STATIC RUN-5
VIVICA KEEPS SHOWING UP
Twenty-four hours later, the crew sat around the workbench in Raven Garage, surrounded by data.
Ripley’s stolen files were spread across three screens—Nyx’s custom rig displaying layers of information that shouldn’t exist. Personnel records. Engineering assessments. Executive communications. Settlement agreements.
All of it damning.
All of it sealed.
All of it proof that JinTech had built an empire on buried bodies and silenced voices.
Ripley stood with her arms crossed, staring at her own incident report for what felt like the hundredth time. The words hadn’t changed. The names hadn’t disappeared. The truth remained exactly as brutal as it had been in that sterile records room.
Known defect. Documented fourteen months prior. Repair orders not completed.
Her cybernetic hand flexed unconsciously. Servos whined.
Briggs sat on a reinforced stool—one of the few pieces of furniture in the garage that could support his weight. He’d been quiet for the past hour, reading through the engineering assessments with the kind of focused intensity that made people nervous. When Briggs went silent, violence usually followed.
Declan leaned against the workbench, scrolling through executive communications on a tablet. His usual charm had evaporated. No jokes. No smirks. Just cold focus.
Nyx worked her cyberdeck with both hands, pulling apart encrypted files and cross-referencing names, dates, and budget allocations. Her natural eye tracked data streams while her cybernetic eye processed code. She’d been at this since Ripley returned from the Nexus Archive, fueled by coffee and righteous anger.
“Okay,” Nyx said finally. “Let me walk you through what we’ve got.”
She pulled up the incident report on the main screen.
“Ripley’s accident. Eight years ago. JinTech Manufacturing Complex, Lower Spiral. Industrial fabrication unit Model KJ-7740. Safety interlock malfunction.” She highlighted a section. “But here’s the thing. The malfunction wasn’t random. The machine had a known defect. Documented. Reported. Flagged by quality control.”
“Fourteen months before my accident,” Ripley said quietly.
“Right. And look at the recommended action.” Nyx zoomed in. “Immediate shutdown and repair. Probability of catastrophic failure: thirty-four percent. That’s not a small number. That’s Russian roulette with two bullets in the chamber.”
Briggs rumbled. “But they kept it running.”
“Because shutting it down would cost eddies,” Declan said, his voice flat. “Downtime. Lost production. Missed quotas.”
Nyx nodded. “Budget reallocation. That’s corporate speak for ‘we decided your arm wasn’t worth the expense.’”
Ripley’s jaw tightened.
“And these are the people who signed off on it.” Nyx pulled up three names.
Chen, David (Floor Manager)
Reeves, Sarah (Safety Compliance)
Nakamura, Hiroshi (Operations Director)
“Floor manager knew the machine was dangerous and kept workers on it anyway,” Nyx continued. “Safety compliance—whose literal job is to prevent this—approved continued operation. And the operations director made it policy.”
“Where are they now?” Briggs asked.
Nyx’s fingers flew across her keyboard. “Chen retired two years ago. Pension. Benefits. Living in the Upper Spiral. Reeves transferred to a different division—got promoted, actually. And Nakamura...” She paused. “Nakamura’s dead. Heart attack three years ago.”
“Convenient,” Declan muttered.
“And then there’s this.” Nyx pulled up the settlement agreement. “One hundred fifty thousand credits. Non-disclosure. Waiver of legal action. Public records amended to reflect operator error.”
Ripley looked away.
“Authorized by Kenji Sato himself,” Nyx finished. “The CEO personally signed off on burying the truth.”
Silence filled the garage.
Rain hammered the roof. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.
Briggs spoke first. “They paid you to stay quiet.”
It wasn’t a question.
Ripley’s cybernetic hand clenched into a fist. “I was twenty years old. I’d just lost my arm. I was terrified. And they offered me enough money to disappear.” Her voice was steady, but something underneath it trembled. “So I took it.”
“You were a kid,” Declan said quietly. “You didn’t have a choice.”
“I had a choice. I just didn’t have the strength to make the right one.”
“The right one would’ve gotten you flatlined,” Nyx said bluntly. “You can’t fight a corporation. Not alone. Not at twenty. Not ever.”
Briggs stood. The stool creaked in relief. “I want to burn that gonk facility to the ground. Make them feel what we felt.”
“Get in line,” Ripley muttered.
“I’m serious.” Briggs’s voice was low and dangerous. “They knew. They knew the machine could fail. They knew someone would get hurt. And they kept it running because stopping would cost them money.” He looked at Ripley. “Your arm was a line item in a budget report.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Briggs took a step closer. “Because I’m looking at these files, and I’m seeing a corporation that decided your life was worth less than quarterly profits. And I want to make them pay for that.”
