Bio Weapon Dystopia

Three days later.

Eduardo Carmine

Carmine had just walked out of the local PD after doing one of those “legit” and “safe” check-ins with the cops, proving he was, of course, “totally not involved” in any crimes since his probation started. All they told him was to find a job, get a place to rent, and make sure someone housed him for the first week so they could track where he was staying.

Still, he felt uneasy. The whole heist with KanedaCorp, the crew, and especially Vomi—it all seemed… off.

How the hell did Vomi survive a hit that would’ve killed a normal person? Sure, she’s corpo, probably chrome-plated like all those execs, but still—blows like that? Borged-up freaks would’ve struggled with that, and here she was, walking it off. And Heitor? Just a messed-up arm. Plus, they all sold the deck to Graves on the same damn day.

Carmine was definitely jittery during the “interview”—or whatever you call it when cops drill you with questions. Yeah, he was hiding stuff, but none of that had anything to do with the cops. They eventually let him go, but now he had a new problem: where the hell was he supposed to go? Call someone? His old crew? Nah, street racers weren’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat for freshly released convicts. And the local gangs? Forget it. Especially with corpos breathing down his neck, his options were disappearing fast.

Then it hit him—maybe a dumb idea. Or maybe, a genius one.

If the corpos were already watching him, why not hide in the shadow of another corpo? The same one he was suspicious of?

Carmine could fend for himself, sure. But how long before KanedaCorp caught up? And they would catch up. So why not find a place where the danger was expected? At least it would be on his terms, sorta.

Yeah, this was confusing as hell.

But it didn’t stop him from pulling up Vomi’s contact on his agent.

Her profile pic was classic Vomi—pale white skin, jet-black hair, those glasses she always wore, and those unsettling black-red optics that were impossible to ignore. The woman was like a walking contradiction—enigmatic as hell but dangerous in all the right ways.

“Why are the most attractive women always the deadliest?” Carmine muttered as he wandered through the park.

He needed to check in with the PD again to give them an address, but so far, no place was willing to house a guy fresh out of lockup. The money from the heist kept him off the streets, but it wasn’t like he was living the high life. His car was still trashed, he looked like he hadn’t showered in days, and anyone could figure out his situation with a quick net search.

“Ah, fuck it,” he said, dialing Vomi’s number.

It rang for what felt like forever—maybe a minute and a half, but long enough for him to second-guess the call.

"Who's this?" Vomi’s voice cut through the line, sharp and irritated. It had that classic corporate edge to it, like she was ready to tear into someone.

Carmine hesitated for a second, but then reminded himself—he had nothing to lose. "It’s Carmine," he said, trying to sound casual, though the lump in his throat made that a bit harder than he thought. "We worked that KanedaCorp gig together. Remember?"

There was a pause. He could almost picture Vomi pinching the bridge of her nose, the way corpos do when they're trying not to explode.

"Oh. Right." Her voice dropped some of the anger, but there was still that undercurrent of tension. "What do you want?"

Straight to the point. Carmine figured she'd be like that. "I, uh… I need a place to crash for a few days," he admitted, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, even though she couldn’t see it. "Probation’s on my ass, and I gotta tell the PD where I’m staying. You know how it is."

Silence again. This time it felt even heavier, like she was weighing every possible angle before responding.

"You’re asking me for a place to stay?" Vomi’s tone was more disbelief than anything. "You do realize I don’t exactly run a charity, right?"

Carmine chuckled nervously, already regretting the call. "I know, I know. Look, I’m not asking for a free ride. I can pull my weight. You need someone who can… I dunno, watch your back or run errands. I can do that."

There was a long sigh on the other end of the line. "Carmine, you really think you're cut out for this world? You barely kept it together during the heist."

Ouch. But she wasn’t wrong.

"Yeah, well, I’m learning," he muttered defensively. "And I did fairly decent for my first heist proper.”

“You are not wrong.”, She replied, although this time way softer, something that caught Carmine off guard, “And your proposal is not the worst thing I've heard, especially here at M-Tech.”

Carmine hummed, unsure how to take this, “Soooooo… does that mean I—.”

“I haven't answered it.”, Vomi interrupted, a quick hush that corpos usually do to quickly get their ideas and authority out, “I am considering it. Sasha said she is going to Night City. That means I won't have a reliable source of Intel here in San Francisco. If you want to stay at my place, you will have to do your part.”

Fair enough, as far as Carmine could tell.

Carmine nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. "Yeah, I can do that. Whatever you need. I’m just trying to stay out of trouble, you know?"

