapons.
Over time, people from outside joined them, former mercenaries, soldiers, police officers, but also street gangsters (after verification). First and foremost, he needed people capable of handling weapons and military equipment so that they could secure the place and maintain some semblance of order and keep unwanted people away. Once they had more or less succeeded in doing this, the most pressing problem became the lack of infrastructure. Hansen was extremely lucky and had the advantage of having built up his own network of contacts during his time in the army. In the early stages of consolidating the combat zone, these contacts were invaluable.
He encouraged his people to build a space here that would be theirs. Without supervision from the government, corporations, or anyone else. All he asked for was loyalty, reliability and a willingness to take orders, no matter what they were. And it really worked. It didn't take long for Kurt Hansen to have the combat zone firmly in his grasp. And even though the district was eventually bombed by NUSA and he lost his left arm in the process, he refused to give up - he simply replaced it with a mechanical one and strengthened his grip even more.