《Biotechnica: Ghost Protocol A Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic》 Chapter 1 - No Turning Back POV: Sasha The office was cold. Quiet. The only sound was the hum of the servers and the faint tapping of Sasha''s fingers against the worn keys of the keyboard. She had found what she came for. Biotechnica''s files on CHOOH2 financials and prototype 0.091, exactly what the client wanted. The moment the data finished pulling, she flicked it over to Maine. Clean job, quick payout. Then she saw it. A folder buried deep in the directory, almost an afterthought. Securicine. The name sent a jolt through her, an old wound splitting open. Her fingers hesitated over the keys. She shouldn''t look. She knew that. But she did. Lines of text scrolled across her HUD. Reports. Medical studies. Internal memos. She skimmed faster, pulse hammering in her ears. The truth hit like a freight train. Neurodegeneration. Memory decay. Cognitive collapse. The side effects of the painkillers her mother had relied on were hidden away in corporate reports. Biotechnica had known. Had watched people waste away, let them suffer, let them die, because pulling the drug from the market wasn''t profitable. Her mother hadn''t just been sick. She had been poisoned. Sasha''s hands clenched, her breath coming sharp and uneven. For a moment, she sat there, staring at the data. She could still walk away. Take her cut, ghost out, and pretend she never saw this. Instead, she pressed a key. A new window opened. The file began uploading. Destination: Network 54 News Tipline. There was no going back now. The progress bar crawled forward, agonizingly slow. The jammer Maine had set up was already straining. She could see security systems flickering back online. Then the alarms blared. Red lights strobed across the office. A mechanical voice echoed through the halls. "Intrusion detected. Deploying security response." Sasha cursed under her breath, fingers flying as she locked down the office doors and wedged a desk in front of them. The first distant thuds of metal footsteps sent a cold spike of adrenaline through her. A sharp burst of static hit her comms before Maine''s voice came through. "Sasha? What the hell''s goin'' on?" She didn''t answer. Not yet. She still had time, just a little more time. Her hands moved with mechanical precision as she reached into her bag, pulling out the small pack of explosives she always carried. She planted them near the door, securing the triggers.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. A heavy impact shook the walls as something slammed against the door. Maine''s voice again, louder this time. "Sasha, talk to me!" She exhaled, forcing a smirk even though he couldn''t see it. "Ain''t gonna make it outta this one, Maine." "The fuck are you talking about? I''m comin'' to-" She cut the line. The next impact bent the metal inward. Sparks burst from the edges. The lock wouldn''t hold much longer. 87%. She checked her pistol. Only a few rounds left. Not that it would make a difference. 94%. A third impact. The doorframe buckled. Sasha swallowed down the panic clawing at her throat. 98%. A split-second of silence. Then the doors burst open. Gunfire tore through the room, shredding furniture, splintering glass. Sasha hit the floor, rolling behind a desk as sparks exploded. The first bot stepped through the smoke, weapons locked onto her. She fired. A lucky shot. One bot staggered. 100%. Upload complete. The truth was out. A sharp pain ripped through her gut. Then another in her shoulder. The force sent her stumbling backward. Blood spattered against the wall. Then darkness. 1 week later Pain. It settled deep, coiled around Sasha''s ribs, spreading through her limbs like static. Every nerve in her body burned, her cyberware lagging like it couldn''t decide if she was still alive or not. A slow, rhythmic beep-beep-beep filled the room. The air was sterile. Cold. Corporate. She tried to move. Restraints. Adrenaline kicked in, snapping her fully awake. Her optics flickered online, adjusting to the too-bright artificial glow overhead. White walls. Stainless steel. Medical equipment. Biotechnica''s logo. Her pulse spiked. Shit. Her last memory. The job, the breach, the fall. She should be dead. But she wasn''t. And someone was watching her. A man in his early thirties sat across the room, hands loosely