A few minutes earlier…
“Fuck, I can’t take this anymore.” Raven’s voice was tight with frustration as she stormed toward the door.
She’d been pacing for what felt like hours, wearing a path into the floor. Nieme was drumming his fingers anxiously on the table, Cinthia remained rooted to her spot by the window despite the urge to flee—going outside with the possibility of an ambush felt far riskier. Meanwhile, Katie couldn’t focus on the cartoons Heitor had put on, his best effort to distract the girl from the chaos of the day. Anxiety hung heavy in the air, too thick for anyone to sit comfortably.
But before Raven could leave, Heitor’s hand gripped her arm. “Raven, don’t. I know exactly what you’re planning, and it’s a terrible idea.”
“How could you possibly—”
“In the military, people who were told to wait got impatient and decided to play hero,” he explained, releasing her arm. “None of them came back. I don’t need to spell out why.”
“But—”
“Yes, I get it, you can’t just sit around and expect Vomi to handle everything.” Heitor’s voice softened, though he didn’t yield an inch. “We haven’t gotten any updates yet, but if we run out there without a plan, we’ll just make things worse.”
Raven looked back at the door, her hand falling to her side. “Shit…”
“We still need to do something,” Nieme muttered, glancing out the window at the empty street. “Doing anything is better than nothing.”
“But what exactly?” Cinthia interjected, pacing again. “It’s not like we have a magic solution. Calling her is out of the question; if their netrunners are even half as good as you say, they’ll trace it right back here.”
“And none of us are netrunners,” Heitor sighed, irritated at the lack of backup. “Vomi was always the one covering us on that front.”
Katie tugged on Heitor’s sleeve, her small face anxious. “What about my dad?”
Heitor didn’t hesitate. “He’s safe, Katie. Blaze is with him, and believe me, that idiot can take a hit better than anyone I know.”
“Okay…”
Raven bit her lip, glancing between her chooms. “So there’s really nothing we can do?”
Nieme hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh. “I might have one idea.”
“Wait.” Cinthia’s voice broke the silence as she checked the security feed on her agent. “Someone’s at the door. Isn’t this the guy… Carmine?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Heitor confirmed, peering at her screen when she shared it.
Carmine stumbled inside, drenched in sweat and clutching a revolver. “Made sure no one followed me, but those psychos? They’re hopped up on something… steroids, stims… maybe worse.” He slumped against the door, revolver clattering to the floor as he sat heavily.
“You got attacked?” Cinthia asked, locking the door behind him.
“Yeah,” he muttered, exhaustion settling over him like a blanket, and everyone else felt it creep into their bones.
“Rough,” she nodded with a sympathetic grimace.
“You’re just in time, actually.” Nieme said, sliding over to the laptop on the counter. “Mind if I…?”
“Go ahead,” Cinthia replied.
Raven dropped into a seat beside him. “So what’s the plan?”
Nieme exhaled sharply. “My dad works intel for the PD—fieldwork, recon, investigations, you name it. I can ask him to help us out, but…” His fingers hovered over the keys, his frown deepening.
“I get it. ‘Rents aren’t exactly reliable when it comes to helping out,” Raven said, earning a small huff from Katie. “Well, except Thiago, obviously,” she added, nudging Katie, who looked a bit less indignant.
“But doesn’t SFPD work with corpos? Or at least are backed by them to some extent?” Heitor asked, not condemning, just surprised. “After everything you say about them, you’re sure about this?”
Nieme’s hesitation spoke volumes. “Yeah, I know… It’s just…” He trailed off, almost admitting something before his expression hardened. “I don’t want to sit here doing nothing. Watching all of you so freaked out about Vomi is killing me.”
Raven placed a hand on his shoulder, appreciation softening her gaze. “Thanks, Nieme. Really.”
He gave her a wry grin. “Thank me later. For now, I get to deal with my delightful father.”
