《Ghost Circuit - Cyberpunk LitRPG》 Chapter 1: Ghost in the Machine The rush of air stung Cal¡¯s face as he plummeted. Below, the pavement loomed, growing closer with every second. Panic warred with resignation as he struggled to remember: Why am I falling? His thoughts fractured as the ground surged toward him¡ªthen stopped. Cal jolted awake, gasping. The same neon-soaked cityscape greeted him, spread out like a glittering tapestry far below. This high up, the streetlights and advertisements were nothing more than flickering motes of static. He was perched on the ledge of a skyscraper, his legs dangling precariously over the abyss. For a moment, the memory and reality blurred, the phantom ache of that fatal fall still fresh, he had to remind himself that he wasn¡¯t the one who took the fall. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, feeling the cold press of the neural jack embedded there. ¡°Focus,¡± he muttered to himself. Memories, real or stolen, had a way of bleeding together. He swung his legs back onto solid ground and turned toward the looming glass-panelled monolith of Synapse Dynamics. Inside the corporate HQ, Cal moved like a shadow through the building¡¯s arteries. The hum of the city fell away, replaced by the sterile quiet of polished hallways and the muffled buzz of distantly patrolling drones. Security systems hummed softly around him¡ªmotion detectors, thermal scanners, and biometric locks. But Cal¡¯s implants were doing their job, feeding him a constant stream of updates that allowed him to slip through undetected. He slipped past the guards and drones, climbing higher into the heart of the building. knocking one of the guards unconscious as he stared into the surveillance screens which offered no hint to Cal¡¯s presence. Cal took the grunt¡¯s matte-black uniform and security clearance. He bypassed labs filled with glowing vats and humming servers, rooms housing data worth fortunes to the right buyers. None of it was his concern tonight. Near the top floor, Cal entered a plush executive suite, the air perfumed with faint hints of leather and expensive whiskey. A figure sat in a sweeping chair by the window, silhouetted against the city lights, a Mr Victor Kane if his client was correct. The man didn¡¯t stir as Cal approached. Cal¡¯s stomach tightened as he circled the body. The executive was slumped at an unnatural angle, a bullet lodged in the side of his skull. A dark stain bloomed across the tailored suit. A gun lay on the floor nearby. ¡°Suicide,¡± Cal muttered, frowning. ¡°Or made to look like one.¡± He crouched beside the man, inspecting the damage. The implants embedded in the executive¡¯s skull seemed entirely intact¡ªan unexpected stroke of luck. Most jobs were messier. Cal pulled a neural jack from the back of his neck and connected it to the port at the base of the corpse¡¯s skull. The connection clicked into place, and his HUD flared to life. Streams of data scrolled across his vision as the man¡¯s memories began to transfer. The connection hit him hard¡ªa cascade of data unravelling like a thousand screaming headlines. Analytical tools, charisma mods, managerial protocols. Standard corp-wear, polished and efficient. Then came the deeper stuff. Languages, history modules, and¡ªthere it was¡ªa cluster of unmarked programs. ¡°10%,¡± his HUD chirped. Cal resisted the urge to pace, he hated the vulnerability of this part. Large downloads made a person less aware of their surroundings, a feeling similar to the fog of waking up from a deep sleep as his mind began assimilating the new data. He glanced at the desk, where family photos stared back at him, frozen moments of a life he didn¡¯t care to know. Instead, he reached for the decanter on the desk, pouring himself a finger of whiskey. He took a sip, grimacing. For something so expensive, it didn¡¯t taste much better than the cheap stuff. ¡°25%,¡± the HUD said. His HUD pinged as the building¡¯s security alarms flared in a crescendo around the building. Reports of someone entering the building flashed across his feed as security sent orders to drones and guards throughout the building. ¡°They¡¯ve found the window,¡± Cal muttered. The entry point he¡¯d cut into the building had probably been discovered. His carefully planned escape route was now compromised. He glanced back at the progress bar hovering in his vision. ¡°50%,¡± it reported. He clenched his fists, willing the download to move faster. Then came the worst news yet: the unconscious guard whose badge Cal had stolen had been found. Security would be tracing his path through the building now, closing in on the upper levels. ¡°70%,¡± the HUD droned. An antique red phone on the executive¡¯s desk began to ring, the shrill sound cutting through the tension. Cal¡¯s pulse quickened. That was it. If no one picked, security would prioritise checking the office. He had minutes. Probably less.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°85%.¡± He couldn¡¯t wait any longer. With a curse, Cal yanked the jack free. The sudden disconnection left him momentarily stunned, his vision swimming. His HUD blinked, new software unfurling like invasive vines. A progress bar crept into the corner of his vision. Something was installing itself. ¡°Not now,¡± he muttered, trying to suppress it. The system ignored him. Whatever had hitched a ride in Kane¡¯s data, it wasn¡¯t asking permission. He didn¡¯t have time to investigate. The HUD flickered with alerts as guards began swarming the upper levels. Cal killed the elevators, trapping some guards between floors, but it wasn¡¯t enough. As he bolted into the stairwell, the thud of boots and the ominous hum of drones thundered below. He moved upward, his options dwindling with each step. The sound of pursuit was relentless, growing louder with every floor. Reaching the top level, he burst into an opulent executive lounge. The room was all polished marble and chrome; he raced through a labyrinth of private bars, conference rooms and art installations before reaching the CEO¡¯s office, hoping for some sort of private exit or panic room. Hiding wouldn¡¯t help, drones would find him too easily, sensing his heat and CO2 trails. They were coming. Cal scanned office but found nothing that would aid in his escape from his assailants. Resigned, he slumped into a throne-like leather chair, his legs trembling from exertion. He poured himself another drink from a crystal decanter on a nearby desk, his shaking hands spilling a few drops on the polished surface. As he raised the glass to his lips, the progress bar in his vision completed. ¡°Installation complete,¡± a voice called out. Cal froze, his heart skipping a beat. The voice wasn¡¯t external¡ªit was inside his head. