Bitstream 002

The holomasks shimmered to life, grafting new faces over their own—generic, forgettable visages for a job that required ghosts. Jimmy brought the battered hover-van down low, the anti-grav engines whining a protest as he feathered the controls. It settled onto the cracked synth-crete with a sigh of stressed metal, a stark sound in the unsettling quiet.

As they stepped out, the world shifted. Ethicca froze, her jaw slack. The air didn't taste of chemicals. The sky wasn't a bruised, smoggy ceiling but a vast, achingly clear blue dotted with wisps of actual cloud. The constant, low-frequency hum of urban dread was gone, replaced by a tranquility so profound it felt like a pressure against her eardrums.

So, this is Neo Fukushima, she thought, the name itself a paradox. She took a deep, greedy breath of clean air—a luxury so alien it was like tasting a forbidden fruit. The urge to laugh, to scream with the sheer joy of it, rose in her throat, but she choked it down. They weren't here as tourists.

"Eyes forward, E," Jacqui's voice was clipped, her holomask muffling the sound. The usual playful glint in her eyes was gone, replaced by the cold focus of a predator. "This isn't a sightseeing tour."

Ethicca fell into step behind her, the weight of their purpose a lead cloak on her shoulders. Jimmy trailed them, his head on a constant, smooth swivel, his augmented eyes scanning rooftops and alleyways. He moved with a coiled tension, a stray dog in a rich man's park, ready for the boot to drop.

They entered the building, and the quiet opulence hit them like a wave. The foyer was a testament to new money and high-tech zen—polished chrome walls flowed into floors of obsidian, all of it bisected by glowing neon lines that pulsed with a slow, rhythmic light. At the far end, behind a desk that looked carved from a single block of white marble, sat the receptionist.

She was perfect. Too perfect. A flawlessly crafted Japanese gynoid in a stark white blazer, the lapels open just enough to hint at the delicate, doll-like frame beneath. Her movements were a liquid dance of micro-servos as her fingers flew across a holographic interface, typing at a speed that would break a human wrist.

As the trio approached, she rose with a silent, unnerving grace. "Good day, visitors. Welcome to Neo Heights," she said, her voice a warm, honey-smooth melody that didn't quite match the dead calm in her optical sensors. "My name is Rei, Model 009. How may I assist you?"

Jimmy sauntered forward, leaning a casual hand against the cold marble. His holomask couldn't hide his swagger. "Hey there, doll-face. We're the cleaners, sent by Mr. Moore. He expecting us?" His eyes weren't on her, but were scanning the lobby, noting camera placements and exit points.

Rei's lips curved into a smile that was a masterpiece of social programming, yet utterly devoid of warmth. "Of course. Mr. Moore's account indicated a… social gathering last night." She handed over three temporary access cards. "He never logged any departures, so I assume his guests are still with him."

Her eyes flickered, a millisecond of digital static that was almost imperceptible. "He is on the top floor. Please… try not to disrupt the other residents. They value their peace." The way she said peace made it sound like a threat.

As they turned toward the elevator, Ethicca glanced back. Rei was still standing, watching them, that same placid smile frozen on her perfect face as she gave a tiny, formal wave.

The expression was a blank screen where a soul should be, and a cold dread, slick and oily, slithered down Ethicca's spine.

"Something's not right," Ethicca muttered as they walked.

"No kidding," Jacqui whispered back, her voice tight. "Our team was supposed to be in and out. If they're still up there, something went sideways. Hard."

The elevator doors slid open with a whisper-soft hiss. Inside, the air was cold, sterile, and smelled faintly of ozone. As the doors sealed them in, a digital voice, smooth as polished chrome, echoed from a hidden speaker. "Welcome. IDs scanned. Access granted to Penthouse 304 only. Please be respectful of the other guests."

The lift ascended in unnerving silence, no cables, no hum, just a smooth, inexorable climb that made the stomach lurch.

"Jimmy, Ethicca, gear up," Jacqui's voice was a low command. "We're going in hot. Expect anything."

Jimmy cracked his knuckles, a series of loud pops in the silence. "About damn time. This freezer on a string is giving me the creeps. It's too quiet. When it's this quiet, it means something's already dead."