With a final keystroke, Nieme sent the call request. The PD had basic encryption, courtesy of their netrunners, so the call went through without issue. But just because the system accepted the call didn’t mean Frank would pick up, especially with Nieme using someone else’s device. The seconds ticked by, stretching into what felt like hours. Finally, the screen flickered, and Frank’s face appeared, his surprise masked with thinly veiled annoyance.
“Nieme?” Frank’s tone was clipped. “What the fuck are you doing calling me?”
Nieme’s eyes narrowed, his tone blunt and unfiltered. “I need your help. This is serious. Really serious.”
Frank raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but as the others clustered closer to the screen, showing the urgency in their expressions, he seemed at least a bit intrigued.
“I can see you’re… in some kind of distress,” Frank said, still unmoved by the anxious faces looking back at him. “What’s going on?”
Katie suddenly leaned into the frame, her hopeful eyes fixed on him. “Are you going to help us?”
“Katie, please, let us handle this.” Heitor gently pulled her back, though she resisted, her worry shining through.
“But… my dad!”
Frank sighed, watching her with an unreadable expression. “Fine, I’ll listen,” he said, either touched by the girl’s sincerity or just giving in, “but make it brief. I don’t have much time.”
Nieme scoffed, his frustration breaking through. “Seriously? You’re hitting me with the ‘be brief’ line right now? This isn’t some random complaint, Frank. This is a life-or-death situation.”
The others shared a look, all of them noting the cold distance in Nieme’s words. Notably, he hadn’t referred to Frank as “Dad.” Their fractured relationship was evident.
“Nieme, I have a job—a responsibility,” Frank said, his voice stiff with authority. “I’m a peacekeeper. I can’t just drop everything to deal with whatever… problem you think needs fixing.”
Nieme’s frustration boiled over. “Can we drop the baggage just once? I know you and I have our issues—trust me, I get that you’re not who I thought you were. But this isn’t about me or you. My friend he is—!”
Raven quickly placed a hand over his mouth, silencing him before he could say “dying.”
“Your words just prove you haven’t changed at all since you left our home,” Frank replied coldly.
“Your home,” Nieme shot back.
Frank’s jaw tightened. “Our home, Nieme. Why should I help you when you won’t even consider my reasons? You just assume everything and expect people to jump.”
Nieme took a deep breath, visibly restraining himself. “I get it. Believe me.”
Frank didn’t hold back his frustration. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn’t have a choice when—”
“My friend is a corpo!” Nieme burst out. “Alright? She needs help!”
Frank paused, completely thrown off. “…What?”
Frank’s expression shifted from irritation to something closer to shock, the kind of shock that only happened when something really didn’t compute. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.
“You heard me.” Nieme held his ground, meeting his father’s stare without flinching. “A corpo. The kind you’d usually throw out of your life, right? But she’s… she’s a friend. And she’s in real danger.”
Frank finally found his voice. “I can’t believe this. You’re telling me you’ve gotten yourself tangled up with a corpo? The very thing you—”
“I know exactly what she is,” Nieme cut him off. “But I also know who she is. She’s put herself on the line for us, she's a close choom. And now it’s our turn to help her.”
Raven’s hand tightened on Nieme’s shoulder, as if to lend her strength to him. “Look, Frank, we’re asking because there’s nowhere else to turn. We just need to find her. You have resources we don’t.”
Frank rubbed a hand over his face, looking at the small group on the screen as if seeing them for the first time. “This doesn’t add up. Since when did you start trusting corpos? Since when did you start throwing yourself into—”
“It’s not about trust or labels, alright? It’s about doing the right thing,” Nieme insisted. “And whether or not you agree, we see her as family. So are you going to help or not?”
Frank was silent for a few long moments, his face shifting between conflict and the old habit of refusing to budge. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. I’ll help. But I’m not doing this for you. I am doing for her,” he added, glancing at Katie. “Tell me what you know.”
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the group.
“Thank you, Frank,” Nieme said, the tension easing from his voice. “Here’s everything we’ve got so far.”
----------------------------------------
“This is… more complicated than I expected,” Frank admitted, now working alongside a Netrunner colleague on his end.
