Bio Weapon Dystopia

Today was a bad day.

Vomi didn't show it, but the strain in her mind was growing dangerously close to snapping. Ever since merging with the primal red symbiote, her decisions had to be second-guessed, sometimes more. She refused to show how much it drained her, even to Vanguard, who still didn't know the full extent of what was happening, despite being part of her. But the primal red symbiote had an unrelenting hunger for blood. When Vomi was wounded during the Reboot Optics incident, she had come dangerously close to unleashing carnage without restraint. She was thankful no one questioned why she insisted on splitting up after the heist. It gave her time to find a way to feed the red's thirst for blood.

And there were plenty of gang hideouts waiting to be raided, if HustleNet was anything to go by.

She targeted one near a defunct park. A small, two-story building, sparsely guarded, with almost no civilians around to witness the bloodbath. Perfect. She allowed the red tendrils to unfurl from her body, Vanguard unnervingly silent this time, simply watching as the red symbiotic suit enveloped her. The spider emblem reappeared, black and red intertwined across her figure.

Two guards stood outside. Their affiliation didn't matter. The mission was to clear the place of hostiles-by any means necessary.

She shot her tendrils toward the entrance, her silhouette momentarily glowing against the night sky. The guards were lost in a conversation about some football match. English or American? Didn't matter. One swift tendril wrapped around the legs of the nearest guard and smashed his skull into the pavement, a burst of crimson staining the concrete. The second guard staggered back, terror widening his eyes at the sudden violence. Vomi locked onto him, the symbiotic eyes narrowing with hunger. She lunged, her fist colliding with his jaw so hard it mangled half his face. He was still alive as his body crumpled to the ground, weakly crawling away in a futile attempt to escape.

One stomp on his ribcage ended that.

"The sound was more metallic than flesh. Synth lungs?" Her distorted voice mused, uninterested. "Doesn't matter."

Turning toward the building, Vomi felt the tendrils writhing in anticipation, coiling and flexing around her as if waiting for permission to unleash chaos.

"Listen," she called out. The tendrils stilled, almost as if each one were a separate entity. "If you want to kill so badly, there are plenty inside who can satisfy that urge. But I'm in control. Not you."

The warning was sharp, a clear threat. The tendrils gave no visible reaction, but they seemed to pause in acknowledgment. Maybe the red symbiote was paying attention.

"I control my life. Don't make this harder for me. If you're that hungry for blood, ask. Don't try to take over." She approached the front door, her tone steely. "Or you'll end up consumed instead of integrated."

Vanguard, still silent, felt an odd emotion stirring. Pity? Sympathy? It was hard for him to tell, but it was something close.

The primal red symbiote shifted forward, indicating it had heard her. Reading social cues from an alien red goo was always difficult, but it seemed to understand.

"For now... let's cut loose." She kicked the door, sending it flying across the room.

Behind it, the gangsters had already drawn their weapons, aimed right at her.

Not that it mattered.

The moment the door crashed into the room, the gang members inside scrambled to react, but it was too late. Vomi's reflexes, heightened by the symbiote, made their attempts at defense seem sluggish, almost pitiful.

Before they could even pull their triggers, she was already upon them. The red tendrils shot forward like snakes, one wrapping around the nearest gangster's neck, yanking him forward and slamming him into the ground with enough force to splatter blood across the walls. His body twitched once, then went limp. The others screamed and opened fire, but the bullets either ricocheted off the symbiote's armor or were dodged with ease.

Vomi leapt into the fray, her movements fluid, almost graceful in their brutality. She grabbed the barrel of a gun, melting the metal in her grip as she drove her other fist into the shooter's chest, feeling his ribcage collapse under the impact. Blood sprayed across her suit, feeding the red's thirst. Another gangster charged at her with a knife, but a tendril speared him through the stomach, lifting him off the ground as he gagged on his own blood.

The room was quickly painted in red, and Vomi's distorted voice echoed in the chaos. "Is that it? Come on, don't make this boring.”

The last two gang members, seeing their comrades butchered in seconds, backed away in terror. One dropped his weapon and bolted for the back door, but Vomi was faster. She zipped across the room, her tendrils grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. His eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe, but Vomi's grip was ironclad.

"I wonder..." she mused, tilting her head as she observed him struggling for life. "Do you beg for mercy, or do you think you'll make it out alive?"

The man choked, his voice barely a whisper. "Please... no..."

Vomi's lips twisted into a smirk, though her eyes remained cold. "Wrong answer.”

