## Chapter 6:
The interrogation room in the precinct's Cybercrime Division was a sterile box of reinforced synth-glass and humming surveillance systems, a stark contrast to the grimy alley where I'd left the Coil enforcer twitching. Detective Ishikawa, his usual sardonic demeanor replaced by a grim weariness, watched me through the one-way mirror. Sato was nowhere to be seen, likely scrubbing his own involvement in this escalating mess.
The enforcer, once so arrogant, was now a broken husk, his cybernetic arm sparking intermittently from the stun baton's aftereffects. He'd cracked eventually, his fanaticism crumbling under the threat of prolonged neural scrambling. He'd confirmed Sato's horrifying revelations: the replicas, the transfer protocol, the Orochi's messianic delusion of digital transcendence. He'd even given me a location – a hidden research facility beneath a seemingly abandoned bio-tech company in the industrial outskirts.
But the information had come at a cost. A cost I was still trying to rationalize, to compartmentalize. The enforcer hadn't just resisted; he'd become a rabid animal, spitting threats and struggling violently. Restraining him had been… messy. In the chaos, a stray surge from the stun baton, amplified by his cybernetics… it had stopped his struggling. Permanently.
Now, the sterile silence of the interrogation room amplified the frantic beating of my own heart. Ishikawa's face in the reflection was unreadable, a mask of professional detachment. He didn't know the details, the split-second decision, the sickening finality of it.
"He was Coil," I muttered to the empty room, the justification sounding hollow even to my own ears. "He was hurting people. Violating them."
A cold voice echoed in my mind, a nascent, unwelcome guest. *He was weak. You were stronger.*
The ghost of the woman in the alley, Rina, her vacant eyes staring at a reality stolen from her, flickered in my memory. The fleeing man, his terror palpable. They were victims. And the enforcer… he was a tool of their torment. But did that justify… this?
The precinct's lead investigator, a woman with sharp, cybernetic eyes that seemed to dissect your very soul – a veritable Enforcer in her own right, akin to the analysts in the Public Safety Bureau – finally entered the observation room. Her name was Inspector Kijima, and her gaze felt like a system scan, cold and analytical.
"Ishikawa," her voice was crisp and devoid of emotion, like a synthesized report. "Your methods are… unorthodox. The suspect died in custody during interrogation."
"He resisted violently," Ishikawa said, his tone carefully neutral. "There was an… equipment malfunction."
Kijima's gaze didn't waver. "A malfunction that resulted in a fatal neuro-electrical surge. Forensics will determine the specifics. In the meantime, your involvement in this case is… suspended."
"Suspended?" I scoffed, my reflection in the synth-glass mirroring my disbelief. "He gave us the location of their main research facility! We're on the verge of cracking this whole goddamn thing open!"
"Your judgment is compromised, Ishikawa," Kijima stated flatly. "Your history… your… dependencies… they raise concerns about your objectivity."
The word hit me like a physical blow. Dependencies. They saw me as a liability, a broken machine prone to malfunction. But they didn't understand. The Ghostwire and the Sense-Surge had once been my escape, my way of numbing the edges of a world that felt too sharp, too real. Now… now there was something else. A different kind of intoxication. The cessation of a threat. The absolute, irreversible silencing of a voice that represented the very corruption I was fighting.
*It felt… clean.* The thought slithered into my consciousness, unbidden and unwelcome.
"You need me," I argued, my voice tight with frustration. "I understand how these bastards think. I can navigate their digital traps."
"We have our own specialists," Kijima said, her gaze unwavering. "Stay away from the investigation, Ishikawa. Any further interference will result in… consequences." She turned and left, her footsteps echoing in the sterile corridor.
Ishikawa sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "She's got a point, Zero. You're a goddamn loose cannon. But…" He turned to face the one-way mirror, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection. "I know you won't listen. So, just… be careful. Don't let this… whatever this is turning into… consume you."
He left, and I was alone again in the sterile box, the silence amplifying the turmoil within me. Kijima's words, Ishikawa's warning… they faded into the background, replaced by the chilling echo of the enforcer's last gasp.
I had crossed a line. A line I told myself I would never cross. I wasn't a cop, bound by rules and regulations. I was a ghost in the system, operating in the shadows. But this… this felt different. There was no righteous anger, no surge of protective fury for the victims. There was just… a strange sense of finality. Of control.
*He couldn't hurt anyone else.* The justification was swift, automatic. But beneath it, a darker current stirred. A perverse admiration for the absolute power over another life. It was a terrifying thought, a seed of something rotten taking root in the already fertile ground of my cynicism.
I had to get to that research facility. Kijima and her by-the-book approach would take weeks, analyzing data, securing warrants. The Coil wouldn't wait. Every stolen mind, every transferred consciousness, was a ticking time bomb.
I wouldn't wait either.
I slipped out of the precinct unnoticed, melting back into the neon-drenched labyrinth of the city. The rain had started again, washing the grime from the streets, but doing nothing to cleanse the darkness that was beginning to take hold within me.
The abandoned bio-tech company loomed in the industrial outskirts, a skeletal monument to forgotten ambitions. The silence surrounding it was heavy, pregnant with secrets. I moved through the deserted grounds, my senses on high alert, the ghost of the enforcer's death a chilling reminder of the stakes.
I found a service entrance, a rusted door hanging precariously on its hinges. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of dust and decay, but beneath it, a faint hum of machinery vibrated through the floor. They were here. The architects of this digital nightmare were still at work.
I moved silently through the darkened corridors, the beam of my makeshift flashlight cutting through the gloom. The silence was broken only by the occasional drip of water and the distant hum, growing louder with each step.
Then I found it. A reinforced steel door, sealed with a complex biometric scanner. This had to be it. The entrance to the cognition chamber.
I ran my fingers over the scanner, a cold, calculating look in my eyes. Brute force wouldn't work. I needed a way in, a digital key to unlock this physical barrier.
My thoughts drifted back to the enforcer, to the data chip I'd taken from his lifeless hand. It contained schematics, security protocols for the facility. And something else. A series of encrypted access codes.
A grim smile touched my lips. The enforcer's death, however… regrettable… had provided an unexpected advantage. The irony wasn't lost on me.
I pulled out my neural jack, the familiar hum a comforting presence in the oppressive silence. It was time to dive back into the digital world, to become "Zero" once more. But this time, there was a subtle shift. The thrill of the hack wasn't just about the challenge, about bypassing security. It was about control. About the power to open doors that were meant to remain sealed.
As my consciousness bled into the network, a new, unsettling thought solidified within me. Maybe Kijima was wrong. Maybe my dependencies weren't a weakness. Maybe they were just… a different kind of fuel. And maybe, just maybe, the feeling of severing a digital thread wasn't so different from severing a physical one. A terrifying realization in the cold, digital dawn.