Frank Callahan
“What… the… hell…?”
Frank couldn’t process what he was seeing. His work with the corpos had given him a faint sense of what a symbiote could be—an experimental tech, to be studied in a lab, locked away from the public until perfected. Biological enhancements seemed like the inevitable next step for gonks already wired with cyberware, another way for the corps to stack eddies sky-high.
But this? Watching Dr. Vomi rampage through the feed, tearing through anything in her path with raw, inhuman ferocity, barely restrained, was a nightmare he hadn’t signed up for. It made him question everything—his involvement, his trust in this so-called "progress." If ignorance was bliss, he was wishing for it now. Vomi seemed to shrug off pain, like the bullets and blades thrown at her were nothing more than buzzing flies. Just the sight of it sent a chill through him.
“Frank, I managed to get a location from her agent,” his coworker said, unplugging his cord from the terminal. “Her ICE barriers are solid, but I could hack a temporary battery drain.”
“Doesn’t look like it’s slowing her down,” Frank muttered, hands trembling as he watched the slaughter continue onscreen.
“I’ll send her location to Graves. He’ll need to get a squad prepped.”
“Yeah… you do that,” Frank managed.
He was trying to wrap his mind around the insanity of what he’d just witnessed. Vomi had no idea who he was, but he had a gnawing feeling he was now a target—one of the many pawns on the corporate chessboard that would be sacrificed to keep this monster of a secret under wraps. M-Tech wouldn’t let the PD in on this without a reason. The moment this spread, they’d want it cleaned up. And there would be others—people waiting to spill anything they’d overheard, people who didn’t know when to shut up. And in the middle of it all, Frank had to somehow play along, surviving a game where survival itself seemed like a lost cause.
He already dreaded the conversation with Nieme; he hadn’t kept his promise. He didn’t think anyone could—Vomi had to be stopped.
“She’s not at the ping location,” his coworker said, frustration creeping in.
“What?” Frank’s nerves were shot. “How does that make sense?”
“Graves says the squad’s sweeping the area, but there’s no sign of her.”
“Did you check the level? Maybe she’s on a different floor or the roof?” Frank suggested, gesturing up and down to indicate the building levels.
The coworker relayed the suggestion, “Graves, try the ceiling.”
Frank fixed his eyes on the security feed as the squad closed in on a location just before the last ping. The image was sharp, but what they’d find there? He had no idea—and something told him they’d wish they hadn’t looked.
He couldn't have been more right.
There were no survivors—if the dents in the walls were anything to go by. And then Vomi walked into view, wrapped in that strange, red substance, her face twisted in rage. As the elevator doors opened, the camera feed showed her destination clearly. The coworker switched to the right angle, catching sight of her stepping out, and they watched in stunned silence as she approached a hazmat-clad scientist. The poor man didn’t even have time to scream before he was engulfed, absorbed, or… whatever it was. Moments later, she became him, every trace of Vomi erased.
Could these symbiotes not only conceal themselves within people, but actually mimic them? And if so, what was the guarantee that this was really Vomi? For all they knew, the monster was only wearing her face, pretending to live her life. A “normal” life—at least by NUSA standards.
“What is… that thing doing?” Frank murmured, unable to see any trace of Vomi in the creature’s actions.
“Maybe… a disguise? Beats walking around looking like pure nightmare fuel,” the coworker suggested, just as disturbed.
They watched as she rifled through the lab, testing out her new form, awkward at first but gaining a chilling familiarity with it. Soon, she found what she was looking for—the Cyberdeck. The screen cut to static just as she moved in on the scientists, leaving Frank and the others with nothing but their imaginations.
“Shit. This is green,” Frank muttered under his breath, feeling the implications sink in.
----------------------------------------
Present Time
For Antonio, this was just an unplanned test—a trial run for their symbiote project, as well as their security. The board knew well that nothing in the world of bioware and corporate warfare went off without a hitch. And as the owner, Antonio could always pin the chaos on someone else. What boggled his mind, though, was how careless Vomi had been, equipped with cyberware but lacking basic defenses. She might have top-tier Black ICE, but the simplest of Quick Hacks slipped right through. Hacking wasn’t about brute force; it was about getting in and out without drawing attention.
It would’ve been laughable if she weren’t wielding a prototype that dangerous.
What wasn’t laughable was that, despite every countermeasure they threw at her, she kept pushing through. Even when she was almost down, on the verge of collapse, she clawed her way forward, barely able to see after wrenching her own optics from her sockets. And still, she managed to eliminate an entire squad and somehow made it back to the elevator, fighting her way up with a tenacity that even Antonio had to respect. She was relentless.