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he demanded, rising to his feet and spinning around. ¡°Relax,¡± the voice replied, smooth and measured. ¡°I¡¯m Nyx. You¡¯ve got bigger problems than me.¡± He scanned the room. Nothing. The voice wasn¡¯t external; it was in his head. Part of the software still installing itself. His HUD pulsed, and the progress bar hit 100%. ¡°What the¡ª¡± Before he could finish, the office doors exploded inward. The office doors burst open, slamming against the walls with a deafening crash. Cal ducked instinctively, diving behind the nearest desk as a hail of bullets tore through the room, shredding the expensive furniture and crystal decanters in a shower of glass. ¡°Hostiles confirmed on the executive level,¡± a voice barked from the hallway. The guards were heavily armed, spreading out to secure the space. ¡°Great, just great,¡± Cal muttered under his breath. ¡°Cal,¡± Nyx''s voice chimed in his head, smooth and dripping with amusement. ¡°Unless you enjoy getting shot, we need to move. Now¡± ¡°No kidding!¡± Cal hissed, peeking over the edge of the desk. A drone zipped past, scanning the room with an unsettling red glow. ¡°Then stop wasting time and let me help,¡± Nyx said, almost smugly. ¡°Help how?¡± ¡°Like this.¡± Before Cal could argue, his vision lit up with overlays and tactical markers. Paths illuminated on his HUD¡ªroutes through the chaos that he hadn¡¯t even noticed. Time seemed to slow as Nyx highlighted the guards¡¯ movements, drone patrol paths, and even weak points in the office¡¯s architecture. ¡°Move now,¡± Nyx commanded. Cal didn¡¯t have time to think. He sprang into motion, weaving between desks and ducking under a hail of gunfire. He slid behind a marble column as a drone fired a burst of plasma, scorching the air where he¡¯d stood seconds ago. ¡°Window, left side,¡± Nyx directed. Cal glanced over and saw it¡ªa massive pane of reinforced glass overlooking the city. ¡°You want me to jump out a window?¡± he snapped, incredulous. ¡°Relax. It¡¯s only three stories down to the maintenance platform. Just don¡¯t miss.¡± Cal grimaced but didn¡¯t argue. He darted toward the window, the guards shouting behind him. A drone swooped low, its scanner locking onto him, but Nyx rerouted Cal¡¯s implants to jam the drone¡¯s signal. The machine fizzled mid-air and crashed to the floor in a heap of sparks. Reaching the window, Cal skidded to a stop. The drop to the maintenance platform made his stomach churn, but there was no time to hesitate. ¡°Break it,¡± Nyx ordered. ¡°With what?¡± ¡°Your fist. The implants will handle it.¡± Cal clenched his hand into a tight fist, feeling his implants surge with power. With a roar, he slammed his fist into the glass. It shattered, shards falling like glittering rain into the night. ¡°Go!¡± Nyx urged. Cal took a deep breath and leapt. The fall was brief but brutal. Wind whipped at his face as he dropped, his knees buckling on impact with the metal platform below. Pain shot through his legs, but his implants dampened most of it. He rolled to his feet, his body protesting with every movement. ¡°See? Easy,¡± Nyx said cheerfully. ¡°Yeah, real easy,¡± Cal muttered, wincing. The platform led to an external maintenance ladder, which extended all the way down to street level. Cal sprinted toward it, but a drone buzzed overhead, zeroing in on him. ¡°Drones are tracking your heat signature,¡± Nyx warned. ¡°You¡¯ll need to distract them.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°Use the fusion canister on the platform. Overload it.¡± Cal spotted the canister¡ªa compact, cylindrical unit attached to a service panel. He didn¡¯t have time to question Nyx. He tore the canister loose and hurled it toward the drone. ¡°Now hit it!¡± Cal aimed his pistol and fired. The canister erupted in a fiery blast, engulfing the drone in flames. The shockwave rattled the platform, and Cal grabbed onto the ladder to keep from tumbling over the edge. ¡°That should buy you a few seconds,¡± Nyx said. Cal scrambled down the ladder as fast as his shaking hands would allow. The sounds of guards shouting and drones buzzing grew fainter as he descended into the maze of alleys below. By the time he reached the ground, his legs felt like jelly, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He ducked into the shadows of a narrow alley, leaning against the cold metal wall of a service corridor. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Nyx said smugly. Cal glared at nothing. ¡°What the hell are you?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m your new partner,¡± Nyx replied. ¡°And if you want to stay alive, you¡¯ll listen to me.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Cal muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up for this.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t sign up for a lot of things,¡± Nyx said, its tone darkening. ¡°But you¡¯re stuck with me now. And trust me, Cal¡ªyou¡¯re going to need me.¡± The sound of sirens in the distance snapped Cal back to attention. He pushed off the wall and started moving again, Nyx guiding his steps through the labyrinth of backstreets. ¡°Where are we going?¡± Cal asked. ¡°Somewhere safe,¡± Nyx replied. ¡°And then we¡¯re going to talk about how very screwed you are.¡± Chapter 2: Hunted ¡°You shouldn''t be here. There are cameras everywhere.¡± Nyx said exasperated. ¡°Trust me, this is pretty much my home turf. We''re safe here.¡± Cal said, checking behind him to make sure they weren''t being followed as he hurried down the backstreets. This wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d been chased by security, it was one hazard of the job when your commute often involves breaking and entering. Up until now. Cal had been following a map Nyx had put in his peripheral vision, a handy red line telling him exactly where to go. But he¡¯d been ignoring it, along with Nyx¡¯s protests, her directions updating each time he took a different turn. ¡°Well, on this ¡®safe¡¯ route, I''ve had to disable five security cameras, two drones, and even someone''s eye implants to keep you off the records. You''re probably the most searched after man in the city right now you know.¡± Nyx said, irritation creeping into her voice. ¡°For breaking and entering?¡± Cal asked. ¡°For murdering a CEO.¡± she shot back. ¡°You know that wasn''t me.¡± ¡°It won''t be me you have to convince.¡± Cal exhaled sharply. ¡°Where were you trying to take me, anyway?¡± ¡°Downtown. The further down, the better. We need to get you off-grid fast.¡± ¡°Alright, I get it. I''m just going to make one little call and then do whatever you say, happy now?¡± Nyx didn''t respond immediately. If she had arms, she''d be folding them. ¡°Whatever you think you¡¯re doing, make it quick. Every second you waste, your probability of survival drops.