Vomi sighed again, the sound more resigned than irritated now. "Fine. You can crash at my place for a few days. But this isn’t a free pass. You screw up, and you're out. No second chances."

"Understood." Carmine felt a wave of relief wash over him. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than sleeping on the streets or trying to avoid the cops while figuring out his next move.

"I’ll send you the address," she said, her tone flat again. "Don’t be late, and don’t make me regret this."

Carmine exhaled, grateful but not stupid enough to say anything that could jinx it. "Thanks, Vomi. I owe you."

"You owe me more than you realize." The line went dead before he could respond.

He looked at his agent, seeing the address pop up on the screen. Part of him still felt uneasy about staying with her, but the other part knew this was the best option he had right now.

"Guess I’m back in the game," he muttered to himself, heading toward the nearest bus stop.

Carmine thought a lot about the place where Vomi is. The address was weird at first, just your common residential area, no shops or stores nearby, at least a few blocks away from the highway, the usual apartment building, or rather, Megabuilding that you can see far away. Maybe it's a covert apartment? Could be, but as he used the elevator and stopped right in front of the door, something was… ok, let's just pretend it isn't weird for a corp to live in a Megabuilding for a second, then we have the freaks that live nearby, the usual low-end houses and their residents…

But when Carmine finally entered the apartment it was… humble? Humble for a corporate woman? Is that the right word for it? It still had the modern corpo-suit style that the corporations could provide, but the fact that it was still humble to a degree… Just what the bloody hell is this?

A humble corpo? As if!

The place was nice though. Everything that a good apartment usually has. A good entertainment system, video games, private bathroom, a good view of San Francisco, a weapons storage… A weapons storage?

“One, two, three, four… five? Six? Just how many crates of iron does she have?” Carmine asked himself as he was still counting, “There is enough to form a new gang in here.”

He allowed himself to pick up a cup of coffee, then texted Vomi to tell he was at the apartment. She didn't respond but that's fine.

“Time to investigate then.”, He mumbled as he took a sip of the coffee, “Agh! Too hot…”

Putting the cup aside, he checked the crates. Lots of guns of various brands, as well as weapon parts scattered in a makeshift worktable. There were various blueprints of different guns and how exactly they worked, the pros and cons of each attachment, the parts that could serve as placeholders or detailed workarounds for some pistols and shotguns so they performed better and faster… A lot of this work could be military graded. It even forced Carmine to whistle in minor admiration, because this work here is fine art.

On the table's side was a laptop connected to various devices. This must be the Netrunning gear that Vomi has, but no diving equipment in sight. So she doesn't go to the Cyberspace? But wasn't her gig on M-Tech to work as cyber security? Well, she must have her methods if she still does all of this with technically unfit equipment. A quick plush of the cord was enough to tell that the Black ICE program was something way too powerful for Carmine to even dream about breaking in, so he unplugged and decided to just check the laptop and the devices. Most of them were investigations on something called “Project Ouroboros”, the Black Daggers gang or…

“Music lessons?”, He said, slightly taken aback by the such casual search right next to something that could very well be a corpo project and a gang of Netrunning psychos.

Y'know, the usual stuff.

But nothing that could prove whatever weird feeling Carmine has on Vomi.

Carmine scrolled through a few more tabs on the laptop, frowning at how casual everything seemed. Music lessons next to Project Ouroboros and Black Dagger gang recon? It was like Vomi lived in two entirely different worlds, juggling corporate espionage with... learning how to play the guitar?

He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his temples. "What the hell is her deal?" he muttered, trying to make sense of the whole situation. The weapons, the tech, the random domestic touches—none of it added up.

Vomi was a mystery. On one hand, she had all the markings of a cold, calculated corpo: a dangerous woman playing by her own rules. On the other hand, there was something human about her. Like, yeah, she had crates of weapons and Black ICE on tap, but she also had music lessons bookmarked?

Carmine stood up, sipping more carefully at his now slightly cooled coffee. "Maybe she’s just good at compartmentalizing," he mused. "Or maybe I’m just in way over my head."

He walked over to the window, taking in the view of San Francisco’s sprawling skyline. The megabuilding had a pretty decent view, and for a moment, Carmine allowed himself to enjoy it.

As he stood there, his agent buzzed with a message from Vomi.

"Stay out of my things. If I find out you’ve touched anything important, I’ll throw you out myself. And I don’t care if you’re on probation."

