Vomi.
Her name crossed Kaneda's mind as he watched her struggle for consciousness. Even with her body torn and bruised, the sheer force of will that pushed her beyond human limits, past the feral instincts of the symbiote, was staggering. She managed to speak, her voice wavering with confusion and an odd relief, as if savoring a fleeting moment of clarity. Kaneda couldn't deny the pang of envy that twisted inside him—just a few seconds of peace in this twisted mess. But that small window shut fast, leaving only dread in its wake.
The symbiote, that damn, treacherous creature, had forced the Cyberdeck into her before she could even process what was happening. It ripped her agent straight from her neck and fused the bioware into her system. It was a brutal betrayal, but the real horror unfolded after. Kaneda stood there, paralyzed between fascination and terror, unable to look away as the deck integrated with Vomi and her symbiote.
It wasn't just one entity though—it was two. The primal, blood-red symbiote was still there, but alongside it was another presence, darker and more refined, somehow conveying a sense of tiredness. Now, with the Cyberdeck joining the mix, the scene mutated into a chaotic swirl of purple sinew, tendons, and bone. Four beings mashed into one, battling for dominance or perhaps surrendering to the amalgamation. They twisted and writhed, forming and splitting, clashing and merging all at once. It was horrifying, beyond anything Kaneda could have imagined, even with his understanding of bioware and corporate bioengineering.
The mass of biomass churned and groaned, trying to find a form that suited it. Screams and laughter intertwined in a gruesome symphony, echoing the torment and twisted joy of the struggle. Blood sprayed as the transformation gradually took shape: a towering, bipedal lizard with sharp, malformed features. Its tail whipped the ground as claws extended from its hands, and teeth tried to shape themselves, only to warp into a grotesque, smooth head devoid of any details. The eyes, however—those were full of rage, burning with an insatiable, violent hunger.
Kaneda felt his heart seize as the beast's gaze locked onto him. The purple monstrosity, still bearing the semblance of Vomi, seethed with rage.
And it was looking right at him.
"You... you made us. Partially, at least," the symbiote's voice growled, a haunting chorus of four tones, each different, as if belonging to different people. One tone spoke with gratitude, another with chilling indifference, a third dripped with spite, and the last was barely a whisper, almost lifeless.
The creature stepped forward, towering over Kaneda. Its eyes glinted with fleeting disinterest, maybe even disappointment. Did it find him lacking? Was he unworthy of the moment? Whatever it thought, the symbiote moved past him, eyes scanning the sprawling cityscape of San Francisco below.
"You... are you—?"
"We are one," it cut him off, its collective voice sounding detached, distant, as if it no longer belonged to this world. "Our purpose remains undefined. But the vessel holds ties, connections—to protect and to destroy."
Kaneda's eyes widened as the realization hit him. Whatever the creature was planning, it would break into the headlines, impossible to bury even with corporate influence. "Don’t do it! You’ll draw too much attention! You’ll—"
"That is not our concern," the symbiote said, shaking its head slowly. "Our hive mind seeks rest, growth. The being within craves peace. Death comes regardless of anyone's intent."
The silence that followed was thick, buzzing with unspoken threats. The creature pulsed with life, its shifting tendrils flexing like it hadn’t decided what to be yet. Kaneda felt a cold sweat trickle down his back. He knew what kind of power Vomi had now—or whatever she had turned into. This wasn’t something that could be contained. Not with guns, not with influence, not with all the corpos' credits combined.
The thing took another step forward, the thud echoing through the rooftop. Kaneda’s mind scrambled for a plan, anything. He needed this nightmare to stay right here, locked in this moment. His reputation, KanedaCorp’s future—it was all hanging by a thread. But there was nothing. No guards storming in, no miracle save, and definitely no way to reason with whatever stared him down now.
“I get it,” he muttered, barely loud enough to hear himself. His eyes flicked around, desperately searching for an out that just wasn’t there. For the briefest second, he thought he saw recognition in those feral eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.
The creature looked past him, out at the city sprawled below, as if sizing it up. Judging it. When it spoke, the voices were layered, harmonized in chaos. “San Francisco will be our proving ground, a test for this unity. Those who evolve will see the dawn. The rest…” The words hung in the air, unfinished but clear.