interlaced. He didn''t move, didn''t speak. Just observed. Sasha''s mind sharpened. He wasn''t security. No armored vest, no standard-issue sidearm. His suit was Biotechnica green, neatly pressed but slightly rumpled, like he hadn''t changed in over a day. His tie was gone, sleeves subtly pushed up. Not sloppiness, just efficiency. But what stood out most wasn''t his clothes. It was the exhaustion. Deep, settled, woven into the way he carried himself. Not like a corpo gonk pulling overtime. Like someone who was tired of playing the game but had no choice but to keep going. Her throat felt dry as hell, but she forced out, "Where-" Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard. "Where the fuck am I?" The man exhaled softly, rubbing the side of his temple. "Somewhere safe," he said. Then, after a pause, "For now." Her jaw tightened. For now. That meant temporary. That meant she was still in trouble. Her mind worked fast. No armed guards. No interrogation. No immediate threats. But she was still restrained, still under watch. Something wasn''t adding up. She tugged at the restraints again, testing them. "So what now? You gonna interrogate me? Sell me off to some R&D freakshow?" The man didn''t answer right away. Just studied her with that same unreadable gaze. Then, finally, he shook his head. "No." No elaboration. No reassurance. Just no. Sasha''s stomach twisted. Chapter 2 – Divergence POV: Elias Elias should¡¯ve let her die. That thought had been circling his head ever since he pulled Sasha Yakovleva¡¯s half-flatlined body out of the wreckage. It would¡¯ve been the logical thing to do. The right thing, even. Dead netrunners didn¡¯t cause problems. Dead netrunners didn¡¯t compromise careers. Dead netrunners didn¡¯t sit across the room, alive against all odds, staring him down like they were already planning a way to put a knife in his ribs. His fingers tapped against the desk-soft, rhythmic, controlled. A bad habit he never shook. His gaze flicked to the monitor in front of him. Sasha¡¯s medical file was still open. Stabilized. No longer critical. She was alive. And that meant he had a problem. 2060 He used to think he was lucky. Back in the first few days-when the realization hit that he¡¯d woken up in the world of Cyberpunk-he¡¯d actually thought he had a chance to change everything. Fix the tragedies. Derail the worst events before they ever happened. For about a week, he had a plan. Then reality kicked his teeth in. The first red flag? His body. He was supposed to have an edge. Some kind of isekai protagonist buff. Instead? Below-average cyberware tolerance. The first implant surgery wrecked him for a week. The second left him with a migraine so bad he blacked out for two days. By the third, the ripperdoc told him flat-out: "Kid, your body ain''t built for heavy chrome. Best you stick to the basics-, Kiroshi optics, maybe a cyberdeck if you¡¯re lucky." That was the moment it sank in. No Sandevistan. No Kerenzikov. No full-body chrome warrior bullshit. Just him. So he adapted. If he couldn¡¯t rely on chrome, then he had to outthink, outmaneuver, and outwork everyone else. Cybersecurity and netrunning were the only fields he could try to succeed in. He studied harder than anyone else, aced the entrance exams, and landed a scholarship to Night City University and landed a job in biotechnica. Not a high-flying merc. Not an edgerunning street legend. Just a corporate suit in training, learning how to survive. 2069 The Unification War didn¡¯t care about neutrality. It didn¡¯t matter that Biotechnica wasn¡¯t officially involved. That didn¡¯t stop the cyberattacks, riots, and data breaches from gutting the company¡¯s Night City operations. He was just an assistant back then. A no-name mid-management cybersecurity specialist, working under a no-name manager. Then the first wave of cyberattacks hit. Militech and Arasaka weren¡¯t even targeting Biotechnica. They were too busy ripping each other¡¯s networks apart to care. But the crossfire? The collateral damage? That was another story. The first data breach fried half of their security network. AI watchdogs glitched out. ICE defenses crashed. And every netrunner above him? Dead within minutes. He should¡¯ve been one of them. He wasn¡¯t. Because he was too low-ranked to be sent in first. Because he hesitated while his higher-ups and coworkers got fried. When