April 24, 2021. 01:31. Vancouver. 6 days left till Italy.
"AYOO, CHOOM!"
A shout echoes down the hall, catching both my attention and Gestalt's. There's only one idiot who'd yell like that. I turn with Gestalt.
Remi jogs up, grin wide, until he registers who I'm standing beside.
"Oh, shi—sup, Mayor."
Azure pinches the bridge of her nose. "Way to go, Remi."
Shock throws her hands up, dramatic as ever. "Oh! Hiiiii! Were you guys down here for a while? Did we interrupt anything~?"
Gestalt laughs softly, not offended in the slightest. "It's quite all right." He turns to me. "Seems like your friends are done."
Sure enough, the crew slowly filters in. Tetra's smile is genuine, relief plain on his face. Azure hangs back, cool as always, but I can see she's just glad to be free of the interview box.
Gestalt folds his hands behind his back, addressing all of us now. "How did your conversations with the detectives go?"
The answers tumble out almost at once.
Remi snorts. "My guy was a hardass. Didn't crack a smile once. Felt like he was grilling me for stealing candy out the corner store."
Azure rolls her eyes. "Mine was professional. Nothing more, nothing less. I'll take that over theatrics."
Tetra's voice is lighter. "The detective I spoke with was kind. Asked questions, but… it didn't feel like an interrogation. More like they actually cared."
Shock flips her hair with exaggerated flair. "Same here! They totally loved me. Honestly, I think I carried the vibes of the entire precinct."
Gestalt smiles at their banter, the glow of his eyes softening. "Good. That means you all held your own."
A moment later, Mister strides back in—posture straight, businesslike as always. "Looks like I was the last one."
For a while, the station lobby almost feels… normal. We fall into small talk with the Mayor, conversation drifting between hobbies, stories, and scraps of personal detail.
Remi leans forward, grin wide. "So, Mayor, you into hip-hop? Rap? 'Cause if you are, you should know I'm gettin' ready for a new album release. Trust me, choom. Best thing to come outta Burnaby since bubble tea."
Tetra gives him a look, somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "Of all times, Remi… really?"
Azure cuts in, arms crossed, her voice low and sharp as she flicks a glance at the nearby officers. "This isn't the place."
Remi shrugs, still grinning. "Hey, never hurts to market."
Gestalt hums, lips quirking into an amused smile. "Actually, I've heard the name before. Boy Lacroix, right?"
That shuts Remi up for half a second—before his grin explodes wider. "AYO! You're kidding me. The Mayor knows?!"
Gestalt chuckles, shaking his head lightly. "What can I say? I try to stay… 'hip'. It helps keep me connected."
"God, please don't encourage his ego." Azure groans, dragging a hand down her face. "It's already bad enough."
"Too late," Remi says proudly, puffing out his chest. "Mayor Gestalt knows my name. That's going in the highlight reel." He whips out his phone, already angling it. "Yo, you cool with a selfie?"
Gestalt laughs warmly. "Of course! I don't mind at all. Feel free—there's no harm in a photo with a fellow Vancouverite."
Shock practically beams, bouncing on her toes. "Yaaas, Remi! And drop your socials too! I'll follow right now! Actually—anyone else? Lemme hype y'all up!"
Tetra shakes his head. "Uhh… I don't use them."
Mister gives a dry look. "Neither do I."
Azure crosses her arms. "Same."
Shock pouts, already bored. "Fine. What about you, Artemis?"
My pulse skips. I am absolutely not revealing myself. "Uh, no." I shake my head quickly. "I don't go online often."
"Ugh, guys, you're so lame," Shock mutters.
Thankfully, I'm spared from answering more when Chief Woods' voice cuts across the lobby.
"Don't get too comfortable."
We all look over as he strides back in, a file under one arm. "Unfortunately for you all, the precinct's still processing Elias' records and cross-checking your statements. Until that's done, stay put. If we need clarification, I want you here."
Remi groans loudly. "Man, c'mon. We just got out of the boxes."
Azure mutters, "Standard procedure. Deal with it."
Tetra sighs, resigned. "Guess we're stuck here a while."