Carmine winced, putting the coffee cup down quickly. "Shit, she’s watching me already?"

He quickly backed away from the desk, not wanting to push his luck any further. He was lucky enough to have a roof over his head for the time being, and pissing off Vomi wasn’t exactly on his to-do list.

"Okay, okay, noted," he muttered to himself, plopping down on the couch. "Just gotta keep my head down for a few days, do what she asks, and not get killed. Easy enough, right?"

Still, something about Vomi and this whole situation nagged at him. There was more going on here, and as much as he knew he should leave it alone, he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing a piece of the puzzle.

For now, though, he'd play it cool.

He looked at the side and saw the guitar.

“Oh, there you are.”

Carmine stared at the guitar for a moment, half tempted to pick it up. He wasn’t exactly a pro, but he knew a couple of chords—just enough to impress a crowd after a few drinks.

But touching Vomi’s stuff after that warning? Probably not the best idea.

Still, his curiosity got the better of him. "What’s the worst that could happen?" he muttered. Then he chuckled to himself. "Actually, scratch that. I don’t wanna find out."

He grabbed the guitar anyway, sitting back down on the couch, strumming a few notes quietly, careful not to make too much noise. The strings felt smooth under his fingers, and the sound was... surprisingly soothing. For all the chaos swirling around in his life, there was something about playing that made things feel a little more normal. He tried to play a few chords of an old song he used to know, though it came out clunky.

"Guess I’m rusty as hell," Carmine mumbled, shaking his head. Still, it felt good to do something familiar, something that wasn’t about survival or staying under the radar.

The door suddenly opened, Vomi entered the apartment, throwing a bag at the floor and closing the door with a pained face. The cat on her shoulder seemed to open his mouth but then looked at him. She looked at Carmine who was still mid chord when both acknowledged each other's presence.

“Uh…?”, Carmine tried to come up with an explanation.

“Go on.”, Vomi waved, interested.

“Well, I…”

“Don't be shy. It's just a guitar.”, She insisted, sitting at the couch.

Carmine blinked, still mid-chord, not expecting Vomi to be so… chill about it. Especially considering how on edge she’d sounded earlier on the phone.

"Uh, alright," he muttered, adjusting his grip on the guitar. He strummed the strings again, trying to play the same clunky melody from earlier, though now, with Vomi watching him, it felt even rougher.

Vomi raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on her lips. "You know you’re not impressing anyone with that, right?"

Carmine chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, I’m rusty. It’s been a while." He put the guitar down, feeling more embarrassed than relaxed now. "Didn’t think you’d be back so soon."

Vomi shrugged, leaning back into the couch, her face a mix of exhaustion and amusement. "I’m full of surprises, Carmine. Get used to it."

“Who's the little guy?”, Carmine pointed at the cat, who stared back with his weird black and red fur.

“This is Vanguard. My partner in life.”, The cat itself jumped from her shoulder to her lap, “And a way better guitarist than you.”

"I’m not that bad. Who wasn't, anyway?”

Vomi laughed, a rare sound that caught Carmine off guard. "You should’ve seen me when I started. Couldn’t get a single note right for weeks. But I kept going. Figured if I could master this, I could handle anything."

She stretched her arms and winced, the tension in her muscles obvious. "You play anything else?" she asked, her voice more casual now, as if they weren’t two people who had recently pulled off a chaotic heist together.

Carmine shrugged. "Not really. Just a couple of songs here and there. You know, enough to get by." He gestured at her bag on the floor. "Rough day?"

Vomi’s expression darkened slightly, but she waved it off. "Just corpo stuff. You know how it is. I was promoted recently, taking care of a division instead of my own.”

"Right..." Carmine wasn’t about to press her for details. He had a feeling whatever she dealt with was way above his pay grade anyway.

Vomi leaned forward, grabbing the guitar and adjusting the strings. "You know, you should stick around. Could use someone who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty." She began playing a few chords herself, her fingers moving with practiced ease.

Carmine raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn’t run a charity?"

"I don’t," she said, not looking up from the guitar. "But you’ve got potential. Maybe not with this," she gestured to the guitar, "but you’ve got a knack for surviving. That could be useful."

Carmine smirked, leaning back into the couch. "So, you’re saying I’m hired?"

Vomi’s lips curled into a half-smile, her eyes still on the strings. "Let’s just say you’ve earned a temporary stay. For now."

The two of them sat there in the quiet of the apartment, the only sound being the soft strumming of the guitar. For the first time in a long while, Carmine felt like maybe, just maybe, things were starting to look up.

