STATIC RUN-7
Vivica's Apartment
“Briggs—”
“I’m fine.” His voice was steady. Controlled. But his hand pressed against his side. “Keep moving.”
“You’re shot—”
“I said I’m fine.” He fired twice more at the advancing guards. “We need to go. Now.”
Ripley grabbed his arm. He was heavy. Solid. But she felt him lean on her slightly, and her heart clenched.
They ran.
VIVICA’S VOICE
“Ripley.”
The voice in her com was calm. Familiar. Unexpected.
Ripley nearly stumbled. “Vivica?”
“I’ve been monitoring your communications.” No apology. No explanation. Just fact. “You triggered a failsafe I didn’t know existed. JinTech’s response teams are converging on your position. You have ninety seconds before you’re surrounded.”
“How the drek are you—”
“Questions later. Survival now.” Vivica’s tone sharpened. “There’s a service elevator at the end of the north corridor. I’m overriding the lockdown. Get there.”
“Why are you helping us?”
“Because I’m tired of watching JinTech bury people.” A pause. “And because Briggs is going to bleed out if you don’t move. Now go.”
Ripley looked at Briggs. His face was pale. Sweat beaded on his forehead. But his grip on his pistol was steady.
“North corridor,” she said. “Can you make it?”
“I can make it.”
They ran.
Behind them, more guards. More gunfire. The building was alive with alarms and shouting and the thunder of boots on metal floors.
Ripley’s cybernetic arm supported most of Briggs’s weight. He was bleeding badly now—she could feel the warmth of it soaking through his jacket, could see the trail they were leaving.
“Nyx, where’s Declan?” she gasped.
“He’s out! He conned his way past the front guards again—I don’t know how, but he’s clear!”
“Preem. Tell him to get the van ready. We’re coming in hot.”
The north corridor appeared ahead. And there—the service elevator, doors open, interior lights glowing.
They stumbled inside.
Ripley hit the button for the ground floor. The doors closed. The elevator descended.
Briggs slumped against the wall, his hand still pressed to his side. Blood seeped between his fingers.
“Let me see,” Ripley said.
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s not preem either.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
The elevator reached the ground floor. Doors opened.
They emerged into an underground parking garage. Nyx’s van was already there, engine running, side door open.
Declan stood beside it, his expensive suit torn and bloodied, his expression grim.
“Get him in!” Ripley shouted.
Together, they hauled Briggs into the van. He collapsed onto the floor, his breathing labored.
Nyx was in the driver’s seat, her cybernetic eye flickering with code. “Where are we going?”
“Raven Garage,” Ripley said.
“No.”
Vivica’s voice again. Still in her com.
“The garage is the first place they’ll look,” Vivica continued. “They know who you are now. They’ll have teams there within the hour.”
“Then where?” Ripley’s voice was sharp. Desperate.
A pause.
“My place.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Ripley, listen to me. My apartment is off the books. Corporate housing, but registered under a shell company. JinTech won’t think to look there. Not immediately.”
“Are you gonked? Why would I trust you?”
“I know.” Vivica’s voice softened. “But your friend is bleeding, and you’re out of options. So, you can hate me later. Right now, let me help you.”
Ripley looked at Briggs. At the blood pooling beneath him. At Declan pressing a jacket against the wound. At Nyx’s terrified expression in the rearview mirror.
“Fine,” she said. “Send the address.”
VIVICA’S APARTMENT
The apartment was in the Upper Spiral.
Sleek. Modern. Sterile.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city—a view that probably cost more eddies than Ripley made in a year. Minimalist furniture. Expensive art on the walls. Everything clean and perfect and utterly lifeless.
It felt wrong.
Vivica met them at the door. She’d changed out of her corporate attire—now wearing dark pants and a simple shirt. Her expression was calm, but her eyes tracked Briggs immediately.
“Get him on the couch,” she said.
They carried Briggs inside and laid him down carefully. He was conscious but pale, his breathing shallow.
