Heavy rain struck the window of bedroom in the back corner of my small apartment in the middle floors of the Chromehive Habitat Complex. A blend of dim neon light streamed in through blinds that were cracked and bent from years of being pulled down to peer out at the sprawling city skyline. I lay on my side, finger softly tracing the outline of the logo branded on the back of my neck, an ever-present reminder that I am property no matter how free I may feel. It was a simple design: a circle with a single dot in the middle, almost like an eye that was always watching. It was also one that everyone in the city would recognize on sight as the mark of OmniCore, one of the most powerful corporate entities in Peachveil City.

  I absently stared at the faint glow on the sheets from some of my tattoos, most were in traditional ink but a few were the new bioluminescent ink that made the designs glow like the millions of neon signs dotted through the city. I couldn’t tell if my mind was too full or just empty, there was a constant feed in my head at all times but it was getting harder to tell if it was my thoughts or just data running through my various implants. My finger dropped away from the scar, as my memories of its origin bubbled to the surface. It was given to me as part of my contract, a binding seal conscripting me to the service of OmniCore as a mercenary, off of their official books of course. It happened after the Incident, a wild event that would shape my role in this decaying world forever.

  The media called it a ‘potential disaster’ ignoring the fact that it destroyed my whole family’s lives. Around ten years ago, when I was fifteen there was a strange blip in the city infrastructure network. Every major OmniCore controlled system - power grids, maglev lines, corporate vaults, security feeds, etc. - all cut out simultaneously for exactly thirty minutes. Then just as quickly as it cut out, everything came back up at once as if it never even happened. Any longer and the city could have easily fell into chaos and it stirred up all the elites of Peachveil’s corps. There was more damage than everyone let on, gangs surged in the dark making quick grabs for cash, networks crashed leaving data vulnerable, and the Corpos saw for the first time how fragile their grip on the city really was.

  Cassian Veylor, CEO of OmniCore was on the feeds within minutes of of restoration, letting everyone know that he was personally looking into what happened. Within twenty four hours, Cassian announced that the issue was caused by internal negligence. Employees with access to sensitive system code had supposedly been sloppy and caused the black out. Those employees had been my parents, I was surprised to learn they had that kind of access. I didn’t pay much attention to their jobs and didn’t really know what they did but we had a nice condo on the upper floors of Hive 03, not executive level but well off.

  I came home from school to find the door to our condo laying on the floor, the place was trashed, and my parents were nowhere to be found. I tried calling them but they never answered. I saw their faces on the news later that evening, the announcer claiming they had been responsible for the blackout, and had been removed from the company. Without my parents, my life turned upside down pretty fast and I soon found myself hiding on the lower floors, scrounging to stay alive. I learned how to fight out of pure necessity, it was that or wind up in a brothel, or worse. I hated OmniCore for what they did, I hated Cassian for appeasing his shareholders with our life, and I hated the city for how it treated me when I was alone.

  I started trying to get even, finding people that worked for the corporation and following them, hoping to find a way to get to Cassian. I got into the building a few times, even managed to make it to the floor his office was on, but never managed to see him in person. I got caught trying to pick the lock on his office door, and I was sure it was the end. Guards flooded the floor, I was electrocuted and beaten and drug through the halls before Cassian’s secretary stopped them and called her boss. He showed up within the hour and the last thing I remember is spitting blood on his expensive fucking suit.

  I woke up days later in the medical unit, strapped to the table. Got my first implant that day, one that would kill me if I ever tried anything like that again. A small device affixed directly to the spot my skull meets my neck, a capsule filled with impossibly strong explosive fluid. If triggered, my head would quickly remove itself from my body in a flash of gore. The wound from the insertion was completely healed, but that wasn’t enough for Cassian Veylor.

  They saw potential in me, having made it that far into their building while practically starving to death. Cassian found out who I was and decided that someone needed to pay off the debt from what my parents had done, millions of dollars worth of damages to the corp and it’s image. They offered me a way to pay off that debt, working off the book as a mercenary. They would pump me full of chrome and tech and turn me into a weapon. I didn’t really have a choice. I wasn’t going to let myself die before Cassian Veylor if I had the chance.

  I agreed and they pressed a hot iron against the back of my neck, permanently marking me as their new toy. They put me in a small apartment, put me through school, and then dropped me in a military style training system for a few years where they replaced most of my insides with tools and weapons that would make me a perfect soldier. It was all basic stuff back then, I’ve replaced most of it in the years since, and added some choice pieces of my own. I am now one of many mercenaries taking odd jobs in Peachveil City to make a living, though my payouts are only about forty percent what they are worth, the rest going through laundry networks back to OmniCore.

