The room was dim, bathed in the sickly green glow of a sputtering neon sign outside the grimy window. Dust motes drifted in lazy spirals, caught in the faint beam of a cracked data terminal on the far wall. The hum of power grids beneath the floor added an ever-present vibration, a low thrum that matched the chaotic pulse of the city outside. The air was heavy with the acrid tang of synthetic lubricant and the faint, metallic bite of rust. Kammuel sat on the edge of a cot that sagged under his weight, his shoulders slumped as he stared down at his hands. The silence in the room was thick, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip of water from a corroded pipe somewhere in the shadows.
Sienna was her name. Hed managed to bleed it from her by berating her with questions on the journey here. It had been less than 12 hours since she’d freed him. His hands were steady now, but he didn’t trust them. Not anymore. He’d seen them betray him, trembling when the memories came flooding back. The blood. The echo of a single round shattering the air and his mother’s skull in the same instant. Even now, even awake, the corner of his vision seemed haunted by the visceral nightmare, lingering like the smog that choked the city’s lower tiers. He clenched his fists, the leather creaking under the pressure, as if the act alone could hold the past at bay a little longer.
The door slid open with a pneumatic hiss as Sienna strode in. Her boots struck the rusted floor with confidence, each step accompanied by the faint hiss of hydraulic joints. The faint blue glow of her subdermal implants lit the edges of her sharp jawline, the pulsing rhythm of the light perfectly synchronized with her movements. She carried herself with an effortless precision, her presence a stark contrast to the decay surrounding them. Even the faint flicker of a dying wall screen couldn’t mar her polished movements.
“It’s time,” she said without preamble, her voice carrying the weight of someone used to being obeyed. She leaned casually against the edge of the table, one foot resting lightly on the edge of a sagging crate. Her piercing eyes locked onto his. The faint glow of her implants seemingly converting them into deep shimmering pools. “I want that platinum.”
Kammuel didn’t move immediately. Instead, he let out a low sigh, his gaze drifting to the cracked ceiling above them. He shrugged slightly, as if the weight of the question was something he’d carried for too long, before finally looking back at her, his yellow eyes narrowing. “It’s not that simple.”
“We had a deal, Mr. Suidine. Don’t make me light up that sassy little sub-dermal implant of yours.”
“Cool your circuits and stop using my name.” Kammuel shot back, his tone dry but edged with tension. He rose slightly, shifting his weight on the creaking cot. “I’ve got them stashed as I said before, but it’s not as simple as walking in and grabbing it. I’m dead,” Kammuel said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Dead men can’t make withdrawals.”
Kammuel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not just that. The deposit box is locked inside a, now, Katari vault. If my IPC pings within a hundred meters of it, we’ll be scrapped faster than a malfunctioning Synth. They’re still busy picking through the fallout of the Suidine Tech takeover, but soon enough, they’ll start tracing every Suidine asset they can find.”
“You’re saying they could have already flagged the bounty?” Sienna’s tone was sharp, her gaze narrowing.
“No,” Kammuel said firmly, shaking his head. “Not yet. It’ll take them time to map everything out. My holdings are spread thin enough to keep them guessing for now. The problem isn’t when they’ll claim it—it’s how to get to it without Katari PMCs breathing down our necks.”
Sienna tapped her fingers against the table, her implants flickering faintly as she thought. “So we need to ghost in. No pings, no flags, no attention. Just in and out, clean.”
“If it were that simple, I’d already have the platinum in hand,” Kammuel muttered, his tone laced with irritation. He leaned back slightly, watching her for the inevitable lecture on ghosting and IPC masking, fully expecting her to revel in the opportunity to assert her dominance.
Sienna didn’t rise to the bait, her expression shifting to something more deliberate. “Good thing you’ve got me,” she said simply, her movements measured as she straightened. “First, we’ll mask your chip. Make it think you’re someone else entirely. The system won’t blink even if it picks up a ping.” She glanced at him, her tone firm. “It’s not actually about being clean. It’s about being invisible.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” he asked, his tone sceptical.
“Easy,” she said, tapping the faintly glowing line of her implants. “I’ve got tech that makes me a ghost. To those systems, I’m anyone I want to be.”
Kammuel leaned back slightly, his yellow eyes fixed on her. “And the guards?”
Sienna’s smirk widened slightly, but her tone shifted to something more focused. “The Katari PMCs are predictable if you know how they operate. Most of their squad deployments rely on automated response timing. I’ll trip the system just enough to draw a patrol off the vault’s perimeter. With their attention elsewhere, I’ll mask us as maintenance personnel to bypass the first tier of scanners.”
She moved to the edge of the table, her implants casting faint, rhythmic pulses of light. “The real problem will be the internal sweep drones. They’re synced to thermal and motion trackers, and they’ll light us up if detected."
Kammuel appeared more intrigued. He shifted slightly, leaning back as his gaze flicked toward the flickering light above. “What about facial recognition? They have a multitude or different surveillance systems out there. And the drones? They aren’t exactly low-tech. The don't track the way scanners do."