So, he waited—right there in front of the elevator doors.
When they slid open, she was standing there, tendrils flickering around her body but not fully encasing her. She wore the standard M-Tech uniform, her skin and demeanor intact, as though she were just another employee. But the red and black tendrils twisting and writhing hinted at a far darker truth, even fighting amongst themselves. It was clear she was barely holding herself together.
"You," she said, her tone flat and direct.
"Yes. Me," he replied with a practiced corporate smile.
One of her red tendrils shot out toward him, but it passed right through, the hologram flickering as it made contact. The tendril retracted, unsatisfied, leaving Antonio’s smug expression undisturbed, his voice tinged with condescension.
"I’m disappointed. Imagine what we could accomplish together. The company could be unstoppable if—"
"I don’t know, I don’t care—go fuck yourself," Vomi interrupted, already turning to leave.
"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," he warned. "We know where your associates are."
Vomi froze, then turned back, her eyes blazing with fury at the mere implication of them being in danger. "Don’t you dare."
"How do you know we don’t already have them?" His hologram took a step closer, his gaze patronizing. "You may be unpredictable, but Graves is excellent at locating people and making the unpredictable fall right in line."
"Touch them, and start praying. You won’t get any forgiveness from me."
"Ooh, scary," he sneered, raising his hands in mock fear. "But really, why go so far? What’s Kaneda offered you? I could offer far more, let all this just… slide."
Without a word, Vomi turned and walked away, ignoring Antonio’s voice droning threats as she put distance between them. None of it mattered now. All that did was getting back to that cursed building, handing off the cyberdeck to Kaneda. The symbiote would… would—
Wait.
Did she need to control this?
With a sudden burst of motion, she shot through the sky, launching from building to building. The power coursing through her felt incredible—an intoxicating rush of control, of finally having some agency. She glimpsed her reflection in the windows of skyscrapers as she sped past. The impulsivity, the recklessness—it was her way of just… existing. But when eating and sleeping weren’t requirements, and survival felt secondary, what did it even mean to truly live?
In spite of the chaos she’d dragged her friends into, she’d never felt more alive. Especially since meeting Thiago at that bar—
Thiago.
Was he alright? He’d taken a nasty hit. Should she go check on him? But where would they all be? They wouldn’t risk going back to the warehouse, not with the Black Daggers still out there. They’d been the spark that started all of this—
And she knew of a hideout nearby.
"We should go there. They hurt us," Animus murmured, a hunger for violence seething beneath his words.
Vomi landed on a rooftop overlooking the hideout. She paused, gazing down at it, her mind racing with thoughts, doubts, and decisions.
“Don’t overthink it. They took our peace; we take theirs,” Animus urged, his tone smooth and persuasive.
“They’re criminals too,” Vomi muttered as she dropped from the rooftop, landing directly in front of the hideout. “The fewer of them, the better.”
“Yes…!” Animus hissed with dark glee. “Let’s savor their suffering.”
==========
Thiago Branson
Every breath was agony. Thiago’s body screamed with the aches from bullet wounds and stab injuries. His thoughts, however, immediately turned to his daughter. He attempted to rise but was met with a firm hand pressing him back down and muffled words urging him to stay still. Each movement threatened to tear him apart, evidence of shoddy work from a ripperdoc—unlicensed, undoubtedly, as only the licensed ones served the corpos.
Amid the relentless ringing in his ears, a voice broke through, saying exactly what he needed to hear.
“Don’t worry, choom. Katie’s safe. Just rest now,” Blaze said, injecting a dose of prescribed stims into Thiago’s arm.
The needle’s sting barely registered as a wave of relief washed over him. His daughter was safe, wherever she was. The peace that followed was fleeting, interrupted by a cascade of memories and questions. The warehouse—their haven—had been attacked, hadn’t it? The Black Daggers, those gonk mercs, had come after them with a vengeance. He remembered the chaos, the desperate struggle to protect Katie, how Nieme and Heitor risked everything for her.
Anger surged, mingled with a gnawing undercurrent of fear. Their safe space, the one place where they could forget their troubles and let their music drown out reality, was gone. And fear… fear for Katie, yes, but also for the others. What about Raven? Was she hurt? Did Cinthia get caught up in this? She’d known about the first attack almost immediately; she had to know about this one, right?
