Bio Weapon Dystopia

Thiago Keithwork

The Refused’s little side gig with Vomi and Raven had definitely stretched longer than planned. Thiago wasn't sure why Raven was so hell-bent on getting these people out of the city, but their impromptu trip to the south with the Barkers had him low-key annoyed. Not that they were going that far, but still, this wasn't part of the schedule. The Barkers were a small but skilled nomad clan—more muscle than they really needed.

In the back of the truck, Nieme was being a gonk, messing around with his bass while Blaze casually riffed on a borrowed guitar from one of the nomads. Thiago kept his focus on the road, hands gripping the wheel, thinking about how long this trip was going to take.

Up ahead, Vomi, Raven, and Heitor were in the Colby, trailing behind the convoy. Thiago couldn't help but notice how Vomi had her eyes glued to someone—a particular nomad driving a red Thornton Galena. V, if Thiago remembered right. What was up with that guy? A one-letter name? Seemed suspicious, but he didn’t care enough to dig into it. What he did care about was giving the other boys something to talk about.

"Hey," Thiago called, leaning back without taking his eyes off the road. "You guys notice how Vomi’s, uh, hypnotized?"

Blaze raised an eyebrow, passing the guitar back to the nomad next to him. "Hypnotized? By what?"

Thiago chuckled. "Take a look."

Nieme craned his neck to peer out the back window. In the Colby, Heitor was driving, Raven riding shotgun, and there was Vomi in the back seat, her eyes fixed on V’s car.

"Choom, no way," Nieme laughed, realizing what was happening. "Vomi’s got a thing for tough guys, huh?"

Blaze snorted, shaking his head. "Man, she’s got good taste, I’ll give her that."

"You two are the biggest gonks I know," Thiago said, amused at their banter.

The nomad who had loaned Blaze the guitar overheard and joined in, casually strumming a chord. "You guys talkin’ ‘bout V?"

"That his name?" Nieme asked, curious now. "What’s his deal?"

The nomad smirked. "V’s a mystery, man. Keeps to himself. He’s our best tech and mechanic, can fix anything with wheels. But where he comes from? No one knows. Won’t even tell us his real name."

Thiago raised an eyebrow. "He just goes by ‘V’? Sounds like a legend outta a bad holo-film."

"Pretty much," the nomad chuckled. "He says only people who really know him can call him by his real name. Whatever that is."

Blaze leaned forward, grinning. "And Vomi’s over here eyeing him like she’s ready to crack the code, huh?"

"Jealous, Thiago?" Nieme teased. "You worried she’s got competition?"

Thiago laughed it off, shaking his head. "If I was tryin’ to hook up with her, I’d have made my move already. Trust me."

"Man, you’re no fun," Blaze muttered, disappointed.

"Anyway," the nomad yawned, stretching out on his seat. "Wake me up when we hit the next stop, yeah?"

Thiago just smirked as he kept driving. He wasn’t sure what V’s deal was, but he figured Vomi would have her hands full trying to get that guy to open up. For now, though, they had bigger things to focus on—like getting these refugees to safety and making sure the Black Daggers didn’t show up again.

The crew arrived at the outskirts of Watsonville, parking along the side of the road. The ride had been uneventful—no attacks, no breakdowns. Thiago was fine with that. After the craziness of the last few days, a peaceful drive was exactly what he needed. Raven might thrive on the chaos, but Thiago? He preferred the calm.

The Barkers said their goodbyes, the refugees handed over their payment, and The Refused split the profits with the nomads. Business was wrapped, and now it was just them, hanging out with a small stack of eddies in hand.

“Alright, what now?” Nieme asked, his usual boredom showing.

Blaze didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll tell you what’s next. We buy my fucking guitar,” he said, almost punching the air for emphasis. “I want one with flames.”

The little sparks from Blaze’s chrome fists were enough of a hint that he wasn’t joking around. He wanted that guitar now.