Sienna shifted her weight, rolling her shoulders as she adjusted the straps on her gear. She stepped closer to the table, her boots pressing against the rusted floor with a muted scrape, her gaze cold and calculating. “Facial recognition’s nothing special," she said, brushing her fingers along her wrist module. A faint pulse from her implants illuminated the controls as she spoke. "I can scramble the scanners with a radial signal. To them, you’ll look like you belong—maintenance staff, off-duty security, take your pick. It’s a simple override."
She shifted her focus. “The drones? Different story. They’re synced to the main system—thermal and motion trackers on autopilot. I’ll reboot them into safe mode. It’ll cut out everything but basic mobility. No alarms, no flags. The system won’t pick up on it for at least one operational cycle.”
Kammuel found himself caught between her words and the glint of her platinum-streaked hair under the flickering light. If even half of what she claimed was true, he hadn’t just found an ally—he’d found a tutor, someone who could shape his vengeance into something sharp and devastating. A small surge of excitement pulsed through his veins, tempered only by the grim weight of his purpose. The path to retribution suddenly felt closer, more tangible, than it had in years.
She noted the slight changes in his demeanour. “The system is predictable if you know how to think around it. You stick to what I tell you, and we’ll walk out with the platinum. If you don’t-" She reached around to the back of his neck, eyes locked into his and pushed her fingertips against the implant. "This little insurance policy will cut the dead weight for me.”
Her eyes lingered with his, just long enough to receive a nod of acknowledgment, before spinning herself around to the thin metal table. She proceeded to carelessly empty the haul of her encounter with the vultures. Scattering Augs over its service before settling down and tinkering with various components.
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She crouched by a battered table, its surface pockmarked with scratches and burns, assembling a chaotic array of tools and devices. Small sparks danced from the 'Filter Organ EX19' as she pried it open with deft fingers.
“I need everything,” Sienna said, her voice as sharp as the cutter she was using to strip wires. She didn’t look up, her focus pinned to the intricate web of circuitry in front of her. “Every credential you have. IDs, passports, visas, ident cards, memberships. By J.A.N.E, I even need your vid library and porn accounts. If it’s tied to you, I need it.”
Kammuel shifted uncomfortably, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. “All of it? You aren’t serious, are you?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” she shot back, finally glancing up, her piercing gaze locking with his. “If you want me to wipe you clean, I need to see the whole mess first. You try to ghost with half the data lingering, and some system somewhere will pin you down.”
He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the glimmer of tools spread across the table. “And what happens once you have it all? You could sell me out with a single ping.”
She snorted, her attention returning to the device in her hands. “If I wanted to sell you out, Suidine, I wouldn’t need your credentials to do it. Now, are we doing this or not?”
Kammuel exhaled sharply, the sound mingling with the faint crackle of her soldering iron. “Fine. You get everything.” His lens glimmered into action as he initiated a local lobby with Sienna. "I’m uploading my smart passes now. This is all of my stored access credentials."
“Smart move,” she muttered.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’re asking for a lot of trust, Sienna. How do I know you aren’t just going to rail me with all this?”
Sienna paused, her hands stilling as she glanced at him. “Rail you? You’re in a sub-tier hovel of Centafts after just having lost your entire family and corporate empire to boot." Her voice was absent of inflection. "What more could one do to, ‘rail you’?”
Kammuel smirked faintly, pushing himself to his feet and looming slightly over her workstation. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone dry. “So, what are you, exactly?”
She shrugged, her hands returning to the Aug she was splicing. “A Ghost is the best term. I'm the remnants of an Identity that once existed. I don’t wipe things out—I obscure them. Your profile won’t disappear. It’ll become something the system doesn’t recognize, something it won’t question.” She held up a circuit she’d finished repairing, sparks dancing faintly across its surface. “Your identity becomes noise in a sea of noise. That’s the trick.”
She crouched by a battered table, its surface pockmarked with scratches and burns, assembling a chaotic array of tools and devices. Small sparks danced from the 'Filter Organ EX19' as she pried it open with deft fingers.
“I need everything,” Sienna said, her voice as sharp as the cutter she was using to strip wires. She didn’t look up, her focus pinned to the intricate web of circuitry in front of her. “Every credential you have. IDs, passports, visas, ident cards, memberships. By J.A.N.E, I even need your vid library and porn accounts. If it’s tied to you, I need it.”
Kammuel shifted uncomfortably, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. “All of it? You aren’t serious, are you?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” she shot back, finally glancing up, her piercing gaze locking with his. “If you want me to wipe you clean, I need to see the whole mess first. You try to ghost with half the data lingering, and some system somewhere will pin you down.”
He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the glimmer of tools spread across the table. “And what happens once you have it all? You could sell me out with a single ping.”
She snorted, her attention returning to the device in her hands. “If I wanted to sell you out, Suidine, I wouldn’t need your credentials to do it. Now, are we doing this or not?”
