Vanguard couldn’t move, could barely even speak; he could only watch as his directive—to protect the host—led him into this madness. Vomi was clinging to Animus’ power, depending on it to an extreme, reckless degree. Now, as they swung through the skyscrapers of San Francisco, Vanguard felt himself blacking out every few seconds, his energy nearly drained after holding Vomi’s mind together for so long. He wanted to scream at her, tell her this was a mistake, that they didn’t need this bargain to save Thiago, that they could have healed him themselves if they’d just waited. But now it was too late.
Ahead loomed the M-Tech building, where the Ouroboros Cyberdeck lay—likely locked down, tested, inspected.
They landed on the window of the cyber security floor, Vomi’s twisted, vermillion form pressing a monstrous hand against the glass. Slowly, she applied pressure until the frame cracked, allowing her tendrils to carefully peel it from the frame and set it on the ground. But the cameras immediately spotted her, and the silent alarm triggered, sending alerts to the security team: “breach detected by unknown entity.”
She didn’t care; her focus was singular, fierce.
Vomi didn’t need to scan the room—she knew it by heart after two months in the corporation. Moving with purpose, she headed straight for her old office, pulling up the information on where the Cyberdeck was stored. Predictably, it was in the deepest, most isolated labs beneath the building. A simple elevator ride down would get her there, as long as no one complicated things along the way.
“Target acquired,” one of M-Tech’s guards said, gun drawn as he spotted her.
Of course, if you ignore the security.
A squad of five men, all armed and tense, approached her slowly. The one at the back was murmuring orders into his comm, finger pressed against his earpiece. As they closed in, they muttered to one another, unable to look away from her. Her mask’s eyes shifted expressively, narrowing with cold calculation. Her hair floated around her like it was alive, charged by the symbiote’s dark energy.
“Id-dentify yourself! This is a... restricted area!” barked the lead guard, his voice stumbling over the sentence as he faced down the monstrous figure before him.
Yeah, Vomi couldn’t blame him; she’d probably stammer, too, if she saw something like this coming at her.
But she wasn’t here to talk. Neither was Animus.
Her tendrils shot out, piercing four of the guards in a single, brutal sweep, each tendril striking true as they hit their mark. The last guard, still a few steps back, froze in horror, then staggered backward, scrambling to escape. Before he could make it far, Vomi was on him, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him like he weighed nothing. Towering over him, her height made even more imposing by the symbiotic transformation, she looked every bit the monster he’d feared.
“Show me the elevator to the lower levels,” she demanded, her voice a guttural, distorted blend of Animus’ primal rage and Vomi’s own fury.
The guard stared up at her, trembling. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out, his eyes darting wildly as though hoping he’d wake up somewhere else. Finally, he managed to point down the corridor, voice barely a whisper. “T-take the main lift... left down the hallway. You'll need an access code… b-but I can give it to you. Just don’t… don’t kill me.”
Vomi tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she weighed his words. She didn’t need his cooperation, not really. With Animus, there wasn’t much she couldn’t break or hack through by force alone. Still, she relished the desperation in his eyes, the way he clung to hope that he might survive this. A flicker of a smile touched her lips, twisted and cruel, before she released him.
“Code.”
The guard’s fingers fumbled with his datapad, and he read off a sequence of numbers. As he stammered through it, Vomi memorized each digit, the symbiote’s influence speeding up her cognition as it flooded her mind with Animus’s primal impulses. The guard stepped back, relief flooding his face for a brief moment.
Then, with a sickening crack, one of her tendrils struck him down, leaving him in a heap as she moved past, not sparing him a second glance.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Vanguard’s voice whispered in her mind, faint but reproachful.
“He was a liability,” Animus countered with a growl. The first time the primal symbiote showed some kind of consciousness aside from instinct, "And if I can see the memories correctly, Marco also was one."
"That..."
Vomi remained silent, pushing forward down the corridor, focused entirely on her mission. As she reached the elevator, she punched in the access code, and the doors slid open. She stepped inside, hitting the button for the sub-levels. The familiar hum filled the silence, and she felt her nerves prickling as the elevator began its descent, the weight of what lay below heavy on her mind.