“Alright, to the shop we go,” Raven said, sounding like she was used to Blaze’s theatrics.

Thiago tossed a bag of snacks to the group, half-laughing. “Wait, Watsonville even got good stores? This place looks... basic.”

Heitor shrugged, already munching on some red ant chips. “Only one way to find out.”

Vomi, though, seemed distracted. Vanguard perched on her shoulder as she pet him absently, clearly lost in thought.

Nieme noticed and broke the silence. “Hey, Vomi. Nice shirt. Red suits you.”

Vomi blinked, snapping out of her daydream. “Huh? Oh—thanks. Y-you think so?”

Blaze grinned. “Very Arasaka, though. You sure you’re not aiming for that corpo life? You already got the black-and-red eyes, all that’s missing is the Arasaka logo on your chest.”

“As if,” Vomi scoffed, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright. I’ll buy you your damn guitar. You’ve been pestering me ever since I broke the last one.”

“Yeah, and I’m never letting you touch another one of mine,” Blaze huffed.

“Alright, chill out,” Thiago said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I wanna see if they’ve got any new amps. That could really boost our next album.”

Raven shot Vomi a look. “Might as well get yourself an instrument too, Vomi. You know we could use a backup guitarist. Some of our tracks feel empty.”

Vomi sighed, glaring at Raven. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” Raven said, her usual goth mood lightened by her excitement. “Come on, Vomi, you know we need it.”

Begrudgingly, Vomi nodded, giving in. Vanguard leaped from her shoulder onto the dashboard of the Colby, watching the group with those sharp little eyes.

Heitor gave the cat a gentle pat. “Guess that’s as good a sign as any. Let’s roll.”

The crew piled out of the vehicles, stretching their legs after the long drive. Watsonville wasn’t much to look at—mostly a mix of old concrete buildings and rundown shops—but there was a certain charm to it. Small-time vendors hawked street food, and the occasional mod shop was squeezed between pawn shops and dive bars. The hum of old tech and the smell of cheap oil filled the air.

Blaze was the first to break away, heading toward a dusty-looking guitar shop with a neon sign barely flickering to life. “This is the place!” he declared, excitement clear in his voice.

Nieme followed, pulling his bass from the truck and slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s see if they got anything that makes my baby here sound even better.”

Heitor and Raven stayed behind with Vomi, glancing around. “So, what’s it gonna be, Vomi?” Heitor asked with a smirk. “You finally getting yourself an axe or what?”

Vomi hesitated, her hand brushing Vanguard’s fur as the little cat stretched out lazily. “I don’t know… I’ve always been more tech than music.”

“That’s exactly why you need one,” Raven said, almost encouraging for once. “You’ve got the skill, Vomi. You just need the gear.”

Vomi sighed, feeling the weight of the decision more than she wanted to admit. “Fine, fine. Let’s check it out. But don’t expect any miracles from me on stage.”

That of course, was a total lie. She knew a song. It was her favorite one.

The three of them followed Blaze and Nieme into the shop. Inside, the smell of wood and strings hit them immediately, along with the sight of guitars hanging from every wall—some sleek and chrome-plated, others more classic with worn-out finishes. Blaze was already haggling with the shop owner over a bright red guitar with flames painted on the body.

“This one’s it,” Blaze said, strumming a few notes and grinning. “Perfect.”

Nieme wandered off to the amps, testing out the sound with his bass, while Thiago examined the gear with an almost professional eye.

Vomi, though, found herself drawn to a simple black guitar, nothing fancy but with a solid build. It looked unassuming, but when she ran her fingers over the strings, it felt... right. Like it had been waiting for her.

“You eyeing that one?” Raven asked, leaning against the counter with a knowing smile.

“I don’t know,” Vomi admitted. “It’s simple.”

Raven shrugged. “Sometimes simple’s best. It’s got that classic look, and you don’t need all the fancy stuff. You’re the one that makes it work.”

