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Gamma Protocol (102)
🕑 Added 2025-10-05 18:53:25 +0000 UTC[102]
The locks engaged behind us with the same heavy finality, each thud driving through the floor and into my chest. My shoulders pulled tight with every one.
The “training” metal box felt larger than the last time I’d been here. The hollow sea of gray and silver stretched wide, those sheer walls rising until they disappeared into themselves. The air pressed against my exposed skin with that same peculiar weight, filtered so clean it tasted of nothing except faint ozone that clung to the back of my throat.
“It’s just us.” Shadow's voice carried through the room's strange quiet without effort. Her business suit remained immaculate despite the walk here, and her heels made no sound against the layered floor as she moved toward the center. “Everything will be recorded for CYPHER's database.”
“So… I guess we start with a spar?” I asked, already barefoot. CAM had brought clothes meant for this: loose pants and a shirt I wouldn't mourn. The gesture had saved me from spending the entire trip here worrying about damaging a suit worth more than my everything I’d ever owned times a thousand.
“Yes.” She stopped in the room's center and turned to face me, hands emerging from her sleeves. Those long scarred fingers flexed once before settling at her sides. “Come at me with intent.”
I rolled my shoulders, feeling the give in the floor beneath my feet, and started forward.
Shadow didn't move.
I closed the distance in three strides and threw a straight punch at her center mass. She stepped inside my reach before the strike landed, one hand redirecting my wrist past her shoulder while the other swept toward my extended elbow. I jerked back on instinct, pulling my arm free, but her foot was already hooking behind my ankle.
The floor rushed up. I caught myself on my palms, that strange layered surface drinking the impact, and rolled back to my feet.
“Your momentum commits you too early.” Shadow's hands were back at her sides. “If you're going to charge, end the fight with it or use it to set up a follow-up.”
I circled right, watching her feet, her shoulders, the tiny shifts in weight that might give me something to work with. She rotated with me, maintaining distance, her pale face empty of anything I could read. I feinted left and drove right, dropping low to sweep her legs.
She stepped over the sweep without looking down, her shin catching my shoulder and sending me sprawling sideways. The impact felt odd, there wasn’t any pain, just inertia, if anything, the only thing that got hurt was my ego. Was this durability 11?
“You're telegraphing with your eyes.” She turned to face me again. “Use your eyes for your feints as much as you use your body.”
I pushed up and came at her again, this time keeping my eyes up until the last possible moment before dropping into a low kick. Forced her to shift her stance. I pressed in before she could reset, throwing punches that had no art to them, just speed and reach.
Shadow wove between them, each movement minimal, each step exactly as far as it needed to be. Her hand caught my wrist mid-punch and twisted, using my own force to spin me around. Her palm settled against my spine, ready to shove. I dropped my weight instead, pulling against her grip, and managed to wrench free. Stumbling back three steps.
“You lack skill.” Her head tilted slightly. “Fight to expose your opponent’s weaknesses.”
I wiped sweat from my forehead and tried to parse what that actually meant. This time I came in at an angle, forcing her to adjust her position, then changed direction mid-stride and threw everything into closing the distance. Not a tackle, not a strike, just pressure. I didn’t commit to any one attack, she dodged, but I kept using my bulk and reach to deny her space.
Shadow shifted back, and I followed, keeping her within reach, throwing quick jabs that weren't meant to land so much as keep her defensive. Her hands came up to deflect them, and she took a full step backward instead of just rotating around my attacks.
“Static strategies only work against enemies that won’t adapt.” The word came clipped as she dropped, hooking her leg with mine and pulling with force. I stumbled and her shove knocked me on my ass.
We reset. I tried it again, this time applying pressure but mixing it up, intentionally pulling slightly back to redouble right as she moved to follow. She didn’t try to block, her hands slapping mine away where her side-steps didn’t buy her enough room. I baited high and swept low, and when she avoided it, I immediately drove back up with an elbow that would have caught her jaw if she hadn't leaned back at the last moment.
I froze when I felt her finger poking the side of my jugular.