  I get to choose what jobs I take and when, for the most part. Omni has a lot of agents, and they don’t need me all the time. I built up my skills as an assassin, and so they usually call me in when they need something doing quiet, or someone removed from a particular scenario. I had just finished one of those jobs a few hours ago. That’s why I was collapsed on my bed, stuck in my head, still nude and damp from the shower.

  The job had been simple, just some mouthy guy that was talking a little too loudly about what OmniCore was doing in some business deals around the city. I didn’t read the whole report, I knew he’d be a easy mark based on his profile. I put on a cute outfit, waited outside his office until he left for the night to go to the bar and innocently bumped into him. Batted my eye lashes and followed him to the bar. He got drunk and touchy, and I acted like I enjoyed it. A few hours later I was crawling into his lap in a hotel room, sinking my poison-laced retractable fangs into his neck, and moments later his eyes closed for the last time. I texted the Cleaner to dispose of his body, and came home to wash off his smell.

  Cash flowed into my account, a meager payout since the cut was already taken. I hit my vape, filling my lungs with THC as I rolled over onto my back. It barely had any effect anymore, my biological systems would cleanse the chemicals out before I got high enough to enjoy it, but it was a habit and still took the edge off the world for a moment. I could get stuff stronger, but they all had side effects and cost too damn much to be worth it. I gazed out the window at the smog filled skyline, the broken blinds casting lines across my face like the bars of a prison cell.

  My hand absently flowed down my body, resting on the side of my stomach. My skin was unnaturally soft and smooth to the touch, barely even felt real. It was a special alloy that emulated tender soft skin but was resilient against cuts and scrapes. A blade would still make a wound, but it would take a little more effort like cutting into leather. I could barely remember what my skin felt like before the mods, not that I didn’t like this version. I chose this upgrade myself, it really helped when seducing targets and came with boosted pheromone emitters that made me almost irresistible up close.

  I rolled again, facing the empty side of my queen bed. The bed felt emptier than usual tonight. I never brought anyone here for both their safety and my own, but I often wished there would be someone waiting for me when I got back from a gig. It would never last, how could it? I was a weapon, and weapons are made to destroy. Relationships just opened the door for more leverage against me, I’d be endangering anyone that I let get too close for my own selfishness. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since this morning.

  The light from the fridge cast my shadow across the floor as I stood in front of it hoping to find something inside to eat. It was mostly empty, I couldn’t remember the last time I bought groceries. That seemed like a luxury in this city, given how expensive everything had become. The fridge wasn’t even that big and wouldn’t hold more than a few drinks and ingredients anyway. I was hoping I had some leftovers, but they were moldy. I chucked them into the incinerator chute and moved to the pile of clothes on my couch. I was going to have to go out.

  I slipped into a pair of dark grey jeans that I pretended were clean, I was overdue for a trip to the laundromat. I found a baggy tank that I was fairly certain I hadn’t worn yet. It was black and featured the logo for SYN//POP, a biotech soda from the Synthara corp. It tasted like cherries and cream, and altered your hormone levels for a few hours. Then I pulled on my socks, chunky combat boots, and my Vyrawear jacket.

  I loved that jacket, I had pulled it out of the back of a wrecked truck in the Ash Sector. Some gangs must have robbed the shipment and dropped it while they were leaving. It was a little big for me, but not enough to matter. Vyrawear specialized in tough durable armored fabric blended with street fashion and their signature was the seam threads that glowed neon colors and were fully customizable when linked with your personal system. I let mine slowly cycle between reds, pinks, and purples. This one had a dagger and skull on the back, and parts of the image also had the glow-thread. The shoulders had bulky pads with chunky leather plugs in them that I still didn’t what they were actually for, but it looked pretty cool.

  On the front, I had affixed a simple red and black holo-patch that had my codename on it: NyxVyxn. I went by Nyx most of the time, having mostly given up my old name when OmniCore branded me. I rarely let anyone know what it was, there wasn’t a good reason for me to be anyone other than Nyx in my day-to-day. When I was on a job, I could pick any name I wanted to be my temporary identity. It only ever lasted as long as the mission, and then I was back to being Nyx, the sultry conscripted mercenary.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Peachveil had a whole industry of merc work available for those tough enough to want it. The Corpos were always at war with each other, and gangs roamed the streets with their own goals and aspirations, there were too many to count but most of them were attached to a few notable big ones that had almost as much power as the corps. Most people carried weapons for protections, especially in Chromeline, the city’s massive residential district. Gunshots echoed in the distance regularly as some kind of conflict popped up leaving the average citizens on edge at all times. Police barely existed anymore, they had mostly been replaced by the various private security forces for the major corporations that owned the mega city.