The group had set up a secure call through their agents to keep everyone updated. It was also a way to keep certain details out of Katie’s earshot.
“Well, on the bright side, we actually have a reason to dig into this,” Frank’s coworker added, sounding intrigued. “A massacre by the Black Daggers and a string of attempted hits… Not exactly your average day’s work.”
“What exactly has she been up to?” Raven asked, uncertain about discussing details with the police.
“We don’t have the full picture yet, but we do have security footage from the ambush at your warehouse, and…” Frank’s coworker trailed off, squinting at an image on his screen. “Hold on—what is this?” He pointed to the image of Vomi, though he didn’t yet know it was her. “That figure… they’re tearing through Black Daggers, going after hideouts, questioning anyone in sight, and… making our job somewhat easier, honestly.”
“Nieme, what the hell have you gotten me into?” Frank said, watching as tendrils or monowires sliced through the Daggers. The figure’s suit looked almost alien, difficult to look at without feeling both confusion and a strange fascination.
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“It’s… a lot harder to explain than it sounds,” Nieme admitted, sounding defeated.
“What he means,” Heitor cut in, “is that we don’t really know ourselves. Given her work at M-Tech, she might be caught up in some experimental chrome gone haywire.”
“Her chrome changed all the time,” Raven added, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “When we first met her, she seemed… well, normal. But almost every rehearsal, she showed up with something new. Her skin got paler, that weird red cat she had showed up, her optics turned black and red… I figured maybe she was some kind of test subject.”
“That’s not out of the question,” the coworker agreed, tracing Vomi’s path to the most recent Dagger hideout. “If she actually had much chrome to begin with, that is. Wait… did you say she has a cat?”
“Uh… yeah? Why do you ask?” Nieme responded, caught off guard.
“Aren’t they… like, disease magnets?”
“Not the point,” Frank interrupted, tiring of the sidetrack. “What do you mean by ‘basic’ chrome? She only had… what, three mods?”
“Right. Just an agent for calls, a personal cord for device attachments, and optics,” the Netrunner said, pulling up Vomi’s health records, ID, and any available background info. “In fact, her records only go back two months. Almost like she just… appeared out of nowhere. Either she wiped her data, or she’s really skilled at staying off the grid.”
“Well, she’s a corporate player for M-Tech. If she’s important enough—and I’d bet she is—then erasing or forging records is child’s play for a corp like that,” Frank shrugged dismissively. “Besides, if someone like this could fly under the radar, then we’d barely know Adam Smasher’s name. Because—seriously—this kind of carnage? Even mercs don’t go that far.”
Cinthia, who’d been silent until now, found herself staring at the screen with a mix of dread and disbelief. The grainy images on the display, however unreal they seemed, only deepened her unease. Had her sister been around a monster all this time?
“That’s… terrifying,” she murmured, barely loud enough to be heard.
“I’m as lost as you are, choom.” Carmine’s voice broke slightly as he muttered, his own unease unmistakable.
“This is the last record we have before an AV showed up,” Frank’s coworker noted, eyes narrowing as he scanned the incoming data. He began pulling up details on the aircraft, his hands moving over the keyboard with sharp precision. “KanedaCorp AV. If I were a betting man—and I am—I’d wager she’s headed straight to their headquarters.”
“Yeah, but… why?” Nieme asked, sounding almost as though he were trying to make sense of a puzzle missing several pieces.
“Maybe whatever she has installed on her—chrome, tech, drugs, or whatever—isn’t functioning right? KanedaCorp wouldn’t pass up the chance to get something like that in their hands,” the Netrunner ventured, mulling over the possibilities. “If they can analyze and fix it, they could replicate it, and that means they gain a unique asset.”
“And likely a new merc, fully dependent on their healthcare for upkeep,” Frank finished grimly. Even through the call, his exhaustion seeped through, as if the weight of these discoveries had drained him of energy. “Look, Nieme, we’ve done all we can. We know where she’s headed, and that’s where our reach ends. All I can do is dispatch some officers to protect you, but that's it.”
