the data storage room is a cold, dimly lit chamber filled with server towers humming with life. Faint blue light flickers across walls lined with digital storage units, casting shadows on the glossy, polished floor. Sasha and Armitage move with precision, their movements sharp and calculated as they advance toward the figure at the far end of the room.
The Mildev Executive—a man in an immaculate suit with graying hair and cybernetic eyes—stands with his back partially turned, furiously typing into a terminal. His face is tense, beads of sweat catching the light as he types one-handed, the other hand concealed within his suit jacket. The faint ping of a message queue loading on the terminal echoes in the room, and Sasha’s voice cuts through the sterile silence.
“Stop! You’re under arrest for orchestrating terrorist attacks on the city,” she declares, her voice steady but laced with an edge. She narrows her eyes, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade, ready for any sudden movements.
The executive turns slowly, his face a mix of surprise and indignation. “Orchestrating terrorist attacks?” he repeats, trying to hold her gaze. “No, you’ve got it all wrong! I’m being framed—this entire situation has been twisted—”
Before he can utter another word, a deafening crack splits the air. Armitage has drawn his revolver, firing a single shot that cuts through the room like a blade, striking the man squarely in the head. The Mildev executive falls backward, crumpling to the floor, his last message flashing incomplete on the terminal screen.
Sasha stands frozen, shock and anger flashing in her eyes as she rounds on Armitage. “What the hell, Armitage?” she snaps, her voice trembling with fury. “He was talking—he might’ve given us information we need! And you just... silenced him?”
Armitage holsters his weapon with a cold, unreadable expression, refusing to meet her gaze. His silence fills the room, amplifying Sasha’s anger, her hands balling into fists at her sides as she struggles for composure.
“Fine,” she spits, turning sharply on her heel and storming out of the room, her footsteps echoing as she disappears down the corridor. The hollow thud of the door slamming shut behind her reverberates through the chamber, leaving Armitage alone in the dim glow of the terminals, their blinking lights casting shadows across his impassive face.
Sasha stands beneath the stream of water, letting it cascade ample breasts falling down her toned abs and trailing down her pussy, each droplet washing away the remnants of the brutal mission. Her posture is tense, her eyes half-closed as she tilts her head back, feeling the warm water trail down her skin. Flecks of crimson swirl away with the steam, vanishing down the drain as the heat helps her relax her battle-worn muscles. The water glides smoothly over her form, trailing the curves of her body in a gentle rhythm, but her thoughts are anything but calm.
Her cybernetic arm gleams beneath the water, the metallic plating catching the light as the streams wash over the intricate design of gears and synthetic fibers, rinsing away the grime. With each flex of her fingers, the droplets shiver, tracing the contours of the advanced prosthetics. It's a familiar weight, both comforting and a reminder of the life she leads—a life that today left her with more questions than answers.
Sasha can’t shake her frustration with Armitage’s actions. Her mind replays the executive’s face, his unfinished sentence, and the shot that silenced him. She reaches for a towel, drying her face before pressing a hand against the wall, head bowed in thought. She could try her own dive, but she knows she’s no expert at navigating the vast complexity of the Net Sphere, especially the encrypted levels that might hold the answers she needs.
How she wishes she had MADCAT’s skills, the finesse that could unlock hidden data with ease. With her, Sasha might be able to uncover why Armitage pulled the trigger, or perhaps discover whatever it was he didn’t want the executive to reveal.
Sasha moves through the city with an effortless confidence, her toned silhouette framed by short shorts and a strapless crop top showing off an ample amount of cleavage, exposing her midriff and the edge of her abdominal cybernetics. Her every step making her chest bounce, a blend of elegance and precision, an air of danger trailing behind her as she navigates through crowds, drawing more than a few glances. Her feline grace makes it clear that she’s no ordinary civilian, and the faint glint of her cybernetic limbs hints at just how deadly she can be.
Descending into the lower levels, Sasha reaches Level 50, where the buildings loom closer, casting long shadows over narrow streets filled with the constant hum of activity. Neon signs flicker above, and the air is thick with the mixed scents of machine oil, street food, and the faint charge of tension. She fits right in, her sharp eyes scanning the chaotic scene, picking up every shift and glance, her senses attuned to this environment of thievery and black-market deals.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
It doesn’t take her long to locate the Vox Phantom hideout—a dimly lit bar tucked into a side street, its entrance guarded by two women with sharp eyes and even sharper knives. As Sasha approaches, she offers a quick, wry grin.
“It’s WHITECAT,” she says with an easy confidence, raising her hands slightly to show she’s unarmed—mostly. “I need to talk to MADCAT.”
The guards exchange glances, and one of them tilts her head toward the entrance, allowing Sasha to step inside and disappear into the shadows where the Vox Phantoms make their lair.
Sasha strides through the dimly lit corridors of the Vox Phantom hideout, her hips swaying with each step, moving with a magnetic allure as she navigates past whispers and stares. Her focus remains steady as she advances deeper into the heart of the hideout, drawing attention as the lights reflect off her sleek, battle-worn cybernetics, catching glimmers of neon as they slice through the shadows. She reaches a heavy metal door, the entry to MADCAT’s inner sanctum.