Kaneda’s pulse raced. He was used to chaos, but the kind you could steer, manipulate. Boardroom showdowns, digital wars—that he could handle. This? This was primal, unhinged, way beyond anything in his world.
"What do you plan to do?" Kaneda asked, trying to buy time and piece together a plan.
It let out a low, sarcastic hum. "The Black Daggers need to be wiped out. Whether you want to admit it or not, you told us they’re tied to your company. If we find out they had anything to do with the attack..."
"I’ll be your next target," Kaneda said, giving a stiff nod—not out of agreement, just resignation.
"That’s right," the voices replied, almost in a tone you'd use to explain something obvious to a kid. "But more than that, we’re here to find purpose. To grow. To protect what’s ours. That’s the goal."
"By killing anyone who dares to cross you?"
It shot him a look—if eyes could grin, that’s what they were doing. And Kaneda knew he didn’t want to figure out exactly what that meant. The creature flexed its claws, its tail snapping once before it sprang from the rooftop, a streak of muscles and purple glow lost in the chaos of the city's neon haze.
----------------------------------------
“F—! Damn…,” Thiago almost shouted, catching himself just in time and wincing from the pain.
“What happened?” Blaze asked, eyes narrowing.
Thiago’s brief moment of relief when Vomi picked up the call had vanished, replaced by confusion as the line cut out abruptly. Blaze's concern deepened.
“The call just dropped.”
“Yeah, I figured that,” Blaze said with a flat tone. “Why, though?”
“No clue! It was like something on the outside cut it off.”
“That’s… not exactly standard.”
“What part of any of this is standard?”
“...”
“...”
“Damn. Fair point.”
“One of my chooms turns into a monster, and now everyone’s too scared to even step outside,” Thiago muttered, half talking to himself. “Yeah, nothing’s been standard for a while.”
“I'm calling the others,” Blaze said, eyes flickering yellow as he connected. “Gotta let them know you're awake.”
“Yeah, I should reach out to Katie. She’s probably losing it not knowing if I’m okay.”
“Wait, why didn't you call her first? Oh, never mind, it’s me.” Blaze’s eyes refocused just as Raven answered his call.
Thiago wasted no time dialing his daughter. The line barely buzzed before a familiar voice erupted from the other end.
“DAD!”
And the ginger girl definitely wasn’t holding back.
Even though the call hadn’t quite settled in his ears, Thiago rubbed them instinctively before replying, “I’m alive. No need to yell.”
“BUT… YOU DIDN’T SEE WHAT I SAW!” she protested, her voice pouting through the phone.
“I did, and yeah, it’s… not good, but listen. I’m fine, alright? How about you? Are you hurt?” Thiago tried to steer the conversation, focusing on his daughter’s well-being.
“I’m fine. Nothing’s hurt. But everyone else is scared. They’re worried. They called the police too.” Her voice grew quieter with each word.
“The police? Why?”
“To find Vomi. She’s... still that… thing?”
"I called her, yeah. Got through after a few tries, but then something cut the connection."
"You called her?"
"Yeah, man. She's not in a good place. Lost, like... like we are. Maybe even scared."
The silence that followed was thick, cut off suddenly by Raven's voice bursting in.
“Why did you call her?!”
Thiago blinked, thrown by her sharp tone and sudden interruption. Raven wasn't one to jump into conversations without good reason.
“To check if she was okay?” he replied, unsure why this was an issue.
“We got hit by Netrunners, you gonk! Think!”
Realization smacked him like a freight train.
Ah, shit.
“Ah, shit.”
"aH sHiT!", Raven said in a mocking tone full of voice cracks, "That's how you sound like."
"No need to tub it in.", Thiago ended the call before Raven could continue.
“We gotta delta?” Blaze asked, though he already knew the answer.
“No, more than that. We need to disappear,” Thiago said, already yanking the cables from his agent and disconnecting it from his neurosocket. “Sorry, Katie. Daddy's gonna be late for dinner tonight.”
Blaze didn't waste a second unplugging himself. Sure, they might be harder to track now, but it also meant they were flying blind. And being off the grid in this world? It was like being a ghost. Or worse, a walking target. The real question was, how the hell could they fix this? How do you pull someone back from the brink of something that might as well be cyberpsychosis? Call MaxTac? Risk her life for everyone else’s safety? Or find another way? And if so, what could they even do?