  Chromeline sat in the northwestern wedge of the city, across the Ash from Neuronet Spires in the northeast where the Neuronet headquarters are. Most of the towers are servers for the massive network of augmented reality systems they run across the city. The AR system links to your personal and displays virtual images, mostly ads for businesses, but can also be used to have conversations with people from just about anywhere in short bursts. Businesses can really customize their storefronts with the AR tech, layering their identity and products virtually across cheap blank cement cubes saving on building and maintenance costs.

  The Ash Sector, or just the Ash, sits between Chromeline and Neuronet and is the chaotic corporate deadzone of the city, where the rough shit really goes down. The Ash is where you go if you are a merc looking for jobs, or want to get robbed or worse by the gangs. The bigger gangs have hideouts all over the city, but often come here to do their business. The Cinder Rats gang calls the Ash home, however, and they usually cause the most problems in the area. The Cinder Rats are what you get if you take a homeless camp and pump them full of untested augment tech, which is basically what happened. Ashline Arms, a minor corp focused on “civilian defense” weaponry is rumored to test their implants and weapons on the dregs of the city, and the ones that live usually wind up in the Rats.

  The southeast corner of the city belongs to Synthara, a corp that focuses on a wide range of biological technology. On the surface, the Synthara district is glamorous and sleek, full of biotech powered spas, designer augment shops, sickeningly clean implant clinics, luxury clubs, all of it dressed in a seductive glaze and neon lights to hide the shadowy side of things. Rumors of cloning experiments, black market implant trade, and dangerous cutting edge augmentation tech, people disappearing at the peak of their careers… there’s many scandals just under that sexy surface. Some people even claim that Synthara purposefully releases mods that break down easily so that their customers have to constantly come in and pay for repairs or replacements.

  Synthara stretches across the southern portion of the map until it meets the rigid border of Ghostport. Everyone is both terrified of and reliant on Ghostport, and it’s ran by a group called Umbra. Umbra operates the city port, and handles all import and export business, no matter how legal it may be. There are handful of people that find jobs doing grunt work for Umbra, but the corp relies heavily on their synthetic humanoids called Representatives. These synths are hard to distinguish against a normal human until you start looking at them real close, and the mask starts to slip. Each Rep has a serial number instead of a name, and are responsible for brokering deals through the city. All the corps use them to move assets around, and some even have assigned Reps that they exclusively deal through. No one is really sure who the CEO is, they stay out of the public eye, but are rumored to show up when the stakes are high enough to risk the balance of power in the city.

  This all forms a circle around the most expensive district, Omnicore Plaza, Peachveil’s shining gemstone heart. Omnicore runs this city, and this district is a testament to their power. The circular portion of town is lined with corporate banners bearing the familiar Dot-and-Circle logo, armored drones, armed security teams, and blue-lit plazas and parks. Easily the ‘safest’ sector in the city as no one wants to fuck with the private military Omni uses for security, but also the most suffocating. The whole sector feels like its pulling towards the center where the massive tower of Omnicore HQ sits, the tallest most imposing building in the entirety of Peachveil. An AR projection of a massive blue Cirlce and Dot sits above the tower, visible from anywhere in the city to remind us all that we are constantly being watched.

  I glanced up at the big blue eye and gently scratched the scar on my neck as I made my way through the middle open air section of Hive 34. Each of the hives had a few of these areas where the main walls were peeled away to let “fresh air” in and they served mostly as a shopping centers and public areas. Food stalls and konbinis filled the bulk of these areas, allowing the residents quick access to food and supplies without having to leave the Hive unit. Some vendors also sold clothing or weapons, and the quality varied depending on how high in the tower you lived. The low number Hives where the wealthier people lived often had full shopping malls available, but access was always limited to residents of the building.

  Here the middle deck open area of Hive 34, which we called the Vents, there was a constant buzz of activity and noise. The residents weren’t wealthy by any means, most of us made just enough to scrape by, but as a whole this Hive was pretty decent. Any amount of time in the Vents was an assault on the senses. Each stall was bathed in AR or Neon signs advertising products or food items. Food of questionable origin and ingredients sizzled and popped on hot plates or bubbled in pots from the food stalls, clangs of metallic tools and cutlery echoed from the vendors preparing the meals. Some vendors had barkers out front, calling in customers the old-fashioned way. Families waddled together in groups on the main thoroughfares, while strung out drunks and druggies collapsed in the alleys behind stalls. Almost every surface in the Vents was painted with graffiti or corporate ads too, it could quickly get overwhelming if you didn’t have your personal system running filters to soften the edges.

  I slid over to a food stall that specialized in noodle dishes, one of the cheaper but still somewhat healthy food options. The broth was made with real vegetables grown in hydroponic systems on the outskirts of the city, and the meat was synthetically produced in a Synthara lab. It creeped me out if I thought about it too long, but it tasted fantastic. A wooden, hand-painted sign hung crookedly across the top of the wire-framed stall that read The Drip Pot.