Inside, the room is minimal and quiet, lit by the ambient glow of terminals and monitors lining the walls. At the center, MADCAT herself stands—a striking figure with short, platinum-white hair that frames a face concealed by a smooth cybernetic mask. Her cat-like ears flick slightly as Sasha steps in, and a slender, metallic tail sways behind her, hinting at her intense focus. Behind her mask, lines of neon pulse along cables that stretch from her head to a networked terminal in the ceiling, linking her to the hideout’s vast information network.
“WHITECAT,” MADCAT’s voice hums through an overhead speaker, distorted slightly as it runs through her augmented audio system, “What brings you to my den?”
Sasha gives a slow smile. "Need a hand. I’m after information, and there’s no one better on this than you.”
MADCAT tilts her head slightly, an almost playful tilt in her posture. “I do enjoy a good puzzle,” she purrs through the speakers. “But tell me, what kind of trouble have you found yourself in?”
“It’s not my mess this time,” Sasha replies, crossing her arms. “It's Armitage. Something’s off—he took down a Mildev exec without blinking, mid-sentence.”
MADCAT considers this for a moment, the soft whir of her internal systems audible in the silent room. “I see. And you think he’s... hiding something?”
“Or he knows something I don’t,” Sasha says, eyes narrowing. “Can you dig up any links between that exec and Aftershock?”
MADCAT lets out a small chuckle, her voice smooth and metallic. “For you, WHITECAT? Consider it done. But you know the price.”
Sasha nods, meeting MADCAT’s masked gaze with a grin. “I owe you one.”
As MADCAT’s cables pulse and data streams through the Net Sphere, her eyes widen beneath the mask. “WHITECAT,” she murmurs urgently, her voice breaking through the speakers, “there’s something… Aftershock has buried files deeper than I’ve ever seen. Their security systems are laced with firewalls—they’re… trying to hide something massive.” She reaches further, bypassing layer after layer, her fingers twitching as data flows through her mind. Just as she delves into an encrypted file, her entire body jolts, and her voice cuts off with a static whine. Aftershock’s firewall hits back with an intensity she hadn’t anticipated, searing through her neural network. The cables connected to her mask flicker wildly, and she stumbles as her systems glitch, momentarily leaving her incapacitated.
Outside, chaos erupts. CEU agents breach the hideout with military precision, flooding in through entrances and corridors with tactical teams flanking in coordinated maneuvers. Vox Phantom defenders retaliate, creating a rapid crossfire within the dark hallways, neon reflections and muzzle flashes painting streaks of light. Amid the battle, an imposing figure stomps into the room—a MOLOCH unit, towering and radiating a lethal aura as its psionic field hums to life. With cold efficiency, it begins tearing through Vox Phantoms, its claws flashing with deadly precision.
it force a woman to the wall with its psionic abilities, crushing the woman as her insides are squeezed through her mouth like tooth past, it then ripped another woman in half as her are abruptly cut off scream, another womans scream turn into a high pitched wheezing as her head slowly twists off.
the rest of the Vox phantoms surrounding the machine. It lashed out with psionic abilities, using their bodies as shields to keep them from overwhelming it.
Sasha pulls MADCAT to her feet, supporting her as she regains control. “Stay behind me,” Sasha shouts, drawing her katana as they charge at the MOLOCH. With a swift swipe of her blade, she closes the distance, slicing through two CEU agents flanking the hulking MOLOCH. MADCAT hacks into nearby terminals, trying to disrupt its systems, while Sasha engages in close combat, her movements sharp and fluid.
The MOLOCH’s arms extend with a metallic whirr, claws glowing with psionic energy as they lash out, barely missing Sasha as she ducks and weaves around its strikes. Suddenly, a pulse of energy emanates from the MOLOCH, catching Sasha mid-strike. The psionic wave presses down on her, pinning her against the floor, her cybernetic limbs creaking under the weight. Her vision blurs as the crushing force intensifies, her cybernetics bending under the pressure.
Struggling against the weight, Sasha gasps for air, but the MOLOCH’s psionics are relentless. Her body strains, and her vision begins to fade until the world goes dark.
When she opens her eyes, she’s lying on cold metal, her limbs restrained. Above her, Armitage stands, his cybernetic arm glinting as he holds his revolver steadily pointed at her head.
“Armitage!” she yells, betrayal and fury in her eyes. “You sold me out? After all this?”
Armitage’s expression is grim, his jaw clenched, but he says nothing. His hand tightens around the trigger, his eyes unreadable. She glares at him, her breathing harsh, expecting the worst. She closes her eyes, bracing herself.
The sound of the revolver echoes, but there’s no pain. Instead, she feels the metal shackles around her wrists snap open. Blinking in shock, she looks up as Armitage holsters his revolver, his voice low and gravelly.
“They want you alive, WHITECAT. I made sure of that.”
She scowls, rising to her feet, feeling the weight of his silence and noticing the flicker of guilt in his eyes. He turns away, leaving her to process the betrayal still stinging at the edge of her mind.