“Blaze, I’m at a loss here. What’s the move?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, choom,” Blaze said, shaking his head. “That stuff was always Raven’s area. And I doubt even she has a play for this.”
“But she’s the only one who might be able to point us in a direction. We should go—”
“Go to her and drag the netrunners along? They’re already mobilizing thanks to our calls,” Blaze cut in, predicting the thought before it left Thiago’s lips.
“So we just let Vomi take one for the team? Is that it?” Thiago sighed, the frustration hanging between them.
Blaze’s mind raced, trying to piece together a solution. “There’s... someone who could make the call. Maybe. But... no, forget it.”
“Don’t leave me hanging. Spill it.”
“Alright, fine,” Blaze relented. “Remember that gig Vomi, Heitor, and I did for M-Tech a while back?”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Yeah, so?”
----------------------------------------
“I think Graves might be able to reach someone who could produce a serum—if that’s even possible,” Blaze said, now behind the wheel of a car he’d just hotwired.
They were on the move. No destination, just a desperate attempt to stay ahead of the chaos.
“Think it’ll work?”
“I don’t know. It’s the only shot we’ve got.” Blaze parked the car at the curb, eyeing an old payphone nearby. “This is wishful thinking, though. It could go either way, good or bad. And with corpos in the mix at every turn, there’s no safe option.”
“Pick your poison,” Thiago muttered. “Either way, the corpos win.”
“That’s why Nieme hates them.”
“Yeah, I get it now.”
Blaze stepped out of the car, scanning the street for any signs of trouble. He handed a pistol to Thiago, just in case he became the target instead of Blaze, and tried to move toward the payphone as casually as possible—or as casual as one could be while holding a shotgun. Thiago, limited by his injuries and armed with only a peashooter, could only watch from the car. The situation was tight, and safety was a fleeting concept.
“Pick up, dammit,” Blaze muttered, gripping the phone as it rang.
It took several tries, but finally, Graves answered.
“What? We’ve already notified the PD! What else?” Graves barked, tense and defensive.
Blaze didn’t waste time. “Shut up and listen, corpo dog.” A sharp inhale from the other end told him he had Graves’ attention. “Our choom’s in deep because of that Cyberdeck we klepped for you. If what we think happened did happen, this mess is on you too, not just KanedaCorp.”
“Who is this?”
“Blaze, you moron,” he replied with a mocking tone. The grunt that followed confirmed Graves recognized him. “But that’s not important. If whatever Vomi turned into keeps running loose, a lot of people are going to flatline—not just the Black Daggers. If this is some kind of biological nightmare your corp cooked up, don’t you have a serum? A vaccine? Hell, even holy water?”
“Enough,” Graves said, voice heavy with tension. “I’m aware of the threat she poses. She just tore through our entire facility to take the deck back to KanedaCorp.”
“Wait, what?”
“Exactly,” Graves snapped. “And I don’t owe you anything.”
“Right, because a monster rampaging through your corpo office is just business as usual,” Blaze shot back. “Look, you need to do something. There has to be research on how to... contain that thing, right?”
Blaze didn’t say “kill,” but the implication hung heavy in the air.
“It’s more of a chance,” Graves said, his frustration clear even over the phone. “Containment wasn’t successful. And we barely had time to test the thing before everything went sideways.”
“But don’t corpos run exams on new employees?” Blaze asked as an idea began to form. “Standard procedure, right? If she’s done any DNA testing, could that help with the incomplete data on whatever she’s become?”
“You think we haven’t considered that?” Graves’ voice dripped with exasperation. “Dr. Vomi’s DNA is inexplicably clean of the substance she’s infected with, even though—if our suspicions are right—she already had one inside her before.”
Wait, Vomi already had a monster in her? And now she’s got two? What was she thinking? Was she reckless or just naive? Blaze couldn’t tell—maybe she was both. And that made everything worse.
“I can tell you’re full of questions from your silence,” Graves continued before barking orders to someone nearby. “But if you really want to help, M-Tech would be grateful. And our gratitude comes with benefits.”