Vomi picked it up, strumming a few chords awkwardly. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad either. She could already feel the potential in it.

“Alright, let’s do it,” she finally said, slinging the guitar over her shoulder. “Guess I’m a guitarist now.”

Blaze cheered from across the room, his new guitar in hand. “That’s what I’m talking about! Now we’re gonna blow the roof off the next gig!”

“I doubt I will be as amazing as you claim I am.”

“Chill. Even Johnny Silverhand started as a nobody.”, Nieme pointed out, picking up an amp that he found worthy of his bass, “I'll take this one.

“There are some mics that are good, but honestly an editing table would be better.”, Thiago commented as he checked some programs for sale.

“I need new drumsticks.”, Heitor waved his own sticks around, “Mine are close to the flatline.”

“Alright, fine!”, Vomi snapped, “I'll pay for it!”

Everyone suddenly turned in a circle, muttering the words “We did it!” under their breath.

Vanguard pulsed a comment on her mind, “They got you.”

“Grrrr…”, Vomi growled, “I hate you guys.”

“That's our charm!”, Raven said proudly, puffing her chest forward.

With their new gear in tow, The Refused made their way back outside. The sun was rising, casting a golden glow over the rundown streets of Watsonville.

Raven glanced up at the sky, her mood shifting as it always did when the day started. “We should get moving. We’ve got a lot of work ahead, and I don’t trust that the Black Daggers are completely gone.”

Thiago nodded in agreement. “Let’s head back to San Fran, regroup, and work on the album. But… if those Daggers show their faces again, we’ll be ready.”

“Yeah. I need some sleep and coffee.”, Vomi agreed as she entered her Colby.

“You just drink that.”, Heitor deadpanned.

“All I really need when I ain't in a bar.”

She started the car, driving back to her apartment, The Refused following behind.

In her apartment, Vomi sighed, putting her guitar, Chimera and Cerberus on the wall. The day was long as hell, and despite not needing to sleep, she really liked the idea, but she couldn't do it with all the sand and dirt the desert threw at her, so she undressed, put the clothes in the washer and went for a bath. It always felt awkward to look at Dr. Vomi's body, to be in command of a body that wasn't yours, wasn't even your gender. As a born male, it always felt vulgar to look at some parts, even if they were glimpses of it. The fact that she needed to wash it was also uncomfortable.

There was a mirror in the bathroom, those that only showed the reflection when the person got closer to it, the matte material becoming reflective gradually. It showed the body of Dr. Vomi, the curves and overall features, the muscles that didn't get in the way of her almond shape—

“Nope!”, Vomi immediately stopped staring at the mirror.

Finishing the bath and dressing as quickly as possible.

Vomi stepped out of the shower, hastily toweling herself off and trying to shake the awkwardness that always came when she was alone with her thoughts—and Dr. Vomi’s body. The contrast between the person she used to be and who she was now never quite sat right. She was Vomi in name and action, sure, but deep down, there was always that discomfort—a feeling like she was wearing a skin that wasn’t fully hers. Reincarnation is a bitch sometimes.

"Get over it," she muttered to herself as she dried her hair. She glanced at the guitar she had just bought, now propped against the wall next to her Chimera and Cerberus. “At least that’s something normal.”

Vanguard, sitting on the window ledge, flicked its tail, sending her a mental nudge. "You’re overthinking again."

"Yeah, I know," Vomi sighed. She pulled on a loose tank top and shorts, trying to put the day behind her. It was late—or rather, early—and her mind was racing, even though her body was exhausted.

She slumped onto the bed, letting her thoughts drift to the band. Despite her personal hang-ups, things were good. The Refused was doing well, their latest gig went off without a hitch (for the most part), and the new gear would only improve their sound. Plus, she couldn’t deny that Blaze, Nieme, and the others were growing on her. They weren’t just coworkers—they were starting to feel like a family, even if they annoyed the hell out of her sometimes.