“Not exactly.”
Everyone turned to Carmine, who nervously crunched a handful of chips, eyes flicking between them as if he’d just tossed out something explosive.
“Uh… why’s everyone staring at me like that?”
“You just…,” Heitor trailed off, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was his former heist partner. “So, what’s your big idea?”
“Well, uh, where is she headed right now?” Carmine asked, voice wavering as he continued to munch on the chips.
The coworker squinted at the screen. “Looks like… she’s using her monowire as a makeshift sling, moving across the city toward… M-Tech? Can’t say why, but that’s her trajectory.”
“Why would Vomi go there of all places?” Frank muttered, confused.
At once, a heavy silence settled over the room.
“Nieme?” Frank’s voice cut through like a parent catching their kid mid-trouble.
“Aw, hell no,” Heitor muttered under his breath.
“This is fucked up,” Raven sighed, shaking her head.
“She’s gonna get herself flatlined,” Cinthia said, grimacing.
Nieme dropped his head onto the counter with a thunk. “Of course. Why can’t anything ever be simple?”
“Guys?” Katie looked around, her small voice breaking the tense silence. She couldn’t quite understand why everyone suddenly looked like they’d seen a ghost.
“Things got a little tricky, sweetie,” Cinthia said gently, running her hand through Katie’s hair. “But we’ll figure it out, okay?”
Katie just hummed, though her skeptical expression said she wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Nieme! Answer the question!” Frank’s voice barked through the call, making everyone jump.
“Alright, alright, jeez,” Nieme muttered, rubbing his temple. “But you have to promise to keep this out of any records.”
“Especially mine,” Heitor added. “This is sensitive stuff.”
“Mine too,” Carmine chimed in.
Frank paused, sighing. “Fine… I’ll try my best.”
Nieme took a deep breath. “M-Tech hired some of us, with Vomi acting as Fixer, to steal a prototype cyberdeck from KanedaCorp. If she’s just left their main building and is headed toward M-Tech, then the only thing that makes sense…”
“…is that she’s going back for the deck,” the coworker finished, unfazed. “Fits with the info we’ve got on her movements.”
Frank’s voice was tense. “You participated in a heist?”
“No, I didn’t even know about it until, like, a few hours ago,” Nieme said defensively.
“I’m technically the leader, and even I didn’t know,” Raven muttered, side-eyeing Heitor.
Heitor sighed. “I already apologized—”
“Shush,” she cut him off, still glaring.
Frank groaned. “That doesn’t help much. Carmine, right? So what now?”
Carmine tossed his empty chip bag in the trash, looking around at everyone. “We still have the client’s contact—Graves, right? We could reach out, fill him in.”
“And put Vomi in even more danger?” Cinthia raised an eyebrow, as if it should’ve been obvious.
“I’m desperate, not stupid,” Carmine replied. “I get it, it’s a risk. But maybe they could contain… whatever she’s turning into. Might save more lives if we do it now rather than later.”
Frank looked at the team on the call, his brows furrowed. “And you’re all okay with this? Reaching out to Graves might give them a heads-up, but you realize it could backfire.”
Nieme rubbed his temples, caught between the risk and his loyalty to Vomi. “If we don’t, they’ll track her down and might see her as a bigger threat than just a rogue asset. But if we do, there’s a chance they’ll go after her immediately, and we’ll lose any control over what happens next.”
“Let me get this straight,” Heitor said, crossing his arms. “We’re deciding between hoping Vomi fights her way out of M-Tech solo, or rolling the dice with Graves and hoping he sees her as an ally, not just a resource.”
Raven let out a long, frustrated breath. “Look, Vomi’s tough, but this isn’t like our usual gigs. Whatever’s driving her right now… it’s not just chrome or tech. It’s… something else.” Her voice softened, almost as if she didn’t believe her own words. “Maybe she’s not entirely Vomi anymore.”
That comment hung heavy in the air.
Cinthia finally broke the silence, shaking her head. “So if we want her to come out of this alive, we’re gonna have to be just as smart as we are cautious. Contacting Graves might be our only shot at getting her back safely.”