the dust settled, most of Biotechnica¡¯s cybersecurity team was dead. And he was still breathing. A promotion followed. Then another. Not because he was the best but because he was there 2074 Despite his hard work, his rise in the company began to stall. Elias Nov¨¢k had learned the rules of the game a long time ago. Competence didn¡¯t get you anywhere. Leverage did. A brilliant mind wouldn¡¯t save you if someone dumber but better connected decided you were a threat. A flawless track record didn¡¯t mean shit if the people above you saw you as useful, but replaceable. The only thing that mattered was positioning. Knowing when to make noise and when to wait. Richard Holtz understood that. The head of cybersecurity in Biotechnica¡¯s Night City branch had gotten his position not through skill, but through the right friends, the right deals, the right balance of knowing just enough to sound competent while never doing any real work. Elias had watched him rubber-stamp outdated security policies and cut corners on infrastructure just so he could free up budget space to line his own department with personal projects. It was pathetic. It was obvious. It was also completely untouchable. Nobody in Biotechnica cared until something went wrong. So Elias had spent years pushing for better security. He had laid out the risks, the weaknesses, the inevitable consequences of Holtz¡¯s cost-cutting. Every report had been ignored. Every request shot down. He stopped caring about fixing the system a long time ago.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Instead, he started planning around it. Holtz wasn¡¯t invincible. One day, he would fuck up. He would leave a blind spot open long enough for someone to exploit it. When that happened, he¡¯d need a scapegoat. Someone to take the fall so he could keep his job. Elias wasn¡¯t going to be that scapegoat. He was going to be the guy with the answers. The one who had been right the whole time. It was just a matter of waiting for the disaster. And now, in late 2075, he knew it was close. He had been waiting for her. Sasha Yakovleva. Not an employee. Not a contractor. A freelancer running small jobs, slipping through the cracks of Biotechnica¡¯s security. He knew exactly who she was. Knew what she would do. He had watched it happen before. A memory-not from this life, but from the one before-Sasha breaching Biotechnica¡¯s networks. Leaking their secrets. Getting caught. Dying for it. He stayed away from the department that would eventually handle the breach. When internal reshuffles happened, he made sure his name was never in the rotation for network monitoring teams. If something went wrong, it wouldn¡¯t be his responsibility. He pushed for better security, just enough to be ignored. Every few months, he submitted reports outlining how Biotechnica¡¯s outdated ICE defenses could be bypassed by a competent netrunner. He worded them carefully-clear, but not urgent. Concerning, but not enough to force action. Holtz ignored him every single time. That was the whole point. The more he pushed for better security and got dismissed, the more evidence piled up that Holtz was asleep at the wheel. And when Sasha finally broke through, it would be Holtz¡¯s failure on record. The moment Biotechnica needed a replacement, Elias would be the most qualified person left standing. It was a long game. Months of sitting back, making the right moves, and waiting for the inevitable. 2075 The alarm came in. Elias Nov¨¢k didn¡¯t move. He sat in his car, watching the data stream across his optics in real-time, just as he remembered it. Unauthorized network breach detected. Threat level: High. Source: Internal terminal, Biotechnica Night City HQ. He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the desk, right on schedule. This was the moment Sasha Yakovleva sealed her fate. She had entered the building less than twenty minutes ago. Maine had set up the comms jammer, but it wouldn¡¯t last. She was already deep inside the system, pulling the data she came for. CHOOH2 financial records. Immunosuppressant prototype 0.091. She should have left after that. But she wouldn¡¯t. Because in the next few minutes, she would find something else. Securicine. Elias already knew how this played out. Sasha would find the hidden internal reports-the ones Biotechnica had buried. The ones proving that Securicine