And why was it only Blaze here? Had they split up? Were they chased? What had happened out there?
“Blaze… what… what happened?” Thiago managed to ask, each word a struggle wrapped in pain.
“It… it’s complicated,” Blaze admitted, his voice tight, leaving it vague. “How are your optics holding up? Still functional?”
“I can see… my UI. Not much else,” Thiago groaned, wincing as he tried to lift his arm, which refused to move from its resting place. “Ow.”
“Hold on. I’m no tech expert, but I know how to reboot them.”
Blaze connected a cord to the port at the base of Thiago’s neck, initiating the process to reset his vision. The task wasn’t complex, just simple adjustments and error fixes that even a novice could handle. Within moments, Thiago’s vision flickered, starting as a hazy blur before sharpening into clarity. What he saw left him silent: his body was a patchwork of stitches, with laser-cauterized wounds and faded bandages holding him together.
“Shit…”
“Yeah, you took one hell of a beating,” Blaze said, attempting a chuckle that came off strained, the worry in his eyes betraying his tone.
“Everyone… they’re okay?” Thiago turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Blaze, who stood by the window, rifle in hand, scanning the outside.
“They’re somewhere safer. Definitely safer than here,” Blaze said, taking a quick look out the door, keeping it ajar before shutting it again.
“Where is here, anyway?”
“We’re tucked away in an old clinic backroom near Little China,” Blaze said, his voice low and vigilant. “Not the best spot, but it’s off the radar enough to keep the Black Daggers off our tail.”
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Thiago took a slow, shaky breath as the reality of their surroundings sank in. The cracked walls and the metallic tang in the air made his head swim. This wasn’t just a hideout—it was a last resort, the kind of place you only found when every other option had been stripped away.
“How long have we been here?” he managed, wincing as pain lanced through him.
“Only a few hours. Had to move quick after we split up,” Blaze replied, his eyes darting back to the window. “Nieme and Heitor are with Katie. They’re keeping her safe, so don’t worry about that.”
A flicker of relief passed over Thiago’s face, though it did little to dull the tension in the room. Blaze’s jaw was tight, a sign that there was more weighing on him.
“And Vomi? Did she get out?” The question came out heavier than Thiago intended.
Blaze’s eyes darkened as he hesitated. “Vomi… she’s still out there. But there’s something going on with her, choom. Something I can’t even begin to explain. It’s like she’s fighting a battle inside herself.”
Thiago’s forehead creased, concern flooding his expression despite the pain. “What are you saying?”
Blaze gripped his rifle a little tighter. “I don’t know. But whatever she’s facing, it’s bigger than just the Daggers. And trust me, the last thing I want is to be on her bad side. Ever.”
“What—”
“Look, I don't even believe in what I saw myself. And you know that I watch a lot of XBDs.”
Blaze’s point was hard to argue with. He was the type who could stare at utter chaos and brush it off like any other day. Even Heitor, with his combat-hardened nerve, couldn’t manage that. But Thiago’s unease only grew, and Blaze’s reluctance to meet his gaze didn’t help.
“Blaze, what happened?” Thiago pushed, voice tight.
Blaze’s jaw tensed. “Vomi… she… damn it, I don’t even know how to explain this.”
“Did she fall into a coma or something?”
“That would be easier to handle.” Blaze rubbed his temples in frustration. “No, Vomi turned into… a monster. We think she was some kind of corpo experiment, and now she’s this… thing—a mass of flesh and red tendrils tearing through Black Daggers in San Francisco.”
Thiago’s brow furrowed as he tried to process it. “Are you serious?”
“I wish I wasn’t.” Blaze shrugged, sending a file to Thiago’s agent. “See for yourself.”
“A BD? You record BDs?”
Blaze sat down next to him, rifle in hand, eyes never leaving the doorway. “Yeah. Thought it’d be cool to use them for band footage—erase the emotions and have a music video with real angles. Turns out, it’s also handy for this.”
Thiago’s expression darkened. “Convenient.”
“Tell me about it.”
Thiago opened the file, multiple views filling his vision. The memory played out as he remembered: the band setting up, Katie sitting nearby with eager eyes, laughter filling the air after their practice. Then, Vanguard tensed up, fur on edge. Vomi’s expression shifted as she checked her agent, and then came the hack that plunged the room into sudden darkness. The recordings caught the panic and confusion perfectly. They were lucky to be alive—Thiago especially, even though he took the worst of it.
