Episode 1: The Ghost

Welcome to the first instalment of my serial fiction: Corporate Shadows! These will be posted every three weeks. For more information, check out my announcement post.

Corporate Shadows - Table of Contents

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Zara Blackwater doesn't dream anymore. Dreams required hope and hope was an indulgence she'd abandoned long ago, alongside childhood innocence and the luxury of safety. Now, she simply focused on the present and whatever job she was tasked with. Tonight's assignment was just like any other: slip in, extract the exec's neural signature, slip out. Simple. Clean. Profitable.

She adjusted the calibration on her optical implants, the soft blue casting a gentle glow over her pale skin as she scanned the balcony of the apartment in front of her. This particular implant allowed her to see heat signatures through the walls up to a certain distance. Her vantage point was good; the tower she had scaled was being repaired so was practically abandoned, other than a few high and comatose vegetables. No one to take notice of the petite woman in black synthleather striding among them. The near constant rain helped, the water droplets beading off her jacket and slicking her black hair to her head, each droplet reflecting the neon lights of the constantly playing advertisements of the high-rise city of Neo-Echelon.

Zara focused on one particular heat signature moving towards the transportation platform. "Target's on the move," she murmured to her handler. "Penthouse level, north-west corner."

Adrien's voice crackled through her neural link. "Clean extraction, Nyx. No witnesses."

Irritation tightened her jaw, and she didn't bother responding. Adrien knew she never left witnesses. Her code name, Nyx, attested to that. Zara was fourteen when Adrien had gifted her the code name. She remembered being confused by it. She wanted something cool, like Ghost or Phantom or something. Nyx sounded far too cute, and she feared her handler was making fun of her. That was until he handed her an ancient-looking paperback novel. Nyx was some kind of old time goddess of night. Adrien always liked obscure shit like that. Nonetheless, Zara warmed to the name after learning its origin. She could handle being a goddess of night and darkness. She was responsible for bringing the dark, a dark no one could see into. She liked it.

It also meant Adrien was stating the obvious in telling her not to leave witnesses.

Zara flexed her left hand, feeling the subdermal implants heat with activation, ready to respond when she called upon them. There were three others in the penthouse with her target but one was in bed, presumably asleep, one was standing by the main doorway on guard, and the other walking around the house. She would have to be conscious of that one, and of her target, some board director for Aegis Corp. Zara didn't know or care about the details. She just had to get close enough to capture his neural signature. This was one of those jobs that were quick and easy, something to fill the time between the larger, more difficult jobs. She watched as her target leaned against one end of the balcony, hand to his ear.

"Tuning in to his communications," Zara murmured to Adrien and, with a thought and a touch, she heard a cacophony of sound, all the streams of communication going on around her. She narrowed the focus down and down until she heard just one.

"-leeway. It's his daughter's dance recital tonight and he promised-"

"I don't care if it's his daughter's wedding, it needs to be done by tomorrow!"

Zara flicked her left wrist and a cable shot out from her forearm, whizzing across the gap between the two buildings and securing itself to the railing at the other end of the penthouse balcony. From there she could hang close and out of sight, securing the neural signature and being on her way without the exec even realising she was nearby.

"I understand, sir. I'll let him know. But it will cost extra, working overtime and all."

"Of course I have the money; what kind of fool do you take me for?"

Zara gave a brief tug of her left arm to ensure the cable was tight and was about to step out into the void when the exec turned around to lean backwards against the railing, facing the end her cable was attached to. Damn it!

"And what about Subject 52?"

"What about her?"

"I hear there needs to be some cleanup done?"

"That's already under control. I have someone dealing with it. You don't need to know more."

The exec pushed away from the balcony and started walking back towards the doorway. Now or never. Zara took the chance and jumped. Her stomach lurched upwards as her body plummeted down, only to jerk to a stop when the cable caught her weight and began pulling her upwards with a near silent whirring noise that she could barely hear over the sound of the rain.

"I understand that, sir, but rumours are beginning to spread-"

"What rumours?"