The doors opened to a dimly lit corridor, silent and cold. The walls were lined with reinforced steel, and the floor echoed her every step. This was the heart of M-Tech’s research sector—the place they kept their most dangerous projects locked away. And now, among those secrets, was the Ouroboros Cyberdeck.
As she advanced, security systems flickered to life, auto-turrets sliding from the ceiling and fixing their sights on her. Vomi’s symbiotic limbs flared out, ready to deflect incoming fire, and she didn’t wait to see if they would hesitate. She lunged forward, tendrils moving like whips, striking each turret before it could fully engage, ripping them from their mounts with vicious efficiency.
It was then she felt Vanguard's presence flicker to life again, faint but filled with concern. "Are you sure about this, Vomi? Once you touch that deck, there's no going back."
"What the—?!"
The startled voice came from down the hall. Vomi whipped her head around, spotting a scientist in a hazmat suit peering out of one of the lab rooms, evidently drawn by the noise she'd made trashing the turrets. Without hesitation, she extended an arm, the symbiotic tendril shooting forward and wrapping around his neck, pulling him close.
What followed was brutal. Her hand pierced his skin, nails digging in as though his flesh were waterlogged sponge. She absorbed him, the body crumbling in on itself as she drained every last drop of blood and life. His bones cracked, tissues tearing until he was nothing but a husk, the symbiote hungrily absorbing everything until... she wasn't Vomi anymore. She'd transformed into the scientist, a full shapeshift borne from DNA absorption.
"Now, let's see if this disguise holds," she muttered to herself, her voice now matching the scientist's. She dusted herself off and took a look down the corridor, noting that some doors immediately unlocked upon her approach. She passed labs with observation windows, while one sealed door remained locked-but her borrowed credentials granted her access when she swiped the pad. The door slid open, revealing the room where her prize lay: the Ouroboros Cyberdeck.
Inside, the cyberdeck was being integrated into a test subject, while a Ripperdoc carefully applied the implants. Vomi walked in, glancing around to maintain her guise. She picked up a nearby datapad, skimming through testing logs and noting how M-Tech had been subjecting the cyberdeck to various forms of stress. The notes indicated a "biological component" that adapted to every new assault, fortifying itself against repeated types of damage. It wasn't invulnerable, but it was a nightmare to breach.
As she skimmed, another scientist, also in a hazmat suit, approached. "This project's on a whole new level. Once this thing's fully tested, whoever gets it will be untouchable," he muttered, eyes glued to the Ripperdoc's work.
"If any high-end tech like this went public, the whole balance of power would shift overnight," Vomi responded, using the scientist's voice.
"Yeah, true." The scientist tilted his head, studying her. "Weren't you supposed to be on your way out?"
"I... forgot something," Vomi replied, feigning nonchalance. "Got a lot on my plate already, believe me.”
The scientist narrowed his eyes, a hint of concern creeping in. "You don't normally forget things like that. You okay?"
Vomi forced a stiff nod. "I'm fine."
The way she said it, though, must have triggered his suspicion. He reached out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "You know you can talk to me, right? We're all dealing with more than we signed up for. Don't lie to me."
A sharp flash of irritation shot through Vomi. She'd apparently chosen to disguise herself as someone this guy had a history with—and now her cover was crumbling.
Before she could respond, someone down the hall shouted, "Hey! There's blood here!"
"What?" The scientist turned toward the door, his hand still on her shoulder.
"Sound the alarm! Call security!"
Vomi sighed, letting her disguise fall as she shifted back to her true form. "Fuck this," she growled, grabbing the hazmat-suited scientist and slamming his head into the ground with bone-cracking force.
The lab plunged into chaos. Scientists scrambled back, their eyes wide with terror as they took in Vomi’s monstrous form. Alarms blared, and with every flash of red light, it was clear that any hope of stealth had vanished.