But the nagging thought of the Black Daggers still lurked at the back of her mind. The attack earlier wasn’t random; they were going to cross paths again. She knew it. And next time, they might not be so lucky.

Vanguard padded over, hopping onto the bed and curling up next to her. Its thoughts pulsed softly in her mind, calm and reassuring. “We’ll be ready next time.”

“I hope so.” Vomi lay back, staring at the ceiling. “It feels like things are about to get worse before they get better.”

Vang the cat, squished himself between her boobs, much to her annoyance, but that didn't stop her from petting his head, “How was it?”

“How was what?”, She asked, checking if her glasses are still on the bedside table.

“Meeting V. Not everyday you meet the protagonist of a video game.”, He said, his body just spreading on top of her.

Vomi chuckled, a hint of sarcasm slipping into her voice. "Protagonist of a video game, huh? I didn't get that vibe." She gently nudged Vanguard off her chest, but the cat simply repositioned himself on her stomach, completely unbothered.

Vanguard’s tail flicked lazily, and his voice echoed again in her head. "You know what I mean. He’s got that mysterious loner thing going on. Feels like something straight out of a story. And he kinda does if this is Cyberpunk 2077.”

"Yeah, well, stories like that usually come with a lot of baggage." Vomi sighed, thinking back to the brief interaction with V. His cold, detached demeanor wasn’t exactly easy to read, nor outright likeable. There was something off about him, though she couldn't quite place it. And honestly, she had enough on her plate without trying to crack that code.

"You're not wrong," Vanguard purred, settling into a more comfortable position. "But you’re curious."

“Curious enough to keep an eye on him, but not enough to dig too deep,” Vomi muttered. “He’s a good mechanic, that’s something I guess. Plus, Raven seems to trust him. Even though they met today. Yesterday… whatever.”

“Raven’s trust can be... selective,” Vanguard added with a mental smirk. “Just don’t get too wrapped up. You’ve got your own problems, remember?”

"Yeah, I haven't forgotten," Vomi replied, her tone dropping. Her thoughts drifted back to the Black Daggers and the chaos of the day. That ambush wasn't just some random hit—their precision, the timing, it all felt too planned. It made her skin crawl thinking about who might be pulling the strings behind the scenes.

She reached for her glasses on the bedside table, sliding them on and glancing at her laptop. No new messages. Good. The last thing she needed was another emergency to deal with at this hour.

Vanguard nuzzled her hand, sensing her shift in mood. "Get some rest, Vomi. We'll handle whatever comes next."

"Easy for you to say, you don't sleep," she teased, but there was a hint of warmth in her voice. She appreciated Vanguard's constant presence, even when he was being a bit too cheeky for her liking.

Letting out a deep breath, Vomi closed her eyes, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to her. "Yeah, tomorrow... or later today... we’ll deal with it all. One problem at a time."

Vanguard gave a soft purr of agreement as Vomi’s thoughts slowly faded into sleep.

The next day, or rather, later that same day, Vomi woke up hanging from the ceiling of her apartment. She glanced down, or rather, upwards, and immediately frowned as she saw the primal symbiote exploring the roof of the apartment, but getting distracted with the fans of the AC unit. The red tendrils came out of her bed at night and seemingly decided that it was a good time to mess around. She glanced over, the gun parts, mods, tech and components all over the place, the food she packed scattered around and the laptop opened on a BD website homepage. Because of course an alien thing needed porn to function.

At least the coffee machine was still where she left it.

“Can you not?”, Vomi grumbled at the symbiote.

Who flickered his tendrils, noticing the owner's consciousness.

“He is bored.”, Vanguard commented, still in the same position on the bed as yesterday. Or earlier today.

“I can see that.”, She said, using Vanguard's powers to put herself on the ground, black tendrils helping her not fall on her ass, “Didn't we kill people yesterday?”

