Chapter 2: — First Blood - Target: Arai Akimitsu (I)

Rain drizzled down in fine threads, blurring the neon glow of the city into streaks of pink, blue, and gold. I crouched on the edge of the rooftop, boots pressed against the wet concrete, scanning the maze of storage units below. Everything smelled like steel and ozone. My pulse hummed in rhythm with the distant traffic, the faint buzz of drones overhead.

R-0, or Rizzy as I normally called him, floated silently beside me, his servos whirring softly. “Naomi,” he said, voice clipped and metallic, “have you updated your emotional chip for school today?”

I let out a sharp laugh that turned into a cough. “Are you serious right now, Rizzy? EMOTIONS for school?” My eyes swept the aisles below. “We’re trying to catch a guy who knows about my brother, not count smiles in some digital kindergarten shit!”

He tilted slightly, blue optics flickering. “I’m just concerned about… balance. Your vitals show elevated agitation. You could—”

“Don’t.” I grit my teeth. “Not now. Shut it.”

Silence. Perfect.

I leaned forward, scanning every shadow between the rows of storage units. HUD overlays flickered in my peripheral vision, distance markers, thermal outlines, micro-movements. I had a line on every potential target, and every step they took told me exactly which unit Arai Akimitsu was hiding in.

The wind ruffled my brown ponytail, plastering strands across my face. I brushed them away, smirk curling at the corners of my lips. This was what I lived for. Not fake smiles. Not lectures. Not people thinking life was “all rainbows and holograms.” Real work.

Rizzy hummed, scanning the aisles with mechanical precision. “Target probability: unknown. Movement detected, 220 meters, approaching northeast corridor.”

I nodded, eyes narrowing. “Show me the group. I want every face, every weapon.”

A faint sound reached my ears: voices echoed off metal walls, cautious, confident, like wolves prowling in formation. I spotted four men, carrying small arms, glances darting. My pulse quickened, but my hands stayed steady.

They paused, consulting each other. One gestured toward a unit down the aisle: LOP-88. My lips curved into a slow smile. “Bingo,” I muttered.

Rizzy emitted a soft click. “Shall I prep cover fire?”

I shook my head. “No. Not yet. We move when I say.”

The neon puddles on the rooftop shimmered beneath my boots as I crouched lower, pulling the small pistol from its holster. Rizzy aligned beside me, servos humming quietly, waiting.

—

I made eye contact with Rizzy and gave a small nod, my hand gesturing him to follow me down the stairwell. The metal steps rattled under our weight, slick with rainwater that had seeped through the rooftop vents. Neon reflections from the city beyond flickered across his polished armor as he descended with mechanical precision, each movement silent and calculated.

At the bottom, I crouched low and sprinted down the narrow aisle between the storage units, Rizzy gliding a few steps behind. Every panel, every door, every shadow registered in my HUD. 

The aisle stretched ahead like a labyrinth, the smell of metal, oil, and wet concrete filling my senses. Finally, I reached LOP-88. The label was barely lit by the flickering neon strip above it, but it was enough.

I crouched beside the door and gestured at Rizzy. “You know the drill,” I murmured.

His fingers unfolded like mechanical snakes, tools spinning and whirring. Tiny prongs extended from his wrists, latching onto the electronic panel. Sparks flared briefly as circuits engaged. Soft clicks and the whine of servos filled the air. “Bypassing local security protocols… access granted,” he said, voice smooth and precise.

The door swung open with a hiss of hydraulics, and the room inside revealed itself in harsh fluorescent light. Four men turned sharply, their eyes widening in shock. Weapons raised instinctively, fingers trembling on triggers.

“What the? How the hell did you get in here, bitch?” one of them spat, his voice a mixture of surprise and rage.

I stepped inside, heels clicking against the metal floor, keeping my movements deliberate. “I’m looking for Arai Akimitsu,” I said slowly, letting the weight of my tone hang in the air. Calm. Confident. Dangerous.