¡± She said. Cal rounded the corner, stepping into a cul-de-sac dominated by a rundown building. A halogen neon sign flickered in the rain: Waterside Tech & Repairs. The quaint, old-fashioned lettering was ironic for a tech shop. After a quick glance over his shoulder, Cal opened the door and scanned the room before heading downstairs. The basement was a chaotic mess of implants and electronics. A bin of arms leaned precariously against a wall lined with glass tubes filled with who-knew-what. It looked like a cross between a hoarder¡¯s workshop and a cybernetics black market. In the far corner, Ren was hunched over a delicate neural lace, their unruly mop of black hair obscuring their face. ¡°Ren.¡± Cal called out. Ren jumped, knocking over a container of eye implants. ¡°Shi¡ªCal! I didn¡¯t hear you come in.¡± They scrambled to their feet, brushing off their overalls. ¡°You got more memories to sell? Need repairs? Something interesting, I hope.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got some rare knowledge plugins¡­ but also something else I want someone to take a look at,¡± Cal said, keeping his tone casual. ¡°Oh?¡± Ren¡¯s curiosity piqued.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Some sort of assistant software. Not like anything I¡¯ve seen before.¡± Cal pulled the cord from the base of his skull. ¡°Well, let¡¯s take a look.¡± Ren grabbed the outstretched neural cable and plugged it into the port at the back of their neck. ¡°That''s a lotta files¡± Ren murmured, pupils flickering as they scanned. ¡°Yeah, I see those plugins, fancy stuff. Some suit payed a lot for this. Private tuition modules in there too¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m picking up Synapse Dynamics drones in the area. You need to go. Now,¡± Nyx interrupted in Cal¡¯s head. Cal ignored her. ¡°Check the untitled file¡ªthe largest one.¡± Ren¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Yeah, I see it. Whoa¡­¡± ¡°You recognise it?¡± ¡°I dunno, man. It¡¯s some kind of personal assistant, but nothing I¡¯ve ever seen. This is hot. Way too hot for me.¡± Ren took a step back. ¡°How''s it different?¡± Cal asked. ¡°I can¡¯t even begin to tell you how it works. This is way above my pay grade. You gotta leave. Now.¡± A pop-up flickered in Cal¡¯s peripheral vision. [Uploading Memories] Ren jolted. ¡°The hell was that?! I felt something inside my skull!¡± They yanked the cable out and shoved Cal toward the door. ¡°Oh god, that better not have been a trojan.¡± Outside, the door locked behind him, the neon sign going dark. ¡°What did you do?¡± Cal demanded. ¡°Took their data. But never mind that. Your little detour just cost us. They¡¯re on to you.¡± Nyx¡¯s voice was tight with urgency. ¡°I can disable their drones, but people are another story. And they have dogs. Outrunning them won¡¯t be easy.¡± ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± Cal asked. ¡°You need to run out of this cul-de-sack and back into the alleyway as fast as you can. Turn left and don¡¯t look to your right, then take the next left.¡± Nyx commanded. A visual overlay appearing in front of Cal. Cal sprinted into the alleyway, neon reflections smearing across wet pavement. A voice shouted from behind¡ªtoo close. He veered left, then left again, dodging an overflowing dumpster as the sound of barking dogs closed in. He followed the red line that stretched out in front of him, zigzagging through backstreets. he heard the sound of dogs barking behind him. They were close. Very close. ¡°Jump. Now!¡± Nyx commanded. A red arrow flashed over a trash bin below a fire escape. Cal leaped, grabbing the railing just as a dog snapped at his heels. He scrambled up, then vaulted across a gap between buildings. Landing hard, he rolled and kept running, dodging pedestrians and traffic as he cut through the city¡¯s arteries. The pounding of boots behind him faded as he ducked into another alley. ¡°There¡¯s a stairway up ahead. I¡¯ve disabled the lock on the second floor.¡± ¡°In there?¡± ¡°No one¡¯s home.¡± Cal pushed through the door into a cramped apartment. Sparse furniture. A space that belonged to someone who lived at the office. ¡°Is it safe?¡± ¡°No. But it¡¯ll buy time. Ditch your jacket. Find a new one. A hat too.¡± Cal scowled. ¡°You¡¯re making me steal some random guy¡¯s stuff?¡± ¡°This is survival. They saw your silhouette, not your face.¡± His overlay updated, highlighting a coat rack. ¡°Fine.¡± He yanked on a new coat, pulled up the hood, and stepped out the front door. As he moved deeper into the city, the crowd thickened. Rain poured down, bodies and umbrellas shielding him from prying eyes. Neon advertisements pulsed against the wet pavement. He kept his head low. ¡°You need to keep moving,¡± Nyx urged. ¡°Synapse Dynamics doesn¡¯t let loose ends walk free.¡± Cal clenched his jaw. ¡°Yeah, I got that. But I¡¯m not just going to keep running forever. I need to know what¡¯s going on.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have time for¡ª¡± ¡°Make time.¡± Cal stepped into the shadow of a broken streetlight, letting the crowd flow past. ¡°What did I just download? What did you do to Ren?¡± Nyx hesitated. For the first time since they¡¯d met, she sounded almost¡­ uncertain. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything to them,¡± she said slowly. ¡°Not intentionally. But I needed their data to patch holes in my own code. Something¡¯s missing. Something important.¡± ¡°And what the hell does that mean for me?¡± A pause. Then, the pop-up flickered in his vision again: [Memory Integration: 100%] [Memory Integration Completed] [10 XP Gained] ¡°It means, you need my help. And I need yours.¡± Nyx replied. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you are, Nyx,¡± he muttered, slipping back into the moving crowd. ¡°But if they want you this bad, I need to find out.¡± Chapter 3: A Morgue Job Cal leaned against the cold concrete wall of the hotel he¡¯d hid inside, scanning the crowd moving along in the city below. "We need more memories," Nyx said, breaking the silence. Cal rubbed his temples. "You mean you need more memories." "And you need more money," Nyx countered. "Which means work. Preferably something that won¡¯t have half the city gunning for you." Cal sighed. She wasn¡¯t wrong. He¡¯d been saving up for some time in hopes of leaving his life as a salvager behind, but he was nowhere near ready to afford to leave his work for an extended period of time. ¡°Only problem is that my last job didn¡¯t go as planned, I only managed an incomplete download before you know what. The broker won¡¯t be pleased.¡± ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t need to worry about that. I¡¯ve already taken care of his memories. Had to delete traces of my presence anyway¡ªmade the files look complete while I was at it.¡± Cal raised an eyebrow at this. "Fine. Let¡¯s go see the broker."