She crushed his windpipe with a casual squeeze, letting his lifeless body drop to the floor. The last gangster was shaking uncontrollably, pinned in the corner, barely able to hold his weapon. His voice was trembling as he pleaded, "I-I don't want to die..."

Vomi walked toward him, her tendrils coiling around her like a living storm. "Then why'd you join up with scum like this? You knew what kind of life you were signing up for."

The man sobbed, shaking his head. "I-I didn't-"

"Shhh," Vomi hushed him, crouching down so she was eye level with him. Her voice softened, but it was no less menacing. "This isn't about you. It's about me.”

In one swift motion, her tendrils lashed out, severing the man's head from his body, leaving the room in utter silence. Blood pooled at her feet, and for a brief moment, the red symbiote pulsed with satisfaction. Its hunger was sated-at least for now.

Vomi stood there, breathing deeply, letting the tension in her muscles slowly ease. The primal symbiote retreated, tendrils retracting back into her body as her regular form returned. But the weight of the carnage still lingered.

"Vanguard?" she called out softly, unsure if he'd still remain silent after what he had witnessed.

For a long moment, there was no response. Then, finally, Vanguard's voice came through, calm but layered with something deeper.

"You're walking a dangerous path, Vomi."

She sighed, her hands still stained with blood. "I know."

"And yet... you didn't let it fully take over. Not yet, anyway."

"I'm trying," she whispered, closing her eyes. "But it's getting harder every time.”

Vanguard was quiet again, though this time, there was no judgment in his silence. Just... understanding.

Vomi exhaled slowly and stepped over the bodies, heading for the exit. The gang hideout had served its purpose. For now, the primal red symbiote was quiet. But another thing was in her mind as well.

“I don't feel bothered by this.”, She gestured to the room, full of dead people, “Killing was such a dogma in my past life. I thought I would be unable to do it. But I can do it easily.”

“So you are bothered by your lack of bother?”, Vanguard mused internally, unsure of what that meant exactly.

“Yes. I… I feel like I am less human as time goes by. It isn't the effect of this world. This is more… me.”

Vomi sighed at her new predicament. A new dilemma. Being this powerful and strong can be good, no doubt. But at what cost? Her humanity? Was she human to begin with? Or even Dr. Vomi was like this before and this is just how she thinked?

Vomi lingered in the doorway, staring out into the cold, dark night. The blood, the carnage—it had been too easy, too natural. That bothered her more than the violence itself. She wasn’t numb to it; she was aware of what she was doing, but there was no remorse, no hesitation.

“I don’t want to lose myself,” she said quietly, almost as if confessing a secret.

Vanguard, ever-present within her mind, didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his tone was thoughtful. “Power changes people. You have more power now than most could ever dream of. It’s bound to shift something inside.”

“Shift what, though? My morality? My sense of self?” She scoffed bitterly. “Maybe I was always this way—violent, detached. And now I just have the means to express it without fear.”

Vanguard’s silence spoke volumes. Vomi knew he was processing her words, searching for the right response. He had always been there, a part of her consciousness since their integration, but even now, she wasn’t sure how much of him was her and how much was something else entirely. Was his silence his own choice, or did he simply mirror her confusion?

“Perhaps,” Vanguard finally said, “it’s not about being less human, but about accepting that you are evolving into something different. Not necessarily worse, just… different.”

Vomi frowned, stepping out into the night. The cold air did little to soothe the heat of the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. “But I don’t want to lose who I was.”

“Who were you, though?” Vanguard’s question cut through her spiraling thoughts. “You’ve been reborn in more ways than one. Your old self, Dr. Vomi, lived in a different reality, had different rules. Are you still holding on to that identity?”

Indeed. Who was her? Was she the doctor that created and self applied this symbiote with no regards for consequences as long as it worked? Was she this new weird person who happened to make part of a band and also be a corporate merc? Or was she the person before reincarnated in this weird and surreal dystopian world?

“I don’t know.” The admission came softly, but it carried the weight of truth. “I’m trying to hold on to something, anything, that reminds me I’m still me. But I feel like the further I go, the less of that old self remains.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Vanguard reasoned, though there was an odd edge to his voice, a note of something unspoken. “But just because you’ve changed doesn’t mean you’ve lost everything.”

Vomi let his words sink in as she walked away from the hideout, her boots leaving tracks in the blood-soaked dirt. Maybe Vanguard was right. Maybe it wasn’t about losing herself, but about coming to terms with who she was now—whatever that was.