After a few more minutes, Vomi handed the guitar back to Carmine. "Practice a bit more. If you’re staying here, at least be decent enough to not make the neighbors scream at you."

Carmine laughed, taking the guitar back. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll get better."

Vomi stood up, heading for the bathroom. "Get some sleep soon. You’ll need it."

Carmine nodded, watching her disappear into the hallway, the cat following along. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the guitar in his hands. Then, with a sigh, he placed it aside, knowing she was right. The weight of everything started to pull him down again, exhaustion settling in.

He stretched out on the couch, the city’s faint noise filtering through the windows. It wasn’t much, but at least for tonight, he had a place to crash. That was something.

Before long, his eyes fluttered shut, the events of the past few days catching up with him, dragging him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Vomi undressed, still embarrassed that the male part was in a female body. It will never be not awkward, even when she is already two months and a half in this world. The water cleaned more than just dirt, but also her thoughts, the drips cleaning the riffraff of her unconscious. Promotion was not something she thought would come, since she just got into M-Tech, but apparently she was so competent in her work that she was good at it. And of course as corporations would do to their excellent workers, they would be awarded even more work, instead of anything that would help, like… vacations. Day offs.

Especially day offs.

Vomi was working all time since the heist, Graves judging her performance “acceptable to the corporate standard, even with the setbacks”. And of course that meant that he will use the crew gathering services of her's again in the near future. Carmine's call came as Vomi was just presenting what exactly the Cyber Security Team will do with her makeshift leadership, forcing her to stop. Of course she took the call out loud on speakers, not hiding at all the heist or the fact Carmine was one of the participants, to put it in a more sophisticated tone. And… well… It was a good time to test out her Corpo Lifepath persona. The smirk on Vanguard's face was everything that Vomi needed to confirm that her tactics worked.

Vomi let out a long breath, the warm water soothing her muscles and quieting her mind, even if just for a moment. Vanguard’s voice echoed in her head, his question laced with concern.

"Are you sure it’s wise to take him in?" he repeated, his reflection giving her a critical glance from the mirror.

"Wise?" Vomi replied, her thoughts pushing through the mental link they shared. "Probably not. But I need someone close who’s not corporate. Carmine’s rough around the edges, sure, but that’s what makes him useful. He’s not tied up in all this corpo bullshit like the rest of them."

Vanguard tilted his head, not entirely convinced. "He’s unpredictable, though. And untested. You saw how he almost crumbled during the heist."

"Yeah, but he didn’t," Vomi countered, her hands moving through her wet hair, slicking it back. "He made it through. And that says something. Besides, you saw how close KanedaCorp is. We need someone expendable on our side if things go south. Someone who’s just desperate enough to stick around."

There was a silence between them, the water continuing to cascade down her skin, washing away more than just the grime from the day. Vomi didn’t need to explain any more. Vanguard understood the game she was playing, even if he wasn’t entirely on board with it.

"Just don’t get too attached," Vanguard warned, his voice low in her mind. "People like him… they don’t last long in this world."

Vomi sighed, leaning against the wall of the shower, the hot water doing little to ease the tension that clung to her like a second skin. "I know. That’s what I’m counting on."

She closed her eyes, letting her mind go blank for a moment. The promotion, the weight of the new responsibilities, and the constant grind of corpo life were starting to pile up. But this was the life she had chosen—or rather, the life she had been thrust into. After a few more minutes, she shut off the water and grabbed a towel, drying herself off. Her thoughts drifted back to the heist, to the way Carmine had looked when he’d asked for a place to stay. Desperate, but still holding onto some scrap of pride.

"Maybe he’ll surprise you," Vomi said to Vanguard, wrapping the towel around herself and stepping out of the bathroom. "People do that sometimes."

Vanguard huffed, curling up on the bed, his tail flicking lazily. "Let’s hope that surprise doesn’t get you killed."

With a soft chuckle, Vomi dressed in her usual gray-black sweatshirt and sweatpants, grabbing her glasses and putting them on the counter near her bed. She saw that Carmine was, for the lack of options, sleeping on the couch.

“On better things…”, Vomi said out loud, “I have to organize with the band to rehearse the songs.”

“It's supposed to be this weekend, right?”, Vanguard also said out loud, taking his usual spot on the bed.

“Yup. I've been too busy, but I didn't forget the show The Refused is going to pull. It's going to be so preem!”