Vivica knelt beside him and examined the wound with practiced efficiency. “The bullet went through. That’s good. But he’s lost a lot of blood.” She looked up at Ripley. “I have medical supplies. I can stabilize him, but he needs a real doctor.”
“We can’t go to a hospital,” Declan said. “They’ll report it.”
“I know.” Vivica stood. “I’ll make some calls. Quietly.”
She disappeared into another room.
Ripley stood in the middle of the apartment, her hands shaking. Adrenaline was fading, leaving exhaustion and fear in its wake.
Nyx sat on the floor beside Briggs, holding his hand. Her cybernetic eye had stopped flickering. Now she just looked young. Scared.
Declan paced near the windows, his usual charm completely absent.
And Ripley felt the weight of it all crash down.
They’d gotten the files.
But Briggs was bleeding.
And they were in the apartment of a woman they barely knew, trusting her with their lives because they had no other choice.
Vivica returned with a medical kit. She worked quickly—cleaning the wound, applying pressure, administering something that made Briggs’s breathing ease slightly.
“He’ll be okay,” she said quietly. “But he needs rest.”
Ripley nodded numbly.
Then she remembered.
The files.
“Nyx,” she said. “The data. Did it transfer?”
Nyx pulled out her portable deck. “Yeah. I’ve got everything.”
“Decrypt it. Now.”
“Rip, maybe we should—”
“Now.”
Nyx’s jaw tightened. But she jacked in.
THE REVELATION
They gathered around Nyx’s deck—Ripley, Declan, and Vivica. Briggs lay on the couch, conscious but quiet.
Nyx’s fingers flew across the keyboard. Encryption broke. Files opened.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Here’s what we’ve got.”
The first file appeared on screen. Medical research. Dense scientific language. But the summary was clear enough.
BLACKWING PROTOCOL: GENETIC ENHANCEMENT PROGRAM
OBJECTIVE: Human evolution through controlled genetic modification. Enhancement of physical capabilities, neural processing, and adaptive response through targeted DNA resequencing.
Ripley’s blood went cold.
“It’s not cyberware,” Nyx whispered. “It’s genetic. They’re rewriting human DNA.”
The next file. Neural interface research.
PHASE 2: DIRECT NEURAL INTEGRATION
Subjects demonstrate successful brain-to-system connectivity. Cognitive processing speeds increased by 340%. Memory retention enhanced. Adaptive learning protocols functioning within acceptable parameters.
“They’re connecting human brains directly to computer systems,” Declan said. His voice was hollow. “Not through implants. Through genetic modification.”
Another file. Test subjects.
Names scrolled past. Dozens of them.
SUBJECT 01 — TERMINATED
SUBJECT 02 — TERMINATED
SUBJECT 03 — IN PROGRESS
SUBJECT 04 — TERMINATED
On and on.
Then:
SUBJECT 07 — NAKAMURA, DEX
Nyx opened the file with trembling hands.
Medical data filled the screen. Genetic markers. Neural integration percentages. Transformation stages documented with clinical precision.
STATUS: STAGE 3 — NEURAL INTEGRATION 87% COMPLETE
NOTES: Subject demonstrates exceptional adaptation to genetic modification. Cognitive enhancement proceeding ahead of schedule. Physical augmentation within expected parameters. Recommend continuation to Stage 4.
PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE: Subject remains cooperative. Some resistance to memory integration protocols, but manageable. Personality retention at 73% and declining.
Silence filled the apartment.
Nyx’s hands had stopped moving. She stared at the screen like it might change if she looked hard enough.
“Personality retention,” she whispered. “Seventy-three percent.”
Ripley felt something break inside her chest.
“They’re not just holding him,” Declan said quietly. “They’re changing him. Rewriting him. Turning him into something else.”
“Can we reverse it?” Ripley’s voice was barely audible.