Without hesitation, Vomi marched to the glass wall separating the observation room and punched it, sending cracks webbing out as the glass shattered. The Ripperdoc staggered back, nearly fumbling his grip on the tools as he saw her approach. His mouth opened, but no scream came out; he was too stunned to make a sound as the red, shifting form loomed closer.
Vomi crouched down, leveling her gaze with his as her tendrils twitched, poised to strike if he made a single wrong move. “The cyberdeck. Hand it over.”
The Ripperdoc, hands shaking, nodded frantically. He scrambled to retrieve the deck from its secure compartment—a containment unit about the size of a small box, its seal broken just enough to reveal a strange, pulsing bioware. The deck itself was a deep purple, an unusual organic sheen coating its surface, which reminded Vomi of a symbiote in stasis, dormant but brimming with potential.
“Good,” she muttered, taking the deck and closing the compartment in one swift motion.
“Finally, reinforcements!” A voice from the doorway cut through the chaos—a hazmat-suited figure, face obscured, but relief evident in his tone as a fresh squad of guards poured into the room.
Vomi’s face twisted with annoyance, the eyes of her symbiote glaring through the hazmat-suited newcomer and the guards behind him.
"Dr. Vomi. I can’t say this surprises me,” said the man in the white hazmat suit. “Though I did hope we’d meet under different circumstances.”
Vomi’s eyes narrowed. “You know me. But you…?”
The man let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if she’d just told a joke. “I’m Antonio Miranda. Owner of M-Tech.”
“So, my boss.” Vomi’s tone was flat, but her eyes flashed. “Quite the event, meeting you here.”
“Likewise.” He inclined his head, the faint amusement not lost behind his mask. “But you realize, of course, I can’t let you walk out with that deck.”
Vomi’s expression didn’t waver. “And?”
Antonio’s smirk was visible even behind his mask. “Kaneda sent you here for that cyberdeck, but did he bother to tell you why?”
Animus bristled with impatience, mirroring Vomi’s tension. Yet something about the question made her pause. She wasn’t naive enough to think her mission was straightforward, but why was Antonio stalling? If he wanted her dead, why didn’t he order his guards to attack? Or why appear himself, rather than stay safely behind his office walls?
Suddenly, pain exploded in her circuitry as a Short Circuit Quickhack took hold. Sparks erupted along her chrome, sending a wave of agony through her body as her systems overloaded. She convulsed, teeth gritted, muscles seizing as bullets tore through her symbiotic form. The guards, unflinching, unleashed another hail of gunfire. She was helpless under the onslaught, paralyzed by the electric attack, and could only feel the impact of bullets ripping through her as she fought to hold on to consciousness.
A shotgun blast hit her head, knocking her limp to the ground, her body pooling in an inert, fleshy heap. One of the guards tapped his comms. “Suspect down, KIA.”
“Confirm it,” came the response.
He fired two more rounds into her prone body. “Confirmed.”
Antonio turned and left without a second glance. “Make sure it’s dead this time. And get this mess cleaned up,” he called over his shoulder.
“Yes, sir.”
The guards circled her fallen form, exchanging uneasy glances. One nudged her with his rifle. “So, uh… this thing. How does it even work?”
“No clue. If just a prototype made this mess, imagine the real deal,” muttered another as he snapped pictures of the scene.
“Right. Let’s grab the cyberdeck and get out of here,” the lead guard said, crouching down to look for the containment box. But when he reached, his hand came up empty.
“Uh, sir, the containment—”
A flash of movement—a tendril lashed out, wrapping around his throat. His head rolled to the floor a split second later as the others turned to see the impossible. Vomi’s body was regenerating, flesh knitting itself back together, bones cracking back into place. Her skull reformed, the torn flesh of her face healing to reveal her symbiotic mask once more. In a heartbeat, the creature they thought they had destroyed rose from the ground, eyes alight with fury.
Her face held no trace of humanity—only cold, calculating rage.
----------------------------------------
Kaneda sat back in his office, eyes on the holographic display showing Vomi’s progress. She’d already broken into the M-Tech building, cutting through security and inching closer to the cyberdeck. He tapped his fingers, waiting, a faint smirk on his face. Beside him, one of his advisors—a cautious sort—watched the display with an anxious frown.