caused irreversible neurodegeneration, that they knew, and that they kept selling it anyway. She would recognize the name instantly. Her mother had died on that drug. And that would be enough for her to throw the whole mission away. She would change the plan. She would upload the full report to Network 54¡¯s news tipline. She would prioritize the leak over her own survival. Elias watched the logs shift. There it is. Instead of extracting and logging out, Sasha was sending an external upload request. Network 54. Exactly as he remembered. He exhaled softly through his nose. She had just signed her death warrant. Another alert flashed across his screen. The comms jammer was disabled. The building¡¯s automated systems were back online. And that meant security had her location. Biotechnica¡¯s security AI reacted instantly. Threat detected. Deploying response units. Elias could already picture them moving before the logs confirmed it. Three mechs. Standard loadout. Designed for containment and elimination. They were already en route to her position. Sasha knew she was caught. She locked the doors, set up explosives, and cut off Maine¡¯s call. She wasn¡¯t planning to leave. That was the thing about Sasha Yakovleva. She wasn¡¯t the type to run. Not when she had something to prove. She had decided that if she couldn¡¯t escape, she would take them down with her. And that meant there was no outcome where she walked away from this. His fingers hovered over the controls. He could still let it happen. He had already positioned himself outside the direct chain of responsibility. If he did nothing, Holtz would take the fall for this security failure. Sasha would die, just like before. He would get promoted, just like before. It would be clean. Effortless. The plan was working. And yet- His fingers tapped against the desk again, faster this time. His breath was slow, steady. His heart wasn¡¯t racing. But something about this moment felt different. Not because he didn¡¯t know how it ended. But because this time, he was near the building where it happened. It wasn¡¯t just a story beat anymore. It wasn¡¯t just something he remembered reading, watching, speculating about in a past life. It was happening. Right now. Sasha held her ground. The robots breached the door. She stayed at the terminal. Holding the connection. Ensuring the upload went through. She didn¡¯t even turn to run when they opened fire. Elias watched her vitals spike. The first shot went through her side. The second tore through her shoulder. The force sent her flying back into the window- Glass shattered. Sasha Yakovleva fell. It should have ended there. She should have hit the ground. Should have died on impact. Should have been found by Maine, broken and lifeless, just like before. The logs confirmed the explosives had gone off inside the office. Everything she had touched was incinerated. Security would recover nothing. They would assume she was dead. His eyes flicked back to the virtual optics screen. Heart rate: Faint. But still there. Still alive. His hand moved before he could think about it. One command. One manual override. And just like that, Biotechnica¡¯s official records confirmed her death. Elias left his car. The smart move would be to leave it alone. But he wasn¡¯t about to let her story end here. Not this time. Not like this. He was already moving before he could stop, heading out of the parking garage and slipping past security unnoticed. The wreckage wasn¡¯t hard to find. She had landed on a passing car, metal crumpled under her weight, body barely holding together. Still breathing. She had minutes left, at best. He could still walk away. He should. Instead, he reached down, pulling her out of the wreckage, supporting her weight as blood soaked into his sleeves. He had spent years playing this game. Waiting for the right moment to move. Watching things happen exactly as they were supposed to. But some naive part of him still wanted to save a character he pitied from another life. Chapter 3 - A Seat At the Table 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 Nov¨¢k¡¯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¡ªcold 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¡ªa 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¡ªthe 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.
  • Unauthorized data extraction.
