Bio Weapon Dystopia

“I don't remember anything from last night.”

Vomi groaned, staring up at the ceiling, her forearm resting over her eyes as she tried to push through the lingering hangover. It wasn't too bad—thanks to whatever strange biology she had now—but it still sucked. Begrudgingly, she rolled out of bed, only to faceplant onto the floor.

“Of course,” she muttered into the carpet, feeling the impact vibrate through her skull.

After a few deep breaths, she pushed herself up and realized she was only in a tank top and panties. Great. Just another layer of what the fuck happened from last night.

Nice.

Shuffling to the bathroom, she managed to get the water running without breaking anything or falling again. The cold water was like a slap to the face, but it helped. Once done, she threw on some baggy sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt, wrapping herself in a blanket cocoon as she stumbled into the kitchen. Coffee. She needed coffee.

As the machine slowly filled her mug, she stared blankly at the liquid, feeling her brain reboot at a snail’s pace. After a long, satisfying sip, she grabbed her laptop, sitting down to see if M-Tech’s HR team had responded yet. Hopefully, she could land some easy Netrunner gig to ease back into things. The main objective was still out there, but she wasn’t ready for that just yet.

Instead of HR replies, she got a surprise. A message from Thiago.

Thiago: You gave me your number last night, hope you don't mind me sending the first text. You’re a really good Rockergirl, you know that? Would be nice to have you in some places. Now, I know you're busy, but when you can, text me, okay? C-YA, choom.

Vomi stared at the message for a second, sipping her coffee. “Did I give him my number?”

Vanguard snickered from his spot on the counter, “Oh yeah, you were on a roll last night. Really leaning into the party life.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her temples. “Did I sleep with anyone?”

“Nope, but you made quite the impression. I mean, no one tried kidnapping you, so that’s a win.”

“Good. Last thing I need is dealing with scavs.”

“Not that you couldn't handle them.” Vanguard stretched, flicking his tail. “But yeah, you were... happier than usual. First time I’ve seen you let loose since we... ya know, bonded.”

Vomi shrugged, barely looking up from her laptop as she found a small Netrunner gig that didn’t look too taxing. “Cool.”

Vanguard frowned, hopping onto the table, watching her type. “Really? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Hangover,” she grumbled, taking another long sip of her coffee. “Brain’s not functioning yet.”

The cat sighed dramatically. “Fine, but don’t forget, you’ve got that M-Tech interview. You should probably look human for that.”

“Hmhmm.” She waved him off, already engrossed in the job details.

Vanguard shook his head, mumbling, “You’ll thank me later.”

Vomi sat there, fingers lazily scrolling through her laptop screen, eyes half-open. The hangover had morphed into something tolerable, but the grogginess was still hanging on like a bad software glitch. She found a small-time data breach job that would pay decently enough. Easy work, low risk—just the kind of thing she needed to get her brain functioning again.

Another ping hit her inbox. This time, it was from M-Tech’s HR department.

M-Tech HR: We’ve confirmed your interview for today sharp. Please ensure you have your CV and references ready. We look forward to meeting you.

She checked the clock on the laptop.

07:00

“Ah, shit,” she muttered, setting down her coffee. That interview was going to come quick. And she needed to prep.

“You got that message, right?” Vanguard said, watching her from the table with his unblinking cat eyes. “You can’t just wing it.”

“I can wing it,” she mumbled, though she wasn’t really sure she could.

“Vomi, you’ll need more than I’m a badass netrunner with a symbiote to impress them. Remember, this is corporate. You need to pretend to be... you know, normal.”

“Normal’s overrated,” she groaned, rubbing her forehead. “But yeah, I guess I should at least pretend I’ve got my shit together.”

“That’s the spirit,” Vanguard teased, flicking his tail playfully. “At least take a shower before you go, huh?”

She gave him a deadpan look. “I just took one.”

“Right. Well, maybe another wouldn’t hurt. You look like you got hit by a Nomad truck.”

“I feel like I got hit by one too.”

