A Call From Nowhere | Cyberpunk Darksynthwave | DataStreamBeats

DataStreamBeats - A Call From Nowhere - Cyberpunk Music

Chapter 2: A Call from Nowhere

The rain in the lower levels of Neo-Berlin wasn't a fine mist like the one above Aether Biotech. Down here, it was an oily soup, forcing the stench of recycled plastic and cheap street food into every pore.

The Cleaners' hideout was in the basement of a former synthetics factory, disguised as an illegal workshop for household robots. Inside, the air reeked of solder, stale coffee, and the metallic ozone of overheated servers.

Jax sat at a rickety table, methodically cleaning his heavy service pistol. His movements were precise, a holdover from his time in corporate security. He didn't look up when a shrill, clipped tone shattered the silence.

"We've got a ping," K0re said, her eyes glued to her flickering monitors. Her fingers moved so fast across the virtual keys they were barely visible. The neural ports at their temples glowed an unsettling violet. "And it's no ordinary one. Someone just triggered a Level 7 dead man's switch."

Mender, who was tinkering with the artificial arm of a decommissioned logistics bot, paused. "Level 7? That's a VIP ticket. Who's the sender?"

"Encrypted via a proxy server in the Free Sea Cities," K0re murmured. "But the signature is unmistakable. A mnemonic impulse. Someone fired data directly from their cortex."

Jax put down the barrel of his weapon. "Show me the profile."

A hologram flickered in the center of the room. The face of Dr. Elena Vance appeared—professional, detached, the typical aura of a high-end scientist.

“Dr. Elena Vance. Chief developer of mnemonic encryption at Aether Biotech,” Jax read aloud. He frowned. “If she pulls the switch, she’s either dead or headed for death.”

“Or worse,” Rook interjected. The hulking Street Samurai leaned in a dark corner of the room, his massive body sculpted by hydraulic enhancements beneath his clothing. He ran his hand over the hilt of his massive monomolecular sword. “Kidnapping by the competition. Standard business in this city.”

“The location?” Jax asked curtly.

K0re cursed under his breath. “The signal came from Aether headquarters but was immediately cut off. However, I have a lead. An Iron Pulse-series armored transport AV launched from the roof three minutes ago. Destination: Sector 4. The Iron Pulse Arcology.”

Jax stood up. The decision had already been made before he even spoke. In this world, no one asked questions when a dead man's switch of this caliber appeared on the screen—you just followed the cred stream.

"Iron Pulse," Rook grumbled, a mechanical whir emanating from his shoulder servos. "This isn't going to be a walk in the park. Those guys in there are wearing more chrome than a car factory."

"That's why we're the Cleaners," Jax said, grabbing his vest. "Mender, grab the neuro kit. If they've kidnapped her, they'll try to format her brain like a hard drive. We need to get her out of there before the new data is overwritten."

K0re grinned cynically as she slammed her deck case shut. "And while we're here, I bet Iron Pulse has some research data on their servers that's worth a fortune on the black market. A little bonus for the trouble, wouldn't you say?"

Jax glanced at her, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "First the package, then the bonus. We have a window of maybe two hours before they bury it deep in the system. Rook, get the van. We're going to Sector 4."

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