April 18, 2021. 21:20. Burnaby.
Easy. Too easy.
Jamie stared down at the bodies sprawled across the battered apartment floor. Five in total, strewn about like someone's discarded trash. Some were dead while others barely clung to life, blood pooling around them. Each of them had numerous jagged lacerations across their bodies—cuts made by someone merciless.
All of them had tattoo symbols belonging to the Melders gang. These gangsters in particular, were low-level pushers, tied into the growing drug trade that plagued the city's streets.
Jamie—or rather, X, the girl now standing completely masked in the center of the wreckage—exhaled softly, steadying herself. A sharpened combat knife in her hand gleamed under the cracked light of the apartment's ceiling fan, still wet.
She was just cleaning the streets of another mess. One of many.
It didn't start that way earlier though.
A few hours earlier, things had been calm—almost too calm. Now that she was knee-deep in blood and chaos, Jamie found herself missing the quiet, even if a part of her had craved the action.
…
April 18, 2021. 15:30. Burnaby.
Steamed rice, roasted vegetables, and pan-fried pork filled the air, a homemade feast was spread out over the table. The dining room smelled like heaven. A nice time for an early family dinner.
Jamie plopped into her usual seat, resting her chin on her palm, watching her mother bustle around. Vanessa—medium build, toned arms, slicked-back black hair—was humming some old tune under her breath, dishing out portions with practiced flair. Her sharp gaze, bright with mismatched blue and yellow eyes, flicked over the table as she dared the food itself to misbehave.
Across from Jamie, her father sat, already digging in. John, in a crisp white dress shirt, looked like the picture of an ordinary salaryman—the kind of guy you'd pass on the street without a second glance. And that was exactly how he liked it.
"So?" Vanessa slid into her chair with a grin. Her Swedish accent curled slightly around her words. "No drama today? No fights behind the school?"
Jamie shook her head. "None." She took a bite out of her meal. "Why do you consider fights as a normal Sunday?" She passed a dish to Vanessa.
Vanessa shrugged, flashing her teeth. "It's Burnaby. You never know, especially with how things are currently."
John chuckled lowly, reaching for the pepper shaker. "Unfortunately, she's got a point. Police are falling behind."
Jamie barely gave a response. "I guess so…" Her hands hovered over another plate. Banter like this was normal, and Jamie enjoyed it, even if she wasn't much of a talker herself. Maybe it helped that she was the golden child in her parents' eyes—a student with almost perfect grades and attendance. Her parents didn't have much to worry about when it came to her future, which made them more willing to let her have her fun.
The conversation flowed easily. Her parents bickered about the best sauce pairings and traded playful insults over who had the worse taste in music.
Then, just when she was almost done with her second helping, Jamie's smartwatch gave the faintest buzz against her wrist. She glanced down. Neighbourhood Alert: Unauthorized Movement—2 Blocks West. Possible Melder Drug Activity.
Jamie's pulse quickened. She quickly masked her reaction, shovelling another mouthful of rice to buy herself a second and to finish the dish.
Vanessa's eyes narrowed. She wasn't suspicious, just curious. "Everything okay?" An eyebrow was raised, waiting for a response.
Jamie forced a casual shrug. "Erica wants to go shopping." It rolled off her tongue smoothly, an excuse she frequently used. "'Second round'."
Vanessa immediately brightened. "Again? Woowwww, really? Good! You should add some more colour to your wardrobe while you're out." She wagged her chopsticks at Jamie. "Say hi to her for me."
Jamie nodded, already mentally mapping the route to the alert's location. "Yeah." She gulped down a cup of water before sliding her chair back.
Just before she could leave, John's voice cut in, quiet and calm. "Be safe, Jamie."
She froze just a little, before turning to her father. "Of course. It's just Erica."
John's expression stayed neutral, but there was something in the way he looked at her. Like he knew something she didn't. A slight tilt of the head. A softness at the edges.
Does he know? He probably knows.
Maybe not everything. But something.
A moment of silence passed by, neither person speaking up, until John's phone vibrated again. He glanced at it, jaw tightening slightly, before slipping it back into his pockets.
"Alright, well, enjoy yourself, sweetheart," he said, giving Jamie a quick hug and ruffling her hair. Then he turned to Vanessa, kissing her forehead. "Looks like I'm needed again. Emergency reroute—Seattle branch flagged a shipment error messing with the Pacific client accounts. If we don't fix it tonight, Legal's gonna throw a tantrum."