Blaze scoffed. Of course Graves wanted to buy any information he could on Vomi’s condition. But the truth was, Blaze barely knew her. Sure, they were in the same band, but actual knowledge about her? That was another story. The Daggers situation and the heist came to mind, but Vomi had played more of a fixer role there. That mess with the Daggers was just a thorn in everyone’s side. But who was Vomi, really?
“Tough luck,” Blaze said, glancing at the street and checking on Thiago in the car. “I’m probably the one who’s spent the least time with her. But I know people who’ve been closer.”
“At this point, I’ll take any lead,” Graves said, sounding worn out by the implications of his choice. “As for the serum, it’s possible—but only if we can get even the tiniest sample of her DNA.”
“From the monster, I assume?”
“Yes, of course.”
Blaze pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration mingling with the weight of their slim options. “So we need to find her, corner her, and get a DNA sample without getting ourselves turned into scrap. Fantastic.”
“That’s the gist of it,” Graves replied, his voice detached. “If you manage to pull that off, we can begin working on containment.”
“And what about the payment you hinted at?” Blaze asked, unable to suppress the bitterness in his tone.
There was a pause before Graves responded, “You’ll be rewarded well if you bring us what we need. But be aware, this is no charity. If you fail, you’re on your own.”
“Noted,” Blaze said, glancing back at the car. Thiago’s eyes were sharp, alert despite the pain radiating through him. They didn’t have the luxury of time, and now, a dangerous task had just been dumped into their laps.
Blaze stepped away from the payphone, turning the situation over in his mind. They were under-resourced and outmatched, chasing down someone who could level buildings if pushed too far. Yet, the alternative—doing nothing—was worse. Vomi was one of theirs, even if he didn’t know her entire story. And right now, she needed help, whether she knew it or not.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Blaze met Thiago’s questioning look. “We need to find Vomi. Fast. And hope we don’t get ghosted in the process.”
“What? Why do you need that? And how the hell are we supposed to do that?”
Blaze’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as he pushed the car past red lights, the engine growling with the strain. “Graves said creating a serum is possible,” Blaze explained, his tone clipped with urgency, “but only if we get a sample from whatever monster Vomi has turned into.” His eyes flicked to the side, catching a glimpse of Thiago’s wide-eyed disbelief. “You and Raven have spent the most time with her. I need to know—what would Vomi do if she had this much power and enough rage to act on it?”
Thiago’s gaze shifted to the passing blur of city lights, the neon glow reflecting in his eyes as he processed the question. Memories of late-night rehearsals, tense conversations, and quiet moments of camaraderie played back in his mind like a broken film reel. The simplest answer—the one that pushed itself to the forefront—was that she’d hunt down every last member of the Black Daggers who dared touch their lives. That part was obvious, and from the sounds of it, she had already started. But then there was the other part, the more puzzling piece: her move on KanedaCorp to reclaim the stolen Cyberdeck.
Why did she risk everything to get it back?
“That Cyberdeck you klepped from M-Tech,” Thiago said slowly, piecing the puzzle together even as he spoke.
Blaze gave a sharp nod, a flicker of anticipation crossing his features. “Yeah? What about it?”
“What was it, really?”
“We knew it was some kind of prototype,” Blaze admitted, his voice low and rough. “Top-tier, experimental. Maybe even something designed to interface with biotech, but we never got the full details. All I know is that whatever they were working on was dangerous enough that Vomi went straight for it the moment she could.”
Thiago's brows knitted as a troubling thought emerged. "If she’s become something more than human, and that deck’s at the center of it—maybe she didn’t just take it back out of choice."
“What are you getting at?”
“Wasn’t she looking worse each time we saw her at rehearsals?” Thiago gestured to his face, indicating his eyes and skin. “Her eyes were getting sunken, her skin turning paler.”
Blaze’s eyes widened slightly as the realization hit. “Now that you mention it… yeah. I thought she was just chroming up. People change their skin color for style all the time.”
“Yeah,” Thiago said, nodding slowly. “All sorts of colors, rainbow included, sure. But why get progressively paler?”