Vanguard questioned if Vomi was truly a man in his past life if “she” is so feminine here. She is giggling like a teenager who is about to meet a boy band. But he chose to not question it.

“You sure seem excited.”, He commented with a yawn.

“How can I not? The whole album has the best songs we could produce!”

“Let's focus on it tomorrow, alright?”

Vomi frowned as she dropped on the bed, “Such a buzzkill.”

“Hey, I am also excited, but let's not wake up our guest, shall we?”

“Fiiiiine.”

Vomi laid back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The excitement from talking about the band still buzzed in her veins, but Vanguard had a point—she had to dial it down, at least for now. Tomorrow would bring its own chaos, with rehearsals and the usual grind of corpo life. For now, she just needed to focus on getting some sleep.

“Tomorrow’s going to be a long day anyway,” she muttered, adjusting her pillow.

Vanguard purred softly, his form curling up beside her. “It always is,” he remarked, though his tone was softer now, less critical.

Vomi closed her eyes, her thoughts shifting between the upcoming show and the strange dynamic she was building with Carmine. It wasn’t exactly a partnership, more like a necessity of convenience. But there was something about him—something unpredictable yet useful. She needed that wildcard in her life, even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud.

Her mind drifted, the hum of the city outside fading as sleep slowly took over.

"Tomorrow," she thought, "everything starts again."

Within minutes, sleep claimed her, the weight of the day fading into dreams laced with distorted guitar riffs and the ever-looming threat of KanedaCorp on the horizon.

Carmine woke to the sound of electronic components being twisted and tightened. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling for a few moments before remembering where he was—Vomi's apartment. The whole situation still felt surreal, being housed by a corpo, but he decided to push that aside. Something else was bothering him. Why was this cat staring at him so intensely? It was like it was trying to bore holes into his skull.

“Morning?” he muttered, still confused by the cat’s laser-focused stare.

Vanguard. Yeah, that was the cat's name.

“Morning,” Vomi replied absently, her attention fully on whatever she was working on.

The couch hadn’t given him the best night’s sleep, but it was leagues better than being on the run from probation. He’d already sent his address to the SFPD, so they’d probably show up soon to check in. Yawning, he sat up but stayed on the couch, squinting against the brightness of the morning sun. That’s when he noticed what Vomi was doing.

“What are you working on?” he asked, trying to shake off the grogginess.

“Grenades,” she said, without looking up.

“Oh… okay.”

“...”

“...”

“Wait, what?”

“Yep,” she said again, inspecting one she had just finished assembling. "I’m practicing engineering. Well, more specifically, explosive chemistry."

The casualness in her voice caught him off guard. Carmine blinked, trying to process the fact that she was making grenades. In her apartment.

“Uh… yeah, I get that. But why here?”

“I don’t have time to go elsewhere before work,” she explained, finally looking up from her project. “And I don’t have a workshop where I can make these uninterrupted. Don’t worry, they’re non-lethal. I didn’t have the fragments for shrapnel. Surprisingly expensive.”

Her tone, like she’d considered it but decided against the purchase, left Carmine uncertain whether to feel relieved or more concerned.

“Right,” he said, mostly just to say something.

“There’s food in the fridge,” Vomi added, pushing her glasses up her nose and turning back to her work. “Use the microwave if you need to heat it up.”

Still a little in shock, Carmine nodded, watching as she calmly returned to crafting more grenade casings like it was just another Monday.

Well, technically it was Thursday, but the feeling was the same. Carmine dragged himself off the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he shuffled to the fridge. He opened it, glancing over the contents—leftovers, some pre-packaged meals, and a few energy drinks. Grabbing a container of what looked like half-eaten noodles, he tossed it in the microwave.

As the microwave hummed, Carmine glanced over at Vomi. She was laser-focused on her work, methodically putting together another grenade like it was a craft project. It was weird—he couldn’t figure her out. One minute she was cold and corporate, the next she was casually making explosives in her apartment while offering him breakfast. He couldn’t decide if she was completely insane or just too far into this corpo life to care about anything anymore.

The microwave dinged, snapping him out of his thoughts. He grabbed the noodles and plopped down at the small table, slurping them down while keeping an eye on Vomi’s work.

“You do this often?” he asked between bites, gesturing toward the growing collection of grenade casings.

“Not as often as I’d like,” Vomi replied without looking up. “But with the promotion, I need to stay sharp. Never know when these might come in handy.”

Carmine paused, the noodles halfway to his mouth. “Handy for what, exactly?”

Vomi finally glanced up, giving him a small, almost playful smirk. “Let’s just say it’s better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them.”