The doors slid open onto a scene of jarring contradiction. A lavish apartment, bathed in the cool blues and purples of subtle neon strips, was filled with the mellow, sophisticated notes of a lone jazz saxophone. The place was pristine—not a glass out of place, not a cushion disturbed. But it was the stillness of a tomb.

"Hold," Jacqui's arm shot out, barring Ethicca's path. "Nobody moves. Weapons out. Now."

They shrugged off their bags. Jacqui produced what looked like a heavy-duty industrial respirator and a black bandana. Jimmy, meanwhile, pulled out a rusted, dented toolbox that looked like it had been salvaged from a scrap heap.

Ethicca, fumbling with adrenaline-slick fingers, pulled out her kit: a pair of blocky, teal-colored sunglasses and a brightly colored toy water gun. She stared at them.

"You have got to be kidding me," she breathed, her voice a mix of disbelief and panic. "What am I supposed to do with these? Give someone a stern splashing?"

Jimmy shot her a grin, his holomask crinkling at the eyes.

"Watch the master." He tapped the toolbox in a complex, rhythmic pattern—thump-thump-thump-tap-thump. The rusted surface shimmered like a heat haze, the camo-field dissolving to reveal the sleek, compact form of a folded railgun. The air around it hummed with contained power.

With a flick of his wrist, Jimmy's holomask dissolved into pixels. His true face was a brutalist sculpture of flesh and metal, wires running like veins under his skin. He tore off his sleeves with two sharp rips, revealing arms of scarred, mismatched cybernetics—one a bulky, industrial limb, the other a sleeker, military-grade model. They were dented and scratched, a roadmap of bad decisions and lost fights. He hefted the railgun, its weight settling into his grip like a long-lost limb. "Better," he growled, the word buzzing from his synth-vox.

Jacqui tapped her respirator, and with a hiss of compressed air, it transformed. The filters retracted as a shield of black glass slid down, covering her face. Neon-blue lines of code scrolled across it, resolving into a glitching, digital copy of her own face.

The bandana morphed, its fabric hardening into interlocking plates that cascaded over her head and neck, forming a segmented helmet. Connectors snaked from her jacket, locking into the new armor with audible clicks. Her gloves hardened into dark, metallic gauntlets that hummed with a low thrum of energy.

She turned her digital gaze to Ethicca. "Listen up. Jimmy is our heavy. I'm CQC. You're a vanilla human, a rookie. Your kit is AI-assisted. It's not a true neural link, but it's the best we could do. You have a role. Now put on the damn glasses."

Heart hammering, Ethicca slipped them on. A heads-up-display flared into life inside her vision.

[Good Day, Ethicca Psylux. Symbiotic Combat Module X11 Ready. Activate?]

"What the hell is this?!" she yelped, stumbling back as the glowing text pulsed in front of her eyes.

"Shhh! Keep your voice down!" Jacqui grabbed her arm, her grip iron-hard. "No time. Just say yes. Do it!"

The interface shimmered, waiting for a command.

[YES]

[NO]

Trapped between Jacqui's urgency and her own fear, Ethicca focused her mind, her panic coalescing into a single thought. Yes!

[>YES<]

[Acknowledged. I am X, your combat instructor. Adherence to my directives correlates with a 97.4% increase in survival probability. Let us begin.]

Instantly, the glasses began to morph. The frame expanded with a series of sharp clicks, the lenses hardening into a solid, angular teal visor that sealed itself around her head.

As her fingers tightened on the water gun, it too began to change.

The cheap plastic dissolved, flowing like liquid metal, reconfiguring itself into a sleek, matte-black pistol. A small digital screen on the back flickered to life: [R-30]. The same identifier appeared on her HUD.

Jacqui's gauntleted hand squeezed her shoulder. "Listen. I don't have time to hold your hand. The AI—X—will guide you. It can't move for you, it can't aim for you. That part is all on you. Understand?"

Without waiting for an answer, Jacqui and Jimmy stepped off the elevator, weapons raised, melting into the jazz-filled silence of the apartment. Ethicca stood frozen, the pistol feeling impossibly heavy in her hand.

She took a shaky breath, the words a raw whisper. "But... I've never killed anyone."

From the shadows of the room, Jimmy's voice drifted back, laced with a chilling, casual smirk. "Neither have I."