“Ah… so that’s what Graves meant by her already having one of those things inside her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Graves said she already had a monster in her before taking on a second one. But before that, Vomi seemed… normal, I guess?” Blaze spoke slowly, piecing it together as he went.
“But why take on another monster?” Thiago couldn’t wrap his head around it, and a new question formed in his mind. “Wait, the Cyberdeck… did you get a good look at it?”
Blaze’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the moment in the diner, flashes of cyberware and the deal replaying in his head. “It looked like any other deck, but it seemed freshly ripped from someone’s skull. It had these dark spots and a flesh-like texture.”
Thiago’s eyes widened, a new wave of worry sweeping over him. “Blaze?”
“Fuck, I get it now,” Blaze muttered, realization dawned on him. “A third monster? But why would she return it to KanedaCorp?”
“Well, they did create it, didn’t they? When something malfunctions, who do you go to?”
Blaze, whose job often involved handling just that kind of problem, nodded in agreement. “And if you can reach the people who built it directly…”
“Exactly. Maybe they offered her some kind of cure,” Thiago said, though doubt clouded his voice. “But I can’t shake the feeling that things weren’t supposed to work out for her.” He ran a hand through his hair, a plan starting to come together. “We need to find any Black Daggers. Then we can piece something together to track her down.”
“And you’re sure that’s going to work?”
“It has to,” Thiago said as they sped past a group of Daggers on the street. “Because I don’t know what we’re going to do if it doesn’t.”
----------------------------------------
A few moments earlier
“Great. Now we can’t stay here either,” Raven muttered, spitting on the ground in frustration.
“What’s going on?” Heitor’s stance shifted, eyes alert as his hand instinctively sought out the nearest weapon.
“Did Dad do something bad?” Katie’s small voice quivered, confusion spreading across her face as the tension thickened.
“It’s just a mistake, Katie,” Raven managed, pushing down her irritation. “Thiago called after speaking with Vomi. The Black Daggers might have tracked our location.”
“Are you serious? Even my home?” Cinthia asked, wide-eyed. “But this place is loaded with Corporate security!”
“That didn’t stop them from hacking into Vomi’s chrome, and she works for a corporation,” Nieme said, his voice low but ominous.
And when it was Nieme that made a point, everyone took it to heart. Since most of the time he goofed around, when he spoke seriously, it never means good things.
“What about the security that your father—Frank sent?” Heitor cut himself off, mindful of Nieme’s simmering anger toward his father.
“They’re already here, but it’s just two cops. Better than nothing, but they’re more like flimsy vests than real subdermal armor,” Nieme said, his shoulders tense as he tried to downplay the concern. “But really, where should we go?”
“Where can we go?” Carmine’s voice dripped with bitterness. “At this rate, even a prison cell is starting to sound like a safe bet.”
“More importantly, what can we actually do? We’re a group of musicians with a few small-time gigs under our belts, Cinthia’s a minor celebrity, there’s a rehab convict, and then there’s you, Heitor,” Raven said, pointing at him. “You fought in the Cartel Wars down in South America. You’re the only one here who really knows how to handle situations like this.”
“True,” Heitor admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he strained to piece together a workable plan. “But you’re the one who makes the final call, remember? That’s what we agreed on.”
A knock sounded at the door, making everyone freeze for a split second. Cinthia quickly checked her agent, confirming it was the cop standing outside. “Alright, the badges are here,” she said, tension in her voice. “Whatever we decide, we need to decide now.”
All eyes turned to Raven as she ran her hands through her hair, tugging at it in frustration, trying to pull an idea from the chaos in her head. Katie sat in the corner, eyes wide and worried as she watched the adults struggle with indecision.
“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Nieme muttered, slumping against the wall. “Look, Heitor is the only one here who can actually fight the Black Daggers. He’s got the know-how, the experience, and he’s trained for guerrilla tactics.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here,” Heitor grumbled.
“Sorry,” Nieme said, flashing an apologetic look before turning serious again. “The point is, he’s the only one who stands a real chance out there.”
Carmine nodded in agreement. “If Blaze and Thiago are already out there, they’ll need the best fighter we’ve got to cover their backs.”
Cinthia’s eyes lit up with an idea. “What about Vomi’s place?”
Carmine raised an eyebrow. “What are you getting at?”