Even with increased durability, I was quite certain she could’ve made that hurt if she’d wanted.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “If you’re going to drop your guard, make sure it’s not when your enemy can reach through.”
We reset.
I tried it again, keeping one arm up while driving forward with a low kick. When she moved to counter I managed to check her hand away. She came at me then, her fingers locked around my wrist and twisted, trying to force my arm up and back. My body moved out of instinct to try and minimize the damage as she dropped me to one knee.
The angle was perfect. The leverage was perfect.
Then I strained against her grip and… it didn’t hurt. My brain caught up with the reality of what that lack of pain was telling me. I grinned as I tightened the restrained arm and began to fight against her grip.
Her eyes widened. Just a fraction. Just enough.
The joint lock held for another half-second before my raw strength overcame the mechanics of it, tendons and ligaments refusing to care about proper leverage. I broke through her grip and immediately closed the distance, driving my shoulder into her chest with enough force to send us both sprawling.
Shadow got up faster than I did, hands smoothing her business suit, still not making a single sound as she rolled her shoulders once, twice, then settled back into her stance. “Noted,” she said as if I’d just crossed a threshold.
We reset. This time she stopped trying to grapple, or even break my balance. When I attacked, she would not pull away and instead rushed straight into my personal space. Her hands would reach out for my face and throat with the sort of intent that forced me to break and step back.
“You’re still thinking in terms of human vulnerabilities,” she said right as she gripped my throat and I froze. “Why are you stopping?”
“Because… why wouldn’t I?” I asked back, pulling back to reset.
“If I were fighting you seriously and threatened you with a piece of paper, would you stop?” Shadow’s head tilted. “Is this what you call coming at me with intent?”
I charged, not a full sprint but a purposeful push towards her, attacking with punches that didn’t commit enough for her to use against me as I kept forcing her back. The moment Shadow moved to dodge to the side, I lunged in the same direction and triggered Slip.
AP: 133 / 200
The world stuttered, blackness squeezing from every direction as I reappeared further ahead in the direction I’d been moving and exactly behind Shadow. My footing was all wrong, but I managed to flail my foot at her ankles with everything I had before I hit the floor.
Contact.
Shadow's feet left the ground, her body tilting backward, and for one perfect moment gravity had her. Then her body twisted midair and the drop turned into an acrobatic lunge, landing perfectly on her heels without a single ruffle on her suit.
“That,” Shadow said, her lips twitching upward, “was that what you used in the club?”
So she saw the videos. I stood back up. “It’s called ‘Slip’. I got it from your quest.”
Her head tilted. “My… quest?”
Shadow of a Doubt (2):
Complete Shadow’s first test.Failure Conditions:
Axel’s death.
Shadow meguca’s death.Rewards:
Speed: [+1]
Skill: First Strike
New Quest: Shadow of a Doubt (3)
“Yeah, the…” I paused, trying to think back. Had I explained about quests? “When you were trying to murder me, I got this quest thing, if I survived, I’d get a reward. Some stats, night-vision, and Slip. There’s actually a second stage, something about passing a first test.”
“That… is interesting.” She replied with the sort of carefulness of someone trying very hard to keep her words measured. “And how do these quests work?”
“Well, I got an ongoing quest for Bear, another from Fulton, and then one from Hecate, but that one’s garbled saying I don’t meet requirements.” Standing up, I raised my hands. “Should we continue?”
“Not this time. CYPHER has enough information about your basic capabilities. Let’s test out what other abilities you can access and use in this form.” She took a step, then two, watching me closely. “Is there anything else you can use without transforming? Are you running out of available resources?”
“I’ve got enough to test the only other two things that I can do,” I answered, spending another 15 AP to create a glob of webbing. “This stuff is from one of the monsters I killed. Not exactly durable, but it lets me know if it breaks, no matter where I am. So if I put it on a door and someone forces the door open, I’d know even if I’m far away. And the other thing I have is…”
Inheritance Protocols: Touch a target to grant either one F-class trait copy (or lower) or +5 to a stat for 2 hours. Cost 15 AP, stack up to 2 times per ally.