The man Cal only knew as the broker. Did his business in the basement of a nightclub Cal figured he must own. Cal could feel the low reverberation of music thumping through his body from the speakers above him as he entered the room. The broker sat at a mahogany desk, bodyguards standing either side of him impassively. The broker sat staring at a display of rapidly scrolling data, his appearance as unsettling as ever¡ªpale, almost waxy skin stretched over a skeletal frame, and cybernetic eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light. He studied Cal with mild surprise. "Well, well. I figured you were dead. I heard about what happened." "Good to see you too," Cal muttered, placing the stolen data on the table. "It¡¯s not complete, but it¡¯s close." The broker tapped a console, scanning the files. His lips curled into a thin smirk. ¡°Huh. Looks whole to me. Lucky break.¡± ¡°Told you.¡± Nyx¡¯s voice hummed with smug satisfaction. ¡°Got any more work?¡± Cal asked. ¡°Something low profile.¡± The broker steepled his fingers. ¡°Low profile, hmm¡­ Ever broken into a morgue?¡± Cal exhaled. ¡°More times than I¡¯d like to admit.¡± The broker¡¯s grin widened.
Morgue jobs were usually simple. Security was lax¡ªno one expected thieves to have an interest in the dead. Cal moved between rows of metal slabs, the air thick with antiseptic and something faintly rancid beneath it. The body he was looking for¡ªa man named Garrick Duval¡ªlay on the farthest table. His cybernetic implants were still intact. The police hadn¡¯t realized who they had yet. ¡°Just download, wipe the implants, and leave,¡± he muttered. ¡°Or,¡± Nyx chimed in, ¡°you could take more.¡± Cal hesitated. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the job.¡± "Since when do you care about playing it safe? I can process and compress the memories. Think about what we could learn." Cal stared at the other bodies. Before, he could barely store one person¡¯s memories without burning out. But with Nyx? He swallowed. "Fine." He connected his neural cable to Duval¡¯s implant and initiated the transfer. With Nyx inside his head, the job was nothing like his previous ones. He not only stored the data as he did previously, he could understand it as the memories flowed into him. Images flickered in his mind¡ªgun deals, back-alley cybernetics, bodies left in gutters. It was obvious to Cal why someone wouldn¡¯t want the police probing around Garrick¡¯s implants. Then, a shift¡ªhis perspective blurred. He was in a bar, surrounded by familiar faces. His vision swam, head pounding, chest tightening. Pain bloomed, sharp and consuming, spreading like fire through his veins. He gasped for air, but his body convulsed¡ªthen darkness. Cal jerked back to reality, panting over Duval¡¯s corpse. ¡°That last one?¡± Nyx¡¯s voice was quiet. ¡°Overdose.¡± Cal grimaced, shaking the sensation from his limbs. As he wiped the implant clean and moved to the next a message appeared in his HUD.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. [Uploading Memories] One by one, he plugged himself into every body that had working implants. Flashes of lives playing before his eyes¡ªdoctors, criminals, everyday people. Skills, knowledge, fragments of identities slipping into his own mind. The rush was overwhelming, his vision darkening at the edges¡ª He started keeping the faces of the bodies sheathed as he reached for their neural jacks, looking down at the bodies felt almost surreal to Cal after experiencing their memories. Then, something changed. A presence. Not just data. A voice. You shouldn¡¯t have done that. Cal turned back to the rows of bodies, his breath still coming fast. His eyes flicked over the metal slabs, searching. Then he saw it. The last corpse he had touched, Cal realised then that none of the memories of the last body had appeared in his vision. The sheet covering it had slipped slightly, revealing a gaunt, emaciated face. The skin was taut, nearly translucent, stretched over sharp cheekbones and hollow sockets. A thin layer of frost clung to the exposed flesh, as if the body had been pulled from deep freeze only moments ago. But what made Cal¡¯s stomach lurch was the eyes. They weren¡¯t clouded, like a normal corpse¡¯s should be. They were wide open, staring¡ªpupils dilated so far the irises were nearly swallowed whole. And though the body didn¡¯t move, though it was undeniably dead, something about it felt¡­ aware. Its cybernetics were minimal. A small neural port behind one ear. Subdermal plating around the temples, almost invisible beneath the skin. But he felt something inside those implants had spoken to him. Had seen him. Cal tried not to panic, he pushed the body back into refrigeration. A nameplate on the table read: Subject 43A ¨C UNIDENTIFIED No cause of death. No records attached. Just a nameless corpse, dumped here like an afterthought. Cal took a step back. A deep instinct¡ªsomething primal¡ªurged him to burn it. Instead, he forced himself to move to the console by the wall. His fingers trembled as he pulled up the logs. Date of intake: Three days ago. Found: Abandoned sector, no ID, no known affiliations. Status: DO NOT PROCESS. AWAIT COLLECTION. Cal¡¯s pulse spiked. ¡°Nyx,¡± he whispered. ¡°I feel like we¡¯ve made a mistake.¡± Nyx¡¯s voice was quiet. ¡°Yeah. I see that now.