Frank clicked his tongue, mulling it over. “Alright. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll set up a discreet call to Graves, feel him out first. If there’s even a hint that he’s thinking of taking her down, I’ll pull the plug, understood?”
“Just… don’t let them talk about her like she’s a tool,” Nieme muttered. “She’s… more than that. A lot more.”
Frank’s voice softened, just barely. “Understood. I’ll give you a status update as soon as I’ve got something.”
They watched the call icon flicker and close. For a moment, the silence in the room was thicker than the tension they’d started with.
“We’re doing the right thing, right?” Katie’s small voice broke through, looking up at Cinthia with wide, questioning eyes.
“Yes, sweetie,” Cinthia said softly, kneeling to her height. “We’re doing everything we can to help Vomi.”
Nieme swallowed hard, casting a glance at the others. “Now we wait. And just hope… that Graves sees Vomi the way we do.”
----------------------------------------
Graves already knew a lot about Vomi’s recent actions. He knew she’d wiped out several Black Daggers, that she had a strange symbiotic prototype, and that she’d appeared on the company’s radar only a short while ago, as if she’d materialized out of thin air. Her work in cyber security was nothing short of genius; an asset like her was irreplaceable. From the beginning, they had tailored her entry into M-Tech, setting up opportunities through HuscleNet to pull her into corporate life, guiding her to embrace a role where she’d make them even more powerful. To M-Tech, nothing was ever left to chance.
But there was one thing that puzzled even Graves. He had no idea what, exactly, Vomi was. Or what she is doing right now.
Routine monitoring of her vital readings had given them strange, unexplainable data. Even the top specialists, biologists, and scientists couldn’t make sense of it. Her cells, molecules, even her atomic structure seemed to operate on a frequency that didn’t align with anything they’d ever seen before. It was like she belonged to some realm just slightly askew from reality.
And there was something even stranger about her behavior. One moment, she was the picture of a dedicated corporate professional; the next, she was impulsive and scattered, as if driven by ADHD. Then, when pushed, she could transform into a precise, calculating killer. At times, she seemed like a young woman no older than sixteen, navigating the world with a mix of curiosity and naivete.
Oh, and then there was her cat—alive, real, and completely healthy, a rarity in a world where most if not all animals were disease-ridden, dead or artificial.
It was as if Vomi had been designed to defy understanding—a riddle with no solution, a personality no profiler could pin down. The enigma only deepened when she joined a band that stood against the very ideals she enacted daily. Well, maybe not preached, but practiced. She worked for a corporate giant, then took the stage to sing about the very ways corporations hollow out lives. And yet, since arriving in San Francisco, she’d done nothing but thrive. The contradictions ran so deep that Graves could only scratch his head, wondering what made her tick.
Just then, his call line lit up. PD?
Curious.
“Graves Frankford, Chief Executive, Security Division,” Graves answered, his tone brisk, expecting little from the caller.
“Frank Callahan, Investigations. I have details you might find… useful.” Frank’s voice was direct, practical.
In corpo terms, time is money, and value is everything. Frank seemed to understand that perfectly—straight to the point.
“Of course you do,” Graves replied, taking a sip of his high-end whiskey. “I get these calls all the time.”
“You should see the calls we get here at the PD. Sometimes I think of letting them rot on a deadline,” Frank remarked, a dry sarcasm laced with truth. “But this one’s different. I’ve done some digging on your employee, Vomi Kurosaki.”
Well, that was… a coincidence.
“And why would you care about Dr. Kurosaki?” Graves asked, unwilling to show too much interest but equally unable to hide his curiosity.
“She’s gotten herself into some trouble. One of my, uh… associates is acquainted with her. Asked me to step in, shared a bit of intel.” Frank kept his tone neutral, as if skirting around an inconvenient connection. “Apparently, they were attacked, and your employee is—was—trying to handle the situation herself.”
“I’m aware,” Graves said, his frown audible. “Dr. Vomi’s more than capable of dealing with a few street thugs.”
