Two Days after Biotechnica leak
POV: Elias
The Biotechnica Night City boardroom was quiet, save for the hum of the holo-screen and the rhythmic tapping of Elias Novák’s fingers against the glass table.
He had never been to a meeting quite like this.
The room was one of Biotechnica’s high-security conference spaces, walled off with soundproof composites and an automated security lockdown system in case things got hostile. A chrome-and-glass monolith of corporate excess, complete with an elongated onyx-black table that stretched across the space.
Twelve chairs lined it. Nine were occupied.
At the far end of the table sat Marcus Devlin, Biotechnica’s Senior Operations Director. He was a man who had long abandoned his organic voicebox in favor of a cybernetic larynx, which gave his speech a sharp, artificial quality—cold and inhuman. The kind of voice that could dictate the death of a hundred employees and sound mildly inconvenienced about it. His eyes were hard, his fingers steepled as he watched the tension build.
To his right was Lana Raines, Biotechnica’s Chief of Internal Security—a lean, sharp-eyed woman with short-cut platinum hair and a military bearing that suggested she had once been MaxTac or Militech, but traded the battlefield for a higher paycheck. Her arms were crossed, expression unreadable, but there was an edge to her silence that felt dangerous.
Across from her sat Richard Holtz, the current Head of Cybersecurity—the man whose entire career was on the line today. Holtz was sweating. His suit was a little too loose, like he had lost weight in the last forty-eight hours, and the way his fingers twitched against the table screamed anxiety. His pale blue optics flicked between the assembled executives, searching for a way out.
But there wasn’t one.
The breach had been catastrophic.
And Elias was about to bury him with it.
The holo-screen flared to life, displaying a series of security reports and internal memos detailing the extent of the damage.
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 99.9729%" border="1">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="width: 99.1064%">
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">Unauthorized data extraction.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400">External information leak.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400">Physical security failure.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400">High-profile intrusion.</li>
</ul>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Elias leaned forward slightly, keeping his expression calm, neutral.
“Let’s begin.”
Devlin gestured lazily at Holtz. “You’re the Head of Cybersecurity, Richard. Explain how the hell this happened.”
Holtz cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. His voice wavered, just slightly.
“The breach was highly sophisticated,” he started, too quickly. “It wasn’t—wasn’t a standard intrusion. The netrunner in question utilized a combination of custom daemons and backdoor exploits—”
Elias cut in.
“A combination that our current security protocols should have detected.”
Holtz’s jaw clenched. His pale blue optics snapped to Elias, the first flicker of resentment behind them.
Elias tilted his head slightly. “Isn’t that right, Richard?”
Holtz exhaled sharply. “The counter-intrusion measures were under review. We had pending upgrades—”
“Pending.” Elias’s voice was flat. “For how long?”
Holtz hesitated.
That was his first mistake.
Elias didn’t give him time to recover.
He tapped his holo-tablet, and a new series of reports flashed onto the holo-screen.
Internal Biotechnica Cybersecurity Risk Reports.
All signed by Elias Novák.
Dozens of them.
Every single one detailing the exact vulnerabilities that had led to the breach.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Every single one had been filed months ago.
Holtz’s name wasn’t on any of them.
Devlin’s cold, mechanical gaze shifted back to Holtz. “You were aware of these?”
Holtz flushed. “I—I didn’t think—”
Elias pushed further.
“You didn’t think what?” He leaned forward, voice cool. Controlled. “That a netrunner might use an exploit that’s been public knowledge for the past two years? That our ICE defenses would eventually get bypassed because you never approved the budget increase?”
Holtz bristled. “We had other priorities!”
“Other priorities.”
Elias’s fingers tapped against the table.
Soft. Rhythmic.
“Like funneling cybersecurity funds into your personal research teams?”
The room went silent.
Holtz’s breath hitched. “That’s—”
Devlin cut him off.
“Is that true?”
Holtz froze.
Lana Raines, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. Her voice was smooth, calculated. “If so, that’s gross negligence.”
Holtz turned toward her, desperate. “I—”
“No.” Elias’s voice was sharp. Cutting. “No excuses.” He tapped the holo-screen again, shifting the display to a denial order.
An official rejection from Richard Holtz, stamped and signed.
"Current security measures are sufficient. No further action required."
Silence.
Holtz’s hands trembled.
“I—I didn’t—”
Devlin sighed. Disgusted.
Then he turned toward Lana. “Get him out.”
Holtz’s eyes widened.
“Wait—”
Two Biotechnica enforcers stepped forward.
Holtz’s chair scraped against the floor as he stumbled to his feet. “Devlin, please—I—”
“Now.”
Holtz froze.
For a moment, it looked like he might fight it.
But he didn’t.
The enforcers flanked him, guiding him toward the door.
It slid open with a soft hiss.
And then he was gone.
Devlin exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. Then, without looking up—
“Novák.”
Elias didn’t move. “Sir?”
“You’re taking his position.” Devlin’s tone was final.
Elias’s pulse didn’t spike. He had prepared for this moment.
Still, he kept his expression measured. “Understood.”
Lana Raines leaned forward slightly, watching him.
“You worked under Holtz for years.”
Elias nodded. “I did.”
“You knew he was incompetent.”
Another nod. “I did.”
A pause.
She narrowed her eyes. “And you let him fall anyway.”
Elias finally smiled. Slow. Controlled.
“That’s business.”
Lana let out a soft chuckle. “Preem.”
Devlin waved a hand. “Meeting adjourned.”
As the executives filtered out, Elias remained seated.
Only Devlin and Lana stayed behind.
Devlin studied him for a long moment.
Then, finally—
“Loggagia’s watching you.”
Elias met his gaze evenly. “I’m aware.”
Another pause.
Then Devlin stood.
“Welcome to the real game.”
He walked out.
Lana lingered for a second longer.
Then, with a smirk—she followed.
Elias finally leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
His fingers tapped against the table.
Soft. Rhythmic. Controlled.
Then he stood, adjusting his sleeves.
He had won.
Now, he just had to hold the position.
It took exactly six hours to have every security measure under his control.
Elias sat alone in his new office—Holtz’s old one—reviewing the digital aftermath of the breach. The official reports were already written. A single rogue freelancer. No mention of internal negligence. No mention of outdated ICE protocols.
A problem, yes. But one that had been "handled."
The board was satisfied. The stock had recovered. The crisis had been buried.
And that gave Elias the leverage he needed.
He called in a favor. Quietly, surgically.
Buried in the security reports, deep in the files, there was a name: Sasha Yakovleva.
It shouldn’t have been difficult for anyone to put together what had happened to her. The wreckage outside the building. The assumed death. The lack of a body.
But Elias knew how to make problems disappear.
One by one, he erased her from Biotechnica’s systems.
Official records marked her as deceased. Any lingering personnel files were quietly reallocated, redirected into bureaucratic dead zones that no one would bother to check.
Surveillance footage? Deleted.
Body retrieval records? Falsified.
In every digital trace, in every system that mattered, Sasha Yakovleva no longer existed.
To Biotechnica, to Night City, she was dead.
And no one would ever question it.
Elias exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.
It had cost him. A few favors. A few careful moves. But it was done.
She was off the board.
And now, whatever she became next? That was entirely up to her.