"Believe me." Woods gives us a sympathetic look, his gravelly tone softening. "I'd like to be home too. We'll make this as quick as we can."
And then we hear the sound of sharp clicks. Heels echoing against tile. Ingrid rounds the corner with Michelangelo at her side, her stride precise, her presence commanding. Her eyes find Gestalt instantly. "Mayor, the briefing's ready."
She then flicks a glance toward Michelangelo. "Stay here with the rest of them."
He bows his head. "Of course."
Gestalt exhales, a soft sigh that's half a joke. "Duty never waits." He turns back to us, with a calm smile that's still warm. "It's been a pleasure. I hope this isn't the last time we meet like this."
With a parting nod, he joins Ingrid and Woods soon follows. They disappear down the corridor toward whatever war waits in the next room.
And then it's just us again.
The six of us in the lobby—Remi, Azure, Shock, Tetra, Mister, and me—plus Michelangelo.
The station settles again once Gestalt disappears with Ingrid and Woods.
For a moment, none of us speak. Then Michelangelo clears his throat, smooth as ever.
"Since we're stuck here waiting, we might as well make use of the time." He adjusts his cuffs like he's in no hurry at all. "I've spoken with Chief Woods—the forensics team is processing other cyberpsycho cases tied to Elias. If you're willing, we've been cleared to observe. Seeing the aftermath up close might help put his work into perspective."
We glance at each other, trading shrugs. Why not? It's not like we've got anything better to do. Curiosity always wins over patience. So we move. Not an order—an invitation.
Michelangelo leads us past the main lobby, deeper into the precinct's guts. Through interrogation corridors, reinforced doors, and halls that smell of steel and recycled air.
That's when the smell shifts—gun oil and sterilizer. The reinforced hallway ahead opens into the SWAT armoury, a sight that makes Remi and Tetra slow to a stop. Michelangelo and Mister pause, waiting, while the rest of us tag along for the detour.
The door slides open with a hydraulic hiss.
Inside, racks of Militech M-179 Achilles shotguns gleam under fluorescent strips. Arasaka HJSH-18 assault rifles, crates of Tsunami Nue pistols, even ballistic shields stacked alongside breaching charges and surveillance drones—all prepped and ready. Techs run checks on trauma packs that look closer to combat rigs than medical kits.
No, the VPD aren't Arasaka, and they're not Maxtac cyberpsychos bristling with chrome. But seeing this? They're still damn formidable. A patchwork Trauma Team, stitched together with city budgets and corporate donations, holding the line in their own way.
I take it all in. Aside from a few differences in loadout, the armoury feels eerily familiar. Just a more polished, standardized version of my own collection back home—except mine's tailored, personal, carved into something only I could use.
Remi whistles low. "Holyyy shittt. They're stacked like a damn video game loadout. What are they prepping for—World War Four?"
Tetra lingers at the glass. His eyes widen, curiosity plain to see, pointing to a rack of grenade launchers. "Yeah… it feels more like a corp's private army than police."
I can't help it—the words spill before I think. "Eh… to be fair, gear only gets you so far. What matters is how you train with it."
Everyone glances at me, expecting for more. Ah, damn it. I keep going, my tone automatic—Dad's lessons bleeding through me like muscle memory.
"For example, a standard drill goes like this: the instructor collects fired casings, mixes them into fresh mags. You fire—bang bang plink. The moment you hear that plink instead of a shot, you better know what to do. Rack the slide. If it doesn't clear, drop the mag, rack again, reload, chamber, keep moving. Always moving."
"Wow~!" Shock tilts her head. "That sounds… brutal."
I shake mine. "It's practical. Because in a fight, standing still gets you killed." I gesture to the firing range beyond the armoury glass.
"A lot of instructors love to drill in the concept of 'Get off X.' If you draw your weapon and just stand there, you're most likely dead. Assuming you're in a very hostile scenario, somebody's gonna be shooting back at you. You always have to move. Drawing, reloading, clearing a jam—it doesn't matter. Otherwise, you're just a target."
