Strings Attached

“It's showtime.”

Singer purrs as her mask's dot-matrix display lights up, displaying a smiley face.

Her masked men slip into the utility corridor's reinforced door. One of them pierces the lock with a needle-like tool, threading black wire through its mechanism. A compact heating unit sends electricity through the wire until it glows. The lock's innards melt, quickly cooling and falling off the door with a clank. The team pushes the door open easily, and slip inside, aiming for the utility panels.

All the lights and electronics in the building suddenly flicker off and whine down as the power is cut.

Inside the Forensics Lab, Tomomi shouts expletives as her touchscreen dies mid-game. “Why now? My team was really good too…” She sits up from her bed and flings her controller onto her desk.

Dim emergency lights flicker on as the backup power engages, followed by an insistent alarm chirping.

At the analysis station, Tomomi checks the upload status—complete, luckily. She lifts open the chamber, removing the hair-thin probes from the chip before reinstalling it in its protective casing.

She hears commotion erupt outside her door. Boots pounding against tiles, smattering of shouts echoing through usually silent halls.

Something's wrong. Tomomi trades her comfy slippers for shoes, venturing out the sliding door to her sanctuary.

She peeks around the corner just in time to witness what the commotion was about.

An Enforcement officer is slammed against the wall, pinned by kunai shaped like an enlarged sewing needle, attached to razor-thin vanadium wire. The matted gray cables possess an unnatural strength, sheening purple under the dim emergency lights.

The assailant controlling the deadly wires steps into view. Her long dress sways with every step: Singer.

Her visor displays an eerie dot-matrix representation of her mood. Right now, her visor displays a simplistic smiley face.

“Tell me, officer. Where is my chip?”

The officer swings his sword desperately at the wires. But instead of being cut, they simply coil around the blade, refusing to let go.

Singer shoots another needle from her sleeve. The trailing wire wraps around the officer's throat, choking him. “I say again: where is the chip?”

The officer can only struggle against the tensile filaments crushing his windpipe. His fingers claw at the wires to no avail.

Singer gives an exaggerated sigh. She reels in the slack with a flick of her wrist. The wire makes deeper impressions on the officer’s neck until the he goes limp.

“Where is my chip? Oh, where art thou?” she sings, voice echoing down the corridor.

Tomomi retreats silently, her hand covering her mouth. She crawls back to her lab, but the door's quiet hum as it closes betrays her location. Singer perks up, turning her attention to the source of the noise.

Now back inside the lab, Tomomi swipes her keycard against the door lock, confirmed by an electronic beep. She frantically backs up her analysis data to her personal compute box. She picks up the storage chip and searches around the room for a good hiding spot, but she can’t find any.

She pats herself down—pockets, clothes, everywhere—for a good place on herself. She freezes as click of heels approaches her door. Her eyes dart between the door and the chip, paralyzed for lack of time. With a grimace, she realizes she has no choice but to resort to desperate measures.

Taps at the door becomes pounding, then a powerful kick sends it flying inward.

Singer lets herself in and surveys the room with her predatory eyes. She focuses on the analysis chamber, which sits empty. Its holoscreen displays only “Connection lost.”

Her masked enforcers enter behind her, one wielding a handheld detector that buzzes to life as soon as it enters the room.

“It’s in here somewhere.”

Singer's needle flies, shattering the analysis station before returning to her grip as the thread reels back in.

Singer and her visored henchmen tear through the room, flipping desks, tossing drawers, clearing shelves, searching for her prize. But she senses an additional presence.

Under her bed, Tomomi holds her breath.

Singer’s eyes fixes on the mattress. She looms over it, and stabs the foam repeatedly, hunting for blood. Tomomi shuts her eyes as blade tips enter and retract the entire area of the bed. Each pierce stops inches from touching her body.

“Let's keep moving,” one enforcer suggests.

The taps of footsteps retreat out of the room. Tomomi waits until she can only the hear the faint hum of server fans.

The coast is finally clear. Tomomi exhales in relief.

Wire snakes around her ankle and yanks her from under the bedframe and into the light. Her screams reverberate around the lab.

“I knew there was a rat here somewhere.” Singer's mask locks eyes with Tomomi’s as she looms close. “You have the chip, don't you?”

The mask’s digital expression shifts to a frowny face.

Tomomi's tears fall silently, hidden behind her tangled bangs.

…

Mika drops her bag full of snacks as she approaches the empty guard post. Broken cameras dangle uselessly from their mounts. The patrol robots are toppled over. She sees feet visible behind a patrol car.

Officer Yanagi lies motionless, wire burns carved into his neck, needles protruding from his eyes. Mika's jaw clenches as she enters the station, stepping stealthily the closer she gets.

Inside, officers and staff lie scattered among overturned furniture and shattered equipment. Sparks fly from broken electrical lines.

She finds Corporal Hayashi slumped against a wall, his stun blade just beyond reach. Blood trickles from his mouth with each labored breath.

“Corporal!” Mika rushes to his side.

“Shinkawa,” he manages between wet coughs, propping himself up.

“Don't move.” She scans his injuries. “Where's Tomomi?”

“The lab… they’re looking for the chip.”

Mika yanks a first aid kit from the wall, quickly wrapping his wounds. His hand catches her wrist. “I’m fine. Don't worry about me.”

“But…”

“Save your energy for the fight.”

“Then get out of here alive.” She finishes tying the bandages. She rises, moving toward the armory, but a whistling kunai forces her to dodge.

A visored combatant engages her. Without a weapon, Mika strikes with her fists. A jab, a cross, and the assailant is staggered. But they draw another blade, and she finds herself on the defensive.

She bends backward to avoid a kunai, but sharp pain shoots through her side from yesterday’s injury. The biofoamed wound tears open. Her wince costs her balance. Another kunai slices her thigh, and she drops to the floor.

Mika struggles to get herself back up, the pain costing her precious reaction time. The combatant looms above and their knife descends like an executioner's blade...