“Sir, are you sure it was wise to give Dr. Kurosaki that information?” the advisor asked, glancing uncertainly at Kaneda.
“Wise? Maybe not. But it’s our best option for keeping this operation under the radar,” Kaneda replied, unbothered.
“That’s not my concern.” The advisor leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What happens when she finds out there’s no child? Or worse, if she integrates that cyberdeck with herself? You know what she’s capable of.”
Kaneda’s expression didn’t falter, but he gave a small nod. He knew it was a possibility. Vomi’s fusion with Animus had already made her an unpredictable force, and combining her with another symbiote would create a nightmare he might not be able to control. Still, her desperation was an opportunity—a vulnerability he could exploit.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“She’ll deliver the cyberdeck,” he said finally, his confidence unshaken. “The Ouroboros will be ours, and everything will proceed as planned. She believed what she wanted to believe. There's no room for naivety in corporations.”
His advisor looked skeptical. “And selling this company to Arasaka?”
“If Arasaka gets wind of this tech, they’ll want us on their side. It’s the only move we have that guarantees our survival.”
The advisor sighed, unconvinced but resigned. “At least set some countermeasures in place. She’s volatile, sir. More than you’re willing to admit.”
Kaneda took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke as he watched the city lights beyond his window. “Fine. I’ll see to it,” he said, the barest hint of irritation slipping into his voice. “But don’t worry. Vomi’s desperation is the only guarantee we need.”
----------------------------------------
More guards, and then even more, flooded the halls. The place was crawling with bodies, blood coating the floor like a grisly sea of red. The guards threw everything they had at her- attacks, hacks, the best tools their tech could provide. Some Quickhacks landed, frying her systems briefly, but Vomi always made quick work of anyone who tried. When the storm finally settled, she was still standing, knee-deep in a growing pool of blood.
But beneath the adrenaline-fueled rage, something gnawed at her. Something was always getting in her way, some piece of chrome tying her down, always sparking under these constant hacks. The cyberware-the optics, her agent, the personal link—anchored her to the physical plane, a frustrating tether she now wanted gone. Animus could sense it too, a desire to purge anything holding them back.
With a determined hand, she reached to the back of her neck, nails brushing over the casing where her agent was integrated. The moment she started to dig in, pain crackled up her spine, a nerve-screaming burn that only stoked her rage further. But before she could finish, more guards arrived, their boots echoing against the walls as they fanned out. She vaulted to the ceiling, her body clinging effortlessly as she waited for them to pass.
"Sir, the suspect isn't where the system says," one guard reported into his comms, still scanning the blood-soaked room.
The guards waited, tense, eyes flickering to the corpses sprawled across the floor, the aftermath of their doomed colleagues' attempts.
"God... how many did she kill?"
"Who cares? We just need to kill the bitch already."
"Like we stand a better chance than they did?" the third muttered, casting a wary look at the carnage.
Vomi's gaze focused on that last guard, a spark of approval flickering briefly. He's still gonna die but at least he understood.
"Check the ceiling?" the first guard asked into his comms.
They all looked up.
"Ah, fu—!"
He didn't finish as Vomi dropped from above, her fist diving straight through his chest.
The guard's lifeless body dropped to the floor, and in an instant, the room erupted in chaos. The others scrambled, unloading rounds into the space Vomi had just been, but she was already in motion, a crimson blur weaving through them with lethal precision. Animus guided her strikes, each movement honed to strike vital points, every kill swift and ruthless.
Another guard lunged at her with a high-frequency blade, but she sidestepped, grabbing his arm and twisting it back with such force that the bones snapped like dry twigs. She didn't even bother to finish him; the symbiotic tendrils extended from her back, spearing through his torso, draining the life from him in seconds.
She was a storm of flesh and metal, blood and fury-more monster than human now. The once-cold corridors of the lab transformed into a nightmare, painted in red and shadows as Animus urged her on, pushing them further into that merciless, primal rage. Her heart thundered, the symbiote feeding off her raw emotions, amplifying the need to destroy everything in her path.