Remi whistles again, softer this time. "Damn. No wonder you're scary good."
Azure doesn't comment, but I catch her watching me with the faintest flicker of acknowledgment.
Tetra blinks, half impressed, half incredulous. "Wait—you just recited that off like a training manual. How do you even know that?"
For a second, my eyes flick to a training room further down the hall. More flashes of memory strike—Dad barking orders at rookies, laughter in the background, some cop muttering "the guy's a nutter" for pushing them past regulations. And me, barely a teenager, gripping a pistol too big for my hands, grinning when I finally nailed the drill.
I shove the thought back down. No way I'm unpacking that here.
"I… had an instructor once." I keep my tone casual. "It's a method the VPD still uses. Nothing special."
"Hmmmm." Shock narrows her eyes at me, humming slyly. "What are you, like, an ex-cop or something?"
I deadpan right back, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "Please. If I was, you'd be saluting me."
That makes her snort, satisfied, and she finally lets it drop.
We step out of the armoury, boots echoing down the hall, and rejoin Mister and Michelangelo mid-conversation. Their voices are low and measured, like they've been comparing notes while we were gone.
Mister glances up as we approach, his visor catching the light. He tilts his head in acknowledgment before returning his focus to Michelangelo.
"You said the forensics team was compiling more cases," Mister asks, his tone as professional as ever. "Do we get access to those files?"
"Some of it," Michelangelo pauses, then lowers his voice. "But stay close. I don't want anyone straying too far."
Mister doesn't let it go. "And what about Arasaka? Now that you know how the virus actually works—what happens next?"
Michelangelo doesn't hesitate. "The higher-ups will roll out a patch—framed as nothing more than a routine update. As for the other corps, the fix might even be packaged and sold."
I stare at him, feeling my stomach knot. His tone is maddeningly casual, as if what we're talking about was just a weather forecast.
Azure stiffens. Tetra frowns.
Remi's the first to speak, his voice edged with disbelief. "That's it? Just… 'patch' it? And pretend none of this ever happened?"
Michelangelo's expression doesn't waver. "What did you expect? Corps don't panic in public. Bad for business. A handful of execs know, now you know, and that's where it ends. The less noise, the better."
He doesn't say the rest, but we all know what he means anyway: the truth will be buried. Anyone who pushes too hard will be silenced.
I clench my hands, glaring at the floor. For fuck's sake. That smug prick Elias was right. Everyone already knows corps are rotten and untouchable, but this? This hits bitter.
Shock's usual energy fades, her voice low. "Sooo… business as usual."
Michelangelo inclines his head once. "Exactly. Business as usual."
The silence that follows is suffocating. Another of Elias' lines resurfaces, unbidden: You think corporations wait for the law to catch up. They don't. They'll reshape the world faster than it can be regulated.
It makes my jaw tighten. I don't want a madman like him to be right—or anywhere close to it. But the possibility gnaws at me all the same.
After that, the conversation dies. Michelangelo moves on, gesturing for us to follow.
We descend a set of reinforced stairs, the lighting dimming with each level. The air cools, humming with server banks and the hiss of filtration units. The further down we go, the more the precinct sheds its bustle, shifting into something sterile, clinical.
By the time we arrive, the air reeks of antiseptic cut with the sharp bite of ozone from dismantled cyberware.
The first thing that hits me are the workbenches. Implant housings glow faintly under strips of holo-light, while corrupted neural net logs scroll endlessly across transparent screens. Techs in lab coats and tac-vests move briskly between stations—cataloguing implants, uploading fractured memory chips into containment rigs, laying burned-out neuralware onto steel trays.
Along the walls stand rows of pods, each holding a cyberpsycho corpse suspended in med-gel, their chrome stripped bare. Holo-screens flicker with designations: Militech Sandevistan Mk.II. Kiroshi Optics. Dynalar smartgun links. All of it tagged, bagged, and filed into evidence.
For a moment, it could almost pass as just another lab.
Then we all see her.
Silver hair catching the glow from a holotable. Cybernetic lines running faint, pulsing across her pale cheeks. Glasses, calm smile, posture too smooth.