  • External information leak.
  • Physical security failure.
  • High-profile intrusion.
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¡ªwasn¡¯t a standard intrusion. The netrunner in question utilized a combination of custom daemons and backdoor exploits¡ª¡± 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¡ª¡± ¡°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 Nov¨¢k. 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¡ªI didn¡¯t think¡ª¡± 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¡ª¡± 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¡ª¡± ¡°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¡ªI didn¡¯t¡ª¡± Devlin sighed. Disgusted. Then he turned toward Lana. ¡°Get him out.¡± Holtz¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wait¡ª¡± Two Biotechnica enforcers stepped forward. Holtz¡¯s chair scraped against the floor as he stumbled to his feet. ¡°Devlin, please¡ªI¡ª¡± ¡°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¡ª ¡°Nov¨¢k.¡± 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¡ª ¡°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¡ªshe 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¡ªHoltz¡¯s old one¡ªreviewing 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. Chapter 4 - The Devil’s Bargain Sasha POV: The restraints were gone. Not that it made much of a difference. Sasha was still trapped. She sat on the edge of the medical bed, wrists aching, cyberware still lagging from trauma. The painkillers they pumped into her dulled the worst of it, but she still felt like she¡¯d been through a shredder. Across the room, Elias Nov¨¢k watched her. His suit was Biotechnica green-corporate, pressed, but slightly rumpled. He looked like a man who had been working too long, running on too little. He didn¡¯t look like someone about to put a bullet in her head. But he didn¡¯t look like someone who saved people for free, either. Sasha let the silence stretch. Let him be the one to break first. Finally, he sighed. Rubbed his temple like this conversation was already a headache. ¡°You want to know why you¡¯re still breathing.¡± Sasha scoffed. ¡°Lemme guess. You¡¯re gonna say you saw potential. That I¡¯m a valuable asset. That I could be useful to you.¡± Elias didn¡¯t smirk. Didn¡¯t deny it. He just sighed. Something about that was worse. ¡°You weren¡¯t supposed to make it out of that building.¡± His tone was calm, steady-too steady. ¡°And I was never supposed to interfere.¡± Her jaw clenched. ¡°But I did.¡± He leaned forward slightly, voice flat. ¡°Call it a mistake. A lapse in judgment.¡± A pause. "One good deed, buried under everything else I''ve done." Sasha didn¡¯t blink. He didn¡¯t say what he¡¯d done. Didn¡¯t need to. A corpo like him, sitting at the top of Biotechnica¡¯s security division? He¡¯d signed plenty of death warrants. And now, for some reason, hers wasn¡¯t one of them. Elias exhaled, slow and measured. ¡°You think exposing Securicine did something. That you hurt Biotechnica.¡± He tilted his head slightly. ¡°You didn¡¯t.¡± Sasha¡¯s fingers curled into her palms. ¡°The stock dipped for a day,¡± he continued. ¡°Maybe two. Then it stabilized. The board made a few statements. Investors moved on.¡± His voice was steady. Cold. Not mocking, not cruel-just stating a fact. ¡°You didn¡¯t burn the house down, Sasha. You knocked over a chair.¡± The words hit harder than she wanted them to. Because deep down, she already knew he was right. Elias watched her reaction carefully. ¡°The corps don¡¯t lose,¡± he said. ¡°You might land a hit. Might shake things up. But in the end?¡± He leaned back slightly. ¡°They survive. And you don¡¯t.¡± Sasha forced herself to hold his gaze. ¡°So what?¡± she said, voice low. ¡°I should¡¯ve just kept my head down? Let them get away with it?¡± Elias exhaled through his nose. Not quite a sigh. Not quite frustration. ¡°They didn¡¯t get away with it completely though.¡± That made her pause. He leaned back, rubbing his knuckles against his palm absently. ¡°Your leak forced them to make changes. Securicine¡¯s replacement is being pushed up the timetable. New formula, new branding. Damage control.¡± His voice was flat. ¡°You traded your life for management to slightly move a deadline.