Vomi sighed and forced herself to sit up a little straighter. She glanced at her Agent's inbox again, her finger hovering over Thiago’s message. Was she really going to respond? They had fun last night—apparently—but she wasn’t in the mood for anything more complicated than a cold drink and a solid payout. Could he even be? After all, he is now a she, so…

Nah.

But maybe one little message wouldn’t hurt.

She typed out a quick reply:

Vomi: Hey, thanks for last night. I was way more hammered than I thought. Catch up later, maybe.

“Not bad,” Vanguard said, peeking at the screen. “Now you just have to survive that interview.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, closing her laptop and finishing off her coffee. “First things first: I need food.”

“Smart move. Let’s fuel up before we tackle the world.”

“Maybe I’ll try not to ruin this day too,” she joked, though there was some truth behind it. After everything yesterday, she could really use a calm day.

But as she stepped into her small kitchen to grab a snack, the agent on her wrist buzzed. A new message popped up. Unknown sender. Great.

Unknown: Got a gig. Your skills. Interested?

She narrowed her eyes at the screen. “Guess calm isn’t in the cards today.”

Vanguard snickered. “Did you really expect anything less?”

Vomi sighed, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Nope. But at least I’ve got coffee.”

“Well, we have an hour to do that, one to dress up for the interview.”

“All that to find a missing corpo. I'm never going to the HustleNet for anything that takes more than a day, ever.”

“Agreed.”

Thankfully, the gig could be done remotely, so Vomit didn't need to leave her apartment to work on it. It was a NetChair job, one of those where she was just watching cameras, using Ping of her laptop to tell where the gonks are so the field crew can just do whatever they need to do. In this case, it was an assassination, clearing all hostiles in the area and all that. Fine by Vomi, she wasn't in the mood to shoot after her gun was jammed mid combat.

Weapon Glitch, a famous quick hack used by NetGunners. The worst part was that you didn't even need to be good to use the hack, just a decent Cyberdeck. Something she is going to deal with later.

For now, Netrunning from home.

“Comms check.”, Vomi tested the connection the crew had.

The ICE they used was subtle, but strong enough so it would protect their conversations.

“Comms are good,” one of the crew responded, his voice crackling over the line. “You’re our eyes, so keep us posted.”

Vomi leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee. “Yeah, yeah, I got you. Just don’t do anything stupid. I’m not in the mood to be your babysitter today.”

The team chuckled, but Vomi could already tell they were the type to rush in without thinking. Typical. She pulled up the camera feeds on her laptop, her fingers moving fluidly across the keys, cycling through different angles of the target building.

“There’s two on the second floor, right by the main hall. And a sniper on the roof—north side,” she relayed, her voice steady.

“Copy that,” the lead replied. “We’ll take the roof first.”

Vomi watched as the team moved into position. It was a clean operation, nothing too flashy. They moved with precision, clearing rooms as they advanced. She kept them updated, calling out enemy positions and hazards, making sure they had smooth entry.

But it wasn’t long before things went sideways.

One of the crew triggered an alarm—probably some low-level ICE protecting the doors. Vomi cursed under her breath as she scrambled to override it. “Hold on, I’m handling it.”

“Better be quick,” the lead said, his voice tense.

Vomi’s fingers flew over the keyboard, bypassing the security system and disabling the alarm just in time. “You’re clear. But be more careful, choom. You don’t want another alert going off.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

She continued monitoring the team, making minor adjustments and keeping track of the enemy movements. The gig was straightforward, though she was getting bored fast. “Almost done?”

“Just wrapping up now,” the lead confirmed. “Good work, Vomi. Drinks on us later?”

“Pass. I’ve had enough for a week,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Just finish the job clean and I’ll consider us even.”

Once the job was done, she logged off, feeling a weird sense of relief. “Donezo. Now I can focus on M-Tech.”

Vanguard purred, clearly amused by her multitasking. “See? You handled that like a pro. Now, time to get all corpo-looking for that interview. No more sweatpants.”

“Ugh, fine,” Vomi groaned as she dragged herself toward her closet. “I hate dressing up.”

“Well, you can’t show up looking like a netrunner who just rolled out of bed,” Vanguard teased. “Impressions matter, remember?”