Jenny.
My blood runs cold. Azure stiffens instantly, her face draining of colour. Her whole body folds inward, like she's seconds from shutting down completely.
I don't move at first—none of us do. We're frozen, staring across the lab.
Michelangelo tilts his head, breaking the silence with calm curiosity. "...Something wrong?"
Mister steps forward before the silence can get ugly, his tone remaining leveled and professional. "We weren't expecting to see a familiar face. That's all."
Remi blinks between us, then at Jenny, then back. "Uh… yeah. Yeah, what he said." He forces a grin, scratching the back of his neck.
Tetra frowns faintly, caught halfway between suspicion and confusion. "Right…"
Shock looks from Jenny to Azure. Her brow furrows when she notices Azure's knuckles whitening at her sleeves. That's bad—really bad. I nudge Azure lightly with my elbow, whispering just enough to break her spiral. "Stay with me."
Shock catches on fast, flipping her expression into pure sunshine. She struts forward with a wave, voice high and sing-song.
"Oh my goshhh, hiiii! It's been a while! So good seeing you again!"
Jenny's smile doesn't falter. It's warm, like it belongs there.Though we all know it's a mask. "Yes!! Detective Rodriguez. A pleasure."
Her eyes slide past us, calm, polite, like nothing's amiss.
And that's when the footsteps hit—heavy, steady, echoing down the stairs. Chief Woods emerges, a file in hand. His brows lift as he spots us with her.
"Ah. I see you've met Detective Rodriguez already."
I turn to him, fighting the horror clawing up my throat.
The hell? She's on good terms with the VPD?
He glances between us. "You know each other?"
Jenny answers first, smooth as silk. "We've crossed paths before. Vancouver isn't that big, Chief. I'm glad to see them again, under better circumstances."
Her delivery is flawless. A sweet little lie, folded neatly between truth and lies.
I force my jaw not to tighten. The others play along, none of us daring to break the illusion.
Woods' gaze lingers a moment longer, suspicion edged with curiosity. His lips press thin before he grunts, "Huh. Impressive. Rodriguez, you've only just joined the precinct, and you're already making connections all over the place. Didn't expect you to be so quick."
Jenny inclines her head, her smile never wavering. "I've always loved people, Chief. It makes this line of work feel less like a job and more like a calling. You know what they say, 'Every conversation opens a door'!"
It sounds wholesome, genuine—exactly the kind of thing you'd want to hear from a detective. But under the warmth, I catch the flicker in her eyes when they pass over Azure again. Like she's savouring some private joke.
"Good to know," Woods says, satisfied enough. He waves the file in his hand, already moving on. "Anyways, Rodriguez, with me."
Jenny nods and steps past us. But for the briefest moment her gaze locks with Azure's.
Warm. Friendly. Predatory.
Shit…
Azure shudders.
Jenny disappears into another wing of the lab with Woods, leaving us with nothing but the hum of machines and the pounding of our own hearts.
The door hisses shut behind Woods and "Detective Rodriguez".
Azure's shoulders sink the second they're gone. Her arms wrap around herself like she's trying to fold into nothing, head down, lips pressed tight. I don't need heightened senses to see it—she's falling apart.
Tetra notices too. His usual smile dims as he steps closer, lowering his voice. "Azure… hey. You okay?"
She doesn't answer. Just keeps staring at the floor like it might swallow her whole.
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. Enough of this.
"Okay, we can't ignore this. Azure—I'm done going along with this. What the fuck is going on?"
Shock, of course, picks the worst time to chime in, bouncing on her toes. "Wait, wait, wait—hold up. You had a whole secret girl talk without me?!" Her eyes flick between me and Azure, scandalized like she just found out she wasn't invited to brunch. "FOMO, hello?! I feel left out! Spill, girl. I hate being left out of the loop."
Azure flinches, dragging in a shaky breath. Her lips part, but nothing comes out—just silence and the edges of panic.
Michelangelo glances toward where Jenny left, a faint frown tugging at his lips. "...Interesting." He steps closer, brow furrowed. "What's wrong, Azure?" His voice is calm, but there's weight under it—professional curiosity edged with suspicion.