"You're letting Animus control you, Vomi. You're not just him. Remember who you are.”
It was faint. It was almost inaudible, but Vanguard managed to send a simple reminder to her soul. Which made her pause for a second. Something… human.
Vomi shook her head. She doesn't need distractions right now.
More guards appeared at the far end of the corridor, their guns leveled, voices barking orders. Her body was battered, her cyberware sparking, but her resolve was unshaken.
She just took a step forward, “Leave.”
A handful of them hesitated, exchanging glances. But the others tightened their grips on their weapons, ready to die for orders they couldn't even question.
"So be it," she muttered, feeling Animus pulse in agreement, ready for more.
In one swift, relentless motion, Vomi surged forward, her tendrils tearing through the line of guards in a brutal, calculated ballet. She slashed some cleanly in half; others crumpled under the sheer force of her strikes, their skulls caving in with sickening cracks. Each move was precise and merciless, a deadly dance where each opponent did exactly what anyone watching would expect: fall. None were spared, and all Vomi could think about was one target—Antonio.
Did she need to kill him? Not necessarily. But then again, was there any reason not to?
She reached the corridor where she'd first consumed that unfortunate hazmat worker. Whoever he had been no longer mattered. What did matter, however, was the empty elevator shaft in front of her. The car was descending slowly, probably delivering another wave of reinforcements. She tapped her foot, an eerie, fleshy rhythm, impatience woven into each squelch of her symbiote form. Ripping through the dense, reinforced steel walls surrounding her wasn't an option, so she was forced to wait.
As soon as the elevator doors finally slid open, three figures stepped out. Two appeared as standard security, but the third wore an exoskeleton suit, towering and armored.
"Cute," Vomi muttered, her voice thick with sarcasm.
"Target in sight," the one in the exoskeleton stated coolly. "Lethal force authorized, but capturing her alive is preferred."
The man to his left, holding a sniper rifle, cocked it and grinned. "Not making any promises there."
"Same here," added the third, sliding a magazine into his submachine gun with a smirk. "Let's light her up.”
Before the exoskeleton-wearing guard could even finish his order, Vomi launched herself forward, her tendrils snapping out like whips. She moved fast—inhumanly so. The sniper fired a shot, but she twisted mid-air, the bullet grazing past her. In an instant, her tendrils wrapped around his rifle and yanked it out of his hands, pulling him forward. He stumbled, off balance, and before he could react, she drove a fist through his chest. But to frustrate her attempt at a quick kill, the exo guard managed to strike Vomi before her fist could land, sending her to the wall. Without missing a beat, the last guard used his submachine gun, emptying the entire magazine on her.
It didn't hurt, but it was extremely annoying and forced her to stay away.
“Fuck me!”, The guy said, picking up his sniper from the ground.
“Don't get distracted. Any mistake might be the last one.”, The exo guard ordered, his voice showing command and complete calm over the situation.
“Tell me about it…”
“You better reposition because I don't have infinite bullets here!”, The submachine guard yelled as his gun clicked with the empty magazine.
The exo guard deployed a flash grenade, and with Vomi already struggling to recover from the earlier gunfire and heavy punch, the blinding light caught her off-guard. She recoiled, tendrils lashing out in every direction in a desperate attempt to make contact with anything that moved. Animus quickly redirected her focus, guiding her to rely more on hearing, helping her latch onto a nearby wall for cover as her vision slowly cleared.
"Nice shot!" The guard shouted, a triumphant note in his voice.
"Don't celebrate just yet!" The sniper warned, tense and alert.
Though Vomi couldn't see clearly, she could still act. Animus helped her press against the floor, pooling as much biomass into her fists as she could manage before slamming them down in a brutal shockwave. The force sent cracks spidering through the concrete, and a cascade of debris fell from the ceiling-chunks of drywall, broken AC units, dust and rubble. The guards scrambled to avoid the falling debris, their boots crunching on the shattered concrete.
