Chapter 1:
Chapter 1_ Ghost in the Rain
Lycoris Recoil: Code Black Cheetah
The Tokyo rain fell not in gentle drops, but in a relentless, silver sheet that blurred the neon signs of the Sumida ward into watery smears of color. It was the kind of rain that washed away sins and evidence in equal measure, the kind that made most people hurry home. For Raze, it was just background noise.
He stood on the fire escape of a nondescript apartment building, the cold metal a familiar sensation against his palms. At seventeen, he looked like any other lean, slightly tired teenager, his dark hair plastered to his forehead by the downpour. But his eyes, a sharp, unusual shade of gold, missed nothing. They tracked the movements in the alley below with a preternatural calm.
“Your heart rate is elevated by 3.7 percent,” a dry, synthesized voice spoke directly into his auditory cortex via bone conduction. “I’m attributing it to the excessive caffeine from that dreadful canned coffee you consumed. I told you it was swill.”
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched Raze’s lips. “It was convenient, K-1. And it’s not the coffee. It’s the waiting.”
Hovering silently beside him, camouflaged against the dark sky, was a drone no larger than a hardcover book. Its matte-black, geometric form was sleek, almost insect-like. This was K-1, his partner, his armory, and his personal sarcastic commentator.
“The waiting is the job, sir,” K-1 retorted. “Unless you’d prefer to storm in there, all dramatic flair and no subtlety. It would certainly be more entertaining for me. I could compile a ‘Greatest Blunders’ highlight reel.”
“Just keep scanning the perimeter,” Raze murmured, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the drumming rain.
He wasn’t a Lycoris. He was something else, a ghost from a program with even less oversight. The memories of the lab in South Africa were a fractured nightmare—cold steel, the smell of antiseptic, and the feeling of being a thing, a prototype, not a person. They had called him the vessel. The culmination of the "Aegis Project." All their research, every byte of data on next-generation biotech and nano-machine integration, was stored on a neural chip embedded in his hippocampus. When the rivals came to claim their prize, the lead scientist, a man Raze only remembered as Dr. Kiri, had triggered the self-destruct. In the chaos, Raze had run. He’d used the abilities the chip and the nanites granted him—enhanced processing, accelerated healing, a body that could perform far beyond human limits—to escape. He was the only survivor, the only prototype. And the data hunters, a shadowy group he knew only as "The Syndicate," were still looking.
Now, in Tokyo, he tried to live. But old habits, and old enemies, had a way of resurfacing.
“I’ve identified three hostiles,” K-1 reported, his tone shifting to pure, cold data. “Heavily armed. They’re moving the counterfeit currency plates. The client will be pleased.”
“Our client is the DA, indirectly. And they don’t care about pleasing,” Raze corrected. He did odd jobs, sometimes for people who knew of the DA, sometimes for the DA itself when they needed a problem to disappear without a Lycoris’s signature. He was a deniable asset. “Let’s wrap this up. I want to be dry.”
He pushed off the fire escape, dropping three stories and landing in a silent crouch, the impact absorbed effortlessly by his legs and the nanites that reinforced his skeletal structure. The nanomachines, guided by the chip that acted as a supercharged subconscious, were already flooding his system with adrenaline and sharpening his senses. The world snapped into hyper-focus. He could see the individual pores on the face of the nearest thug, hear the click of a safety being disengaged over the rain.
“Engaging hostiles,” he whispered.
“Finally. My capacitors were getting bored.”
Raze moved like liquid shadow. He didn’t run; he flowed. The first thug saw a blur and then felt a precise, nerve-striking blow to his neck before he could even raise his weapon. The second managed to fire a wild shot that went nowhere near its target. Raze had already calculated the trajectory the moment the man’s finger tensed. He sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and used his momentum to slam him into the brick wall. The third, smarter than his companions, was already sprinting for a car.
“K-1,” Raze said calmly.
“Deploying crema-flash.”
A compartment on the drone’s underside opened. There was no sound, but a sphere of blinding white light erupted in the alley for a fraction of a second, perfectly calibrated to disorient without causing permanent damage. The fleeing man cried out, stumbling and clutching his eyes.
Raze was on him in an instant. A quick, efficient takedown. He stood amidst the three unconscious bodies, the rain already washing the mud from their clothes. He felt nothing. No thrill, no remorse. It was a job.