"About the nature of Subject 52's death. The fact that she-"

"Enough! Don't even talk about such things over this line. There's no guarantee it's secure."

"I'm taking precautions."

Zara smirked to herself. The person on the other end of the call almost sounded like they were pouting at that. Little did they know.

Hanging just below the balcony, Zara paused to look up and take in where the people were. The bodyguard looked like he was in the kitchen, no doubt making a coffee or something. The exec had stepped back inside, sitting on a couch with his back to the balcony. Not ideal—he was now too far away for her to do her job from the outside—but it made little difference. She had a contingency plan, and her contingency plans had contingency plans. She pulled herself up over the railing and landed lightly, the slight splash her boots made in the pooling water covered by the sound of the rain and the whizzing of various transporters flying past.

Zara's gaze swept the sitting room—if such a grand expanse deserved such a simplistic name—that connected to the balcony. It was sleek and modern, all clean lines and no clutter. Nothing like her own apartment. Two identical white couches sat perpendicular to each other, both looking more decorative than comfortable, and there was a coffee table between them. That area of floor was depressed slightly, ringed by two steps. Off to the left was a bar area, fully stocked, of course. And in front of her and to the right were closed doors and walls with fancy looking artworks on display. With her optical implants still set to detect heat signatures, Zara could see the wandering guard was sitting at a table. Not likely to interrupt then.

Stepping carefully inside, conscious of any noise she might make, Zara observed an older man sitting with his back to her, mid-60s maybe, but it was impossible to tell with these types and all their augments. He could be 30 or 120 or anything in between. It didn't matter. What mattered was the extraction.

"There's… something else I need to report, sir."

"What is it?" The exec sounded bored.

Zara took the LIFT from her pocket. Whoever designed it had a twisted sense of humour. The Latent Identity Firmware Thief, as its full name was called, was standard issue for her line of work. Remotely updated with the latest technology in identity cloning, it was quick, efficient, and, most importantly, undetectable.

"It's about Subject 7. Or rather, the files regarding him."

"Spit it out already."

"They're… they're missing sir."

"What!" The exec leaned forward abruptly.

Zara quickly activated the LIFT; if the man started pacing out his agitation, she could lose her chance and blow her cover. And if that happened, then things would get messy, something she desperately needed to avoid. Adrien would be furious, and that was not something she wanted to face. The LIFT was already connected to her own neural signature, so it sent out a ping and identified one it didn't have on file. Zara pressed the confirm button, and it started its download process.

5%

10%

"I was running a routine scan before going home this evening. It flagged some changes in the system. I… I didn't get a chance to investigate until an hour ago."

The exec launched to his feet and Zara ducked, pressing herself against the back of the couch.

25%

30%

"What changes in the system?" The exec bit out each word as though it were a foul tasting morsel.

"Several files missing, some altered. The altered ones I was able to restore-"

"What were they changed to?"

50%

55%

The exec was pacing back and forth in front of the couch now.

Come on, come on, Zara thought to herself. She could take the exec out and extract the signature from his corpse. She had what she needed to make it a hit job, but that opened up too many potential problems.

"It looked like someone tried to fabricate claims against us. Adding false details, making the results look worse than they were, things like that. But it's okay, I fixed those!"

"And what about the missing files?"

75%

The exec came around the side of the couch.

Shit, shit, shit! Zara reached into her coat and unholstered her pistol. She really didn't want to do this; it was a pain to clean up, let alone make sure the buyer got the sig quick enough to do whatever they wanted it for before it was shut down. But there was no way she could allow herself to get caught. If it came to it, the exec was expendable.

80%

"Everything regarding Subject 7. It's like they never existed in the system."

85%

"The subjects just go from 6 to 8."

The exec walked past where Zara was crouched and she took aim, but, distracted by this news, whatever it was, he didn't notice her. Zara let out a breath. She could still make it out of here without killing anyone. It would mean a sacrifice on her part, but so be it.