¡± Sasha¡¯s breath hitched. Elias nodded, like he already knew exactly what was going through her head. ¡°They can¡¯t afford a full recall. Too much loss, too much liability. So they do the next best thing-act like they¡¯re fixing it while squeezing out as much profit as they can before the new version drops.¡± Sasha¡¯s nails dug into her palms. Elias let the silence settle for a moment before speaking again. ¡°You hurt them,¡± he admitted. ¡°Not enough to stop them. But enough to make them adjust.¡± His fingers drummed once against the desk. ¡°And that¡¯s more than most people ever get.¡± Sasha swallowed. Her rage hadn¡¯t faded. If anything, it burned hotter. But it was different now. She had been so sure that exposing the truth would mean something. That people would care. That Biotechnica would have no choice but to answer for what they did. And now, staring at the man across from her-a man who had seen how the system worked from the inside-she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this was always how it was going to go. Not a victory. Just a recalculation. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. ¡°So what? I try again? Keep pushing ¡®til they stop for real?¡± Elias¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°No. You protect the people who actually matter.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Sasha stilled. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna stop Biotechnica,¡± he said. ¡°You know it. I know it. But your sister? Maine? Dorio? Rebecca?¡± His gaze was sharp. ¡°They¡¯re not untouchable. And you don¡¯t get to fight for them if you¡¯re dead.¡± Her throat tightened. He kept going. ¡°You think Maine¡¯s crew is gonna run jobs forever without stepping on the wrong toes?¡± Elias tilted his head. ¡°Maybe not Biotechnica. But Militech, Arasaka, Zetatech? You really think none of them are gonna decide they¡¯re a problem someday?¡± Sasha¡¯s hands curled into fists. And then-the worst part. ¡°Your sister Stella¡¯s already a target,¡± Elias said, voice quieter. ¡°She just doesn¡¯t know it yet.¡± Sasha looked up sharply. Elias didn¡¯t blink. ¡°She¡¯s an honest cop in a city where those don¡¯t last long. You think she¡¯s gonna retire quietly? That no one¡¯s keeping tabs on her?¡± Sasha¡¯s jaw clenched. He exhaled, rubbing his fingers against his temple like he was already tired of this conversation. ¡°You wanna keep fighting? Fine. But don¡¯t do it for a fucking company.¡± His gaze met hers, steady, unwavering. ¡°Do it for the people who¡¯d actually fight for you.¡± Sasha looked away. She hated that she understood exactly what he meant. She hated that he was right. She took a slow breath. ¡°And if I say no?¡± Elias leaned back, resting against the chair. ¡°You leave,¡± he said simply. ¡°No money, no backup. And I don¡¯t lift a finger when someone eventually realizes Biotechnica¡¯s least favorite netrunner is still breathing.¡± His voice was flat. Not a threat. Just a fact. Sasha swallowed hard. She wanted to fight. Wanted to find some third option, some way out of this that didn¡¯t involve chaining herself to a corpo or dying in a gutter. But there wasn¡¯t one. Her heart pounded in her ears. And when she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. ¡°¡­What¡¯s the first step?¡± Elias exhaled, barely audible. Not relief, not victory. Just resignation. He stood, adjusting his sleeves. ¡°We rebuild you,¡± he said. ¡°New face. New name. New life.¡± His eyes met hers, something unreadable behind them. ¡°Starting now.¡± 1 week later The car rumbled softly beneath her, the neon skyline of Night City blurring past in the reflection of the window. Sasha barely recognized the face staring back at her. The reflection wasn¡¯t hers. Not anymore. She had spent hours in the chair, unconscious while Biotechnica¡¯s top-tier Ripperdocs worked on her. Elias had spared no expense¡ªskin grafts, bone structure alterations, cybernetic restructuring. Not just a face change, but a full reconstruction. The woman in the glass had sharper features, high cheekbones and a defined jawline. Her natural dark brown hair had been replaced with a sleek black undercut with neon blue streaks running through the edges, stylish but unremarkable in Night City¡¯s crowds. Her pale green cyber-optics were gone, replaced with a soft gray-blue that made her look almost¡­ tame. Her skin was a shade lighter than before, synthetic layers making her complexion eerily flawless. Even the little scars¡ª**ones she had gotten from street