¡± Cal turned back to the body. The condensation on its skin was moving. Not melting. Not running in rivulets. It was shifting¡ªas if something beneath the flesh was breathing. His skin prickled. Then, from deep inside his mind, the voice returned. You shouldn¡¯t have done that. A surge of static crashed through his neural link. His vision fractured. And for a split second¡ªjust before everything snapped back into focus¡ªhe saw something inside the corpse stir. Cal ran, bolting down the cold, sterile hallway, his breath sharp in his throat. The morgue¡¯s fluorescents flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows as he moved. His boots slammed against the tiled floor, the noise deafening in the silence. "Nyx!" he hissed. "What the hell was that?" "No idea," Nyx admitted, her voice tighter than usual. "But I suggest we don¡¯t stick around to find out. I¡¯m dumping that last data packet now." Cal wasn¡¯t about to argue. His neural implant still buzzed from the static surge, a phantom pressure at the base of his skull. He didn¡¯t dare look back. At the exit, he punched the release panel. The door hissed open, revealing a dimly lit alley behind the morgue. He slipped through, moving fast, but not before one last flicker of movement caught his eye¡ªthe morgue lights dimming. A mechanical whine, low and distorted, rattled the walls. Then¡ªsilence. The door sealed shut behind him. Cal forced himself to keep walking, his fingers flexing as the adrenaline burned through his veins. Too close. He¡¯d done morgue jobs before, but nothing like this. Nothing that left a presence inside his mind. "You okay?" Nyx asked, her voice softer now. Cal exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Let¡¯s just get to the broker." The nightclub¡¯s bass pounded in his chest as Cal stepped inside, a dim glow painting the room in shifting reds and blues. He pushed through the crowd toward the back, slipping past dancers and corpo-types looking to forget themselves for a few hours. At the far wall, a heavy-set bouncer gave him a once-over, then jerked his head toward the basement door. Cal descended the narrow stairwell, the music muffled but still present¡ªa heartbeat under the floor. The broker sat at his usual spot, behind a mahogany desk too expensive for a man in his line of work. His bodyguards flanked him, impassive as ever. The broker barely glanced up from his console as Cal approached. "You look like shit," the broker said. "Feel like it too," Cal muttered, tossing an encrypted drive onto the desk. "Job¡¯s done." The broker tapped the device, scanning its contents. His expression remained unreadable, but Cal noticed the subtle shift in his posture¡ªthe faintest tightening of his shoulders. "You sure this is everything?" the broker asked, his voice casual. Too casual. Cal frowned. "That¡¯s what was on him." The broker exhaled through his nose, drumming his fingers against the desk. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The bodyguards remained motionless, though Cal could feel the weight of their gazes. Finally, the broker gave a slow nod. "Alright. Payment¡¯s transferred." Cal¡¯s neural HUD pinged with the incoming credits. The amount was fair¡ªnothing exceptional, but not suspiciously low either. Then why did it feel like he¡¯d just stepped over a tripwire? "One more thing," the broker said, tapping at his console. "Your name came up earlier. Someone¡¯s been asking about you." Cal¡¯s jaw tightened. "Who?" The broker smirked, but there was no amusement in it. "No names. Just a request for information. I turned them away, of course. I don¡¯t do free favours." Cal exhaled through his nose, resisting the urge to curse. He had enemies, sure¡ªbut this was different. If someone had gone through the trouble of tracking him through the broker¡¯s network, it meant they were serious. "Anything else?" Cal asked, keeping his voice even. The broker studied him for a moment before shaking his head. "Not unless you¡¯re looking for more work. I¡¯ve got a job lined up. High risk, but the payout¡¯s good." Cal hesitated. He wanted to say no. To take the creds and disappear for a while, figure out what the hell had happened back in the morgue. But that mystery¡ªthe voice, the static, the presence, it wasn¡¯t something he could outrun. He needed resources. He needed information. And right now, the best way to get both was to stay in the game. "...What¡¯s the job?" he asked. The broker¡¯s grin widened. "Atta boy." Chapter 4: Level Up Cal sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples as the last echoes of foreign memories settled into place. The rush had been intoxicating, but the aftermath left him disoriented, his own thoughts drowned beneath a tide of experiences that weren¡¯t his. His fingers curled into fists. He needed control. "Alright, Nyx," he muttered. "Explain. What the hell just happened?" A neon glyph pulsed in his vision as Nyx manifested beside him in his HUD, her form flickering between abstract code and a silhouette of a woman leaning casually against the air. "You levelled up," she said simply. "Levelled up? What is this, a game?" Nyx chuckled. "If that makes it easier for your meat-brain to process, sure. Think of it this way: memory transfers used to be raw data, dumped into your head with no organisation. The human mind isn¡¯t built to handle it. That¡¯s why most people either burn out or go insane trying to use stolen memories. But me? I don¡¯t just store data. I refine it." She snapped her fingers, and a display materialised before Cal, glowing with lines of data. "I separate the noise from the useful bits. Skills, instincts, learned reactions¡ªthose I compile into something your brain can actually use. The more you take, the better I get at optimising them. And when you hit certain thresholds, your body and mind adapt. That¡¯s what levelling up is." Cal exhaled sharply. "So that¡¯s why I suddenly feel like I could pick a lock blindfolded or gut someone in three different ways." "Exactly," Nyx confirmed. "Your nervous system has already integrated those responses. Before, you might have needed to consciously think about a move, but now? It¡¯s instinct." Cal stood, rolling his shoulders. His muscles felt taut, charged with something new. He clenched his fist, staring at the way his fingers curled with a newfound precision. "Alright. Let¡¯s see if this actually works in practice."