“The local police have been anonymously tipped off,” K-1 stated. “Your fee has been transferred to the offshore account. A successful, if pedestrian, operation.”
“Let’s go home, K-1.”
---
Home was a small, spartan apartment in a less fashionable part of town. It held little personal touch, a deliberate choice. To put down roots was to risk being found. The only thing that made it feel lived-in was K-1, who now hovered over a charging pad, humming softly.
Raze peeled off his wet jacket, wincing as he saw the dark bruise already forming on his ribs where he’d taken a glancing blow from a pipe. The nanites were working; he could feel the faint, cellular-level tingling as they repaired the damaged tissue. By morning, it would be gone.
“A minor hematoma,” K-1 observed. “The nanites report repair will be complete in six hours and twelve minutes. Perhaps next time, try dodging the large metal object.”
“Your concern is touching,” Raze said, grabbing a towel.
“I’m a drone, not a therapist. My programming finds inefficiency… aesthetically displeasing.”
Later that night, as Raze tried to sleep, the memories surfaced. The lab. The screams. The face of Dr. Kiri, not as a monster, but as a tired, frightened man shoving a data drive into his hand. “Run, Subject Zero. Don’t let them find you. Don’t let them find what’s inside.”
He was jolted awake by K-1’s voice, this time through a speaker on the bedside table. “Incoming secure communication. Encrypted DA channel. It’s not our usual handler.”
Raze sat up, instantly alert. “Put it through.”
A familiar, authoritative voice filled the room. It was Commander Kusunoki. “Black Cheetah. We have a situation. There’s a… delicate matter. A Lycoris team is investigating an arms dealer connected to a recent incursion. Your skill set may be… complementary. We need an outside eye. The location is a private dock in Tokyo Bay. I am sending the coordinates now. Assist, but do not interfere with their operation. Is that clear?”
Raze’s golden eyes narrowed. Working directly alongside Lycoris? That was new, and dangerous. But refusing the DA was more dangerous.
“Understood. I’m on my way.”
“And, Black Cheetah… the lead Lycoris on this operation is First Lycoris, Chisato Nishikigi. Try to keep up.”
The line went dead. Raze froze for a second. Chisato Nishikigi. Even in his isolated existence, he’d heard the whispers. The invincible, pacifist prodigy of the DA.
“Well,” K-1 quipped, his lights blinking cheerfully in the dark. “This just upgraded from a ‘pedestrian operation’ to a potential diplomatic incident. I’ll prep the heavier ordnance. And may I suggest you wear a clean shirt? First impressions are important, even when you’re a clandestine, bio-engineered asset meeting a national secret.”
---
The docks were quieter than the alley, the air thick with the smell of salt, rust, and oil. The rain had softened to a fine mist. Raze positioned himself high in the girders of a crane, giving him a panoramic view of the target warehouse. K-1 was cloaked, hovering beside him.
“I have thermal signatures inside. Eight hostiles. And… two more signatures approaching from the west. Agile. Very agile. That will be your Lycoris.”
Raze watched as two figures moved with impossible grace through the shadows. One was a blur of energetic motion, the other a study in efficient, silent purpose. Even from this distance, he could recognize them. The vibrant, twintailed hair of Chisato Nishikigi, and the cool, focused demeanor of Takina Inoue. He’d seen them in passing, from a distance, but never this close.
He watched, mesmerized, as Chisato moved through a hail of gunfire, not by armor, but by an almost precognitive ability to dodge. She was a dancer, and the bullets were her partners, always a step behind. Takina provided covering fire, precise and lethal, a perfect counterpoint to Chisato’s non-lethal takedowns. It was a brutal, beautiful ballet.
“Their coordination is 98.2 percent efficient,” K-1 noted, sounding almost impressed. “The blonde one is violating six known laws of physics. It’s fascinating.”
The fight was almost over when Raze saw it. A ninth man, hidden in a sniper’s nest they had missed, taking aim. Not at Chisato, who was a impossible target, but at Takina, whose back was turned as she secured a prisoner.
There was no time to think.
“K-1, now!”
“Crema-flash deployed. High-intensity, focused burst.”
The sniper’s nest lit up like a small sun for a blinding instant. The man screamed, dropping his rifle and clutching his face.