What followed was beyond description. The cat, writhing and distressed, was pulled into Vomi by a crimson tendril and absorbed. More red appendages emerged, encasing her as she leapt forward, smashing through the nearest attacker. Vomi wasn’t Vomi anymore; she was a terrifying entity driven by a singular purpose:
Destruction.
When the footage ended, Thiago’s mind raced. Relief that she had controlled whatever she’d become was quickly overshadowed by their sudden separation.
“Blaze… what was that?”
“I told you,” Blaze said, voice lined with dread. “She’s in deep with KanedaCorp, running a job against M-Tech.”
“The two biggest corps in San Francisco? Is she out of her mind?” Thiago’s frustration boiled over as he pushed himself to sit up, wincing.
“Whoa, slow down!” Blaze stepped forward, holding him back.
“What are you doing?” Thiago snapped, straining to stand.
“You’re either out of your mind or have a plan so genius I can’t see it. My bet’s on the first,” Blaze warned, raising his rifle slightly. “Don’t make me put you down, Thiago. I’m not letting your kid become an orphan.”
Thiago froze, knowing Blaze meant every word.
“If you need to talk to her that badly, use your agent. I’m not letting you walk out of here after what it took to get you safe.”
Without a word, the yellow glow in Thiago’s optics said it all as he called Vomi.
“Come on, pick up…”
----------------------------------------
“This is the last one,” Vomi said, letting the lifeless Black Dagger fall to the ground as if discarding trash.
She brushed her hands together, the blood on her uniform seeming to absorb back into her skin, leaving her pristine once more. Despite still wearing M-Tech’s uniform, she exuded an unsettling elegance. The KanedaCorp building loomed ahead, indifferent and unyielding. Vomi aspired to be like that—perfect, untouchable, someone feared and revered. She walked inside as if she owned the place, not out of any desire to join them, but because she felt above them all. Superior. Unchallenged. No one would tell her otherwise.
“Do we really have to hand over the cyberdeck to that parasite?” Animus muttered within her mind, his tone laced with boredom, though not enough to act on it.
“I’m curious,” she replied as the elevator doors closed. “I don’t know what this cyberdeck is truly capable of. If he spills its secrets, we might be able to use it for ourselves.”
Her fingers briefly touched the back of her neck, the impulse to rip out the embedded agent gnawing at her. Later, perhaps. If the cyberdeck proved worthless, she’d purge every piece of chrome from her body. The thought of the metal, wires, and synthetic components disgusted her—their vulnerabilities a reminder of human frailty cloaked as strength. Weakness had no place in her being, especially such obvious ones. For now, she pushed the urge aside and allowed the quiet hum of the elevator to steady her mind. Some things never changed, even in different lives, like the soothing monotony of elevator music, calm in its artificial way despite the chaos beyond.
The doors slid open, revealing a group of suits already assembled, their expressions unreadable. Vomi barely acknowledged their presence as they fell into step beside and behind her, one of them hurrying ahead to open the office door where Kaneda awaited. He sat, glass of whiskey in hand, casually engrossed in a game on his computer. Unfazed, Vomi settled into a chair, while Animus extended a fleshy tendril from her shoulder, his eyes gleaming with interest as he observed the scene unfold.
“Welcome back,” Kaneda said with a wry smile, closing his game and taking a sip of whiskey. “I trust the mission was a success?”
Without a word, an appendage emerged from Vomi’s abdomen, revealing the cyberdeck. The tendril placed the device on the table, though it didn’t fully release its grip. If Kaneda was surprised by the grotesque display, he hid it well. Vomi couldn’t decide if she was impressed by his composure or if she should have expected it. Now, all she needed was an explanation of what made the cyberdeck worth the trouble.
Kaneda took the box, inspecting its blend of cybernetic components and organic tissue, still faintly pulsing. It was clear that it contained a symbiote.
“Looks intact, considering where it was stored,” he remarked, casting a brief glance at the source of Vomi’s appendage before closing the box.
Vomi met his gaze with a bored expression. “This was no easy task. Would you mind explaining what it actually does?”
Kaneda raised an eyebrow but chose to answer. She didn’t look like a threat at the moment, nor did he think she could act against him. “It’s a hybrid of Cyberware and Bioware, combining the benefits of both with fewer downsides.”
“And in simpler terms?” Vomi pressed.
“In essence, this prototype can replicate cyberware functions within a user without the typical vulnerabilities of standard tech,” Kaneda explained. “For instance, agents would only be accessible if the user allowed it, making them invisible to Netrunners even if pre-saved.”