Cal¡¯s head throbbed with the aftershocks of the morgue job. The flood of memories he¡¯d absorbed still lingered in his mind, snippets flashing behind his eyes¡ªa surgeon¡¯s precise hands stitching synthetic skin, a street racer¡¯s instinct for threading through traffic, a brawler¡¯s sharp reflexes. All of them were his now. He sat in the corner of a grimy bar, nursing a cheap drink he didn¡¯t plan to finish. The room reeked of sweat and stale alcohol, neon lights buzzing overhead, casting harsh colours across the cracked tile floor. A place like this was perfect for disappearing¡ªbut right now, he had no intention of laying low. He was hunting. The moment he spotted the man, something clicked. Cal had seen his face before¡ªnot in the real world, but in Garrick Duval¡¯s final moments. The thug sat with a few others, laughing as he slammed back a shot, the same sneering grin burned into Cal¡¯s stolen memory.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. He was the one who sold Duval the faulty dose. The one who killed him. A slow, simmering anger settled in Cal¡¯s gut. He took a breath, rolling his shoulders as he stood. ¡°Before you do anything stupid,¡± Nyx¡¯s voice rang in his head, ¡°I should explain a few things. You levelled up.¡± Cal hesitated. "...What?" ¡°Absorbing those memories, the sheer volume of data¡ªyou triggered a threshold. You¡¯re stronger, faster, better than before.¡± A pause. ¡°Also, I can refine those skills into something¡­ usable.¡± Cal clenched his jaw, stealing another glance at the thug. "Not really in the mood for a tutorial, Nyx." "Humour me. Look at your HUD.¡± With an eye twitch, Cal brought up his neural interface. A translucent overlay flickered to life, far more detailed than before. Nyx had changed it.
Level 2 - [Cognition Enhanced] Skills Gained:
  • Street Brawler I ¨C Improved reflexes and striking efficiency in unarmed combat.
  • Instinctive Evasion I ¨C Faster reaction time to incoming attacks.
  • Kinetic Analysis I ¨C Able to read body language and predict movements with limited accuracy.
  • Basic Cybernetics Knowledge ¨C Understanding of implant types, functions, and basic tampering.
"I compressed useful data from the memories you absorbed," Nyx continued. "You''re not just remembering how to fight anymore¡ªyour body knows how. Your muscles react before you even think." Cal flexed his fingers. He did feel different¡ªlike a tension in his body had been loosened, instincts settling into place where hesitation used to be. Good. Because he had unfinished business. Cal moved toward the thug¡¯s table. "Hey," he said. "Remember Garrick Duval?" The man turned, brows furrowing in confusion before recognition hit. His sneer faltered. "The hell are you?" "Someone who saw what you sold him." A flicker of panic¡ªthen it was gone, buried under a scowl. "I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about." "Yeah?" Cal grabbed a bottle off the table, slow and deliberate. ¡°Maybe I should remind you.¡± The thug moved first. A wild swing, fast but sloppy. Cal was faster. He sidestepped, the world sharpening in slow motion, Instinctive Evasion activating as he drove the bottle into the man¡¯s gut. Glass shattered. The thug stumbled back, coughing, but before he could recover, Cal twisted and slammed an elbow into his jaw. Street Brawler I. The movement was fluid, practiced. Like breathing. The thug¡¯s friends scrambled to their feet, but by then, the bartender was already yelling. "Not in my damn bar! Take it outside!" Cal exhaled, shaking the glass shards from his fingers. The thug groaned on the floor, curling in on himself. He wouldn¡¯t be selling anything for a while. "You¡¯re lucky," Cal muttered, stepping over him. As he walked out, Nyx¡¯s voice echoed in his head, half-amused. "See? I told you it¡¯d come in handy."