That answer didn’t exactly ease his concerns, but he figured asking too many questions was a quick way to get kicked out. He’d play along for now.

“Fair enough,” Carmine muttered, finishing the noodles. He leaned back in the chair, watching her work in silence for a bit.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked after a while.

“Work,” Vomi said simply. “I have a presentation later. After that, I’m thinking of heading to the gun range. You’re welcome to join if you’re not too busy doing... whatever it is you do.”

Carmine raised an eyebrow. “The gun range?”

Vomi shrugged. “While you were asleep, I made a sniper rifle.”

“That's… preem?”, Carmine wasn't sure if his reaction was the right one. After all, no one can say they just made a gun.

Well, Vomi can apparently.

“You made a sniper?”, He asked again, just to be sure.

“More like putting a bunch of modified and scrapped parts of different snipers into one.”, She said, closing the tool case of the grenades and picking up the sniper, “I still am thinking of a name to it.”

“Woah.”

Carmine stood up, unable to resist getting a closer look. Vomi held the sniper rifle like it was just another gadget, but to him, it looked like something straight out of a military arsenal. The weapon had a long, heavy barrel and a large, angular stock that made it look like it was designed to withstand immense power. Its matte black finish and sleek lines gave it an intimidating presence, with a bolt-action mechanism that clicked smoothly when Vomi demonstrated it.

The rifle was clearly customized—its barrel had a muzzle brake to manage the heavy recoil, and the scope mounted on top was high-tech, likely capable of scanning targets from miles away with extreme precision. The bipod at the front folded up neatly under the barrel, while the grip and stock looked modified for extra stability and comfort.

"Where the hell did you get the parts for this?" Carmine asked, his voice full of awe.

"Scavenged from various corpo leftovers," Vomi replied nonchalantly. "You'd be surprised what gets thrown out when companies upgrade their arsenals."

Carmine whistled, impressed. "Looks like it could punch a hole through a tank."

"Close enough," Vomi said with a slight grin, propping the sniper against the wall. "It’s designed to take out armored targets from a long range. Not exactly the kind of thing you bring to a street fight, but when you need it… well, it gets the job done."

Carmine couldn’t help but run his fingers along the cold metal of the barrel. The sniper was heavy-duty, yet everything about it screamed precision. It reminded him of a military-issue rifle, the kind used for high-stakes, long-range combat—like something a top-tier merc would use to take out a target from a mile away.

"What's it called?" he asked, still examining the craftsmanship.

Vomi shrugged, crossing her arms. "Haven’t decided yet. I’ll think of something fitting."

Carmine chuckled. "Holy shit. You don't play around, do you?”

Vomi stared blankly at him for a while. Vanguard jumped to her shoulder, the woman looking at the cat for a second.

Weird, but, okay?

“I'll leave for now.”, She said, putting the lab coat on, “I'll send you a job later. Counter Intel if I remember it correctly.”

“If my payment is a new Rowley I am all for it.”, He joked, but still with a hint of truth.

“Maybe.”, Vomi said, leaving the apartment, but stopped at the door, “Just make sure everything goes smoothly though.”

Carmine nodded, giving her a half-smile. “I’ll do my best to keep things smooth,” he said, but they both knew that in their line of work, nothing ever really went as planned.

Vomi gave him a final look before heading out the door, Vanguard still perched on her shoulder, casting one last glance at Carmine before they disappeared down the hallway. The door clicked shut, leaving him alone with his thoughts—and the intimidating sniper rifle leaning against the wall.

He stared at the rifle for a moment longer, the reality of his situation starting to sink in. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was scrounging for work, trying to stay under the radar. Now he was crashing in a corpo’s apartment, with promises of jobs and... grenades? It didn’t sit right with him, but at the same time, what choice did he really have?

A corpo's favor wasn’t something you could just walk away from.

He sighed, picking up his cup of now-cold coffee and taking a long sip, his eyes still lingering on the rifle. Maybe this wasn’t the life he wanted, but it was the life he had now. And in a city like this, survival was all that mattered.

“Counter intel, huh?” Carmine muttered to himself, staring at the empty room.

With that, he tossed the cup into the sink, stretched his stiff limbs, and grabbed his jacket. Whatever job Vomi had in store for him, he’d face it head-on. After all, that was the only way to survive in this world.

He glanced at the sniper rifle one last time, smirking to himself.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath, “this is gonna be interesting. Or myself getting flatlined. Either or.”