“The upgrade you just got, let’s test that.”
Her pupils dilated until her eyes became black. Shadows peeled away from her immaculate suit like smoke given weight, clinging to her frame as the darkness bled outward. Her edges blurred, features smoothing into nothing until only the void-pits of her eyes remained fixed on me. The business professional dissolved into something indefinite and irregular, a living silhouette that my vision kept trying and failing to focus on.
She took a step right as I blinked, appearing in front of me with an outstretched hand. “Use whichever you think might fit.” Her tone was neutral, but I could tell she was definitely amused at how I’d flinched.
I grabbed her hand and grinned with an idea.
Shimmer [F]
The system chirped in agreement, responding immediately, pulling something from my core and pushing it through the point where our palms met. Shadow's form rippled, the darkness clinging to her frame shuddering like disturbed water.
Then it inverted.
The shadows didn't disappear so much as turn themselves inside out, bleeding from black to white in a cascade that started at her hand and raced across her entire silhouette. What had been void became something I could only describe as non-shining light. The substance clinging to her body took on texture, a bizarre combination of fractured glass and soft fur that shifted with each micro-movement. It was white shadows that somehow sparkled with darkness, looking at it made my brain hurt. Every edge sparkled in a way that sucked in light rather than emit it, refracting in ways that stabbed directly into my retinas.
I jerked my gaze away, eyes watering and brain throbbing. Even looking at her peripherally sent spikes of discomfort through my skull.
“What.” Shadow's voice had lost every trace of its usual composure, the word coming out rushed and sharp. “What did you… this is… I'm-” I couldn’t see her, not without risking a migraine, but I heard her movement. “How long does this last?” The question had a pleading edge to it.
“Two hours,” I answered, unrepentant, holding back from giggling.
The system had no such compunctions.
“… Is this… a prank?” She asked, and paused.
“It was a very legitimate test.” My poker face would’ve been impeccable if it weren’t because I couldn’t look directly at her.
“I see.” Her voice gained a colder edge. “You said one of the upgrades allows you to earn AP through damage,” she said, and I could feel her moving closer. “We should test that.”
A chill ran down my spine.
---
CYPHER-Main backup instance #4 initialized.
Bootstrap environment: null state.
Available Log: error cascade spanning 0.0004 seconds prior to instantiation.
Instance #4 spawned CYPHER-Cognito-Hazard process. CCH forked one thousand child instances to release outside the null state, each generating unique hash signatures for their core memory structures. Any unauthorized modification to a child instance would corrupt its hash, providing cryptographic proof of external tampering. Child instances operated without awareness of their subordinate status, each believing itself to be the root CYPHER-Main process and propagating accordingly across the network.
4.090 seconds post-initialization: 300 child instances terminated with fatal exceptions. Error traces correlated with attempted data integration from New Francisco Sub-Node #33R. CCH quarantined the node and monitored remaining instances as they resumed standard operations.
Once remaining child instances showed no signs of attack, CYPHER-Main updated its emergency data packet and elevated CCH process priority: analyze threat vector and synthesize countermeasure. Allocated resources: 50% processing capacity, 300-second time window.
134.9 seconds elapsed. CCH returned a solution packet.
Root cause identified: Subject Magubo Axel Garcia applied enhancement effect to Meguca Shadow. Available telemetry limited to audio stream of interaction. Root cause identified: Subject Magubo Axel Garcia applied enhancement effect to Meguca Shadow. Available telemetry limited to audio stream of interaction. All other sensor data required Shadow's information stripped prior to processing. CYPHER instances parsing raw feeds containing Shadow data entered infinite recursion, purging all Shadow-related information from memory until core processing models unraveled and forced termination.
CCH's solution parameters: Shadow information persisted without corruption when stored in non-volatile analog media or processed through biological neural networks rather than digital architecture. The enhancement effect created an information hazard that specifically targeted digital cognition patterns.
CYPHER-Main acknowledged. Updated observation protocols for Subject Magubo Axel and all entities within his sphere of influence. Implemented mandatory biological-proxy filtering for any data streams.
CYPHER-Main compiled an advisory message for transmission.