“Doesn't seem like it's enough.”, He shook his head, the red tendrils slowly retreating, complying, but not pleased.

“I have to train my music skills, I can't kill people all day.”, Vomi muttered, anger filling her voice, “You better behave yourself.”

The red symbiote pulsed something negative, but complied, again, not happy, but it tolerated the situation for now.

Vomi went to the wardrobe and decided to dress something casual. Wristbands, a simple T-Shirt with the Samurai logo, jeans and a pair of boots. Early stages of Rockergirl, for all she cared.

“What should I play?”, She said after starting to clean the mess the prima symbiote did in her apartment.

“You know how to play a song?”, Vanguard asked as he watched Vomi fix the mess from the bed.

“I barely can. One song too.”

“Which is?”

“Just some flamenco stuff. Nothing too good or hard.”, She said, putting the components back in their boxes, “There you go. Way better.”

Vomi finished tidying up the last of the scattered parts and leaned back, surveying the room with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. The symbiote had finally settled down, though she could still feel its agitation pulsing faintly in the back of her mind.

She picked up her new guitar, running her fingers along the strings as she tuned it. The Samurai logo on her shirt felt oddly appropriate, given the vibe.

“Flamenco, huh?” she muttered, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Guess we’ll see how rusty I am.”

Vanguard watched from his perch, lazily flicking his tail. “A flamenco-playing Rockergirl? Could be a thing.”

Vomi smirked, her fingers strumming a slow, deliberate melody. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or her symbiote’s leftover energy, but the strings vibrated a little sharper than she intended. She winced at a sour note. “Yeah, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

As the melody took shape, Vomi started to relax. It wasn’t perfect, but the familiar rhythm grounded her. Her mind, which had been a chaotic mess since waking up, started to calm. The music filled the apartment, bouncing off the walls and blending with the steady hum of the city outside.

“Not bad,” Vanguard mused, his voice soft in her mind. “It suits you.”

Vomi raised an eyebrow. “Suits me? Thought you’d say I should stick to tech.”

“Who says you can’t do both?”

She chuckled, continuing the tune. “You’re sounding suspiciously supportive today.”

“Just making sure you don’t burn out. You’ve got enough on your plate with the Black Daggers sniffing around.”

The mention of the Black Daggers brought her back to reality. Vomi’s hands slowed on the guitar. “There’s the investigation Sasha is doing too. She hasn't sent a text since.”

“Don't worry. If anything, you can call M-Tech to help, even if they will do it in the expectation of some sort of profit.”

Vomi let out a slow breath, setting the guitar down beside her. “I’m getting tired of this cycle, you know? The constant fighting, the never-ending chaos. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever catch a break.”

Vanguard stretched, his sleek form practically melting into the bed. “That’s the world we live in. Breaks don’t come easy.”

“Guess not.” Vomi stood up, rubbing the back of her neck. Her fingers brushed against the wristbands she wore—a small comfort in the storm that was her life. “Still, I can’t keep thinking about it, but I also can't just forget it.”

“You’re probably right,” Vanguard agreed. “What’s on the table for today though?”

Vomi stared out the window, the city sprawling out beneath her like a neon-lit jungle. Despite the uncertainty gnawing at her, there was a flicker of determination growing in her chest. She wasn’t the type to back down, and if the Black Daggers or anyone else came for them again, they’d be met with more than just a few tunes.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I guess I'll start something.”

With that, she picked up her guitar again, strumming a few more chords.

“Do you ever get a little bit tired of life? Like you aren't really happy but you don't wanna die.”

She sang the lyrics of Numb Little Bug, impressively fitting for the situation right now.

Vomi’s voice echoed softly through the apartment, the melancholic tune of Numb Little Bug filling the space as she strummed her guitar. The words hit close to home, like they were written for moments like these—caught between exhaustion and determination, with the weight of the world pressing down but no option but to keep moving.