“Impressions are overrated.” But she still grabbed a sleek jacket and pants that at least looked like she’d put in some effort. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The screen of her laptop showed a woman dressed in the most stereotypical corpo suit ever, in the history of forever, “Vomi Kurosaki, it is an event having you with us.”

Vomit noticed how she didn't say “a pleasure”, but ignored it for the sake of not getting more headaches.

“Thank you for sparing your time to meet with me.”, She said with a faux smile, enough to show that she was following the usual script of interviews.

“You CV is most impressive for someone who started in cyber security not long ago. Even a contract for Ascendant Innovations, most impressive.”, The woman said as she checked the file, not showing any emotion through her face and voice.

Vomi nodded, keeping her expression neutral as she clasped her hands in front of her. "Yeah, Ascendant was... an experience." She left it vague on purpose. No need to go into the messy details.

The corpo woman raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the nonchalance. “And yet, you left rather quickly after completing only a handful of projects. Care to explain?”

Vomi resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Typical corpo prying. “I didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye with their management. Let’s just say, we had different priorities.”

There was a moment of silence as the woman studied her, like she was weighing whether that was a good enough answer. “I see. Well, M-Tech has a reputation for demanding results. Can we expect you to be fully committed if given this opportunity?”

“Fully committed, sure,” Vomi said, keeping her voice calm, even though she was already tired of the corporate spiel. “I’m here for the work. And the pay, of course. As long as that’s clear, we won’t have any problems.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she gave a curt nod. “We do appreciate honesty. Let’s move on, shall we? What would you say is your biggest strength in net security?”

Vomi leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping her knee. “Adaptability. I don’t just rely on one method or one approach. I handle whatever the system throws at me, whether it’s a simple breach or high-level ICE. I’ve seen enough messes in the field to know how to clean them up without breaking a sweat.”

The interviewer scribbled something down. “And your weakness?”

Vomi smirked. “I don’t do well with bureaucratic nonsense. Too many layers of approval, too much waiting around... slows things down. I hate being slowed down.”

“Interesting,” the woman replied, her tone unreadable as she wrote again. “You’ll find we value efficiency here.”

Vomi barely suppressed a snort. Sure, efficiency, she thought. “That’s good to know.”

The interview continued with more of the same canned questions, with Vomi answering them as diplomatically as she could, despite wanting to wrap it up already. Vanguard, sitting quietly on her shoulder, remained still, his tail swishing lazily. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the woman closed the file on her desk.

“Well, Ms. Kurosaki, I believe we’ve gotten everything we need for now. We’ll be in touch regarding the next steps.”

Vomi plastered on her best professional smile. “Looking forward to it.”

As soon as the screen went dark, she let out a groan, rubbing her temples. “That was torture.”

Vanguard chuckled. “You handled it fine. Could’ve been worse.”

“Yeah, like if I had to go in person,” Vomi grumbled, slumping back in her chair. “But hey, at least that’s over. Now I can actually relax.”

“Until the next gig pops up,” Vanguard teased.

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered, already grabbing her coffee for another long sip, “I need more coffee.”

The scientist woman returned to her usual attire, lab coat, undershirt, cargo pants, boots and glasses. Don't forget the glasses. Vomi drove the Colby in search of two things she needed in order to not make the same mistake of falling to Weapon Glitch again, which was a toolbox to dismantle and study any gun she wanted, and components. Lots and lots of components. Thankfully, much like Night City, San Francisco had plenty of crime to deal with, so getting iron looted from corpses was incredibly easy, even more when you are paid for it by the HustleNet.

She loaded the car's seats, glovebox and trunk with guns, taking about seven trips back and forth from the Colby to her apartment. There were a lot of guns, a lot of components, and as far as she is concerned, a lot of time to spend before M-Tech gives any answers, so she is going to do something useful while at it.

“What's all of this?”, The cat symbiote asked as he saw the almost empty room be filled with all the Iron Vomi could carry.

“Iron.”, She said, dropping whatever there was on a table to the ground so she could have space to tinker with the guns, “I want to know what is hackeable in these toys, because I don't want them jamming next time I need to shoot a gonk.”