“Metamorphosis,” Animus muttered, grasping the concept immediately. Vomi, too, gained an unwelcome understanding. “Clever.”
Vomi's eyes narrowed, the gears turning in her mind as she processed the implications. A symbiotic blend of machine and biology that could operate autonomously, bypassing the glaring weaknesses of traditional cyberware. No more susceptibility to hacks, no fear of sudden glitches or system overrides. It was a tool that could shift the balance of power—not just for KanedaCorp, but for whoever wielded it.
The very idea made her chuckle.
Kaneda leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Now, I believe this concludes our business, at least for now. I’ll make sure your efforts are rewarded, as promised.” His tone was dismissive, already moving on to whatever scheme occupied his mind.
Animus's presence stirred within her, a reminder of the raw power coiled inside.
“Not so fast,” she said, her voice steady but sharp. "We're not handing this over without knowing what you plan to do with it.”
Kaneda’s eyes, dark and calculating, met hers. The room seemed to hold its breath. “Curiosity can be dangerous,” he said slowly. “But I’ll indulge you this once. This prototype is the key to a new line of augmentations—enhancements that will make our operatives superior to anything M-Tech or any other competitor can field. It’s not just power—it’s revolution.”
Animus’s voice resonated in Vomi’s mind, sharp with mockery. “A revolution kept under lock and key. How... predictable.”
A slight smile tugged at Vomi's lips, misinterpreted by Kaneda as compliance.
“Duly noted,” she said.
The tendril holding the Cyberdeck withdrew, letting it fall into her hands. Kaneda rose swiftly, drawing a pistol and training it on her. The air crackled with tension, and Animus’s instincts coiled tightly within her, sensing that this weapon was different—it could hurt them, perhaps fatally.
“You’re making a fatal error. Your symbiote is beyond your control,” Kaneda warned, voice steady despite the standoff. Vomi met his eyes, more alert than afraid. Cautious, but unyielding.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Control? This is the first time we've truly felt it. Since landing in this world, I’ve been nothing but reactive, drifting wherever circumstance pushed me. Every moment dictated by outside forces. But now? We've found something real.”
Kaneda's disbelief was palpable. “You call this purpose? Making yourself a target, driven by whim-short-sighted chaos?”
“Oh, spare us,” Animus interrupted, his voice dripping with contempt. “You can’t really be this dense.”
Kaneda’s eyes darkened as a vein pulsed at his temple. “We should’ve dismantled you when we had the chance. Damn it, Antonio, why didn’t you listen? Kuso." he muttered, anger seething beneath his calm exterior.
Meanwhile, Vomi strained to ignore the insistent buzz from her agent. For the first time, someone was trying to reach her, and though she could answer the call without her optics, this was hardly the time for a casual conversation. The mention of Antonio piqued her interest; the familiarity in Kaneda's tone was unexpected. Life in this world thrived on surprises, but this one struck a deeper chord. Too bad she couldn't check who was calling—no optics, no visuals.
"Specialized rounds, we presume," Vomi said, noting the way Kaneda's eyes glowed amber, likely signaling security to the unfolding chaos.
"Of course. We have to correct our mistakes somehow."
He pulled the trigger, and in an instant, tendrils shot out, anchoring Vomi to the ground and yanking her out of the bullet's path. Rolling swiftly, she propelled herself forward, targeting the window where Kaneda stood. He fired again, but she was quicker, flipping a table to use as a makeshift shield and slamming it into him with all her strength. The impact sent Kaneda crashing into the glass, which cracked under the force but didn't shatter.
Vomi took advantage of the moment, gripping Kaneda by the collar and hurtling both of them through the shattered glass.
They plunged into open air, the city lights blurring below them. A tendril shot out, latching onto a nearby building, halting their fall while Kaneda's gun slipped from his grasp and clattered into the street below. They crashed onto the roof of a lower building, Vomi tossing Kaneda to the ground, where he crumpled and groaned, struggling to rise. The tendril still clutched the Cyberdeck, and a surge of anticipation coursed through her—she was eager to unleash its potential.
But the insistent buzz of an incoming call grated on her nerves.
She rejected the call, eyes narrowing at Kaneda. “Still think we'll play puppet for you?”
Kaneda's face twisted with fury, the facade of control slipping for the first time. “You’ve made powerful enemies, ones you can’t outrun.”