As they moved through the quiet streets, Vomi noticed how the primal red symbiote had settled. For now, it was satisfied, but its hunger would return. She could feel it pulsing beneath her skin, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. The primal wasn’t something she could easily control; it demanded blood, violence, and chaos. But for now, at least, it was silent.

“Do you think it’s inevitable?” she asked, more to herself than Vanguard. “That I’ll lose control completely?”

There was a pause before Vanguard responded, his voice low. “It’s up to you how far you let it take you. You’ve held on this long.”

Vomi clenched her fists, the blood drying on her hands. “I can’t let it win. If I lose control, if it takes over… what’s left of me?”

“You’re stronger than you think,” Vanguard assured her. “But strength alone won’t keep you grounded. You’ll need more than just willpower to maintain control.”

“Like what?” Vomi snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’ve already merged with it. It’s a part of me. What else can I do?”

Vanguard didn’t have an answer for her, and she knew it. They were in uncharted territory—both of them. The symbiote, the power, her changing identity—it was all a tangled mess, and there were no easy solutions.

But one thing was clear: she couldn’t keep going like this forever. Something would have to give, eventually.

“I’m not giving up,” Vomi whispered to herself, more a promise than a statement. “I won’t lose myself. Not to this. Not to anything.”

As she walked further into the city, the lights casting long shadows in the streets, the primal red stirred again, faintly, as if in response to her words. A doubt still lingered though.

“Can I even call myself human?”

The question echoed in Vomi's mind as she walked, the city humming around her. The towering buildings, the neon lights, the distant sounds of people living their lives—it all felt distant, disconnected from the turmoil churning inside her. Could she still consider herself human? The line between who she was and what she had become seemed to blur more with every step.

The primal red stirred again, faint but persistent, as if it, too, questioned her resolve.

Vanguard remained silent, but Vomi could feel his presence. He wasn’t judging her, nor was he offering comfort this time. Instead, it was as if he, too, was waiting—waiting for her to come to terms with the reality she now faced. Whatever that reality was.

She looked at her hands, still stained with blood, though most of it wasn’t her own. The symbiote pulsed beneath her skin, a constant reminder of the power she now wielded. Power that, at times, felt more like a curse. Was this what it meant to evolve beyond humanity? To become something stronger, more capable, but less connected to the people and world around her?

“I still bleed,” she muttered, staring at the dried blood on her fingers. “I still feel pain.”

Vanguard's voice finally broke the silence, quiet but steady. “Humanity isn't just about flesh and blood. It’s about choices. Morality. The lines you draw for yourself, and whether you choose to cross them.”

Vomi frowned, her pace slowing. “And I crossed that line tonight, didn’t I?”

“You killed because you needed to,” Vanguard said, not unkindly. “But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your humanity. The fact that you’re questioning it means it’s still there.”

“But what if the next time, I don’t question it?” Vomi’s voice was soft, almost afraid of the answer. “What if I start enjoying it?”

Vanguard’s response came after a long pause. “Then you’ll have a choice to make. And that’s the point, isn’t it? You still have that choice.”

Vomi’s eyes narrowed as she continued walking, her boots echoing on the empty street. The primal red simmered beneath the surface, but it was calmer now, sated for the moment. Vanguard’s words offered little comfort, but there was truth in them. As long as she could still question, as long as she still cared about the choices she made, there was something left of her humanity.

But the question gnawed at her, refusing to be silenced: How long could she hold on to it?

The red symbiote, though temporarily quiet, was a constant presence, always there, always waiting for its moment to take over. Vomi couldn’t ignore the pull it had on her—the craving for violence, for bloodshed. She could justify it now, say it was necessary for survival. But there was a part of her that feared the day it would no longer be about survival, but about desire. About the thrill of the hunt.

And then what? What would she be if that happened? A monster? A weapon? Something far worse?

As she turned a corner, the city opened up in front of her—buzzing with life, indifferent to the battle raging within her. Vomi knew that somewhere out there, more enemies awaited. More fights, more bloodshed. And with each encounter, the primal red would demand more, pushing her closer to that line she was so desperately trying to hold on to.

But for now, she still had control. For now, she was still Vomi. Whatever that meant.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within her. “I can’t stop fighting,” she whispered, the words more to herself than to Vanguard. “But I have to find a way to stay… me.”

Vanguard's voice was softer now, almost reassuring. “And you will. As long as you keep asking yourself that question.”

Vomi nodded, though uncertainty still gripped her. The path ahead wasn’t clear, but it was the only one she had. For now, she had to keep walking, keep fighting, and hope that in the end, there was something left of the man she once was.

“Living on a prayer.”, She muttered.