“You could've just used our powers to deal with that.”, He remarked as he smelled the guns on the table.

Cat behavior.

“Yes, Vang, that was an option. But wasn't you who said I needed to grew independency from our powers?”, She said, the toolbox falling from her hands to the table, “Besides, laying low, in case you forgot.”

“I am aware, but as more as you complete gigs, the more your name will get around. Even with or without our abilities.”

She groaned, glaring at him, before going back to her Nue.

The pistol was simple, much like a PX4 Beretta, but it used .45 cal bullets instead of 9mm or any lower caliber in general. Despite the power, it had a decent fire rate, meaning that the gun was designed to be fast and strong, maneuverable and ergonomic, despite the safe trigger getting in the way sometimes. She dismantled the gun, piece by piece, following Past Vomi's knowledge and instincts to figure out what she needed to do. By the time all the pieces were scattered around the table, the thing that caused the problem was found.

“This is the problem.”, Vomi said as she held the microchip of the gun.

“What is that chip?”, Vanguard inquired, his red eyes glinting with cat curiosity.

“The chip every gun needs to have to be produced. Call it a tracker, a safety measure, a way so police work is easier… You name it.”, She said, putting the chip on her laptop, already stroking the keys in a blip.

“Why do guns have this chip?”

“Old law. The Unification War and the Corporate Wars resulted in many laws being disregarded or removed from the state’s constitution. Some changing to benefit the higher-ups, more than anything.”, She explained, her eyes glued to the screen, “This chip is a safety measure, much like the batteries in some cyberware, meant to subdue dangerous individuals by hacking either the Iron or the chrome.”

“Clever.”, Vanguard nodded, “However this was exploited beyond repair, hasn't it?”

“Maliciously.”, She snickered, “Netrunners quickly found out ways to use it against anyone with a gun, that action alone giving the hint so the people being fucked over to put ICE in their guns.”

“Meaning that the weaponry could still work even against a Netrunner?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, my mistake was…”, She typed the last part of the code, ”...never checking if my own guns had ICE protecting them.”

“And the other stuff?”, The cat symbiote pointed with his nose at the huge pile of guns.

“Grow up my arsenal, what else?”, Vomi explained as if it was the obvious thing in the world, “Disassembling some guns to make or modify others, scrap anything worth using, sell them later to any gun shop. The usual.”

“The usual.”, Vanguard echoed, although he looked bored.

Vomi ignored his tone, focused on getting her arsenal up to par. She took the Nue’s chip out of the laptop, pocketed it, and moved to the next gun—a M2038 Tactician Pump shotgun she’d picked up on one of her gigs. The thing was a beast, heavy and powerful, but if it wasn’t ICE-protected, it’d be as useless as the Nue had been.

“Let’s see if you’ve got the same issue,” she muttered, grabbing her tools.

Vanguard circled the table, flicking his tail in mild interest. “You know, all this prepping almost makes you look like a paranoid war vet.”

“Hey, can’t be too careful out here,” Vomi shot back, carefully unscrewing the shotgun’s components. “Every gonk with a script kiddie setup can hack a weapon if it’s not guarded. Last thing I need is my own iron turning against me.”

He sat down, watching her work. “Fair point. But still, a little overkill, don’t you think?”

“No such thing as overkill when you’re in the field,” she replied, pulling out the Tactician’s chip. “Especially when you don’t know who’s gunning for you next.”

As she started to analyze the shotgun’s system, her agent buzzed again. This time, a more familiar name popped up.

Thiago: You free tonight? My band’s got a show downtown. Thought you might wanna hang.

Vomi raised an eyebrow, momentarily pausing her work. “Huh. Didn’t expect him to text again so soon.”

Vanguard peeked over her shoulder. “Thiago, huh? The guy from last night?”

“Yeah.” Vomi blinked, almost forgetting she’d given him her number in her drunken state. “He’s inviting me to a gig.”

“Another gig? You’re like a magnet for them,” Vanguard teased, flicking his tail. “But this one doesn’t sound as dangerous.”

“Not exactly a gig, more like watching their gig. A music show.”

“A Rockerboy? Nice.”