The crooks laughed nervously, exchanging glances. “You lost, bitch?” another said, raising his gun slightly. “Why don’t you just turn around and leave… you're making a fool out of yourself”

My smirk widened. “I don’t do lost.” I tilted my head slightly, eyes scanning each one, reading micro-expressions. They wanted to intimidate me, but I was three steps ahead. Rizzy hovered at the edge, servos humming, weapons primed.

“Rizzy,” I murmured, almost conversationally. “Let’s make them a little quieter.”

His mechanical voice hummed in acknowledgment. “Deploying suppressive fire protocols.”

I drew my pistol, the grip familiar in my hand, the weight grounding me. The first man fired, too slow. I rolled to the side, bullets grazing the far wall, sparks flying where they met metal. I returned fire, each shot deliberate, precise, forcing them to duck and take cover.

“Shit! Who the hell even are you?!” one yelled, trying to find a target.

“It's classified!” I said, my voice cold but teasing, letting my fingers squeeze the trigger with practiced ease. “And you’re about to learn why you don’t fuck with me, or ANYONE in my bloodline.”

Rizzy’s twin machine guns roared, mechanical limbs spinning and bullets spraying. Sparks erupted where the rounds struck metal crates, pinging off the floor and walls. The crooks scattered, firing wildly but with no coordination. I dodged behind a crate, rolling over the slick concrete, pistol cracking as I popped up and fired again.

“Rizzy, left flank!” I shouted.

“Affirmative,” he replied, spinning his barrels toward the nearest threat. A man peeked out, trying to aim; a burst of metal shredded the space around him. He yelped and dove behind a stack of crates.

The adrenaline rushed in my veins, my heart hammering against my ribs. I loved this, every precise movement, every calculated risk, the dance of gunfire and motion. The crooks barked orders at each other, panic creeping into their voices.

“You think you’re tough?!” one yelled. “You’ll pay for this, bitch!”

I tilted my head, letting a small laugh escape. “I already am,” I said, firing again. My rounds clipped one of their arms, knocking the weapon from his grip. Sparks showered as it hit the floor.

“Rizzy, cover me while I move!” I rolled right, glancing at the next target, pistol spitting fire in short bursts. The hallway was a chaotic blur, reflections from the neon above flashing in puddles, the smell of ozone and heated metal mixing with sweat and fear.

One of them lunged toward me, overestimating his speed. I twisted, punching him square in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. My pistol barked, and his rifle clattered across the room, useless.

“Naomi… you’re… impressive,” Rizzy said, almost dryly, scanning the remaining threats.

“Thanks, Rizzy,” I said with a smirk, ducking another shot. “But we’re not done yet.”

The crooks shouted, bullets ricocheting off crates, walls, and metal beams. I moved like a shadow, rolling behind cover, popping out, and forcing them into predictable movements. Rizzy provided covering fire with robotic precision, each burst coordinated with my own, the two of us a synchronized storm of bullets and motion.

“You’re gonna die here!” one yelled, panic finally cracking his voice.

“I’ll consider it… if you keep moving like that,” I called back, my finger tightening on the trigger. Another round sent his rifle spinning across the floor, forcing him to the ground.

Rizzy pivoted, spraying another wave of bullets at the farthest threat. Sparks and dents marked the walls; the room smelled of ozone, heat, and tension. I ducked behind a crate, breathing hard but controlled, eyes locked on each movement, every micro-expression of fear.

The last man attempted to flank us, slipping through shadows. I caught the glint of his weapon in my HUD and fired a single precise shot, making him stumble back. Rizzy moved to intercept, his mechanical arms spinning with fluid efficiency, sending the man diving behind cover.

Silence fell briefly, punctuated only by the whirring of Rizzy’s servos and the hissing rain outside. I stood in the center of the room, pistol lowered but ready, eyes sweeping the room. Sparks from ricochets flickered across metal walls.

I smirked, wiping a streak of sweat from my brow. “Not bad for a warm-up, huh, Rizzy?”

“Operational efficiency: 98%,” he replied. “Target neutralization: complete. Though your pulse rate suggests extreme enjoyment.”