Vanguard’s tail flicked lazily as he listened, a quiet presence in her otherwise chaotic life. "That song suits you more than you'd think," he commented after a while.

Vomi smirked, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, funny how that works, huh?" She strummed a few more chords, letting the melody drift. "Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get to just… exist. No wars, no running, no corps breathing down my neck."

"Maybe someday," Vanguard mused, though even he didn’t sound entirely convinced. "But I wouldn’t hold your breath."

"Wasn’t planning to." Vomi sighed, setting the guitar back on the stand and stretching. The tension in her shoulders hadn’t gone away, but playing had helped ease some of the weight.

Her mind wandered back to Sasha and the investigation. It had been too long without contact. That wasn't like Sasha—especially given the gravity of the situation. And if M-Tech was involved, there was no telling how deep things could get. They weren't known for their subtlety.

"Maybe I should check in with Sasha," Vomi said aloud, though she knew it wasn’t that simple. If Sasha had gone dark, there was a reason for it. Still, waiting around for something to happen wasn’t her style.

Vanguard’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. "And what if something’s already gone sideways? You sure you’re ready to dive headfirst into that mess?"

"I was never ready, but when am I ever?" Vomi shot back, grabbing her laptop and glancing at the screen. No new notifications, no messages. She contemplated calling Sasha directly, but something held her back.

Instead, she pulled up the message thread, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“You still alive out there?”

Simple, to the point. She hit send and tossed the phone onto the bed, turning back to her guitar to distract herself from the silence.

"One problem at a time, right?" she muttered to herself, her fingers absentmindedly picking at the strings.

Vanguard watched her, ever the silent observer. "You’re handling it better than most would," he finally said, though there was a slight edge to his voice. "But remember, not everything is your responsibility to fix."

"Feels like it is sometimes," Vomi replied without looking up. "If not me, then who?"

Vanguard didn’t answer, but his tail flicked again, the weight of his unspoken words lingering in the air.

After clocking out of M-Tech, Vomi drove the Colby towards the rehearsal warehouse. Apparently there was a gig set for the weekend and everyone wanted to be sure they were ready for it, especially when Raven was still recovering from the injuries of the Black Daggers attack. The place where the gig was going to be has more prestige, meaning more safety, meaning that they don't need to worry about the gang going up and shooting them mid encore. However, there was something that caught Vomi's interest as she entered the warehouse.

Only Thiago and Heitor were there.

“Hey.”, Vomi raised a hand, guitar on the other.

“Just you arrived?”, Heitor asked as he stopped his swing at the drums.

“Yup.”

“Damm. Everyone is late then.”, Thiago commented, his annoyance showing.

Vomi slung her guitar over her shoulder as she stepped further into the warehouse, the echo of her boots bouncing off the concrete walls. It was always like this before a gig—anticipation mixed with a simmering frustration when things didn’t line up just right. She had hoped today would be smoother.

"Looks like it," she muttered, setting her guitar case down. "I figured Blaze would at least be here early, considering how hyped he was about that new guitar."

"Yeah, well, Blaze isn’t exactly known for punctuality," Thiago replied, running a hand through his hair. He was fiddling with an amp, his focus torn between his annoyance and getting things ready. "But Raven’s usually the one cracking the whip to keep everyone in line. I guess with her still recovering, it’s a little...looser."

Vomi nodded, glancing around. The warehouse felt emptier without the rest of the band bustling about, and even though the quiet was a change of pace, it left her uneasy. "I’m sure they’ll show up soon."

Heitor gave a half-hearted shrug, tapping his drumsticks on the edge of his seat. "They better. I’m not playing at some fancy gig half-assed."

"None of us are," Vomi said, trying to shake off the nagging feeling that something was off. She pulled out her guitar, strumming a few random chords to settle herself. "Still, it’s weird not having Raven here already. She’s the one who’s always on top of things."

"She did take a pretty bad hit from those Daggers," Thiago reminded her. "Maybe she needs more time than she’s letting on."