Vomi smiled slightly, considering it for a moment. A night out might be a good change of pace after all the work she’d been doing lately. Plus, the music last night had been fun, even if she couldn’t remember all the details.

She typed back quickly: Might stop by. No promises.

Thiago’s reply came almost instantly: Sweet. I’ll put your name on the list.

“Looks like we’ve got plans tonight,” Vanguard commented, a bit more intrigued now.

“Maybe,” Vomi shrugged, going back to her work. “Depends on how long this takes. Can’t leave a mess behind.”

“Perfectionist,” Vanguard said, yawning. “But fine, at least I won’t have to listen to you complain about another Weapon Glitch. Again.”

“Exactly.” She grinned, slotting the Nova’s chip into her laptop for further tweaking.

As she continued working, the pile of weapons slowly got smaller, each one examined, disassembled, and either upgraded or scrapped. Vomi’s focus was razor-sharp, but in the back of her mind, she was already considering a different kind of night out. Maybe she should work on learning to play some instrument? She always liked acoustic versions of curtains songs, mainly Flamenco. Those songs are always preem.

Vomi glanced at the pile of disassembled guns, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment, even if it was the most mundane kind of work. "Almost done," she muttered to herself, eyeing the last few pieces. She stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles, leaning back for a moment.

Vanguard raised an eyebrow, catching her brief daydream. "Flamenco, huh? That’s a shift. Didn’t know you had a soft spot for that."

She shrugged. “It’s… soothing. Besides, after all this chaos, something acoustic might help balance things out.”

“I can picture it now: Vomi, the netrunning, gun-tinkering scientist who moonlights as a flamenco guitarist,” Vanguard teased, his red eyes glinting with amusement. “Not a bad image.”

“Shut up,” she replied, though her smile gave her away. “Maybe I'll give it a shot. Hell, I’m good at multitasking, right?”

“You are. But you’ve already got your hands full with gigs, guns, and dodging corpos. Don’t get too ambitious, chica.”

“Ambitious is kind of my default setting.”

She laughed softly, the thought lingering in her mind. The idea of a peaceful hobby like that was tempting—something to drown out the noise in her life. Music had a way of cutting through the static, and flamenco was a sound she could get lost in. But, like Vanguard said, balancing her chaotic lifestyle with more activities wasn’t exactly the easiest thing.

Still, the thought stayed with her as she packed up the last of her disassembled weapons, making a mental note to look up where she could buy an acoustic guitar. Maybe one day, after all the gigs and shooting, she could see where that interest took her.

“Alright, all done here,” she said, standing up from the table. “What time is it? Should I head to Thiago’s gig or stay home and mess with more guns?”

Vanguard stretched lazily on the table, his tail flicking in amusement. “Up to you. Personally, I think you could use some fresh air and actual human interaction. But who am I to say?”

She sighed, glancing at the clock. The show wasn’t for another hour or two, so she had time to decide. “Maybe I’ll go. But no promises I’ll stay the whole time.”

“Well, at least you’re thinking about it,” Vanguard said, hopping off the table. “Now, let’s get you out of that lab coat and into something a little more rock-friendly, hmm?”

“I am gonna use a Samurai coat.”, She declared proudly, hands in her hips and all.

“Samurai? Do you only know that band?”, All the enthusiasm that Vanguard had vanished at the single mention of the group.

“What? Their skull logo is nova!”

“It is the most generic and unthoughtful crest I've ever seen.”, He replied with a sigh.

“Your life span is almost a month! You don't have a day in that!”

“Yes I do. And you can't do anything about it.”

Vomi was about to strike the cat when she noticed the faint smirk in his black fur.

Vomi paused mid-swing, narrowing her eyes at Vanguard. “You’re lucky I like you,” she muttered, dropping her hand and heading toward her closet. “Fine, I won’t wear the Samurai coat. But I’m still wearing something cool.”

Vanguard snickered. “I trust your fashion sense, though I’m sure it’ll involve black.”

She rummaged through her clothes, pulling out a leather jacket with a subtle neon design along the sleeves. “This better?”

“Much more you,” he agreed, his tail flicking as he watched her get dressed.