Down below, both Chisato and Takina snapped their heads towards the light, then upwards, towards the crane. Their weapons came up, trained on his position. The game was up.
Raze took a breath. “Stay here. Monitor. If I give the signal, extract.”
“Understood. Try not to get shot by the national treasures. The paperwork would be dreadful.”
Raze dropped down, landing softly between the two Lycoris teams and the warehouse, his hands open and raised to show he was unarmed. He kept his posture non-threatening.
Chisato’s eyes widened in curiosity, her head tilting. Takina’s gaze was like ice, her pistol unwavering, aimed directly at his center mass.
“Who are you?” Takina’s voice was sharp, demanding.
“A friend,” Raze said, his voice calm. “The DA sent me. Call me Black Cheetah.”
Chisato lowered her weapon a fraction, a brilliant, inquisitive smile spreading across her face. “Ooooh! A black cheetah! That’s so cool! And that light show? That was you? Super handy! Thanks!” She looked him up and down with an open, friendly curiosity that was utterly disarming. “I’m Chisato! This is my partner, Takina!”
Takina did not lower her weapon. “Chisato, we don’t know him. Commander Kusunoki didn’t brief us about any external support.”
“That’s because I’m not support,” Raze said, meeting Takina’s suspicious gaze. “I’m cleanup. The kind that doesn’t officially exist.” He decided a little misdirection was in order, to keep his real name hidden. “You can call me Ren for now.”
“Ren, huh?” Chisato stepped closer, peering at his face. “You have really amazing eyes! Like a cat’s! So, Mr. Black Cheetah Ren, do you work alone?”
Before he could answer, K-1’s voice was a urgent whisper in his ear. “Raze, we have a problem. Long-range sensors just picked up a signal I haven’t seen since South Africa. It’s a Syndicate scout drone. They’re here. They saw the flash. They saw you.”
Raze’s blood ran cold. His carefully constructed anonymity, shattered in an instant. He must have let the shock show on his face because Chisato’s smile faded into a look of genuine concern.
“Hey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Raze looked from Chisato’s concerned face to Takina’s still-suspicious one. The rain began to fall a little harder. His two worlds—the shadowy existence of the lab and the vibrant, dangerous world of the Lycoris—had just violently collided.
“A ghost,” Raze repeated, his voice low. “Yeah. Something like that.”
End of Chapter 1
He stood on the fire escape of a nondescript apartment building, the cold metal a familiar sensation against his palms. At seventeen, he looked like any other lean, slightly tired teenager, his dark hair plastered to his forehead by the downpour. But his eyes, a sharp, unusual shade of gold, missed nothing. They tracked the movements in the alley below with a preternatural calm.
“Your heart rate is elevated by 3.7 percent,” a dry, synthesized voice spoke directly into his auditory cortex via bone conduction. “I’m attributing it to the excessive caffeine from that dreadful canned coffee you consumed. I told you it was swill.”
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched Raze’s lips. “It was convenient, K-1. And it’s not the coffee. It’s the waiting.”
Hovering silently beside him, camouflaged against the dark sky, was a drone no larger than a hardcover book. Its matte-black, geometric form was sleek, almost insect-like. This was K-1, his partner, his armory, and his personal sarcastic commentator.
“The waiting is the job, sir,” K-1 retorted. “Unless you’d prefer to storm in there, all dramatic flair and no subtlety. It would certainly be more entertaining for me. I could compile a ‘Greatest Blunders’ highlight reel.”
“Just keep scanning the perimeter,” Raze murmured, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the drumming rain.
He wasn’t a Lycoris. He was something else, a ghost from a program with even less oversight. The memories of the lab in South Africa were a fractured nightmare—cold steel, the smell of antiseptic, and the feeling of being a thing, a prototype, not a person. They had called him the vessel. The culmination of the "Aegis Project." All their research, every byte of data on next-generation biotech and nano-machine integration, was stored on a neural chip embedded in his hippocampus. When the rivals came to claim their prize, the lead scientist, a man Raze only remembered as Dr. Kiri, had triggered the self-destruct. In the chaos, Raze had run. He’d used the abilities the chip and the nanites granted him—enhanced processing, accelerated healing, a body that could perform far beyond human limits—to escape. He was the only survivor, the only prototype. And the data hunters, a shadowy group he knew only as "The Syndicate," were still looking.