Later, as he walked alone through the rain-slick streets, Cal let his thoughts drift. The fight had been a test, proof that he had changed, but it hadn¡¯t given him what he really wanted¡ªanswers. "I don¡¯t want to do this forever," he admitted, half to himself, half to Nyx. "The jobs, the running, the salvaging. It¡¯s not a life." "Then what do you want?" Nyx asked. Cal hesitated before speaking. "To find out who I was. Before they cut into my head, before I lost everything. I want to know why they did it. What they took from me." There was a pause. Then Nyx spoke, quieter this time. "Then we keep going. We dig deeper. One memory at a time." Cal exhaled, nodding. He had spent too long in the dark. It was time to start looking for the light. Chapter 5: The Board Of Directors The conference room at Synapse Dynamics was suffocatingly silent, the only sound the occasional tapping of fingers against polished steel and the soft hum of the holo-displays surrounding them. The CEO - Tim Chen- sat at the head of the table, hands folded, expression calm as the members of the C-suite shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They were all present¡ªexcept for Victor Kane, whose seat remained conspicuously empty. The absence was palpable. Victor had been the company''s rising star, his intelligence and ambition unmatched. He had been Tim''s prot¨¦g¨¦, someone who had climbed the ranks with the promise of one day taking over the reins of Synapse Dynamics. Now, he was dead, and no one had any clear answers. The head of security, a thick-necked man named Kessler, stood stiffly as the board scrutinised him. His usual air of authority was gone, replaced with the cautious demeanour of a man on the defensive. He had already been chastised multiple times, and the meeting had barely begun. ¡°The fact remains,¡± said the head of HR, a woman named Marlena Korr, her voice edged with irritation, ¡°that an intruder managed to infiltrate our highest-security facility, gain access to restricted floors, and leave without a trace. Meanwhile, Mr Kane¡ªone of our top executives¡ªis dead.¡± Kessler exhaled sharply. ¡°As I was about to say¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± Korr cut in, leaning forward, her tone sharp. ¡°We don¡¯t need excuses. We need action. A bounty should be placed on the intruder¡¯s head. Make them too afraid to ever show their face again.¡± The head of Accounting scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s a ridiculous expense. Skilled bounty hunters don¡¯t come cheap.¡± ¡°And what would be worse?¡± Korr shot back. ¡°Spending money on eliminating a threat or letting this become a media circus? If we don¡¯t act swiftly, it will come to light that someone breached our security and walked away without a single consequence. That¡¯s a PR disaster waiting to happen.¡± ¡°Speaking of media,¡± the head of PR, a sleek man named Halverson, interjected smoothly, ¡°a public manhunt isn¡¯t ideal. We don¡¯t want our investors in a panic. A corporate assassination scandal? That¡¯s a nightmare.¡± ¡°The alternative,¡± Kessler said, taking the opening, ¡°is that it wasn¡¯t murder at all.¡± The room went silent as he tapped his console, displaying forensic findings in a glowing holographic readout. ¡°Victor Kane had been dead for hours before the break-in. All signs point to suicide.¡± The words hung in the air like a weight. Kessler seemed to expect immediate resistance, but the response was slower than anticipated. Korr¡¯s lips curled into a thin line of scepticism. ¡°Convenient,¡± she muttered. ¡°Not necessarily,¡± Halverson mused. ¡°A suicide is quieter. It won¡¯t make waves like an assassination would.¡± He turned to the CEO, watching for his reaction. ¡°If we push this as a suicide, we control the narrative.¡± The board exchanged uneasy glances. Tim Chen, who had remained silent up until now, let out a slow breath and finally spoke. ¡°We all agree that keeping this out of the headlines is our priority. No public bounty. No high-profile mercenaries. We tighten security. Kessler, you¡¯ll get a small force¡ªno more. Hunt this man down. Find out what happened.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Kessler inclined his head, his posture slightly more relaxed now that he had some semblance of control over the situation. ¡°I¡¯ll lead them personally.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Tim murmured, his voice cool, detached. ¡°Then we¡¯re done here.¡±
The meeting ended with a collective sigh of relief from the board members, all eager to leave the room and escape the palpable tension that had filled the air. Tim remained seated, however, his hands still folded before him, his mind racing. Victor had been more than just a valuable asset. He had been someone Tim had invested in, someone he had thought would help carry the weight of the company into the future. Now, that future felt uncertain. Had Victor really been scheming against them? If so, what was the intruder retrieving? And why had Victor been involved in something so dangerous? But the biggest question of all remained: if Victor had truly been involved in something underhanded, why die in the process? None of it made sense. Tim rubbed his temples, his frustration mounting. There were too many pieces of the puzzle missing, and the closer he got to figuring it out, the more elusive the answers seemed. The whole situation reeked of something deeper, darker, and more insidious than a simple corporate espionage case, this could be career ending if managed poorly. Something had gone horribly wrong, and Tim had no idea how or why. Taking a deep breath, he activated his VR interface. The world around him dissolved into digital abstraction, the familiar, sterile environment of his office replaced by the cold, mechanical landscape of Synapse Dynamics¡¯ inner sanctum. In the VR space, the board of directors materialised¡ªblurred figures, their faces obscured, their voices distorting as they spoke. When they weren¡¯t speaking, they remained eerily still, frozen in place like statues. The figures always looked the same, yet there was something about them that Tim found unnerving. Tim had grown accustomed to this strange form of communication. In fact, he preferred it¡ªit kept things distant, impersonal. But today, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of unease that the situation had already slipped for beyond his control. He stood up in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for their input. ¡°The C-suite believes it was murder,¡± he reported, keeping his tone even. ¡°Kessler is convinced otherwise.¡± ¡°He is right to be,¡± one of the figures responded. The CEO frowned. ¡°I find it hard to believe. Victor Kane was ambitious, driven. His rise through the company was meteoric. Why would he kill himself?¡± He hesitated. ¡°And why would someone break in just hours later, tamper with his implants, and disappear without a trace?¡± Silence. The CEO¡¯s frustration grew. ¡°What was Victor¡¯s role? Was he a spy? Did he betray us? None of this makes any sense.¡± Chen tried his best to remain calm, relaxing his clenched fist that had gone pale with tension. The directors did not answer his questions. Instead, one of them finally spoke, their voice warping as if pulled through layers of interference. ¡°Your focus for now should be on stabilising the company and keeping employee morale high. You must await further instruction.¡± The CEO¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°And the intruder?¡± ¡°We will handle it.