Satisfied with her look—casual but with enough edge to fit in at a Rockerboy gig—Vomi gave herself a once-over in the mirror. “Alright, let’s do this.”

“See? You’ll blend right in,” Vanguard teased, jumping up onto her shoulder as they made their way out the door.

The drive to the venue wasn’t far, the streets buzzing with the usual mix of corpo drones, street punks, and netrunners, all going about their lives. As she pulled up near the venue, she could already hear the muffled sound of music echoing from inside.

Thiago had sent her the location of a grungy underground bar—one of those places where you could still smell the rebellion in the air. It wasn’t much different from the spots she’d been to back in Night City. Vomi parked the Colby and stepped out, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air.

“You ready?” Vanguard asked, his tone more relaxed now.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, pulling her jacket tighter around her as she headed toward the entrance.

Inside, the bar was dimly lit, neon signs casting a glow over the crowd of people already gathered for the show. The smell of cheap liquor and sweat hit her, but it was familiar, almost comforting in a weird way. Vomi made her way to the bar, flashing the bartender a quick nod before looking around for Thiago.

The stage was set, instruments tuned and ready, with a few techs running last-minute sound checks. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, and she couldn’t help but feel a little excited herself. It had been a while since she’d done something purely for fun, and despite her reluctance, this was starting to feel like the right call.

“There he is,” Vanguard pointed out, nodding toward the back of the room where Thiago was talking with his bandmates.

Vomi spotted him, his hair slicked back and his leather jacket fitting the part. He noticed her almost immediately and waved her over with a grin.

“Vomi! You made it!” Thiago shouted over the noise, his smile genuine. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come.”

She shrugged, playing it cool. “Figured I’d check it out. Can’t stay too long, though.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, offering her a drink. “But hey, you’re here now. Enjoy the show.”

Vomi took the drink, sipping it cautiously as the lights dimmed and the band took the stage. Can't have a second hangover. The first few chords hit, loud and raw, and the crowd surged with energy. Vomi found herself nodding along to the beat, letting the music wash over her.

For a moment, amidst the chaos of the crowd and the blaring music, she heard…

“Evanescence?!”

The very first notes of Bring Me to Life started, and she was honestly too stunned to sing along, since she was pretty sure this song didn't exist in Cyberpunk.

Vomi blinked in disbelief, the opening chords of Bring Me to Life reverberating through the grungy bar. The crowd was already starting to cheer, a mix of confusion and excitement rippling through the air.

“Did I just step into some kind of time warp?” she muttered under her breath, glancing at Vanguard on her shoulder.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Vanguard purred in her ear, amused. “It doesn’t seem like this world’s usual vibe, does it?”

Onstage, the band had already captured the crowd. The drummer, a tall guy with a shock of blue hair, pounded out the beat with precision. The guitarist was all attitude, sporting a mohawk and glowing cybernetic arms that lit up with each strum of his instrument, syncing perfectly with the neon lights onstage. Then there was the bassist, a woman with chromed-out legs and tattoos crawling up her arms, her hands moving deftly over the strings like she was born to do it.

But it was the singer who caught Vomi’s attention. She stepped up to the mic, her dark hair cascading down her back, some strands braided with neon fiber optics. She was dressed in a form-fitting leather jacket that shone under the stage lights, giving her an ethereal glow. Her voice was low and sultry as she belted out the familiar lines of the song, and Vomi couldn’t help but be impressed.

The singer’s name, Vomi vaguely recalled from last night’s haze, was Raven. Her voice was powerful and haunting, much like the woman herself. As she sang, her eyes scanned the crowd, locking with certain people as if she was drawing them in, pulling them closer to the music. It was almost hypnotic, the way her presence commanded the room.

“She’s got talent,” Vanguard admitted, his red eyes watching Raven intently. “No wonder the crowd’s into it.”

Vomi nodded, leaning back against the bar, still stunned by the song choice but appreciating how Raven made it her own. The raw emotion in her voice was undeniable, the way she hit every note with perfect intensity, the electric energy pouring into every line of the song. The band played in perfect sync behind her, each member adding their own unique twist to the classic sound.