Before Azure can collapse under the question, Mister smoothly cuts in.
"Never mind her." He adjusts his coat, tone clipped and dismissive. "She's just overwhelmed. We've all seen enough for one night. Why don't you and I check in with forensics? I'd like a closer look at the implant data."
A flicker of hesitation crosses Michelangelo's face. His gaze shifts between Azure and Mister, weighing unspoken questions. But Mister's clipped tone leaves no room for debate. Michelangelo finally nods, straightening his collar.
"Very well. Let's see what they've found."
The two of them step away, disappearing into the darker wing of the lab with the hum of machines guiding them.
Now it's just us.
Remi stretches his arms behind his head, groaning. "Man, this is awkward. How long we gonna stand here watching her implode?"
Shock folds her arms, tapping her foot, impatience bleeding into her voice. "Yeah, like—can we get a translation? What's with the weird vibes? Spill already."
"Relax, both of you." My voice comes out sharper than I mean it, but I don't regret it. I turn to Azure, lowering my tone. "We can't ignore this anymore. Azure, just what is going on with Jenny?"
Her shoulders tremble, arms tightening around herself. Tetra steps forward, his tone gentle but firm. "Azure… hey. We're here."
Azure flinches, sucking in a shaky breath. She tries to speak, but the words catch, stuck in her throat.
"Azure." My voice softens, just a notch. "Look at me. We can't avoid this anymore. We need to know. Now."
She lifts her head just enough for us to see her face—pale, eyes wide with panic. Finally, her lips move, barely audible.
"You should've guessed by now. Jenny's not just some passing face, she's part of Autumn Blade."
Remi holds back a bitter laugh. "Yeah, no shit, choom. No offence or anything. You think we didn't put that together?"
Tetra shoots him a glare, holding him back with a hand on his shoulder. "Remi, c'mon man. Give her a break. Let her continue."
"Aight, my bad." Remi lifts his hands in mock surrender. "Guess the nerves got to me."
Azure's eyes flick to Tetra, gratitude flashing for a split second. She swallows hard, forcing the words out.
"I think… she's observing me."
Shock tilts her head, blinking fast. "Wait, what? Why you? Girl, what did you do?"
Azure's hands remain curled into fists, trembling just as hard. She glances at each of us, then leans in close, whispering so low it's almost swallowed by the machines around us.
"I… was one of the people that made the railgun."
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Shock's jaw drops. "Holy shit."
Remi whistles low, eyebrows shooting up. "Damn, choom."
Tetra stares blankly, his voice hollow. "I don't even know what to say."
I groan under my breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Fuck…"
The weight of it settles over all of us.
Azure wasn't just dabbling in projects. She was literally the engineer.
"I don't feel safe with her here." Azure's voice cracks, raw and trembling. "Not with Jenny. Not with Autumn Blade watching me."
I pause, trying to piece it together. What does this even mean? Is Jenny targeting Azure specifically, and the rest of us just happened to get dragged into her orbit?
Remi squints, waving a hand. "Wait, wait. Pause. What the hell does that even mean, bro? You worked for them? You were, like, on payroll or something?"
Azure flinches again. Tetra cuts in fast, voice steady. "Remi. Stop. She doesn't have to tell us everything right now." His eyes soften as he looks at her. "Only what you're comfortable with."
Azure shakes her head faintly. "No, no… it's okay. I get it." She exhales shakily, lips trembling. "I was…" Her voice falters, then steadies, thin as glass. "I was someone who used to be part of them. Of Autumn Blade."
Shock nearly shrieks, hands flying to her mouth. "Shut up. No way. You?!" She catches herself, lowering her voice to a frantic whisper. "Holy shit. That's insane."
The rest of us just stand there, reeling.
My mind spins with a dozen theories, each worse than the last.
"It was horrible." She hugs herself tighter, her fear plain. "Please… just don't let her near me."