“We’re not burning anything,” Ripley said. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re here for Dex. Not revenge.”
“Maybe it’s time for both.”
Before Ripley could respond, her com chip flared to life.
INCOMING CALL: UNKNOWN
She blinked twice. Declined.
The call came again immediately.
INCOMING CALL: UNKNOWN
“Someone really wants to talk to you,” Nyx observed.
Ripley hesitated, then accepted. “Who is this?”
“It’s Vivica Kane.”
Ripley froze.
The crew’s attention snapped to her immediately. Nyx’s hands hovered over her keyboard. Declan straightened. Briggs’s expression darkened.
“How the drek did you get this number?” Ripley asked carefully.
“I’m resourceful.” Vivica’s voice was calm, but there was an edge underneath it. Caution. Maybe fear. “And we need to talk.”
“We don’t need to do anything.”
“JinTech is looking for you.”
Ripley’s blood went cold. “What?”
“The Nexus Archive breach. They know someone accessed restricted files. They’re running forensics on the terminal you used, tracing network activity, reviewing security footage.” Vivica paused. “They’re increasing security across all facilities. Lockdowns. Audits. Internal investigations.”
“And you’re telling me this because...?”
“Because I let you walk out of that building.” Vivica’s voice dropped lower. “And if they figure out it was you, they’ll figure out I helped you escape. So we both have a problem.”
Ripley glanced at the crew. Three pairs of eyes watched her intently.
“Why are you helping me?” Ripley asked.
Silence on the other end. Then: “Because I read your file. And I read the engineering assessments. And I read the executive communications authorizing the cover-up.” Another pause. “And I need to know if there are more.”
“More files like mine?”
“More lies. More cover-ups. More people JinTech buried to protect its reputation.”
Ripley’s grip tightened on the edge of the workbench. “There are.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know yet. But we’re going to find out.”
Vivica exhaled slowly. “Then you need to be careful. JinTech doesn’t forgive infiltration. And they don’t forget.”
“Noted.”
“I mean it. Whatever you’re planning, move fast. They’re tightening the net.”
“Why do you care?”
The question hung in the air.
When Vivica spoke again, her voice was quieter. “Because I’ve worked for JinTech 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 wondering what else I’ve been complicit in.”
Ripley said nothing.
“Be careful,” Vivica said. “And don’t contact me unless it’s an emergency. They’re monitoring everything.”
The call disconnected.
Ripley stood there for a moment, staring at nothing.
Then Nyx broke the silence. “So. That was interesting.”
“That was Vivica Kane,” Ripley said. “The executive who caught me at the Nexus Archive.”
Briggs’s expression went dangerous. “And she has your com number.”
“Apparently.”
“How?”
“She said she’s resourceful.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I know.”
Declan pushed off the workbench. “So let me get this straight. A JinTech executive catches you breaking into a secure facility, lets you escape, and now she’s calling to warn you that the company is hunting for you?”
“That’s the summary, yeah.”
“And we’re just... trusting her?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re listening to her.”
Ripley met his gaze. “She could’ve called security. She could’ve had me booked. She could’ve turned me over to JinTech and gotten a promotion for it.” She paused. “Instead, she let me walk out with stolen files. And now she’s warning me that they’re coming.”
“Or she’s setting a trap,” Briggs said.
“Maybe.”
“Probably.”
“Maybe,” Ripley repeated. “But my gut says she’s telling the truth.”
Nyx spun her chair around. “Your gut also said the Yamazaki job would be easy, and we almost died.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ripley smirked.
“So what do we do?” Declan asked.
Ripley looked at the screens. At the files. At the proof of everything JinTech had done.
“We keep digging,” she said. “Vivica said to move fast. So we move fast.”
Nyx cracked her knuckles. “Then let me show you what else I found.”
She pulled up a new file—executive communications, dated two months before Ripley’s accident.
“I’ve been cross-referencing names and dates,” Nyx explained. “Looking for patterns. Connections. Anything that ties your incident to something bigger.” She highlighted a section. “And I found this.”
The communication was brief. Clinical. Bureaucratic.
INTERNAL MEMO
From: Nakamura, Hiroshi (Operations Director)
To: Sato, Kenji (CEO)
Subject: Budget Reallocation - Manufacturing Division
Kenji,
Per your request, I’ve reviewed the proposed budget cuts for Q3. The safety compliance upgrades can be deferred to next fiscal year without significant operational impact. Estimated savings: 2.3 million credits.
I’ve flagged three units requiring immediate attention, but we can maintain current production schedules if we accept calculated risk. Probability models suggest acceptable loss margins.
Will proceed unless you advise otherwise.
—Hiroshi
Ripley stared at the screen.
“Calculated risk,” she said quietly. “Acceptable loss margins.”