By the time they reached the chorus, the entire bar was on fire with energy. People were jumping, singing along—even Vomi found herself mouthing the words, her body moving slightly to the beat. The weight of her earlier hangover lifted a little as she got lost in the music.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea,” she whispered, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

Vanguard purred in agreement. “Looks like you’re actually having fun.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she shot back, though she was clearly enjoying herself more than she expected.

As the song continued, Vomi couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something special about Raven. Her presence on stage was captivating, like she belonged there. And as the final notes of Bring Me to Life echoed through the room, Raven threw a fist in the air, flashing the crowd a fierce grin.

The audience erupted into cheers and applause, and Raven stepped back from the mic, glancing toward Vomi and the bar. For a split second, their eyes met, and Vomi felt a jolt of recognition, though she couldn’t quite place why.

“Interesting,” Vanguard mused, sensing the moment.

Vomi brushed it off, turning her attention back to her drink. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just a good show.”

Thiago quickly came over to the bar stool, “So, what do you think?”

“It was… I am speechless.”, She admitted, leaving the empty cup on the counter, “Raven, isn't it?”

“That's the lead singer’s name.”, He nodded, “Unfortunately I am just the back singer. My voice can't go up and high like that.”

Raven herself, after a quick chug of some booze, came over to Thiago and Vomi, “Never seen you around here. Hey T, where did you find this chick?”

“Last night.”, Thiago mused, “Although I barely remember what happened yesterday.”

“Did you two hook up?”

“No!”, Vomi refused a bit too quickly.

That made Raven snort, “Yeah you did.”

“No! I! Didn't!”

“Whatever you say.”

“Stop teasing her.”, Thiago said with a half smile, “Vomi is a Netrunner, as far as I remember. She helped me after we got drunk, so no worries. Biz was smooth, and she is legit.”

Vomi blinked, “I don't remember doing anything for you though?”

Raven raised an eyebrow at Vomi, clearly amused. “You don’t remember? Wow, that must’ve been one hell of a night.”

Vomi felt her face flush slightly, the memory gap making her feel a bit embarrassed. “I really don’t. I just know I woke up with a headache, and that’s it.”

Thiago chuckled. “Well, you did me a favor, whether you remember or not. Something about a hacked system? Honestly, the details are fuzzy, but you were solid. Kept us out of some heat.”

Raven leaned in, her voice playful. “A netrunner, huh? You don’t look like one. Too… put together for someone who lives in the grid.”

Vomi shrugged, trying to play it off. “I have my moments.”

“Well, if you ever get tired of all that running, maybe you can work for us,” Raven teased, taking a sip of her drink. “Our gigs could always use a techie who knows her way around ICE.”

“I’m more of a freelancer,” Vomi said quickly, not wanting to get sucked into anything permanent.

“Sure, sure,” Raven smirked, clearly not taking her too seriously. “But the offer’s there if you ever change your mind.”

As they talked, the crowd began to thin out a little, people drifting toward the exit or gathering at the bar. The post-show buzz lingered in the air, and Vomi found herself relaxing, despite the earlier awkwardness.

“You know,” Thiago began, leaning casually against the bar, “if you’re free, we could hit another spot after this. Raven knows a great underground place. Good music, less crowd.”

Vomi glanced at Vanguard, who was still perched on her shoulder, watching everything with his usual detached curiosity. She knew what he was thinking—lay low, don’t get too caught up in anything unnecessary. But something about the night felt different, like it wasn’t just another job or casual meeting.

“Yeah, I could use another drink,” Vomi said, surprising herself.

Thiago grinned, clapping her on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit!”

Raven shot her a playful wink. “Looks like we’re gonna have ourselves a proper night.”

As they started to leave the venue, Vomi couldn’t help but feel that familiar tug in her gut—like something was shifting, like tonight wasn’t just a random outing. Maybe it was Raven’s energy, maybe it was the weird déjà vu she felt. Either way, she wasn’t about to bail now.

Vanguard’s voice echoed quietly in her head. “Just keep your guard up.”

“Always,” Vomi whispered under her breath, as the three of them slipped into the night.