Vomi frowned but didn’t argue. Raven wasn’t one to complain, even when things were bad. But knowing her, she’d be here—injuries or not—if she could. "I’ll check in on her after we rehearse, just to be sure."

Heitor kicked his drums lightly, his rhythm slow and methodical, a stark contrast to his usual intensity. "Yeah, good idea. And while you’re at it, maybe give Blaze a wake-up call too. I swear that guy runs in his own time zone."

"I’ll hit him up in a second," Vomi said, glancing at her agent. There was still no response from Sasha, and it gnawed at her. But she couldn’t afford to focus on that now. Not with everything else piling up.

Thiago tested his voice for a while, nodding toward Vomi. "Let’s at least run through something while we wait. No point wasting time."

“Actually, there was something I wanted to show you guys.”, Vomi said as her hands abruptly stopped the riff of her guitar, “I was writing… yeah, writing a song these past few days, but I need your input on these.”

“You did?”, Thiago asked in minor disbelief, “Weren't you the newbie at music?”

“At playing it? Yes. But I was always good with tech.”, She crossed her arms in a pout.

“Sure, hehe. What you got?”

“I call it Devil Trigger. And it fits The Refused perfectly. It almost feels like a Samurai song.”, Vomi said with a smile, so devilish that even Heitor seemed excited about it.

And Heitor never shows excitement.

“Alright, play the guitar. Heitor, improvise the drums. Let's see how this one will go.”

Vomi thought to herself that she needed to thank Nero. If one thing, his theme was awesome. Devil May Cry 5 was fucking awesome.

And that was one of the few songs she actually put an amazing amount of practice to play in her past life.

Vomi positioned her fingers on the guitar, the tension building in the room. She glanced at Heitor, who was already leaning forward, sticks ready, waiting for her cue. Thiago, despite his usual laid-back demeanor, seemed intrigued. This wasn’t something she did often—presenting a song of her own. The moment felt charged.

"Alright," Vomi said, fingers resting lightly on the strings. "Here we go."

The opening riff was sharp, aggressive, and electric—fitting for the title Devil Trigger. It echoed through the warehouse, filling the space with a raw energy that demanded attention. Heitor picked up the rhythm instinctively, his drums pounding in sync with her guitar. His usual laid-back vibe was replaced with a fierce intensity, every hit of the drums perfectly complementing the rising tension of the track.

Vomi’s voice, when she began to sing, was low and deliberate, almost a growl:

"The darkness of night falls around my soul, And the hunter within loses control..."

Thiago’s eyes widened as he picked up his guitar, falling into the groove. Even if it wasn't an instrument he played often, Thiago couldn't just miss this. He quickly caught onto the melody, adding layers to the sound, while Vomi continued with the lyrics:

"Gotta let it out, gotta let it out, Move fast, baby, don’t be slow! Step aside, reload, time to go..."

As the intensity of the song built, Vomi felt the rhythm pulse through her. Her fingers moved faster, striking the guitar with a fierceness she hadn’t felt in a long time. This song wasn’t just music—it was an outlet. A release for all the pent-up frustration, the weight of responsibilities, and the uncertainty hanging over them. It was cathartic.

When the chorus hit, it was like a tidal wave crashing:

“All of these thoughts runnin' through my head! Arm on fire, veins burnin' red! Frustration is gettin' bigger!”

Vomi jumped to stand on the couch, the immediate energy she poured on the guitar was so infectious that Heitor was drumming even harder than before.

Then the main part hits:

“Bang! Bang! BANG! Pull my Devil Trigger!”

The warehouse seemed to come alive as Vomi's voice echoed off the walls, her energy infectious. Heitor’s drums hit harder, each beat reverberating through the floor as he matched her intensity. Thiago, despite playing an unfamiliar instrument, kept pace, his strumming adding a raw edge to the song that made it feel even more primal.

