Lia Huang: Short Entry Collection 1 (CyberPunk)
JOURNAL ENTRY 1: (LIAO HUANG)
Journal Entry Type: Main event log
Dear SwornSlayer Diary,
(Liao Huang: Activating wrist computer) I tap the sleek surface of my wrist computer, its holographic display flickering to life. The blueprints of the corporation’s research lab materialize before my eyes. Inner thought: This job’s success hinges on precision. No room for errors when you’re dealing with explosives.
(Liao Huang: Deploying camera drone) With a flick of my finger, I deploy my camera drone. The small device whirs to life, its high-framerate and infrared cameras scanning our surroundings. Inner thought: Extra eyes never hurt, especially when you’re about to crash someone else’s party.
(NeonByte: Hacking security systems) NeonByte, our team’s hacker, furrows her brow as her fingers dance across her neural interface. “Security’s tighter than a banker’s wallet,” she mutters. “But I’ve got us a ghost key. We’re in.” Inner thought: NeonByte’s skills never cease to amaze me. Without her, we’d be walking into a digital minefield.
(Liao Huang: Entering the facility) I lead the way into the facility, my footsteps silent on the polished floor. The air conditioning raises goosebumps on my skin beneath the gunmetal suit. Inner thought: Something feels off. It’s too quiet, too easy.
(Liao Huang: Discovering pre-placed charges) As we round a corner, my heart skips a beat. There, nestled against a support beam, is a demolition charge. But it’s not ours. Inner thought: Shit. Someone’s beaten us to the punch. This complicates things.
(Ripcord: Examining the charge) Ripcord, our explosives expert, crouches next to the device. His cybernetic eye whirs as he scans it. “High-grade stuff,” he whispers. “Whoever placed this knows their boom.” Inner thought: Great. Not only are we not alone, but we’re dealing with pros.
(Liao Huang: Assessing the situation) I pull up the building schematics on my wrist computer, overlaying the locations of the charges we’ve found. A pattern emerges. Inner thought: These aren’t random placements. They’re strategic. Whoever did this wants to bring the whole place down.
(GlitchKid: Spotting movement) GlitchKid, our lookout, taps her temple, activating her enhanced vision. “Movement in the east wing,” she hisses. “Four heat signatures. Armed.” Inner thought: The other team. This could get messy fast.
(Liao Huang: Making a decision) I weigh our options, the weight of leadership heavy on my shoulders. Complete the job? Abort? Confront the other team? Inner thought: Every choice carries risk, but indecision is a death sentence in this game.
(Liao Huang: Contacting the client) I activate my secure comm link, connecting to our client. “Shadowrunner,” I whisper, using their codename. “We’ve got a situation. Another team’s here, charges already placed.” Inner thought: This could void our contract, but keeping the client in the dark is worse.
(Shadowrunner: Changing the mission parameters) Shadowrunner’s voice crackles through the comm. “New objective: identify the other team. Huang, get me visual confirmation.” Inner thought: From demolition to recon in a heartbeat. This is why I love and hate this job.
(Liao Huang: Preparing for confrontation) I unsheathe my switchblade, its mono-molecular edge gleaming in the lab’s harsh light. “Change of plans, team,” I announce. “We’re going hunting.” Inner thought: Whatever happens next, it’s going to be one hell of a story for the SwornSlayer Diary.
Dear SwornSlayer Diary, Today’s mission took an unexpected turn. What should have been a straightforward demolition job became a high-stakes game of cat and mouse. Another team beat us to the punch, their charges already in place. Now, we’re shifting gears, moving from destroyers to detectives. The corporation’s lab has become a battlefield of shadows, with us caught in the middle. As we prepare to confront these unknown players, I can’t help but wonder: are we the hunters or the hunted? Only time will tell, and in this business, time is a luxury we rarely have. Until next entry, if there is one.