Wait…

“Living on a prayer?”, Vomi repeated, “Oh, I have an idea.”

“Sounds like it came just in time too.”, Vanguard said amusingly, “What are you on now?”

“Before I even say it,” Vomi looked at herself again, “Bath.”

“Bath.”, Vanguard agreed.

The red tendrils appeared suddenly and nodded, before going back.

“Even the bloodlusted monster agrees.”, Vomi deadpanned, “Fine. I'll call the Colby and head to my apartment.”

As she called the car with her agent, a text came through. Sasha, saying that she was going to Night City. That was expected, but not so soon. Maybe Vomi could make her survive the BioTechnica and Militech stuff? But she needs to settle things with M-Tech and the Black Daggers. Ugh, sometimes having too much responsibility is a bother.

Vomi sat back in her seat as the Colby whirred to life, her mind spinning with thoughts of Sasha and the ever-growing pile of responsibilities she couldn't avoid. Helping Sasha navigate the dangers of Night City would take more than luck—BioTechnica and Militech weren’t the kind of enemies you could just punch your way through. But that's for other time.

“Feels like I’m already juggling too much,” she muttered.

“But you’re still juggling,” Vanguard's voice chimed in. “That’s what counts.”

She exhaled, watching the city lights blur past the window. The weight of her new existence was pressing harder, but she couldn’t afford to drop anything. Not now. Not when everything felt like it was on the verge of collapsing.

At least, for tonight, there was the promise of a quiet bath and a new song. Maybe that would clear her head.

“We'll make I swear!”

Vomi took the quickest bath in her life. Well, second. Simply because the song was banging to leave her head, she even hummed it on the way to the apartment, ignoring the onlookers who could see the blood in her. She was barely dressed as well, just the underwear and a jacket on top of it as she picked up the guitar and just jammed with her sole instrument.

Not gonna lie, Bon Jovi has good songs.

Vomi strummed the chords, letting the rhythm guide her. Her fingers moved instinctively across the guitar, syncing with the melody in her mind. The riff was raw, a blend of the classic Bon Jovi hit mixed with the heavy aggression that had built up inside her.

The red symbiote stirred faintly as if listening, feeding off her energy but not interrupting. It was a rare moment of peace between them, a mutual understanding that this was her time to let it out, in a different way.

“Living on a prayer...” she hummed under her breath, tweaking the tempo, adding a rougher edge. The sound filled her apartment, each note vibrating through her body, reminding her of what music used to mean to her—before everything changed, before power and blood.

But for now, the song was enough.

She paused mid-riff, a thought crossing her mind. “Maybe the guys would like this one. Could be our next track.”

“Only if you keep your clothes on this time during rehearsals,” Vanguard teased.

Vomi smirked, not even caring about the jab. For once, the weight felt a little lighter.

That didn't stop her from flipping him off though.

“How eloquent.” The cat said as he picked his spot on the bed, “Oh, and what name we will give to our companion now that he is more… present.”

Vomi blinked, “I dunno.”, She shrugged, “I call him a lot of things. But naming it now out of the blue…”

The tendrils fully left her body, the red goo forming as a ball of jumbled mess in the floor.

“He doesn't have full control of his shape.”, Vanguard commented as his fur was now full black again.

Maybe it became reddish thanks to the red symbiote? But now that he left it was all black again?

The same happened to Vomi's clothes too. The jacket once a classic brown became a black void.

Vomi knelt down, checking out the shifting mass of red tendrils on the floor. It was pulsing and writhing like it was alive, kinda freaky but also fascinating. “It's kind of mesmerizing, isn’t it?” she said, half to herself.

Vanguard flicked his tail, watching the whole transformation go down. “Yeah, it’s mesmerizing and a bit unsettling. But it’s part of you now, and it looks like it wants to say something. Why not let it?”

She let out a sigh, feeling the pressure of the decision weighing on her. “You’re right. But what do I call it? ‘It’ just feels too... impersonal.”

“Think of it like a reflection of yourself,” Vanguard suggested, sounding all wise and stuff. “Something that shows where you’re at. Powerful, wild, maybe even a little chaotic?”

Vomi thought about it for a sec, then shot back, “How about ‘Animus’?” It felt right—like it had that edge and unpredictability she was digging.

“Animus? Sounds like a bit of inexplicable rage in there,” Vanguard said, his ears perking up. “Yeah, Animus fits. Perfectly.”

As if it heard its new name, the red tendrils started to morph into a more defined shape, smooth edges forming with little spiky bits popping out.

“See? He likes it,” Vanguard purred, clearly pleased.