  It was owned and operated by a haggard looking old man named Haru Okada, his regulars just called him Gramps. He was gruff, but kindhearted once you got to know him. He was bald, with a scruffy grey beard, his arms were sleeved in blotchy tattoos that had long ago faded blue. He wore simple clothes under an old faded Synthara lab apron, though he claims he never worked for them. Not everyone stopped here, favoring trendier spots from social media posts, but those of us that did were treated to wonderful food and the occasional fresh fish after a few return visits. Gramps slid the steaming bowl toward me without asking what I wanted.

  “Extra spice, like always. Don’t glare, girl, it’s bad for digestion.” His single cyber-eye flickered as he grinned.

  “Thanks, Gramps. How’s biz?” I replied, wiping the grease from my spoon.

  “Oh, you know… enough to get by. I may not be popular online, but I make the best food in the Vents!”

  “That’s true. Maybe you should get some AR for the Pot, draw in a new crowd.”

  “Fuck Neuro, and their shitty flashlights!” He grumbled slamming a cleaver into the cutting board.

  “Easy old-timer, don’t let that blood pressure get too high!” I laughed.

  He mumbled something else and set a small plate next to my bowl. On the plate were two pieces of bright pink fish tied to a hand packed rice ball with some seaweed. I had no idea what kind of fish it was, but if Gramps made it I knew it was going to be divine. I dipped them lightly into some Ponzu sauce and placed them in my mouth. The fish was incredibly fresh, probably caught earlier today before the stall opened. It melted into a a wonderful savory umami flavor that blended well with the citrus notes of the sauce. I could’ve cried it was so good.

  By the time I had finished the rolls, my noodles had cooled enough to eat and I chewed at the dish with renewed vigor. The chili burned at my lips as the from the oil that mingled with the broth swimming with chunks of synth pork and diced vegetables. A perfectly fried but runny egg had sat on top of the dish but I had quickly sliced it with my spoon and mixed it in to slightly thicken the broth. It really was the best food in the Vents.

  A couple had sat down on the other side of the stall while I was eating, and were cuddled together chatting while waiting on their food. I watched as they smiled and laughed, my fingers twitching when I saw the two holding hands or playfully slapping at the other’s bad joke. They were in love, it showed and I felt something deep inside me stir. Jealousy, perhaps. The noticed me staring, and I played it off with a nod and a forced smile before I scanned the QR code with my cyber-eye to pay for my meal. Gramps handed me a small bag of egg rolls to take with me as I stood to leave before I ruined the couple’s meal with my awkwardness. I quietly thanked him and stepped back out into the bustle of the Vents.

  I walked around for a bit, letting the energy of my surroundings wrap around me in a vague comfort that felt like home. I thought about what it would be like if I still had a family of my own, walking through these crowded market stalls, buying groceries and supplies while chatting about our day. It was bittersweet to say the least. Thankfully, before I could slip much further into my feelings about the idea I was interrupted by a string of glowing blue text appearing in my HUD.

  Asset Performance Metrics report due tomorrow. 10AM. On-site.

  I groaned. Omni was tugging at my leash. They wanted to review my last few jobs and make sure I wasn’t hiding any under the table payments from them. Things they could do remotely and without my input, they had access to my contracts, ledger, and accounts. Wanting me at the compound usually meant I was getting assigned a more delicate job, one that they didn’t want on record anywhere. I sighed and started making my way back to my apartment, but stopped as a small glitch flickered in my HUD. I thought I was getting an alert, but diagnostics showed nothing out of the ordinary. I’d probably need to have Saint, the local Omni MechanoDoc, check my wires for loose connections or damage.

  I shook my head to see if anything glitched again and then realized someone was watching me from the edge of the hall. A tall slender figure with a hood sticking out from under a long gray trench coat leaned against a support beam on the far edge. I couldn’t see a face in the dark void made by the hood. I started towards them but a large man carrying a stack of boxes cut me off, and one he passed the figure was gone. I rushed over to where it had been and looked around but found nothing. My tongue anxiously flicked my lip ring back and forth as I checked the area once more but turned up nothing.

  I took a deep breath, shoved my hands in my pockets and headed towards the elevator to return to my room. Whoever it was, they disappeared quick which was suspicious and concerning, but there wasn’t much I could do about it right now. I needed to sleep, I might have just been seeing things. I quickly locked my door behind me as I returned to my apartment, and closed the metal shield on the window before peeling off my clothes and dropping into my bed once more, brushing off the possibilities of the stranger. It didn’t take me long to doze off to the sound of the rain. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.