Now, in Tokyo, he tried to live. But old habits, and old enemies, had a way of resurfacing.
“I’ve identified three hostiles,” K-1 reported, his tone shifting to pure, cold data. “Heavily armed. They’re moving the counterfeit currency plates. The client will be pleased.”
“Our client is the DA, indirectly. And they don’t care about pleasing,” Raze corrected. He did odd jobs, sometimes for people who knew of the DA, sometimes for the DA itself when they needed a problem to disappear without a Lycoris’s signature. He was a deniable asset. “Let’s wrap this up. I want to be dry.”
He pushed off the fire escape, dropping three stories and landing in a silent crouch, the impact absorbed effortlessly by his legs and the nanites that reinforced his skeletal structure. The nanomachines, guided by the chip that acted as a supercharged subconscious, were already flooding his system with adrenaline and sharpening his senses. The world snapped into hyper-focus. He could see the individual pores on the face of the nearest thug, hear the click of a safety being disengaged over the rain.
“Engaging hostiles,” he whispered.
“Finally. My capacitors were getting bored.”
Raze moved like liquid shadow. He didn’t run; he flowed. The first thug saw a blur and then felt a precise, nerve-striking blow to his neck before he could even raise his weapon. The second managed to fire a wild shot that went nowhere near its target. Raze had already calculated the trajectory the moment the man’s finger tensed. He sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and used his momentum to slam him into the brick wall. The third, smarter than his companions, was already sprinting for a car.
“K-1,” Raze said calmly.
“Deploying crema-flash.”
A compartment on the drone’s underside opened. There was no sound, but a sphere of blinding white light erupted in the alley for a fraction of a second, perfectly calibrated to disorient without causing permanent damage. The fleeing man cried out, stumbling and clutching his eyes.
Raze was on him in an instant. A quick, efficient takedown. He stood amidst the three unconscious bodies, the rain already washing the mud from their clothes. He felt nothing. No thrill, no remorse. It was a job.
“The local police have been anonymously tipped off,” K-1 stated. “Your fee has been transferred to the offshore account. A successful, if pedestrian, operation.”
“Let’s go home, K-1.”
---
Home was a small, spartan apartment in a less fashionable part of town. It held little personal touch, a deliberate choice. To put down roots was to risk being found. The only thing that made it feel lived-in was K-1, who now hovered over a charging pad, humming softly.
Raze peeled off his wet jacket, wincing as he saw the dark bruise already forming on his ribs where he’d taken a glancing blow from a pipe. The nanites were working; he could feel the faint, cellular-level tingling as they repaired the damaged tissue. By morning, it would be gone.
“A minor hematoma,” K-1 observed. “The nanites report repair will be complete in six hours and twelve minutes. Perhaps next time, try dodging the large metal object.”
“Your concern is touching,” Raze said, grabbing a towel.
“I’m a drone, not a therapist. My programming finds inefficiency… aesthetically displeasing.”
Later that night, as Raze tried to sleep, the memories surfaced. The lab. The screams. The face of Dr. Kiri, not as a monster, but as a tired, frightened man shoving a data drive into his hand. “Run, Subject Zero. Don’t let them find you. Don’t let them find what’s inside.”
He was jolted awake by K-1’s voice, this time through a speaker on the bedside table. “Incoming secure communication. Encrypted DA channel. It’s not our usual handler.”
Raze sat up, instantly alert. “Put it through.”
A familiar, authoritative voice filled the room. It was Commander Kusunoki. “Black Cheetah. We have a situation. There’s a… delicate matter. A Lycoris team is investigating an arms dealer connected to a recent incursion. Your skill set may be… complementary. We need an outside eye. The location is a private dock in Tokyo Bay. I am sending the coordinates now. Assist, but do not interfere with their operation. Is that clear?”
Raze’s golden eyes narrowed. Working directly alongside Lycoris? That was new, and dangerous. But refusing the DA was more dangerous.
“Understood. I’m on my way.”
“And, Black Cheetah… the lead Lycoris on this operation is First Lycoris, Chisato Nishikigi. Try to keep up.”
The line went dead. Raze froze for a second. Chisato Nishikigi. Even in his isolated existence, he’d heard the whispers. The invincible, pacifist prodigy of the DA.