“We noticed that too—firsthand,” Frank replied, an edge in his voice. “Problem is, she’s headed somewhere that, if I were you, I’d rather avoid. Especially considering your… ‘rivalry’, to put it mildly.”
Graves’s fingers paused, tapping lightly on the polished desk. Rivalry? That could only mean one place. And if Frank was calling to warn him, it meant Vomi had gone beyond her typical corporate playground.
“Where is she headed, Detective?” Graves asked, keeping his voice steady, though an edge of tension crept in.
“KanedaCorp,” Frank replied flatly. “Your best cyber-security expert is on her way into enemy territory, which I assume complicates things for you. Especially considering her… particular assets.”
A silence settled over the line, the weight of what Frank was saying hanging in the air. Graves didn’t need the reminder. Every executive move Vomi made was under scrutiny, each slip-up could give KanedaCorp exactly what they wanted. But if Vomi was operating autonomously, it meant there was no damage control in place.
“Let me guess,” Graves finally said, his voice cooler. “You’re offering assistance—at a price?”
“I know how you corpos work, so let’s keep this simple. My assistance is conditional. We keep this off the records, and you owe me one. And trust me, I’ll cash that favor in one day,” Frank replied, matter-of-factly. “My sources tell me she’s got a connection to something… let’s say, non-standard. That symbiote. It’s wreaked havoc with Black Daggers, and it’s anything but subtle.”
Graves leaned back in his chair, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. The symbiote had been a top-priority surveillance target for his team. But it was impossible to decode, beyond what little they’d glimpsed: a volatile blend of biotech and something far more arcane.
“You’ve done your homework,” Graves acknowledged. “Not many would have caught onto the symbiote so quickly. But do you really think it’s enough of a reason to involve yourself in corporate matters?”
Frank’s tone sharpened. “I am already neck deep into this shit. KanedaCorp probably did something to her, maybe a deal, and she's heading your way, maybe to offer something to her, something she can't refuse. And if they did it, you’re not just losing an employee; you’re losing an advantage. Maybe even several lives.”
The executive’s gaze hardened as he weighed the implications. Vomi’s actions were erratic, unpredictable, far outside any corporate standard—yet that unpredictability made her a prized asset. Losing her would cost M-Tech more than a single employee. She’d crafted hack-proof firearms, experimented with new methods to protect Netrunners in the treacherous web of cyberspace, and, last Graves checked, was even designing her own custom grenades. Vomi’s skill set was beyond valuable, her potential immeasurable. Wasting talent like hers wasn’t an option.
“What do you propose, Callahan?” Graves asked, finally breaking the silence.
“A controlled extraction,” Frank replied smoothly. “I’ll help you track her down to the best of my ability, and in exchange, at least for now, you protect my… associates.”
Graves exhaled slowly, calculating his options. Risky, yes, but less so than allowing Vomi to slip into KanedaCorp’s grasp. “Fine. I’ll authorize assistance from the PD. But tell me—what exactly is she after?”
“The same Cyberdeck you hired her to steal.”
There was a heavy silence, Frank sensing Graves’s rare moment of unease, his usually impenetrable composure cracking. But for Graves, the pieces fell into place. If the site Takeo had been investigating indeed housed the symbiote... then Vomi’s eventual manifestation of it was inevitable. Now, her behavior—the erratic actions, the loss of control—made a troubling sort of sense. The cyberdeck tests were only beginning, and watching her spiral was both a stark warning and a looming threat. He’d need to alert Mr. Miranda immediately.
“I see…” Graves finally responded, his voice measured. “We should have anticipated this. KanedaCorp doesn’t take defeat lightly.”
“So, do we have a deal?” Frank’s voice cut in, irritation sharpening his tone.
“Agreed. I’ll dispatch a squad to provide cover for those involved—but it’s temporary. They won’t stay forever,” Graves replied, his voice regaining its usual calculated calm.
“Understood. I’ll begin tracking her. I’ll be in touch with updates.”