With just a moment's reprieve, she made a brutal decision.
Rip her eyes off.
“Fuck these optics.”
Her hands found her face, claws biting deep as she tore out her own eyes, eliminating the hacked optics that had been nothing but a liability. She didn't flinch at the pain-she let it fuel her rage, blood streaming down her cheeks in streaks as her body adjusted.
Animus buffered her nerves just enough to keep her moving, though the agony was raw, her pained screams echoing off the walls. For the first time, the guards seemed shaken, inching forward cautiously, only guessing at what hellish plan she was devising.
The guard with the submachine gun approached first, closing in, thinking perhaps she was crippled by her own insanity. But Vomi's form surged up to meet him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her blood-covered face inches from his, her new eyes reforming with a murderous gleam. She tore into him, claws ripping through flesh, shredding his jaw and throat. The guard's scream died in a choked gurgle as blood spurted from his wounds.
A shot rang out as the sniper fired again, the bullet tearing through a chunk of her head, spraying blood across the walls. Vomi staggered, her head jerking back as her flesh began to knit itself together, her hate only intensifying with each injury. She let the dying guard crumple to the ground, locking her newly regenerated eyes on the sniper.
Before she could close in, an explosion rocked her back-another grenade, launched from the exo guard's chrome-arm launcher. The blast seared through her, ripping apart layers of flesh, leaving her staggering in a haze of smoke and blood. With gritted teeth, Vomi made a quick retreat, slipping into one of the lab rooms to regroup. The guards pursued her without hesitation, stepping over the body of their fallen comrade as though he hadn’t even been there.
“She's even crazier than the reports said,” the sniper muttered, his rifle trained on the door.
“These are top corporate projects. It’s exactly what you’d expect,” replied the exo guard, his voice steady despite the recent loss and the deadly situation.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“I’ll go in. My exo suit and subdermal plating can handle her attacks, and I’ve got the projectile chrome. But you’re the only one who can really hurt her,” he replied, loading another grenade into the launcher arm.
The sniper checked his ammo, switching to specialized rounds. “Energy rounds it is. Standard rounds, even the .50 cal, barely leave a mark on her.”
“Right. I’ll draw her out to somewhere you can get a clear shot.”
“Got it. I’ll take position down the hall.”
With the plan set, the exo guard pushed into the lab, bracing himself for the worst. But inside, the room was deserted. Test subjects lay in their containment pods, some oblivious to the chaos around them. He scanned every corner—walls, ceiling, even the floor—but there was no sign of her. Then his gaze fell on the open vent cover nearby, its edges dented and warped.
“She’s in the ventilation system,” he muttered into his comm.
Only silence replied.
He frowned, glancing around warily. “Sneaky bitch,” he muttered, realizing the hunt had just gotten far more dangerous.
He glanced up at the ventilation, then out into the hallway. Leaving the lab, he bent down to retrieve the submachine gun from the fallen guard and swapped in a magazine loaded with energy rounds. Without hesitation, he began unloading on every vent cover he could see. The shots didn’t quite punch through the steel, but they bent and warped the structure enough to make crawling through it a grueling task for anyone—or anything.
As he paused to reload, a tendril lashed out, knocking the gun from his hand. Vomi landed in front of him, preparing for a final, devastating blow. She didn’t bother to hide her intent; her punch arced slowly, promising pure, unrestrained power.
But fate had other plans. With reflexes honed and enhanced by his exoskeleton, the guard dodged, landing a brutal counter punch. He followed up with a rapid series of strikes, each faster than the last, until a final hit sent Vomi crashing into the wall.
“Did you think I’d be helpless up close? That’s funny!” he taunted, a confident grin spread across his face.
Dazed, Vomi pushed herself to her feet, trying to piece together how he’d managed such speed. There was no Sandevistan boost, no sign of any reflex mods—at least not visibly. That exo-suit, however, clearly held a few surprises.
“How?” she growled, her voice laced with distorted confusion.
