Gearbound: Cyberpunk 2077-Chapter 136

The small squad formed a tight circular defense around JoAnne, walking in step with her to ensure no gaps in coverage. Meanwhile, the remaining soldiers—under the major's command—took over the hotel's ground floor, establishing a perimeter. JoAnne didn't so much as glance at the manager or any of the original hotel staff. Only when she reached the elevator did she turn to the major.

"Major."

Immediately, the arrogant look on the major's face vanished, replaced by deference as he hurried over. "Director Koch."

"Has your optical-camouflage drone lost track of Emilia Morton's bio-signal?"

Emilia was the only member of the research team who'd dared openly defy JoAnne. JoAnne had disliked her for a long time but tolerated her because Emilia was talented—one of the best in the team. Yet, when the time came to throw out a few scapegoats, she'd tossed Emilia like a piece of trash.

Of course, JoAnne wasn't naive. She'd anticipated Emilia wouldn't go quietly. So as soon as security barred Emilia from entering the Biotechnica tower that morning, JoAnne used her privileges as R&D Director to have the major deploy an optical-camo drone. It would monitor Emilia from above, keeping tabs on her biological signature.

Through his cyberoptics, the major's eyes flickered with a bluish glow, as he communicated via commlink with his squad. Finally, he spoke:

"She's in Kabuki."

"Then go eliminate her. She's now a Level-Two threat to Biotechnica. You are forbidden from disclosing any of this information to external corps or the NCPD."

"Yes, ma'am!"

...

*Kabuki, an unsanitary side street*

Once Emilia finished her threatening call to JoAnne, she wasted no time and ducked into a small ripperdoc's clinic. The ripperdoc paused his tinkering to glance her way.

"Can I help you?"

Emilia said nothing. She marched to the operating chair, lay down, then connected her personal cable to the medical equipment.

"Hey, what are you—?"

Startled by her brazen actions, the ripperdoc rushed forward, half to stop her, half in bafflement.

"Don't talk to me right now," Emilia snapped, not even looking at him, her eyes instead fixed on the flickering status screen. "God, your gear is ancient. Why's it so slow?"

The ripperdoc eyed her corporate blazer and stiff posture. She looked very much like a "company dog" – but she didn't seem here to trash his place. Relaxing a bit, he put his hands on his hips.

"As long as it works, who cares? New gear costs big money, you know. And hey—if you're a company merc, can't Biotechnica cover your implants? Why come to a back-alley doc?"

Emilia ignored his jab, keeping her attention on the monitor. After a few tense moments, a diagnostic readout appeared, listing her bodily status and all embedded implants.

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"There." She brightened, pointing at one labeled *Biotechnica Employee Transponder*. "Take this out."

"You sure?"

Emilia slipped off one shoe and pulled out a thick wad of eurodollars, dropping it on the floor. "Positive, absolutely, and definitely."

Ten minutes later, a squad of Biotechnica soldiers burst into the clinic.

"Freeze!"

The ripperdoc shot his hands in the air, terrified of being riddled with bullets.

"I'm unarmed—don't shoot!"

Two soldiers kept an eye on him while the others fanned out to search every nook of the little clinic. But after a thorough sweep, they found no one else. The squad leader, a corporal, glowered at the ripperdoc.

"Where is she?"

"There's no one here—only me. If you mean the woman who had me remove this..." He gestured at the small implant soaking in a disinfectant tray. Indeed, it was Biotechnica's standard personal transponder, mandatory for all employees. "She's gone."

Scowling, the corporal fished the transponder out of the liquid and cursed inwardly.

"Where'd she go?"

"I don't know."

The corporal stared at him hard, evaluating whether he was lying. The quavering fear in the doc's voice sounded genuine. Convinced he was no accomplice, the corporal simply knocked him out cold with a blow from the butt of his rifle. Then the squad hurried outside.

Beyond the clinic sprawled a maze of alleyways and labyrinthine passages. The corporal's stomach sank, but he had no choice.

"Spread out. Search every lane. Move!"

Time crawled on.

"Report. Anyone see her?"

"Negative in my sector."

"No sign here, either."

Gritting his teeth, the corporal had to make the dreaded call to his superiors: "We've lost the target."

...

*An improvised hideaway above the winding rooftops of Kabuki*

From her vantage point in a rickety illegal structure, Emilia tapped into the clinic's exterior camera feed. She watched as Biotechnica's security team arrived barely minutes after she'd finished. She exhaled shakily—her suspicion proved correct. She had known JoAnne would send someone after her.

The ripperdoc, initially unwilling, changed his mind due to her substantial payment. And while leaving, Emilia had also hacked the camera feed for a quick watch, just in case. Her caution paid off: the "in case" had come to pass.

Emilia slumped against the filthy plywood floor, eyes locked on the monitor's flickering images. Soldiers combed the alley but found nothing—she was already hidden well above their heads.

"Goddamn you, JoAnne," she murmured under her breath, her legs suddenly weak. She sank down onto the dirty ground, next to a scattering of trash. In Kabuki, garbage was nothing special. This time, she didn't even care. She was out of luck, out of options. Biotechnica had fired her and now wanted her dead—her future seemed bleak.

Should she send her incriminating data to WNS? Probably. She had no illusions; JoAnne was a viper. Letting the entire world see her secrets was the only real vengeance left. But...

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