JOURNAL ENTRY 2: (LIAO HUANG)
Journal Entry Type: Main event log
Dear SwornSlayer Diary,
(Liao Huang: Surveying the anarchist hideout)
I crouch on the rooftop, my wrist computer projecting a holographic blueprint of the anarchist collective’s compound. The cool night air whips through my hair as I study potential entry points. Inner thought: This place is a fortress. One wrong move and we’re toast.
(Voltage: Disabling the perimeter sensors)
Voltage, our tech specialist, presses her palms against the security panel. Her bio-electric implants pulse, overriding the system. “We’ve got a five-minute window,” she whispers. Inner thought: Voltage’s mods never cease to amaze me. Without her, we’d be tripping alarms left and right.
(Liao Huang: Deploying the drone)
I launch my camera drone, its whisper-quiet rotors barely audible as it zips towards the compound. The infrared feed flickers to life on my wrist display. Inner thought: Let’s see what kind of hornet’s nest we’re walking into.
(CyberShade: Scaling the wall)
CyberShade, our infiltration expert, activates his grav-boots. He scales the wall with inhuman grace, his nano-fiber suit blending seamlessly with the shadows. Inner thought: Sometimes I forget he’s more machine than man. But in our line of work, that’s an advantage.
(Liao Huang: Entering the compound)
I follow CyberShade’s lead, my heart pounding as we slip through a maintenance hatch. The stuffy air inside reeks of ozone and sweat. Inner thought: We’re in. Now comes the hard part.
(Nova: Hacking the internal security)
Nova, our resident netrunner, jacks into a nearby terminal. Her eyes roll back, cyber-implants glowing as she navigates the digital landscape. “Security’s tight, but I’ve looped the cameras. We’re ghosts.” Inner thought: Nova’s in her element. As long as she’s plugged in, we’ve got a chance.
(Liao Huang: Navigating to the server room)
I lead the team through a maze of corridors, following the path we memorized. Every shadow seems to hide a potential threat. Inner thought: Something’s off. It’s too quiet. Where are all the anarchists?
(RazorWire: Encountering an empty room)
RazorWire, our combat specialist, kicks down the server room door. His augmented eyes scan the area. “It’s empty,” he growls. “No database. No nothing.” Inner thought: Shit. We’re too late. Or worse, we’ve been set up.
(Liao Huang: Realizing the trap)
The realization hits me like a bucket of ice water. I spin around, shouting to the team. “It’s a trap! We need to-” Inner thought: How could I have been so blind? We walked right into their hands!
(SirenSong: Alarms blaring)
SirenSong, our audio expert, winces as her enhanced hearing picks up the first whisper of alarms. Seconds later, the compound erupts in a cacophony of blaring sirens. Inner thought: There goes our stealth advantage. Time for Plan B.
(Liao Huang: Coordinating escape)
I pull up the building schematic on my wrist computer, plotting our escape route. “Nova, blind their systems! Voltage, overload their power grid! Everyone else, we’re punching out through the east wing!” Inner thought: Keep it together, Huang. Your crew is counting on you.
(PhantomFist: Engaging security drones)
PhantomFist, our hand-to-hand combat expert, leaps into action as security drones flood the hallway. His nano-fiber gloves crackle with electricity as he smashes through the machines. Inner thought: We’re outgunned, but not outmatched. Not yet.
(Liao Huang: Making a desperate escape)
I sprint alongside my team, the taste of failure bitter in my mouth. As we burst through an emergency exit, I activate my drone for cover fire. The night air hits us like a wall as we scatter into the darkness. Inner thought: We’re alive, but for how long? Whoever set us up is still out there, and now we’re in their crosshairs.
Dear SwornSlayer Diary,
Tonight was a stark reminder of how quickly the tables can turn in our world. What should have been a straightforward heist turned into a desperate fight for survival. The anarchist collective outplayed us, leaving us empty-handed and exposed. As we lick our wounds and regroup, one question burns in my mind: who really pulled the strings tonight? This failure tastes like ash, but it’s kindled a fire in me. Next time, we won’t be the ones running. The game has changed, and so have the stakes. Until the next entry, assuming we live long enough to write it.