“You’ll find, especially in this line of work, that some of us come prepared,” he smirked, relishing the moment. “Many in corporations use martial arts shards. Guess I just installed mine better.”
With a snarl, Vomi fired a tendril at him, catching his arm. He didn’t resist; instead, he twisted the arm of his exo-suit, using its torque to reel her in like a snared animal. She had no time to react before his fist met her face mid-air, and the launcher on his other arm sent a grenade her way, blasting her through the wall. Any other combatant would’ve been down for good, but Vomi was no ordinary borg—or person.
The guard took a moment, slightly winded but visibly impressed. He knew his gear wouldn’t hold out forever; this fight would inevitably turn in her favor if it dragged on. But he wasn’t backing down yet. This time, he took the lead. If this was going to be close combat, he'd dominate it.
Vomi was barely back on her feet when he seized her, locking her in a clinch. The exoskeleton granted him more than enough power to restrain her, allowing him to hammer her with a barrage of knees and elbows. Each impact drove into her bruised and battered spots from their previous skirmishes. The final knee struck her face with enough force to leave her dazed, a haze that thickened as he followed up with a roundhouse kick to her ribs. Flesh and metal clashed, and all Vomi could do was withstand the assault.
Not missing a beat, he ripped a metal pipe from the wall, a savage grin crossing his face as he decided to test his swing on her. The first strike had her spitting blood; the second dropped her to the ground. The pipe bent from the force, broken from the punishing blows. He took advantage of her weakened state and triggered the final function of his exosuit—a powerful electrical charge. It surged into her chest, sending violent convulsions through her body as her muscles seized and contracted under the gigawatt shock. Her scream echoed through the hall, raw and unrestrained, until the current finally cut out. He staggered back, breathing heavily, satisfied yet wary.
He nudged her with his boot. She wasn't dead-maybe unconscious, or too drained to respond. But he'd seen what happened to the last person who assumed she was finished, so he stayed alert. Sure enough, she lay still, but he knew she was conscious.
"She's alive. Secured," he reported, his tone steady. "I'm the only one here. Send a squad ASAP."
He could hear Vomi's labored breathing. She was in even worse shape than he was. Pulling a chair from the lab, he sat down, watching as the symbiote worked on her injuries. Bullet holes and burns from grenade shrapnel slowly knitted back together, forcing out fragments that didn't belong. Up close, it was both fascinating and unnerving. He couldn't imagine the agony of feeling every inch of that damage healing from the inside out-or the toll it took on her sanity. He wondered if facing her was like facing a cyberpsycho... or was she more of a "biopsycho"? Funny thought, but questions for later.
He watched as Vomi crawled toward the exit, dragging herself inch by inch toward the corridor. He sighed. It was almost pitiful. She was still trying to fight despite her battered state. Remarkable, maybe even admirable, but she had to know when to surrender. The burnt, torn remnants of what had once been a confident, brilliant scientist clawed forward, pushing with every last bit of energy she could muster. If anything, the guard was willing to let her go. In her condition, what threat could she really pose? He half-expected a sudden, desperate rage to flare up in her eyes—but instead, all he saw was pained determination.
Honestly? Ripping her own eyes out to regain her vision? That was brutal and beyond preem.
But now? This was just sad.
He rose from his seat as she disappeared around the corner. He couldn't afford to let her go, though the trail of blood she left made following her too easy. He noted how she moved over the debris from her previous attack. It still puzzled him how a single punch from her could have damaged the infrastructure so badly, even bringing chunks of the underfloors crashing down. He glanced up at the holes in the ceiling, a grim reminder of how close he'd been to being crushed under that fallout—
But suddenly, a sharp sense of dread washed over him.
He turned back to Vomi. She was aiming a sniper rifle—the sniper rifle, the one loaded with those specialized rounds. And it was pointed straight at him.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding—"
The blast hit hard, the energy round surging from the barrel like a laser, tearing through him with brutal precision. It didn't just punch a hole; it erased a whole section of his torso, leaving only dripping blood and the sparking wires of his chrome.