“That’s you,” Nyx said. “You’re the acceptable loss. Gonk-level drek, honestly.”
Declan leaned closer. “Wait. Go back. What’s the date on that memo?”
Nyx checked. “Sixteen months before Ripley’s accident.”
“So Nakamura told Kenji Sato—the CEO—that deferring safety upgrades would save eddies. And Sato approved it.”
“Which means Kenji Sato personally decided that saving two million eddies was worth the risk of someone getting hurt,” Briggs said.
Ripley’s cybernetic hand trembled. Servos whined.
“There’s more,” Nyx said. She pulled up another file. “This one’s from three months after your accident. Same sender. Same recipient.”
INTERNAL MEMO
From: Nakamura, Hiroshi (Operations Director)
To: Sato, Kenji (CEO)
Subject: Incident Follow-Up
Kenji,
Settlement finalized. Employee accepted terms. NDA signed. Public records amended. Legal exposure contained.
Separately: I’m seeing increased interest from external parties regarding our research initiatives. Recommend we accelerate Phase Two timelines before competitors catch up.
Blackwing Protocol shows promise. Preliminary results exceed projections.
—Hiroshi
The garage went silent.
“Blackwing Protocol,” Declan said slowly.
Nyx nodded. “That’s the first mention I’ve found. Three months after Ripley’s accident. Nakamura’s talking about research initiatives and accelerated timelines.”
“What the drek is Blackwing Protocol?” Briggs asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Nyx admitted. “But it’s buried deep. Every mention has been scrubbed from accessible records. I’m only finding fragments in executive communications.”
Ripley stared at the screen. At Nakamura’s words. At the casual mention of something called Blackwing buried in the same memo that discussed her settlement.
“Dex was investigating Blackwing,” she said quietly. “That’s why they took him.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Declan said.
“Yes, we do.” Ripley turned to face them. “Dex accessed the Nexus Archive. He pulled files. He found something JinTech wanted buried. And then he disappeared.” She gestured at the screen. “This is what he found. This is why they took him.”
Nyx pulled up the drone’s original message. The desperate hologram of Dex asking for help.
“He said he found something,” Nyx murmured. “Something big. Something gonk-level dangerous.”
“Blackwing Protocol,” Ripley said.
Briggs crossed his arms. “So what is it? Weapons research? AI development? Corporate espionage?”
“I don’t know. But whatever it is, JinTech is willing to klep people to keep it secret.”
“And they’re willing to bury evidence of negligence, pay off victims, and lie to the public,” Declan added. “Delta-level corporate drek.” He looked at Ripley. “Your accident wasn’t random. It was the result of calculated decisions made by people who valued profit over safety. And those same people are connected to whatever Blackwing is.”
Ripley’s jaw tightened.
“We need to find out what Blackwing Protocol is,” Nyx said. “And we need to find Dex before JinTech decides he’s too much of a liability.”
“Agreed,” Briggs said. “But we’re also going to make JinTech pay for what they did to Ripley.”
“That’s not the mission,” Ripley said.
“It is now.”
“Briggs—”
“No.” His voice was firm. “You’re crew. You’re family choom. And JinTech ganked you. Deliberately. Knowingly. They took your arm because it was cheaper than doing the right thing. Then they paid you 150k chits to keep your mouth shut—corpo-speak for ‘pretend this never happened.’” He stepped closer, chrome glinting in the light. “So yeah. We’re going to find Dex. But we’re also going to burn down everything JinTech built on corp-spit and lies. Every preem facility. Every drek-stained file. All of it.”
Ripley looked at him. Then at Declan. Then at Nyx.
They were all watching her. Waiting.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “We find Dex. We stop Blackwing. And we make JinTech answer for what they’ve done.”
Nyx grinned. “Now we’re talking.”
Declan raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the plan?”
“We keep digging,” Ripley said. “Nyx, I need you to find every mention of Blackwing Protocol in those files. Cross-reference names, dates, locations. Find out what it is and where they’re keeping it.”
“On it.”
“Declan, start building cover identities. If we’re going deeper into JinTech territory, we’ll need credentials that can survive serious scrutiny.”
“Consider it done.”
“Briggs—”
“I know,” he said. “Gear up. Prepare for a fight.”
“Exactly.”
The crew moved into action. Nyx’s fingers flew across her keyboard. Declan pulled up forging software. Briggs disappeared into the back of the garage where they kept the serious weapons.
Ripley stood alone for a moment, staring at the screens.
At her incident report.
At the names of the people who’d decided her arm wasn’t worth saving.
At the mention of Blackwing Protocol buried in executive communications.
The mission had started as a rescue.
But now it was something more.
Now it was personal.
And JinTech was going to learn what happened when you buried the truth and hoped nobody would dig it up.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
Inside Raven Garage, the crew prepared for war.