"Have you tried to restore them? What about backups?"

"The backups are all gone as well, completely wiped from the servers."

90%

95%

Zara slipped her coat off and shoved it under the couch. Beneath it she was wearing skin tight black leggings and a black t-shirt, hugging her form like a glove. She re-homed her gun in the holster that was strapped about her chest.

"We- You need to investigate this further. The culprit must be found! I will expect an update first thing tomorrow morning!"

100%

The LIFT went dark, no longer detecting any nearby signatures, and Zara gripped it in her left hand. She closed her eyes and activated the GHOST, feeling the cold spread over her limbs. After it passed, she opened her eyes and stood. Her system couldn't maintain the heat detection optics and the neural link at the same time as the GHOST system, so her eavesdropping cut out and her vision was normal, if a little blurred from the effects of the GHOST. It was a downside, but the upside was that the GHOST, or Gradient Harmonic Optical Stealth Technology, would allow her to simply walk out of here.

She couldn't go via the balcony to get out—the rain interfered with the GHOST, caused a visible ripple effect as the rain hit her which was why she couldn't use it to get in—so it meant she had to go out past the front door. Thankfully, she had just obtained full clearance thanks to her target, so that shouldn't be a problem.

Zara walked carefully towards the door that led to the front entrance. Part of her prep for this job had been to memorise the floor plan, so finding her way wasn't a problem, so long as no one saw doors apparently opening on their own. Hopefully, the wandering guard was still sitting at the table with his back towards her.

Pressing a button on the LIFT to activate the last acquired neural signature, she used it to open the door barely an inch. Enough for her to peer through and see that, yes, the guard was still sitting at the table and, even better, appeared to be thoroughly absorbed in reading a Neuromance magazine, the holographic displays lighting up his face as he browsed the latest in bio-tech.

Piece of cake.

The door opened the rest of the way and slid silently closed behind her as she stepped through. Around a corner, through another doorway, another corridor, and she was at the front door. It opened, she stepped through, and it was closed again. The door opening and closing on its own attracted the attention of a woman nearby, but she just shrugged and kept walking. None of her business.

Ensuring there was no one to see, Zara deactivated GHOST and re-enabled her neural link to Adrien. "Job's done," she said as she started walking towards home.

"Good. Any hiccups? Lost your connection there for a bit."

"Had to activate GHOST to get out. No one saw anything, but I had to leave my coat behind. It's under the couch closest to the balcony."

"I'll send someone to get it tomorrow. Good work, Nyx. See you when you get back here."

Knowing she had some time before Adrien would start to nag her, Zara stopped by her favourite street food vendor on the way home. Its specialty was a fish skewer with a spicy sauce and the grill was always lit, the sounds of sizzling oil competing with the general cacophony of street noise: shouts of people talking over each other, the constant drone of advertisements playing, snatches of music from someone not playing the music directly into their personal neural link, an occasional whoosh of a transporter flying past, and under it all the constant hum of electronics. It was the sound of home to Zara, as comforting as a warm hug was supposed to be. Not that she would know, but so the saying went.

Catching the cook's attention, she held up eight fingers. The man nodded and put eight of the skewers on a plate, smothered them in that delicious spicy sauce, and handed it over. When Zara took the plate, her credit chip was scanned and the price automatically deducted from her account. Picking one up and taking a bite, she closed her eyes and hummed with satisfaction. It was synthfish, real fish was far too pricey for this neighbourhood, but it was still delicious.

Resting the plate on her lap, Zara spun around in her stool and rested her elbows back on the counter-top behind her. Despite the late hour (or early, depending on who you asked), Neo-Echelon never slept. A city within a tower, or in reality, several parasitic towers branching off the central one. It was a bastion of humanity. Or something like that. She never really paid much attention to the Arcologist Sanctors preaching on street corners.

Sitting here like this, enjoying good food, secure in the knowledge that another pay cheque was coming her way, these small moments were what she lived for. She liked to watch the people bustling past and imagine what their lives could be like.