Nyx scrolled through more files. Research notes. Medical assessments. Genetic sequencing data.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “The modifications are at the cellular level. They’ve rewritten his DNA. Changed his neural structure. I don’t...” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know if there’s anything left to reverse.”
“There has to be.”
“Rip—”
“There has to be!” Ripley’s voice rose. “He’s still in there. He sent us that message. He asked for help. That was Dex. That was him.”
“That was three weeks ago,” Nyx said softly. “According to these files, he’s been in Stage 3 for the past ten days. His personality retention has dropped from ninety-two percent to seventy-three percent. And it’s still declining.”
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Ripley looked at the screen. At Dex’s file. At the clinical notes describing his transformation with the same detached language used to describe a software update.
Subject 07 — Transformation Stage 3 — Neural integration 87% complete.
Not Dex.
Subject 07.
A test case.
A data point.
“We’re still getting him out,” Ripley said. Her voice was steel. “I don’t care what they’ve done to him. I don’t care how much they’ve changed him. He’s crew. He’s family. And we’re bringing him home.”
Briggs spoke from the couch, his voice weak but steady. “Even if he’s not the same person anymore?”
Ripley turned to face him. “Especially then. Because if they’ve taken who he was, the least we can do is give him a chance to find out who he is now.”
Silence.
Then Declan nodded. “She’s right. We don’t leave him there.”
“Agreed,” Nyx said quietly.
Briggs closed his eyes. “Then we need a new plan. Because walking into a JinTech facility and asking nicely isn’t going to work.”
“I can help with that.”
They all turned to look at Vivica.
She stood near the windows, backlit by the city’s glow. Her expression was unreadable.
“You’ve been listening this whole time,” Ripley said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know what JinTech is really doing.” Vivica’s voice was quiet. Controlled. “I’ve worked for them for six years. I’ve overseen compliance. I’ve signed off on audits. I’ve trusted that the company I worked for was building something better.” She paused. “And now I’m looking at files that describe human experimentation. Genetic modification. People being transformed against their will.”
She turned to face them fully.
“I read your incident report, Ripley. I saw what JinTech did to you. How they buried the truth. How they paid you to stay silent.” Her jaw tightened. “And now I’m seeing what they’re doing to others. To Dex. To dozens of people whose names are in those files.”
“So what are you saying?” Ripley asked.
Vivica met her gaze. “I’m saying I want to help you stop them.”
“Why should we trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.” Vivica’s voice was steady. “I’m a JinTech executive. I’ve been complicit in everything they’ve done, whether I knew it or not. But I’m also the only person in this room who has access to their systems. Their facilities. Their security protocols.”
She stepped closer.
“You want to get Dex out? Nyx breaks systems. I break buildings. I know the real layout, the weak points, where security actually gaps. And I can get you past the front door without raising flags.”
Ripley stared at her. At this woman who’d caught her breaking into the Nexus Archive. Who’d let her escape. Who’d called to warn her. Who’d saved them tonight.
This woman who worked for the company that had destroyed Ripley’s life.
“If you betray us,” Ripley said quietly, “I will flatline you.”
Vivica didn’t flinch. “Understood.”
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment.
Then Ripley nodded once. “Fine. You’re in.”
She turned back to the crew. To Briggs bleeding on the couch. To Nyx still staring at Dex’s file. To Declan watching everything with wary eyes.
“We’ve got the files,” Ripley said. “We know what Blackwing is. We know what they’re doing to Dex.” Her cybernetic hand clenched into a fist. “Now we figure out where they’re keeping him. And then we go get him.”
“Even if he’s not the same?” Nyx asked quietly.
“Even then.”
Outside, rain began to fall again. The city glowed beneath endless neon. And somewhere in the depths of Helix City, in a facility that shouldn’t exist, Dex was being transformed into something new.
But the crew was coming.
And JinTech was about to learn that some things—some people—were worth fighting for.
No matter the cost.
No matter what they’d become.
Family was family.
And nobody got left behind.
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