JOURNAL ENTRY 3: (LIAO HUANG)
Journal Entry Type: Main event log
Dear SwornSlayer Diary,
(Liao Huang: Arriving at the facility)
I step out of my hover-car, the acrid smell of burnt circuitry assaulting my nostrils. The development facility looms before me, its sleek facade now marred by scorch marks. Inner thought: Something’s very wrong here. The air itself feels… different.
(Liao Huang: Activating facial recognition)
I blink twice, initializing my facial recognition skillchip. The world shimmers for a moment as the augmented reality overlay kicks in. Inner thought: Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.
(GhostWire: Approaching in hazmat suit)
A figure in a hazmat suit approaches, their features blurred and shifting in my augmented vision. My skillchip struggles to identify them, throwing up conflicting data. “Ms. Huang,” a distorted voice emerges from the suit, “we’ve been compromised.” Inner thought: Is that really GhostWire? Why can’t I read them?
(Liao Huang: Entering the facility)
I follow the hazmat-clad figure into the building, my unease growing with each step. The corridors are filled with more suited individuals, all indistinguishable to my malfunctioning chip. Inner thought: It’s like walking through a funhouse mirror maze. Who are all these people?
(QuantumShift: Explaining the situation)
Another suit approaches, voice muffled. “Enemy agents hit us hard last night. EMP burst. Nanobot swarms. Our systems are in chaos.” The figure’s identity keeps fluctuating in my vision. Inner thought: QuantumShift? Or is it NeuroBlink? This confusion is maddening.
(Liao Huang: Inspecting damaged equipment)
I run my hand over a scorched server bank, feeling the residue of destructive nanobots. My skillchip throws up a barrage of contradictory information about the damage. Inner thought: These weren’t just agents. This was a coordinated strike by pros.
(CypherMist: Reporting on data loss)
A suited figure I think might be CypherMist approaches with a holographic display. “We’ve lost 60% of our research data. The rest is corrupted.” The numbers on the display swim before my eyes, refusing to settle. Inner thought: 60%? Or was that 80%? Why can’t I trust my own augmented vision?
(Liao Huang: Attempting system reboot)
I retreat to a corner, desperately trying to reboot my facial recognition system. The world flickers, data streams crossing my vision, but the confusion persists. Inner thought: Come on, come on. Work, damn you!
(ShadowVeil: Discovering sabotage evidence)
Another hazmat suit beckons me over to a damaged console. “Look at this code fragment. It’s not just sabotage. They’ve planted something in our systems.” The lines of code writhe like snakes in my augmented vision. Inner thought: Is ShadowVeil showing me a virus, or is my chip making me see things?
(Liao Huang: Realizing the extent of compromise)
The gravity of the situation hits me like a freight train. Our facility, our research, our very perception of reality — all compromised. I struggle to focus on the hazmat-clad figures around me, their identities slipping like water through my fingers. Inner thought: We’re not just blind. We’re seeing what they want us to see.
(NeonPhantom: Suggesting a radical solution)
A voice I think belongs to NeonPhantom cuts through the haze of my confusion. “We need to go dark. Shut down all augmentations. It’s the only way to be sure.” Inner thought: Go dark? In this day and age? It’s like cutting off a limb.
(Liao Huang: Making a crucial decision)
I stand in the center of the chaos, surrounded by identical hazmat suits and conflicting data streams. The weight of leadership bears down on me as I consider our options. Inner thought: Trust my compromised senses, or fly blind in a world that preys on the unaugmented? There’s no right answer, only survival.
Dear SwornSlayer Diary,
Today, reality itself became our enemy. Our sanctuary of innovation lies in ruins, its secrets stolen or corrupted. More terrifying still is the realization that we can no longer trust our own augmented senses. The enemy hasn’t just attacked our facility; they’ve struck at the very core of how we perceive the world. As I stand amidst the sea of indistinguishable hazmat suits, I’m forced to confront a chilling question: in a world where even our enhanced senses can be turned against us, what can we truly trust? The path forward is shrouded in mystery, but one thing is clear — nothing will ever be the same again.