That person there. Baggy pants and a crop top, electric blue hair brushing her shoulders, late teens, early 20s maybe. She probably skipped out on school to spend time with her boyfriend. She had a pouty, don't-even-try-telling-me-what-to-do look about her. Also, probably not someone Zara would want to mess with. Despite her look, she had a way of walking through the crowds that told Zara she knew how to handle herself.

That one, pressed pencil skirt suit, heels so high Zara couldn't imagine how she could walk so quickly without rolling an ankle. Probably had artificial ankles to prevent just that. Hand to her ear as she spoke to someone through the neural link. Lower management, unable to convince the company to spring for a higher grade model that didn't need the physical input to hold a connection. She would crack easily under pressure if Zara had to use her for something.

Or that kid there on the corner, kicking his toe into the metal floor, smoking a cigarette. Probably didn't even go to school. Well outside the school of the streets. No self-respecting parent would let their kid smoke, but he probably did it so he would look older and more tough so as not to be hassled. A good source for information, though, if she had the cash to convince him to talk.

Even now, through the rain, there were crowds walking up and down the street, practically a living, breathing pulse of the city. Out here, she was just one tiny being in a crowd of a good million. No one even glanced her way despite being under-dressed for the weather.

As she watched, another person caught her eye, a young man in a suit with red hair. Not the artificial red that was common, but a natural copper red. Of course, it was possible to get your hair coloured whatever colour you could think of, but it was unusual for someone to have a natural and relatively rare hair colour. Red hadn't been in fashion since Zara was a child and someone with enough money to afford clothes like that should be able to afford whatever hair colour they wanted.

As Zara watched the redhead, there was a shimmer effect. She frowned and leaned forwards. There was a ripple and then the hair changed, growing longer and darkening until it was black and waist length. That same ripple appeared over his body too, and then suddenly she was looking at a woman. Same clothes, completely different appearance. What was that? A threat? Zara's heart began to race. Had someone seen her leaving the exec's apartment after all? Were they on to her? Zara rubbed at her eyes, certain she must have been mistaken, but when she opened them again and tried to search for the man, woman, whatever, they had been lost in the crowd.

"I must be tired," she muttered to herself. Her stomach gave an agreeable grumble, and she chuckled to herself. She went to eat some more, only to find her plate empty.

Spinning back around on her stool, she held up another five fingers to order some more. Using GHOST always made her so hungry, and she was sure Adrien wouldn't begrudge her this time to refuel.

She had almost finished her second helping when the counter-top she was leaning against vibrated and she heard the rumble of a distant explosion or something. Frowning, Zara looked up, but she couldn't see anything. Others around her had paused in what they were doing to look up and around as well, but, like her, nothing could be seen. Shrugging to herself, she turned her attention back to the remainder of her food. Whatever had just happened was none of her business. Hopefully.

The door to Zara's apartment slid open to an older, wiry man standing in front of it, arms crossed across his chest, blocking the entrance. "Where have you been?" Adrien snapped.

"Chill, gramps. I was getting something to eat," Zara said as she slipped around her handler with a practiced grace. This was a fairly normal dance for them; she was used to it after all these years. She tossed the LINK over her shoulder without looking, expecting the man to catch it. Old as he was–and she had no idea just how old Adrien actually was–he was still just as capable as ever.

"There's food in the fridge here, no need to spend money and risk being seen," Adrien griped. He took the LINK over to his desk and sat in the worn chair, the thing squeaking dangerously under his weight. Once Zara had offered to buy him a new one, a more modern model with upgraded input ports, but Adrien had refused. He liked this one just fine, and it still worked. That was his reaction to everything. If it still worked, why bother replacing it?

Zara toed out of her boots and flopped down on the worn, synthleather couch, laying on it, legs hanging over the edge. "Canned seaweed and synthetic peaches? Hard pass."

"Better than you binging on those fish sticks you seem to love." Adrien connected the LINK to his terminal and started the extraction process. Transferring the data to the client was Adrien's job; Zara's had just been to obtain it. Curious as she was about who the client was, she knew better than to attempt to pry that information.