Vomi crawled toward her final target, every nerve screaming in agony. Animus howled in her mind, mirroring her pain. It had all come down to this- a relentless cycle of pain. But at this moment, they only needed one thing to survive. And there it was, lying right in front of them.
The smell of blood thickened as Vomi's fingers closed around the guard's torn body, feeling the warmth ebb from him. She leaned closer, every inch of her form screaming in exhaustion and pain, but Animus took control, guiding her motions, ensuring each movement was precise, efficient. Tendrils unfurled, extending out from her arms and chest like living cables, latching onto his still-twitching flesh. They embedded themselves deep, piercing through skin and muscle, seeking the nutrients, the lifeforce, that her body desperately craved.
The process started with a prickling sensation, almost like an electric hum coursing through her tendrils as they drained the cells around each tendril's tip. Animus was consuming, metabolizing, converting every bit of biomass into raw energy. It moved quickly, first mending the torn patches of her skin, closing the bullet holes, knitting together the delicate nerves and tissues fractured from the concussive blasts. With each second, her body felt lighter, the pain easing, the raw edges of every wound becoming soft, pliable, whole.
Her vision, which had flickered with fractured images and bursts of static moments before, now sharpened as her new eyes fully healed. The holes and burns covering her chest, arms, and legs sealed completely, leaving only faint marks that smoothed over in seconds, replaced with unblemished flesh. Her muscles, strained to the limit, felt rejuvenated, regaining their strength as they absorbed the nutrients Animus so meticulously processed from the guard.
Each wave of healing brought with it a deep, satisfying release, as if she were sinking into warmth after a cold, brutal night. The agony that had screamed through every nerve faded, replaced by a muted calm, an anesthetic numbness that washed over her.
Yet, as Vomi consumed him, there was no hesitation, no disgust or horror in her expression. Her eyes were steady, devoid of revulsion. The act felt neither vile nor virtuous—it was simply a necessity, an exchange she'd accepted. This wasn't something she despised; she didn't feel any attachment to the life she was absorbing, nor any malice. The guard was no longer a person to her, not in this moment. He was biomass, a resource for survival, the fuel to keep her alive.
As Animus completed the last stages, retracting its tendrils back into her, Vomi stood up, her wounds entirely gone. She felt the solid weight of strength fill her bones, the vitality in her veins once more. Her expression remained neutral, almost calm, as she cast one last glance at what remained of the guard. There was no remorse, no anger. Just a simple reminder to check if the Cyberdeck was intact.
Her hand pressed firmly against her abdomen, fingertips sinking into the skin, and with a subtle parting of the flesh, the box re-emerged. Hidden deep within her all this time, the box was still intact, without a scratch. Satisfied, she tucked it back into her abdomen, the red symbiote seamlessly merging back together, her skin unbroken. She stepped up to the elevator and hit the button. Anyone who might review the security footage, and someone undoubtedly would, wouldn’t dare try to stop her. To hell with M-Tech. All she wanted now was… well…
“Hmm…” Vomi mused as the elevator descended, the silence heavy around her. “What… do I even want?”
“Vomi?” Vanguard’s voice broke through, after what felt like an eternity of absence.
“Oh, there you are.” Her tone was flat, as if barely registering his presence.
“Are you… are we… alive?” His disbelief bordered on shock.
“Yes. The cyberdeck is intact. Kaneda better keep his side of the deal,” she replied bluntly, her focus unbroken. “Now, be quiet. I need to rest.”
“But Vomi, we don’t—”
“She requested silence, cat.” Animus’s voice was sharp, controlled but dripping with disdain. “Now stay quiet.”
The second time the primal symbiote showed thought. This isn't a good omen.
Vanguard’s shock turned to dread. The Vomi he’d known would’ve listened to him, not let some volatile prototype overshadow him. His creator… what was already impossible to believe that she had, or more accurate “he” had a past life, now was making one of the worst mistakes of their lives. As he tried to argue, he realized something that left him cold, a chilling emptiness creeping into his code.
Because things weren't already bad enough.
Vanguard couldn’t manifest himself outside of Vomi anymore.