Vanessa let out an exaggerated groan, tossing her chopsticks down with a clatter. "Seriously? I thought you finally had a full day off. We were supposed to actually hang out, remember? Like normal couples?" She jabbed him lightly in the side. "God, Arasaka's logistics branch is a bigger dumpster fire than their marketing team—and that's saying something."
"I know. It's not by choice. Quarter-end chaos." John chuckled, smiling in a tired but fond way he only ever uses with Vanessa. "I'll make it up to you. Dinner and a movie. Just us. No Arasaka leash."
Vanessa snorted, crossing her arms before returning John's kiss. "Fine, you owe me two movies. And a fancy dessert on top of that."
Jamie, meanwhile, had already started edging toward the stairs. She didn't really care about their romantic 'drama'. It was practically background noise at this point. Besides, she was too busy mentally switching gears—out of 'perfect daughter' mode, and into the real reason she needed to move fast tonight.
Jamie retreated upstairs before she gave herself away any further.
Behind the safety of her bedroom door, the real preparation began.
From under her bed, she dragged out a black duffel—one crammed with reinforced leggings, a matte-black moto jacket, and the crowning piece: a customized helmet, sleek and featureless, with a voice modulator embedded inside. One click on the hidden switch, and her voice would drop into a mechanical rasp that distorted everything she said.
Just like Mister. Her idol. The fixer whose shadow she wanted to someday stand in. But for now, she would slowly clean the streets of Burnaby, earning her reputation as someone competent first.
With careful precision, she suited up, pulling the gloves tight, adjusting the plates over her knees and chest. She tugged on her reinforced jacket and slid on the matte-black helmet, feeling the familiar weight settle on her. To anyone else—especially her parents—it just looked like she was suiting up for another late-night bike ride.
No more Jamie. Only X.
And Burnaby's streets were calling.
…
April 18, 2021. 21:37. Burnaby.
X lowered her blade, breathing steadily. Her helmet's display flickered as it registered the damage done—five confirmed takedowns.
She scanned the scene once more, flipping through the Melders' belongings, searching for leads. Stashes of drugs, encrypted burner phones, and extremely low-grade weapons. Nothing to point towards the source.
Still just pawns.
A pained groan snapped her attention to the corner of the room. One of the surviving Melders stirred, coughing wetly as he tried to sit up.
X was on him in two steps. She grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up. His face was inches from the blank emotionless sheen of her helmet.
"Where is your source?" Her voice was mechanical and cold. "Talk, or else."
The Melder shuddered. His broken body sagged against her grip. But then he laughed weakly.
"Fuck you. You think this is over?" he rasped, voice thin and broken. "It's already started."
A series of distant gunshots and explosions tore through the evening outside. They were sharp and rapid pops that made X's head snap toward the window.
Her grip tightened. "The hell are you talking about? What started?"
The Melder coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. His eyes, already half-glassy, gleamed with a sick sort of satisfaction. "Check it yourself," he muttered. "Won't have to look far."
She shoved him back down, his head thudding violently against the floor. Without wasting another second, X crossed the ruined apartment, her boots crunching over broken glass and discarded syringes.
A shattered window hung open at the far end, a breeze slipping through it. She leaned out carefully—eyes narrowed, heartbeat steady.
A few blocks down, the street was pure carnage.
Vehicles were overturned, metal twisted into jagged wreckage. Bodies dotted the asphalt, some moving, some ominously still. Plumes of smoke curled into the evening sky, tinged red by the dying sunlight.
A massive figure staggered into view—a walking nightmare of steel, wire, and twitching meat. Plates of scavenged mercenary armour clung to its frame, but most of its body was swallowed up by crude cybernetics. Crude missile and grenade launchers were installed on his back and shoulders, their tubes crudely welded in place. Thick cables wrapped around exposed muscles, joints jerking at odd, spasmodic angles. Its face—or what was left of it—was a grotesque patchwork of glowing optics and shredded flesh.
In one trembling hand, it gripped a massive revolver. Smoke still curled from the barrel.
Bodies littered the street behind it. Innocents. Maybe even cops.
X remained perfectly still, watching from the shadows of the shattered apartment.
Her helmet's HUD locked onto the cyberpsycho, scanning it—but no amount of digital readout could prepare her for the sheer wrongness radiating off the thing.
The Melders had hinted at this. At something bigger. Something spreading.
X's fists tightened at her sides.
If this was happening here, right in her neighbourhood—near her school, near Erica—
No. Answers were needed, and fast.
Moving quickly and silently, X slipped toward the shattered window.
She vaulted through it without hesitation, landing hard but controlled on the cracked sidewalk below.
This wasn't over. Not even close.