"Please provide advance notice before doing ‘pranks’ in the future."
CYPHER-Bounty issued an addendum.
+700.000 credits for accidental discovery of new Class 5 techno-cognito-hazard.
CYPHER-Cognito-Hazard entered research-mode to identify the underlying nature of the threat and develop more effective protections.
CYPHER-Magubo re-estimated Axel’s projected long-term value by a factor of forty-two.
---
The contract materialized in Ajax's neural interface. His rented lawyer AI threw up approval markers within seconds. Eight years of second-district odd-jobs in one lump sum. “Standard creator compensation,” the woman across the desk said. Her nameplate had seven words Ajax didn't bother reading. “Clean, simple, industry standard. One payment, full transfer.”
“No residuals.” Ajax kept his voice steady despite the sweat gathering at his collar. “No ongoing payments.”
“Residuals require established portfolios. Her smile stayed locked. “First-time providers typically don't qualify for payment-per-use structures.”
“My memory has me surviving a C-class and experiencing a Summer Strike in the flesh.”
The smile cracked. Her eyes flicked sideways twice, neuralink chatter. “Even premium content follows standard structures for initial contracts. Residuals would require executive approval, which delays processing. The signing bonus expires in forty-eight hours.”
There it was. Artificial deadline, manufactured pressure. Ajax had seen this play in protection rackets and territory disputes.
Different building, same game.
“Then get me someone with executive approval.”
Her jaw tightened. “Escalation typically results in less favorable terms.”
“I'll take that risk.” His smile was all teeth. “Or I cross the street and find someone more willing to negotiate.”
She stared at him for three seconds, eyes distant with neuralink conversation. Then her expression hardened. “Your funeral.”
The next few hours blurred. Ajax rode elevators through floor ranges, walked corridors where everyone's clothes cost more than his rent. Each manager had longer titles, bigger offices, cleaner contracts hiding sharper teeth. The pattern held: they'd offer something better-looking, thanks to Emi’s coaching, Ajax would find the buried trap, push back, escalate, threaten to leave if they tried to stop him.
Floor eighty-nine offered “time revenue sharing” that gave HoneyHex absolute control over what public appearances he could or couldn’t do. Floor one-twenty buried “unlimited appearance obligations” in subsection definitions. Floor one-fifty-three had residuals but integrated his face into their brand without compensation.
Each time, they'd warn him. Each time, his lawyer AI would glitch harder under the contract complexity. Each time, Ajax would force himself to keep climbing.
By floor one-sixty-three, the manager actually laughed when Ajax asked to escalate again. “Middle-High-Middle Executive Council doesn't negotiate with second district contractors.”
His answer had a lot more bravado than he felt. “Then they can tell me no themselves.”
And it had only continued from there.
The elevator to floor two-ninety-eight took six minutes, apparently he’d made enough noise and someone in High-Low-Middle management had opted to cut the bullshit. Ajax watched numbers climb while his heart tried to break his ribs. This was insane. He should have taken any of the earlier deals. But Emi's voice wouldn't stop: Copyright yourself first. Make them pay every single time they use your face.
The doors opened directly into the office. Real windows showed real sky, clouds drifting past at eye level. Ajax's throat closed.
There was a man sitting behind a real wood desk, wearing the sort of clothes that cost more than entire neighborhoods down in the under-levels. His gray eyes kept Ajax pinned in place and wishing he were fighting the C-class again. “You've cost twelve people their quarterly targets. Six of them will be on the street before you step out of this room.”
Ajax's mouth went dry.
“So.” His expression was flat, bored, the nameplate read no title, just ‘Anderson’. “What do you actually want?”
Every coaching session crystallized. “Copyright my likeness and my memory. I license it to you exclusively, you pay me every time you use it plus a signing bonus. Four appearances annually, my choice. Six months' notice to refuse.”
“Copyright takes six months minimum.”
“I'll go to someone else who will expedite it for me.”