“Well,” K-1 quipped, his lights blinking cheerfully in the dark. “This just upgraded from a ‘pedestrian operation’ to a potential diplomatic incident. I’ll prep the heavier ordnance. And may I suggest you wear a clean shirt? First impressions are important, even when you’re a clandestine, bio-engineered asset meeting a national secret.”
---
The docks were quieter than the alley, the air thick with the smell of salt, rust, and oil. The rain had softened to a fine mist. Raze positioned himself high in the girders of a crane, giving him a panoramic view of the target warehouse. K-1 was cloaked, hovering beside him.
“I have thermal signatures inside. Eight hostiles. And… two more signatures approaching from the west. Agile. Very agile. That will be your Lycoris.”
Raze watched as two figures moved with impossible grace through the shadows. One was a blur of energetic motion, the other a study in efficient, silent purpose. Even from this distance, he could recognize them. The vibrant, twintailed hair of Chisato Nishikigi, and the cool, focused demeanor of Takina Inoue. He’d seen them in passing, from a distance, but never this close.
He watched, mesmerized, as Chisato moved through a hail of gunfire, not by armor, but by an almost precognitive ability to dodge. She was a dancer, and the bullets were her partners, always a step behind. Takina provided covering fire, precise and lethal, a perfect counterpoint to Chisato’s non-lethal takedowns. It was a brutal, beautiful ballet.
“Their coordination is 98.2 percent efficient,” K-1 noted, sounding almost impressed. “The blonde one is violating six known laws of physics. It’s fascinating.”
The fight was almost over when Raze saw it. A ninth man, hidden in a sniper’s nest they had missed, taking aim. Not at Chisato, who was a impossible target, but at Takina, whose back was turned as she secured a prisoner.
There was no time to think.
“K-1, now!”
“Crema-flash deployed. High-intensity, focused burst.”
The sniper’s nest lit up like a small sun for a blinding instant. The man screamed, dropping his rifle and clutching his face.
Down below, both Chisato and Takina snapped their heads towards the light, then upwards, towards the crane. Their weapons came up, trained on his position. The game was up.
Raze took a breath. “Stay here. Monitor. If I give the signal, extract.”
“Understood. Try not to get shot by the national treasures. The paperwork would be dreadful.”
Raze dropped down, landing softly between the two Lycoris teams and the warehouse, his hands open and raised to show he was unarmed. He kept his posture non-threatening.
Chisato’s eyes widened in curiosity, her head tilting. Takina’s gaze was like ice, her pistol unwavering, aimed directly at his center mass.
“Who are you?” Takina’s voice was sharp, demanding.
“A friend,” Raze said, his voice calm. “The DA sent me. Call me Black Cheetah.”
Chisato lowered her weapon a fraction, a brilliant, inquisitive smile spreading across her face. “Ooooh! A black cheetah! That’s so cool! And that light show? That was you? Super handy! Thanks!” She looked him up and down with an open, friendly curiosity that was utterly disarming. “I’m Chisato! This is my partner, Takina!”
Takina did not lower her weapon. “Chisato, we don’t know him. Commander Kusunoki didn’t brief us about any external support.”
“That’s because I’m not support,” Raze said, meeting Takina’s suspicious gaze. “I’m cleanup. The kind that doesn’t officially exist.” He decided a little misdirection was in order, to keep his real name hidden. “You can call me Ren for now.”
“Ren, huh?” Chisato stepped closer, peering at his face. “You have really amazing eyes! Like a cat’s! So, Mr. Black Cheetah Ren, do you work alone?”
Before he could answer, K-1’s voice was a urgent whisper in his ear. “Raze, we have a problem. Long-range sensors just picked up a signal I haven’t seen since South Africa. It’s a Syndicate scout drone. They’re here. They saw the flash. They saw you.”
Raze’s blood ran cold. His carefully constructed anonymity, shattered in an instant. He must have let the shock show on his face because Chisato’s smile faded into a look of genuine concern.
“Hey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Raze looked from Chisato’s concerned face to Takina’s still-suspicious one. The rain began to fall a little harder. His two worlds—the shadowy existence of the lab and the vibrant, dangerous world of the Lycoris—had just violently collided.
“A ghost,” Raze repeated, his voice low. “Yeah. Something like that.”
End of Chapter 1
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