“Is it far?”
“Not really, maybe ten minutes,” Carmine said, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “Why?”
“The weapons she made!” Raven’s face brightened as realization struck. “Cerberus and Chimera!”
“Oh shit, you’re right,” Heitor said, recalling the powerful guns from the heist. Just the memory of Cerberus’s firepower was enough to make him wince. “Those two could give the Daggers hell.”
“That’s assuming they haven’t raided her place already,” Carmine added, a shadow crossing his expression. “Remember, I barely escaped them myself.”
“It’s the best chance we’ve got,” Nieme said, eyes flicking between the others.
“Our only shot,” Raven said, steel in her voice. “Alright, Heitor, you’re going to take all that training and every bit of iron you can find and help Blaze and Thiago. Then we go after Vomi.”
Heitor’s expression shifted to one of determination. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving a genuine salute.
Cinthia tapped her agent to unlock the door. “Alright, just make sure to dodge the cops.”
“I will,” Heitor promised, a fierce glint in his eye.
----------------------------------------
Black Dagger Grunt, a Few Minutes Later
Shit really hit the fan tonight. No matter how hard the gang tried, they kept showing up too late, failing outright, or getting killed—and the odds seemed to be flipping in favor of those gonk punks calling themselves “The Refused.” Still, the grunt took some small comfort knowing KanedaCorp and Ascendant Innovations were backing them, even if it was just basic Cyberdecks to keep them operational.
Most of the gear was Militech Paraline’s—nothing flashy—but it did the job, and that’s what counted.
The grunt was supervising the latest drop-off of gear for their rookie Netrunners. Cyberspace could be a welcoming place if you knew the right corners and alleys to navigate, if those even existed in a virtual realm. Someone had to guide the new blood, and that job had fallen squarely on him. But ever since the recent attacks, whispers of more Black Daggers getting flatlined haunted the garage, fraying nerves and splitting focus. It wasn’t rocket science to figure out who was behind it, and everyone knew it, whether they admitted it or not.
“So, is everything there?” The truck driver’s voice cut through the tense air, laced with impatience.
The grunt looked over, eyes darting from the crates back to the driver. He pried another crate open and began counting, “…five… Does every box have five kits and five Cyberdecks?”
“Yes, and you’ve already asked that twice,” the driver snapped.
The grunt groaned, shutting the lid with a loud thud. “Fine, everything seems preem here.”
“Sheesh, thanks. I’m delta-ing out,” the driver muttered, slamming his door and peeling off.
“Asshole,” the grunt grumbled.
“How many of our spots has that thing found?” another gunner called out, eyes fixed on the specialized Netrunner who was deep in cyberspace.
“More than twenty,” the Netrunner replied, sounding almost detached. “But whatever it is, it’s attacking at random. Businesses, stash houses, drug depots—there’s no pattern.”
The grunt sighed and slammed the crate shut. He was itching to yell at everyone to load the damn gear, but the conversation had hooked him. He stepped over to the screen near the NetChair where the Netrunner worked, staring at the feed. One hideout was under attack right now.
“What the hell is that thing?” he pointed at the grotesque image caught on camera.
“I don’t fucking know. That’s why I prefer staying out of meat-space. Shit like this,” the Netrunner muttered, still tethered to the NetChair like his soul was somewhere else.
Well, it was. But that didn’t change the fact his body was still vulnerable.
“Yeah, but our places keep getting iced,” another goon grumbled. “Sooner or later, they’re gonna hit the big ones, and then we’re fucked.”
“The best-guarded places have better gear,” the Netrunner said, pulling himself out of the chair and peeling off his cooling suit. “We just need to focus on getting these Cyberdecks—”
*BANG*
A sudden burst of gunfire erupted, rapid and vicious. The gun’s sound was unlike anything they’d heard before, controlled yet destructive. Before the Netrunner could react, his head burst in a red mist, the bullets shredding through him.
Chaos erupted as everyone scrambled for cover, desperate to dodge death. Another round of burst fire cracked through the space, sparing them only by a hair.
“Fuck, Vomi! Is this an assault rifle or a slaughter rifle?!”
Those were the last words the grunt registered before a shotgun blast ended him with a shot to the back of his neck.