“Keep testing us, and we’ll find out who ends up leashed,” she shot back, kneeling and holding the Cyberdeck like it was a prize. “This... this might change everything. Make us stronger, untouchable, so we can protect the ones we care about. All thanks to you.”
Before the silence could settle, another call came through, her brow furrowing as she rejected it again. Kaneda mistook her expression for dissatisfaction with the device's potential.
“Project Ouroboros wasn’t meant for this—it was to elevate me, elevate KanedaCorp. Not to be reduced to a trinket for psychos like you,” Kaneda spat, bitterness dripping from every word. He pushed himself to his feet, voice vibrating with fury. This was supposed to be his masterstroke, not her weapon.
Vomi tilted her head, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. “Do you even know what Ouroboros means?” The condescension in her voice was palpable, like she was talking to someone hopelessly out of their depth.
He shot back without hesitation, “Of course I do. It’s the cycle of life and death.”
“One that consumes itself,” she added, expression flat. “You really are the dumbest smart guy I’ve ever met.”
“What— You?!”
“And another thing…” Vomi began, pacing with deliberate steps. “A tool designed to enhance a person in both chrome and flesh, without drawbacks... did you really think it wouldn’t be monetized? Sold to the highest bidder?” She paused, letting the idea settle. “We already have cyberpsychos. So why not biospychos?”
Kaneda's expression faltered for the first time, a flicker of realization crossing his features. He clenched his jaw, the bitterness evident in his eyes. “That’s not what this was meant for,” he muttered, almost as if trying to convince himself.
Vomi's smile widened, sharp and predatory. “Intentions don’t matter when profit and power are at stake. You know that better than anyone. It was only a matter of time before someone took it to that next step.”
Kaneda’s fists tightened as he stared at the cyberdeck in her grasp. “You don’t understand the consequences—”
“Oh, we understand them perfectly,” she interrupted, her voice cutting through the night air like a blade. “We understand that this world is ruled by those willing to do whatever it takes. You called us a mistake, an uncontrollable force. But maybe this mistake is exactly what you deserve.”
The call rang out once more, cutting through the tense silence. Seriously... who kept calling her so persistently?
“Do we end him?” Animus asked, though his voice lacked urgency. The man before them was already broken, beaten in spirit.
The irony was almost too rich: a CEO so blinded by ambition that he never saw his invention for what it truly was—a weapon. It was almost laughable, if not for the reality of it all.
“Honestly? I don’t care,” Vomi shrugged, the disinterest resonating with Animus, who let it be.
Her gaze shifted to the noise in her ears, call still going. She debated whether to pick up. Whoever it was, they were persistent. She glanced back at Kaneda, now on his knees, eyes smoldering with fury and regret. The image of a man realizing too late how catastrophic his oversight had been. She sighed and answered the call. Time to settle this.
“Who’s calling?”
“Vomi? Vomi! Thank God! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you?”
It was Thiago.
He was alive. He was safe!
Vomi couldn’t help but feel a weight lift off her shoulders as she heard Thiago’s voice. Relief washed over her, unexpected but welcome, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to breathe easy. She was almost smiling, an involuntary relief, her heart lightening. He was alive. He was okay.
“Thiago, thank god,” she muttered under her breath, “Yeah, I’m fine... I’m... I’m good, don’t worry.”
But just as quickly, that warm wave of relief started to shift. A cold realization hit her: Vanguard. She hadn’t heard a single thing from him in a while. It was like he just... vanished. Her thoughts scattered for a moment, and she looked around, almost expecting to see him there, standing beside her like he usually did.
“Where... is Vanguard?” she whispered to herself, a sense of unease creeping up her spine.
It wasn’t just that she’d lost track of him; it was that gnawing feeling, that instinctive fear, which was telling her something was off.
“Wait… why are you calling me? What… what happened?”, She asked, her hands starting to tremble.
The acts she did, the emotional lock up, it was starting, even if slowly, to creep her. Her acts of rage, sorrow, vengeance, pain and persistence… it was agonizing to understand what she did, what she was doing. But even more, Vang wasn't there. His voice was silent. Nothing.
“Vomi, they told me what happened. I saw what happened. Are you still… yourself?”
“M-myself?”, She stuttered, unable to process everything her mind was slowly unlocking, “Oh god… what I've done…?”
The call disconnected. Although she didn't hang up. She felt lighter, warmer, a creeping feeling that something was missing, but it was quickly shut down as something filled that gap. Her hand wasn't where it should be, nor was it “her” hand in the back of her neck.
This was the last thing she remembered before all fading to black.