Vomi grinned, feeling a rush of ownership for the first time. “Animus, huh? I can vibe with that.”

She picked up her guitar again and had a thought. “You know, maybe this could be our sound. A little animus energy, a little chaos.” She strummed some chords, letting the vibe shift in the air.

Vanguard flopped down more comfortably, looking satisfied. “Now you’re getting it. Just let the music flow; it could lead you somewhere good.”

With every chord she played, Vomi felt a little lighter, like she was shaking off the weight of the day. She started weaving Animus into her music, letting that chaotic energy guide her fingers. The apartment filled with the sound of her creation, an anthem of defiance against the shadows creeping in.

As she jammed, her jacket morphed back to brown, and even Vanguard's fur shifted to a preem blackish-red combo.

“Master of Puppets,” she muttered, a grin creeping onto her face.

And then it all kicked off—a glorious noise filled the room. The song wasn’t quiet at all, especially since Vomi was trying to play it from memory. It was loud, messy, and absolutely exhilarating.

Vomi got lost in the rhythm, her fingers flying over the strings, but then—bam! She hit a clunker, the notes screeching in a way that made her wince. “Ugh, damn it!” she shouted, shaking her head. “I thought I had this!”

Vanguard chuckled, tail flicking playfully. “Well, you can’t expect to master it on the first try. Even the best mess up sometimes.”

“Yeah, but this is my jam!” Vomi shot back, rolling her eyes. She took a breath, trying to refocus. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

She started over, but her fingers fumbled through the intro again. A couple of more wrong notes slipped out, and she felt herself getting frustrated. “Why can’t I just nail it? It’s not like I haven’t heard this a million times!”

“Maybe because you’re too focused on perfection,” Vanguard replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Let it be messy! That’s part of the energy.”

Vomi sighed, but then she couldn’t help but smirk. “You know, you might have a point.” She strummed a few power chords, letting her frustration fuel the chaotic energy of the song.

“Forget the mistakes. Let’s make some noise!” she shouted, and launched back into it with renewed fervor.

This time, she embraced the chaos, purposefully playing the wrong notes, mixing them up in an almost playful way. It felt liberating, like she was breaking free from the need to be perfect. She even laughed at a particularly bad chord that sounded like a cat getting stepped on.

Vanguard’s ears perked up. “Now you’re onto something! It’s not just about hitting the right notes; it’s about the vibe you’re creating!”

Vomi grinned, feeling the rush of the music course through her. “Alright, Animus! Let’s turn this into our own thing!” She let loose, blending her mistakes into a wild, energetic sound that filled the apartment.

The chaos was a release, and she felt alive. It didn’t matter that she was messing up; what mattered was that she was making music—her music. The walls shook with the power of her creation, and for that moment, everything else faded away.

“Now this is more like it!” she yelled, laughing as she launched into another riff, completely letting go of her worries and just enjoying the moment.

“Shut up with the guitar, fucking bozo!”

Vomi blinked at the sudden yell, “What?”

Oh yeah, she lives in a back end apartment. Of course there isn't a way to isolate the noise.

“Sorry!”, She yelled back, hoping it was enough.”

“Fuck off!”

Vanguard chuckled, “Well, that's unexpected.”

“That just means I need to rehearse more. I want to play the songs of my past life. Some of them are really good.”, Vomi commented as she put the guitar in its place, Animus merging back together within her.

“Yeah, just maybe at a more reasonable hour,” Vanguard teased, flicking his tail as he hopped off the bed.

Vomi shrugged. “Fair point.” She stretched, feeling the fatigue finally start to hit. Between the heist, the gang hideout, and this impromptu jam session, her body was ready to crash.

“Animus, you good?” she muttered as the red tendrils settled into her skin. No response, just a faint hum of contentment. That was good enough for now.

She flicked off the lights and flopped onto the bed, her jacket still halfway on, too tired to even bother getting fully under the covers. Vanguard curled up beside her, a soft purring sound filling the silence.

"Thanks, Vang.", Vomi said suddenly, "I needed this."

Vanguard paused, looked at her and smirked, "Depression is overrated."

"Pfft! That's my line.", She replied groggily.

As her eyes closed, Vomi’s mind drifted back to Sasha, to Night City, to the weight of everything she was juggling. It was overwhelming, but for once, she felt like she could breathe. The music helped. Animus, for all its chaos, helped.

“Tomorrow’s another day,” she whispered to herself, the city noise outside fading into the background.

Within moments, sleep took her, the lingering hum of the guitar strings still echoing faintly in her dreams.