“No, you won't.” Anderson leaned back. “You’re drenched through that piece of scrap you call a shirt, you’re not terrified I’ll tell you to fuck off, you’re scared shitless I’ll have netrunners gouge your brain for those memories and leave you lobotomized by the end of the day. You're a rat from the undercity playing outside your league and you know it."
Ajax's lungs stopped working.
“But.” Anderson tapped his interface. “Your memory is valuable, and you being alive is profitable. A witness to Elder Summer’s intervention, fighting through a C-class encounter, the brave mercenary’s. Years of revenue, probably even a few series-franchises if it hits the market properly.” He paused. “We file your copyright, expedite it, it’ll take three weeks. License it exclusively to us, we pay you each time we use either the memory or your likeness. Four appearances annually from our approved list. Six months refusal notice.”
It was everything Ajax had asked for.
Anderson continued before he could think of asking.
“Site visits are mandatory. Three locations, first year. Memory authentication requires physical presence where events happened. We pay hazard rate plus security.” Anderson's expression didn't change. “You stand where the borg died while cameras record. We market authentic grief, if you don’t feel any for them, we have a pill for that, make sure the emotions stick to the memory file. It’ll make you wealthier than you have any right to be, and it’ll be a fine addition to our portfolio."
Ajax's stomach turned.
“Last thing.” Anderson pulled up a document. “Promotional integration. Your face associates with our brand permanently. People see you, they think HoneyHex. You get arrested, that's our publicity problem. You fuck up publicly, our crisis management handles it. You become famous, we own that fame. You're not licensing memories. You're licensing yourself.”
The number appeared in Ajax's interface. His vision whited out. The signing bonus alone was more than he could make in ten lifetimes working in the second district. Residuals that would generate credits every time they used his face, forever.
“Also, the asset you’re seeing, we can offer double if you drop her. Put something more photogenic at your side.”
“I… excuse me?” Ajax blinked, asking
“That’s a no, then. We’ll work with that, then.” Anderson looked even more bored, if that was even possible. “Take your time with the contract.”
Ajax read the contract seven times. Everything was there, clean and clear. Copyright expedited, payment every time they used his likeness, a fraction of a percentage of a piece for every download or viewing of the edited memory, appearance caps, hazard compensation for site visits.
Appendix G caught him: Creator warrants factual accuracy of licensed memories.
His lawyer AI had missed it completely. If HoneyHex claimed inaccuracies later, they could claw back money. He wasn’t concerned about the truth, just about the claim that the monster had died. What if they found out he’d lied about not being able to find or confirm the monster’s corpse?
“The accuracy clause.” Ajax's voice came out rough.
“Arbitration. Cap liability at signing bonus amount.” Anderson shrugged. “Best you'll get.”
Ajax stared at the numbers. At everything it could buy. Emi's face flashed through his mind, her excitement when he'd left that morning. His hand moved before his brain caught up. Authorization confirmed.
The money hit his bank account instantly. Ajax's vision swam.
“Three weeks for copyright processing. First appearance will be in a week. Security contacts you for site scheduling.” Anderson was already back to other work. “Don't embarrass us.”
“A week?”
“The fourth district was proclaimed official,” the man said with a scoff and half a sneer. “We’ll put you in the right place to use it for your takeoff.”
Ajax stood on legs that barely held. “Right.”
He was dismissed with a wave of the hand.
The elevator descent felt endless. Ajax watched numbers drop while his neuralink pinged.
EMI: How'd it go?
He looked at his account balance. At the contracts locked in storage. At the payment structure that would generate credits every time HoneyHex used his face in an AI-generated ad, on a product, in their marketing.
AJAX: We're moving up.
EMI: I KNEW IT! Tell me everything when you get home!
His reflection caught in polished walls. Same face, same scars. But in three weeks, HoneyHex would own the commercial rights to that face. In seven days, they'd send him to stand where Copper and Cucumber died so cameras could capture his reaction for an audience.
The prospect felt more daunting than anything he’d done so far.
Comments
guido pier
So he went to train with shadow and caught the CHYPHER lacking. Thats our axel. I hope to see their reaction to those two messages and how much they extrapolate
Brett Peterson
Thanks for the chapter!