"Hey, Kai's fish sticks are fantastic!" Zara protested. "Besides, you know GHOST always makes me hungry."

"Yes, speaking of that, why did you rely on it in the first place? You're better than that."

"Cause my exit was blocked. I figured the target would be in for the night, not pacing like a man awaiting the birth of his first child or something. Speaking of, do you know what they were talking about?" Zara asked, sitting up as she thought about it. It seemed odd. Subjects? Files wiped? Zara knew she wasn't the only shady dealer in the city, far from it. Most were employed by corporations to act in their interest. She was unusual there; she and Adrien were freelance, working for the highest bidder. But that just meant they usually worked against the companies that hired them, doing jobs they couldn't go through 'official' channels for.

"No," Adrien answered flatly in a way that Zara knew meant he was lying. Why would he keep it a secret if he knew about it?

"Do you know who else was working against them? Maybe the same client we're working with now," she pressed. He knew something. But why try to hide it?

"Zara, drop it. It's none of our business."

Zara blinked at the man's back. He hadn't turned around when he said that, but he hadn't used her name in years. It was all either "girl" or "Nyx" or maybe if he was feeling generous or drunk she might get a "dear" out of him. Not that she would ever be foolish enough to think that the old man held any kind of affection for her. He was the one who had trained her and his training methods had not been gentle. Not something someone would do to someone they actually cared for. To be called 'Zara' suddenly meant that it was serious, whatever it was.

That just made Zara want to know about it all the more.

Reaching over to the coffee table, she snagged her own portable terminal and rested it on her legs as she booted it up, fully intending to do her own digging.

"I mean it Zara, don't get involved it's-" Adrien started, looking over his shoulder at her with hard grey eyes but breaking off when he noticed the flashing light that indicated a call coming in on their apartment's main comm link.

Sighing, Adrien activated it with his neural link, and his eyes glazed over as he listened to what was said. Zara could have hacked into the comm link, but she had learned the hard way not to do that. She was maybe thirteen that first time. Adrien, obviously, had caught her at it. He had never physically beat her for doing something wrong, but honestly, she had wished he would. He had simply upped her training to what felt like an inhuman level, forbade her from sleeping 'to get used to working tired', he said, and who knew what else. To tell the truth, that whole time was a blur for her, but the one thing she remembered was to never listen in on Adrien's calls. Or at least not unless she was sure she wouldn't be caught.

"I understand, but-"

That didn't mean she couldn't listen to what he said aloud, however. The apartment's main line comm link was old, like the rest of the apartment really, and, like everything else, it was Adrien's reluctance to upgrade that prevented Zara from improving their shared space. According to Adrien, this version was still the hardest to tap into from the outside. Zara didn't know if that was true, or if it was just Adrien being stuck in the old ways he was used to instead of moving with the times.

"What makes you think that?"

Zara used her terminal to idly browse the latest news articles as she listened, not really paying any attention to what was on the screen in front of her. Apparently, the vibrations she had felt earlier were because of an explosion a good hundred levels above her. Not particularly interesting, though.

She could feel Adrien's eyes on her, though why, she wasn't sure. Was he just making sure she didn't use the opportunity to research what Subject 7 and Subject 52 were? She sighed in irritation. If she was going to go against what he said (and she would, eventually, when she got around to it), she wouldn't be so blatant about it.

"All right. Yes, I understand. I'm out of the game, but I'll send Nyx."

Zara did look up at that, watching Adrien and waiting expectantly.

"Yes, exactly." The call ended abruptly, and Adrien's eyes cleared, focusing on Zara. "You've got a new job."

---

Please let me know what you think of this first chapter! Are you enjoying it? Curious to know more? Drop a comment and we can chat!

In the next episode we are introduced to Victor Rothwell, CEO of Aegis Corporation, who wants to change the company from within. His most recent attempts at this is stymied by an assassination attempt.

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