¡± came the disembodied response as the board of directors faded away, signalling that the meeting was over. The transmission ended, leaving Tim standing alone in the sterile void of the VR space. The questions lingered, unanswered and growing more urgent with each passing moment. He couldn¡¯t escape them. And the more he tried to focus on the company¡¯s future, the more he found himself drawn back to the mystery of Victor Kane¡¯s death. The answers, he knew, were buried deep. And it would take everything he had to uncover the truth. Chapter 6: Kesslers Hunt Navarro stood and surveyed the room where Victor Kane had died. The crime scene still reeked of ozone, scorched polymers, and something more organic beneath the chemical tang of forensic dust. She stood at the threshold, taking in the wreckage¡ªthe splintered furniture, the shattered display screens, the blood spattered across the sleek, corporate-grey walls. This was where it happened. Where the golden boy of Synapse Dynamics met his end. Victor Kane¡¯s office was a mess. The security drones had done their job a little too well, turning an already violent crime scene into something that looked like a war zone. Broken glass, charred furniture, blood smeared across the floor. The smell of ozone still hung in the air from discharged plasma rounds. Navarro crouched near the body, flipping through her holopad. Kane¡¯s corpse was slumped over, his neural port still partially exposed from where the intruder had accessed it. She¡¯d been on enough cases to recognise a professional job when she saw one. The bastard had gotten in and out clean¡ªalmost. Footsteps. Too measured, too quiet for a man his size. She didn¡¯t look up immediately. Instead, she let him come to her. ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± she said, still scrolling through her notes. Kessler smirked faintly. ¡°Didn¡¯t realise I was on a schedule.¡± He stepped closer, extending a hand. ¡°Kessler. Head of security.¡± His voice was deep, controlled. Navarro gave him a long, measured look before shaking his hand. Her grip was firm, unflinching. ¡°Detective Navarro. City homicide.¡± She had dealt with corporate muscle before¡ªmost of them were polished thugs in expensive suits, more interested in protecting their employer¡¯s image than finding the truth. But she could tell Kessler was different. She took his outstretched hand, noting the way he moved. Efficient. Controlled. His grip was firm but not aggressive, a man who knew his own strength. His suit hid most of it, but she could tell¡ªhe had military-grade augments. Nothing obvious, but it was in the way his shoulders squared, the way his stance adjusted to centre his balance. If he wanted to, he could probably kill everyone in the building with his bare hands. ¡°I was just going over the evidence,¡± she said, releasing his hand. ¡°What do you have?¡± Navarro gestured to the body. ¡°Your intruder was good. No security footage, no digital trace. Moved like he had the blueprints memorised.¡± Kessler¡¯s expression barely shifted, but she caught the flicker of something behind his eyes. There was something about Kessler that didn¡¯t set off the usual alarms. Maybe it was the way he carried himself¡ªno corporate smugness, no false friendliness. Just a man here to do a job. By the book, from the looks of him.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. She could work with that. Navarro gestured toward the wreckage. ¡°So, your guy was a pro. No cameras got a good look at him. He disabled security drones before they could react. Smart, fast, precise.¡± She crouched near the bloodstain, pointing to the faint smudges leading away from it. ¡°But he made one mistake¡ªhe brushed against the body while working on the neural port.¡± Kessler narrowed his eyes. ¡°Enough for a print?¡± Navarro shook her head. ¡°No. But enough for DNA. We¡¯ve already sent a sample off for analysis.¡± Kessler exhaled through his nose. The first solid lead. ¡°What else?¡± ¡°Footprints through the blood. We think they¡¯re his. Means he left in a hurry.¡± She shot him a glance. ¡°You sure your security didn¡¯t encourage that?¡± Kessler sighed. ¡°They were too trigger-happy, I¡¯ll admit. It¡¯s making this harder than it needs to be.¡± Navarro huffed. ¡°That¡¯s a first¡ªcorporate security admitting fault.¡± Kessler shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t deal in excuses. Just solutions.¡± They both fell silent for a moment, watching the scene as the forensic teams continued their work. Then Navarro¡¯s comm chimed. She checked the screen, and whatever she saw made the colour drain slightly from her face. She glanced down at the update from forensics. Her stomach twisted. She double-checked the results. Then checked again. Shit. Kessler caught her reaction immediately. ¡°What is it?¡± Navarro exhaled sharply and turned the screen so he could see. ¡°The DNA results just came in,¡± she said, voice steady. ¡°And?¡± Navarro met his gaze, jaw tight. ¡°It¡¯s a perfect match.¡± She hesitated for only a moment before adding¡ª ¡°But the man it belongs to has been dead for twenty years. ¡±Kessler stared at the results on Navarro¡¯s holopad, his expression unreadable. If he was surprised, he didn¡¯t show it. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and shifted his stance slightly¡ªcalculating. Navarro wasn¡¯t sure what she expected. A reaction, at least. Most corporate men would have blustered, demanded an explanation, insisted on shutting the investigation down. Kessler just¡­ thought. ¡°Twenty years,¡± he said finally. ¡°Any chance it¡¯s a mistake?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Forensics double-checked. It¡¯s him.¡± A long pause. The sound of boots crunching over broken glass as corporate and city officers moved through the scene. Kessler crossed his arms. ¡°This doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t.¡± She tapped at her holopad, pulling up the forensics timeline. ¡°Here¡¯s something else that doesn¡¯t add up. Kane¡¯s estimated time of death is logged at 22:43. Coroner¡¯s report confirms it. But security logs put the intruder entering the building at 23:12.¡± Kessler frowned. ¡°Half an hour apart.¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± Navarro held his gaze. ¡°Your intruder didn¡¯t kill Kane. He came in after.¡± She watched him carefully, looking for any sign of resistance, any indication that he¡¯d push back. But Kessler only nodded. ¡°That tracks with the evidence,¡± he admitted. ¡°The intruder knew what he was doing, but he wasn¡¯t expecting to find a body. He went straight for the neural port, did what he came to do, then left in a hurry.¡± Navarro nodded. ¡°We found footprints in the blood near the body¡ªhis most obvious mistake. They match the time of entry, not the time of death. He stepped in dried blood. Means Kane was already dead.¡± Kessler exhaled sharply. ¡°And now we¡¯re chasing a ghost.¡± Navarro tucked the holopad under her arm. ¡°Welcome to my job.¡± Kessler glanced at the body, then at the shattered remains of the office. ¡°So who killed Kane?¡± She shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s the question, isn¡¯t it?¡± For a moment, they stood in silence, the hum of security drones filling the space. Finally, Kessler looked at her. ¡°You still think we¡¯re on the same side?¡± Navarro considered that. She didn¡¯t trust corporations, not as a rule. Too many secrets, too many cover-ups. But Kessler? He didn¡¯t seem like the type to play games. She nodded once. ¡°For now.¡±