“Shut up, Rizzy,” I muttered, holstering my pistol for a moment. “We still have work to do. Someone in here knows Arai Akimitsu’s exact location, and I’m not leaving until I get answers.”

Sparks flickered where bullets had struck metal crates, and the smell of ozone and hot metal lingered thick in the air.

Then I heard it... a distant clatter, rapid footfalls on metal, boots sliding across wet concrete. My pulse spiked. Another group? Already? I had expected reinforcements eventually, but not this fast.

“Rizzy,” I hissed, keeping my pistol trained on the entrance. “We’ve got company.”

“Understood,” he replied, his servos whirring softly as his optics scanned for threat vectors. “Probability of hostile engagement: high.”

The door burst open, and they stormed in, weapons raised, eyes wild with panic and anger.
"HANDS UP!!!" They yelled, pointing weapons at us.

My hands went up instinctively, but then I froze. My vision locked onto something, or rather, someone farther in the room.

Arai Akimitsu.

He stood there, chest slightly hunched, eyes wide and calculating, clearly terrified of me. My gut twisted with anger. There he was, the man who had pieces of my brother’s story, the man who had been running in the shadows, and he had the audacity to show his face in front of me.

“Well well well... if it isn't Itsuki's little bitch. Big mistake coming here Matsumoto!...” he said coldly, yet his voice was a little shaky.

“Well... what are you all waiting for? SOMEONE CUFF HER!” he barked, voice shaking but commanding. “AND TERMINATE THE DAMN ROBOT!”

I didn’t flinch. Not even a little. The crook closest to me lunged, aiming to grab my arm. I pivoted sharply, my fist colliding with his jaw, sending him sprawling backward. My pistol barked twice as I rolled for cover, bullets ricocheting off the walls around me.

“Naomi! Watch your six!” Rizzy barked mechanically, spinning his arms toward another attacker. Streams of bullets tore through the metal crates, sparks dancing where they struck. The crooks fired blindly, panicked, missing by inches.

Arai’s hands flew up instinctively, stepping back as his men flailed to obey him. “Get back! Move!” he yelled, panic finally cracking through his veneer of control.

I let out a low growl of frustration. The audacity of this man… standing there, barking orders like he had the upper hand. He was a coward through and through, and I could see it in every twitch, every flinch.

Rizzy moved to cover my right flank, his twin machine guns whirring, providing a wall of suppressive fire. The crooks scrambled for cover, hurling a few wild shots, none landing. I kept my breathing steady, rolling from left to right, taking short, precise shots. Each pull of the trigger was a warning: I was not to be trifled with.

“Move!” Arai screamed again, but his words had lost all weight. One of his men tried to push him forward; he resisted, eyes darting between me and the gunfire. Finally, the crooks physically shoved him toward the exit, and he bolted, a terrified animal running from a predator.

“Not fast enough, coward,” I muttered under my breath, firing a few rounds in his direction. Sparks erupted where the bullets hit walls near him, forcing him to duck. Rizzy followed my lead, spinning his barrels to cover the remaining crooks as they tried to regroup.

The hallway filled with chaos, metal clattering, shouts, and gunfire, but I moved with purpose, precision, and focus. Every step was calculated; every shot was controlled. The crooks tried to coordinate, but panic ruled them. Their fear was as much my weapon as my pistol and Rizzy’s guns.

When the last of them ducked behind a crate, panting and shaken, I lowered my pistol slightly, smirk curling on my lips. “That all you got?” I muttered. Rizzy’s optics flickered as he scanned the room.

“Hostile neutralization: 80%. Remaining targets: minimal,” he said.

I exhaled, wiping sweat from my brow. “Good enough for now. But Arai… he’s running. We'll have to catch his ass.”

The adrenaline still coursed through me, my heart racing, but a cold, simmering anger settled in its place. This was just the beginning. Arai had shown his face, and that meant answers, and vengeance, were within reach.

[TO BE CONTINUED]