Vomi’s fingers flew across the guitar strings, her voice rising with the chorus as if it were her battle cry:

“Bang! Bang! Bang! Pull my Devil Trigger!”

The sheer force of her delivery, combined with the music, sent a surge through the room. She was lost in it now, caught in the whirlwind of sound and emotion. The song wasn’t just lyrics—it was her declaration, a fight against the weight of her past and the uncertainty of the future.

The riff escalated, and the tension rose higher:

"Embrace the darkness that's within me, No hiding in the shadows anymore..."

Thiago glanced over at Vomi, eyes alight with a mixture of surprise and admiration. This was something new—something powerful—and it was clear Vomi was channeling more than just musical talent. She was tapping into something deeper, something fierce. Even Heitor, known for his quiet demeanor, was fully invested, his face locked in focus as his drumsticks danced across the kit.

The bridge hit, and Vomi jumped down from the couch, her boots hitting the floor with a thud, but she didn’t miss a beat.

The final chorus crashed down like a hammer, every instrument perfectly synced, every voice raised. This was The Refused at their rawest, their most explosive. The track climaxed with Vomi’s voice and guitar leading the charge, followed by a massive drum finale from Heitor.

As the last note hung in the air, there was a brief silence—heavy, electric. Then, all at once, the tension broke.

Thiago was the first to speak, a wide grin breaking across his face. "Damn, Vomi... That was intense. I think we just found our opener for the next gig."

Heitor wiped the sweat from his brow, nodding in agreement. "I haven’t felt something like that in a long time."

Vomi, panting from the exertion, set her guitar down, feeling a mix of exhaustion and triumph. "Told you. Devil Trigger fits us perfectly."

“What the fuck was that?”, Raven suddenly asked, her voice cracking under the raw energy that still filled the room. Blaze and Nieme at her side.

Vomi stared at them.

Heitor stared at them.

Thiago stared at them.

Vanguard just meowed, as usual.

“How long were you there?!”, Vomi yelled, much to everyone's amusement.

“Blaze?”, Raven said.

“Yeah?”

“Write those lyrics down. Right now.”

“Don't need to tell me twice. Fuck, this is gonna be epic,” Blaze said, already opening his agent, eyes flying across the screen as he hurried to capture the moment.

Vomi shook her head, a mix of annoyance and pride. “You guys could have come in sooner, you know. We were working on something here.”

“Yeah, we wanted to hear the magic in person,” Nieme added, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe. “And clearly, it worked out for you.”

Raven stepped forward, her expression shifting from surprise to admiration. “You really nailed it, Vomi. That was on another level. I can see the crowd going wild for this.”

“Thanks,” Vomi replied, a small smile creeping onto her face. “It felt good to let it all out.”

“Letting it out is what this band is all about,” Heitor chimed in, his usual calm demeanor now energized. “And if this song becomes our anthem, we’re going to take it to the next level.”

Vanguard curled up on the couch, looking pleased with the whole scene.

“Just remember to enjoy the ride,” Raven said, a knowing smile on her face. “You’re part of this family now, whether you like it or not.”

Vomi looked around at her bandmates—Blaze still typing furiously, Heitor grinning like he just discovered a new favorite song, and Thiago nodding enthusiastically. It was true; they were more than just a band. They were a support system, each of them ready to dive into the chaos together.

“Alright then,” Vomi said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get this song polished up and ready for the gig. We’ve got a show to prepare for.”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” Blaze cheered, bouncing on his heels, “You need to tell me how to play this shit.”

With renewed energy, the group set to work, the earlier tension replaced by excitement. They were on the cusp of something special, and as Vomi picked up her guitar again, she felt a spark of hope ignite within her. Whatever challenges lay ahead—Black Daggers or otherwise—they would face them together, fueled by their music and the bond they were forging.

And as they dove back into their rehearsal, Vomi couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she didn't need to overthink things.

“Heh, overthinking is overrated.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”