fights, bad jobs, stupid childhood memories¡ª**were gone. A ghost of herself. Sasha exhaled, running a hand over her jaw, fingers pressing into skin that wasn¡¯t really hers. She had chosen Noelle Petrova as her new identity. It meant nothing to her. That was the point. Elias had handled the documentation. A fresh SIN. Biotechnica employment history seamlessly fabricated, complete with records of her supposed ¡°transfer¡± from their Euro operations. Sasha Yakovleva was dead. Noelle Petrova was a corpo slave now. And tonight, she was attending her own funeral. The North Oak Columbarium was quiet. Not silent-Night City never was. Even here, where people came to mourn, the distant hum of AVs and the low chatter of passing visitors filled the air. Sasha stood near the entrance, hood up, head down, blending in. The columbarium stretched out in front of her, row after row of engraved niches, each one holding a name, a memory, a story no one would tell again. And there, among them- Yakovleva, S. Small. Unremarkable. Nestled between the names of corpos, mercs, and people Night City had long since forgotten. She had seen her own death in headlines. "Mercenary Netrunner Killed in Biotechnica Raid." No real details. Nothing about why she had done it. Just a name in the system, tied to a failed job. They thought Biotechnica had her body. Standard corpo procedure. No funeral. No casket. Just a claim, a report, and a quiet cremation, her ashes locked away behind cold, numbered walls. That was the story. The truth? There was nothing to bury. Elias had made sure of that. She had told herself not to come. Too risky. Too reckless. But the thought of never seeing it-never knowing who would even show up-had been worse. So she watched. Maine stood near her plaque, arms crossed, shoulders tense. Not saying anything. Just staring. Dorio stood beside him, hand resting on his arm, grounding him. Rebecca lingered a few steps back, shifting her weight, arms crossed tight over her chest. Not crying. Just angry. Pilar wasn¡¯t there. No surprise. And then there was Stella. She stood apart from the crew, hands in her coat pockets, face unreadable. Sasha exhaled slowly, popping a piece of bubblegum into her mouth. She had thought about leaving a message. Something. A sign. But she knew it wouldn¡¯t work. She was dead now. That was the deal. Maine didn¡¯t say anything. Didn¡¯t move for a long time. Then, finally, he turned and walked away. Rebecca muttered something under her breath and followed. Dorio was the last to leave. Except for Stella. She didn¡¯t move. Sasha clenched her jaw. This was stupid. She should leave. But instead, she took a step forward. Then another. She stopped a few feet away, still close enough to be heard. Stella glanced at her, expression wary. "You here for someone?" Sasha rolled her gum over her tongue. Carefully. "Yeah." Stella nodded toward the plaque. "Knew her?" Sasha hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Something like that." Stella studied her. Too long. Sasha forced herself to hold still, to keep her expression unreadable. She had spent years lying to corpos, to fixers, to mercs. But Stella? Stella had always been harder. ¡°They didn¡¯t even let me see her,¡± Stella muttered, looking back at the plaque. ¡°Just said she was gone. Cremated. Security risk. You believe that?¡± Sasha chewed her gum slowly. ¡°Corps don¡¯t care about what we believe.¡± Stella huffed out a dry laugh. ¡°Yeah. Guess not.¡± For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Sasha reached into her pocket, pulled out her pack of gum, slid out a piece, and held it out. Stella blinked. Then, after a pause, she took it. A brief exchange. Nothing more. But as Stella unwrapped the gum, popping it into her mouth, her shoulders eased. Just a little. Sasha exhaled, chewing slowly. She couldn¡¯t tell Stella the truth. She couldn¡¯t say, I made it out. I¡¯m alive. But maybe-just for a moment-she could pretend she wasn¡¯t a ghost. ¡°Take care of yourself,¡± Sasha muttered, turning to leave. Stella didn¡¯t stop her. Didn¡¯t ask for a name. She just stood there, chewing, watching Sasha walk away. And as Sasha stepped into the waiting car, disappearing back into the city, she wondered- Had Stella felt it? That flicker of familiarity, that instinct buried deep? Had she known-even for just a second-who she had really been talking to?