The silence stretches until Remi finally blurts, "Aight, so what the hell do we do with this? If Jenny's Autumn Blade, she's not just lurkin' around for no reason. She's here on a mission. Watching you? Watching us? That's a problem. And we're dipping for Italy too…"
Shock bounces on her toes, whisper-shouting in a rush. "Yeah, like—do we warn the VPD? Tail her? Hack her glasses? Oooh, what if she's like… double undercover?!"
Remi throws up his hands. "Or maybe we just put her down next time she gets too close. Problem solved, you're welcome."
"Dude, seriously?" I stare at him, appalled. "When has charging in blind ever worked for us? That's suicide."
"Doing this was a mistake…" Azure jerks, flinching so hard she nearly stumbles. Her voice breaks. "Why did I ever accept Wissen's request?" Her breathing picks up, shallow and fast. "I'm such an idiot."
Tetra steps in quick, holding out a calming hand. "Guys, stop." He shoots a glare around the group. "This isn't helping."
I sigh, folding my arms. "Shit, my bad. You're right. Azure's had enough for one night." I glance at her, sympathy tightening my chest. "She doesn't have to answer until she's ready."
I don't know what really happened between her and Autumn Blade, but we'll learn in time, I think. At least, that's what I'll tell myself to keep my own impatience and curiosity in check.
Azure doesn't argue. "Just… give me a minute." She's shut down completely—arms wrapped around herself, eyes glassy, head bowed. It's like she's folding inward, trying to vanish.
The sight twists my stomach.
All of us go silent, unsure what to say for the next stretch of silence.
Okay. Enough circling around. Time to act.
I turn to Shock. "Think you can help track her? Jenny, I mean. Anything at all."
Shock perks up, eager again. "Oh, duh—absolutely. Girl's flashy as hell. No way she doesn't leave crumbs. Gimme a night and I'll pull something together."
"Alright. Thanks." I nod, then look at Remi. "What about you? You in?"
"Of course, choom." Remi cracks his knuckles, grin sharp. "I'll hit up my homeboys. If Autumn Blade's moving in Vancouver, someone'll know."
My eyes shift to Tetra. "And you?"
He hesitates, then nods. "I'll ask my family. We hear things—sometimes more than we want to. If Autumn Blade's anywhere near the outskirts, we'll know."
"Perfect." I exhale, already feeling the weight of it all. "And once Mister's back, I'll loop him in."
Ah. Blake too. I'll contact him myself—he wanted an update anyway.
For a moment, the plan almost feels solid. Almost.
Then I look back at Azure.
She hasn't moved. Still hugging herself, still staring blankly at the floor, her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. She looks… small. Fragile in a way I've never seen before.
This is getting too messy. Way too messy.
I thought we were already in deep—but now?It's even worse. Jenny being up to something. Autumn Blade. The railgun. Italy. The Dead Kings involved in a drug and territory war. And me… still needing to keep my Gina life running like nothing's wrong.
I rub my temple, forcing myself to speak before anyone spirals further.
"Shit. Italy's less than a week away. Whatever Autumn Blade wants… they're circling. And now we've got Jenny sitting right under VPD's roof. We can't afford to lose track of her."
I groan under my breath, dragging a hand down my face.
"Oh, damn it—almost forgot. And don't forget Benny. If the info we dug up is right, his party's later today. We don't have much time to prepare."
Remi's grin vanishes. He yanks out his phone, scrolling fast. "Shit. I FORGOT." A whistle escapes him. "Well, good news, chooms—my concert's blowin' up on the feeds."
Tetra mutters a sharp, "Damn it," under his breath. His shoulders tighten as he looks at me. "Then… what do we do?"
"We focus on Benny." My arms fold tighter. "Which means Mister and Michelangelo need to know. Now."
I turn to Shock. "Hey, sorry to dump it on you. But could you start on your end, please?"
She nods firmly. "Of course! Don't worry, bestie~! I've totally got this." She winks with a grin.
"Thank you."
I exhale, scanning the basement one last time.
The techs work busily, lost in their machines. Mister and Michelangelo trade notes about cyberpsychosis across a cluttered holo-screen. And then there's us—barely holding it together, with no time to breathe, no time to think.
How the hell are we even gonna get out of this?