Kammuel exhaled sharply, the sound mingling with the faint crackle of her soldering iron. “Fine. You get everything.” His lens glimmered into action as he initiated a local lobby with Sienna. "I’m uploading my smart passes now. This is all of my stored access credentials."
“Smart move,” she muttered.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’re asking for a lot of trust, Sienna. How do I know you aren’t just going to rail me with all this?”
Sienna paused, her hands stilling as she glanced at him. “Rail you? You’re in a sub-tier hovel of Centafts after just having lost your entire family and corporate empire to boot." Her voice was absent of inflection. "What more could one do to, ‘rail you’?”
Kammuel smirked faintly, pushing himself to his feet and looming slightly over her workstation. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone dry. “So, what are you, exactly?”
She shrugged, her hands returning to the Aug she was splicing. “A Ghost is the best term. I'm the remnants of an Identity that once existed. I don’t wipe things out—I obscure them. Your profile won’t disappear. It’ll become something the system doesn’t recognize, something it won’t question.” She held up a circuit she’d finished repairing, sparks dancing faintly across its surface. “Your identity becomes noise in a sea of noise. That’s the trick.”
Kammuel tilted his head, his curiosity pushing past his suspicion. “And that makes me… what? Invisible?”
“It makes you forgettable,” she corrected, her tone precise. “It means you'll always sit just outside of their sight. And in this world, that’s as close to invincible as you’ll get.”
He crossed his arms, leaning lightly against the wall. “And where’d you learn to do all this? It’s not exactly your standard market skillset.”
Sienna’s hands continued working, her voice distant. “It’s not something you just learn step-by-step. It’s survival—instinct shaped by desperation.”
“That’s not an answer,” he pressed, his voice firm but curious.
She sighed, setting down her tools and leaning back, stretching briefly before looking at him. “Fine. Bits and pieces. Picked up what I could, when I could. Learned the rest the hard way, when I was forced to. You get good at staying alive when every Repo, PMC, Bounty Hunter, and Corpo Hit Squad has your number.”
He studied her for a moment, his gaze steady. “And the fighting? You killed those vultures like it was nothing. Didn’t even hesitate.”
Her expression hardened, her hands returning to the circuit board. “Hesitation gets you killed. You don’t grow up where I did and survive without learning that fast.”
“And why do you do it?” he asked after a pause, his voice quieter this time. “Why risk everything for this?”
Sienna didn’t answer immediately. Her hands moved with precise efficiency as she worked through the pile of scavenged prosthetics she’d stripped from the Vultures. The cracked surface of one Aug sparked faintly as she adjusted a frayed wire. Finally, she glanced at him, her eyes colder than before. “Everyone’s got a reason. Mine doesn’t matter to you.”
“Fair enough,” he said, his posture loose but his gaze sharp. “But if we’re going to do this, I need to know I can trust you.”
She smirked, the faintest flicker of amusement returning to her face. “There's no need for trust, Suidine. You don't have a choice. Follow my orders, or I pop the EMP."
The tension lingered between them, punctuated by the crackle of solder and the hum of her terminal. Sienna worked in silence for a moment.
Sienna picked up a sleek but battered Aug from the pile, her fingers tracing the worn plating. The metal was scratched and dull, but the mechanisms moved smoothly as she teased them. "Take this Aug. Looks like junk, doesn’t it? But patched up right, it’ll run for a few cycles before it burns out. Someone out there, someone without the rating to acquire legit implants, will pay all the Standard they have for it. We all do what we must to survive."
Kammuel focused on the sparkling lights reflected in her eyes. He pondered for a moment, what she had done to survive. What had driven her to this rigid path of thought. He himself had been privy to a great many unsavoury sights in his life in the Suidine towers. Mostly conjured through greed. What any of his family would have been willing to do to secure their position and power. What he himself was willing to do, both then and now.
"That desperation, It's their vulnerability. Forever at the mercy of Vultures and black net dealers. You would exploit that too?" He solemnly asked, almost as if a statement.
She cast him a disgusted look. He'd clearly offended her. "I don't remember our deal having anything to do with all these questions." She finished up, sliding the last Aug back into the satchel it had be dumped from. "How about we just get these IPCs sorted and close our deal. Hm?" She punctuated her point by rising to her feet and collecting her things. “I don’t fancy babysitting the last Suidine any longer than I have to.”
‘The last Suidine’. The title felt like a curse than a legacy, a reminder of a family erased by greed and betrayal. Kammuel would bury his name, letting it fester in the shadows of memory. From now, he would be no one. A ghost moving through the cracks of society, denying it the one thing it thrived on: information. Anonymity would become his weapon, but wielding it was not yet his strength. That’s why he needed her. Sienna was the perfect tool—sharp, adaptive, skilled, and knowledgeable. If he could learn from her, he could carve a path back to his power. When the time came, he’d reclaim his name and cry it louder than any gun blast. And they—the ones who left him breathing—would finally understand the true cost of their mistake.