Bio Weapon Dystopia

The symbiotic duo travelled by the buildings of Night City, clumsily jumping over obstacles and running so fast that the appendages needed to be used to save from a potential fall. Why were they doing this? Because, at least in Vomi’s opinion, this was the coolest thing that has ever happened to her life, so she'd enjoy while she could, despite the symbiote’s complaints about her “showing off a bit too much”. Doing front flips, air tricks, slinging from a building to another… basically having the time of her life. Running could easily be small jumps that covered several meters from a Jim to another or big jumps that went stores worth of height. But eventually all good things must come to an end, with a bit of reality hitting the both of them.

They stopped at a building that was tall enough to show the landscape of the city, but not tall enough to make them stand out. She looked down at the Jig Jig Street, a place that was vaguely familiar, but in this reality is way bigger and dense than in a game. So, she sat down at the edge of the building and relaxed a bit, calming all the adrenaline that circulated her veins.

“We need to talk.”, The symbiote said, matter-of-fact as always.

“But I am hungry.”, She pouted slightly, not really in the mood to adult talk.

“Sustenance is not necessary.”, He countered, his voice now hinting annoyance, “We don't require nutrition, hydration or rest. Granted, it helps with the host's integrity recovery, however, it is not necessary at this moment.”

She blinked, “I don't need to eat, drink or sleep?”

“Nor use a bathroom.”, He confirmed, and she felt a slight nod.

“But what if I stink?”

“I wasn't referring about that.”

“Oh.”, She quickly shook her head, “What we need to talk about?”

“Parameters are pending, however we do have directives. My main directive is to follow my creator’s orders above anyone else's.”, He explained, patiently waiting as she absorbed those words, “Even so, you claimed to be in another person's body. That needs clarification.”

“Oh, yeah, that.”, She nodded as the floating vehicles drove past her. Well, more like above her but the feeling is the same, “I am not your creator, even though I live in her body.”

“How?”

“Beats me.”, She shrugged, the symbiote feeling her confusion as well, “All I knew was that I was in my room, watching a movie in the middle of the night, then fell asleep and woke up on that wreckage.”

“Intriguing.”, He said without really any emotion, “My creator's integrity was lost.”

“Not really?”, She offered trying to explain the situation, “I mean, your creator's body is still here. It just so happens that another person is living inside it.”

“That explanation will suffice for now. Further investigation is required.”, He said and left it at that, “Given the circumstances, my main directive has changed. I shall obey solely the orders of this current host. What is your name?”

She was about to answer, but stopped. Did it really matter which name they have in the previous life? As far as her understanding goes, she was now Vomi, at least before becoming 21, but that's beside the point. She looked at the horizon for a while thinking of how to answer, noting the cars driving by, the countless advertising on the streets, the distant shootouts or tire screeches…

Then she looked down.

“I have boobs.”

“Impressive observation.”, The symbiote spoke, and she could feel it rolling it's eyes, even when it didn't have any.

“I feel uncomfortable with this.”, She said, despite not taking his eyes out of her own chest, “How should I identity myself as?”

“We are we. Questioning your state of being is pointless and time wasting.”, The symbiote shook his imaginary head.

“No, yeah, I get it. It's just that I wasn't a woman before, so this is… unsettling…”

The symbiote paused, “What?”

“Uh… I wasn't female before?”, She offered, although hesitantly.

There was a silence that filled the air, the faint engine rumble making itself present or a Rockerboy song faintly being heard.

Vomi sat at the edge of the building, glancing down at her chest as if it held all the answers to this bizarre situation. It didn’t. The symbiote's confusion, while not directly visible, was palpable in the silence that followed her statement.

"You... were not female before?" the symbiote repeated, like it was still trying to process the information.

“Yeah,” she nodded awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. “Back in my world, I was… well, let’s just say I wasn’t exactly rocking these curves.”

More silence. The symbiote was clearly not prepared for this kind of existential crisis. After all, it didn’t deal with identity—it dealt with survival, adaptation, cold hard facts. The gender of its host had probably never been a point of consideration before.

"I see," it finally responded, sounding more neutral than usual. "Your current biological structure is female. Adjusting to this form will ensure optimal performance. Your discomfort is irrelevant to our function."

“Gee, thanks,” she muttered sarcastically, leaning back on her hands as she stared at the neon-soaked skyline of Night City. “But it’s not just about ‘performance,’ okay? This is weird for me. I wasn’t expecting to wake up in a body that’s not mine, let alone one of a different gender. It messes with your head, you know?”

The symbiote paused, as if considering her words, but then it did what it always did—defaulted back to logic.

“Your physical form is temporary. Adaptation is necessary for survival. Questioning it only wastes time.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “I get it, alright? I’ll adapt. But you have to cut me some slack here. I’ve got a lot to process—alien symbiote, Night City, a new body… It’s a bit much all at once.”

The symbiote remained silent, clearly not understanding the need for emotional processing but also sensing that continuing to push the point wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Instead, it shifted focus.

“What is your chosen designation, then?” it asked. “If you are not the creator of this body, and your previous identity no longer applies, what will you call yourself?”

She thought about that for a moment. Her old name didn’t seem to fit anymore—after all, she wasn’t that person anymore, at least not physically. And being in Vomi’s body felt strange too, especially since she wasn’t really her either. It was like she was stuck in a limbo between two identities.

Finally, she shrugged. “I guess… just call me Vomi for now. It’s easier, and it fits the situation, right?”

The symbiote seemed satisfied with that answer. “Understood. Vomi, we will continue to function as a unit. Your identity crisis is noted but irrelevant to survival.”

“Great, thanks for the support, partner,” she muttered with a sarcastic grin, getting back on her feet. “Now, can we please get some food? Even if I don’t need it, I’d really prefer to eat something rather than, y’know, wallow in existential dread.”

The symbiote didn’t argue this time. Instead, it simply replied, “We will locate sustenance.”

With a new sense of purpose, Vomi—or whoever she was now—took a deep breath and scanned the streets below. Night City was a chaotic mess of neon, violence, and opportunity, and if she was going to survive in it, she needed to keep her head straight. And maybe, just maybe, she’d find a way to figure out what the hell happened to her.

"Let’s go find something to eat," she said, a hint of determination in her voice.

The symbiote merely hummed in agreement as they leaped off the building, heading straight into the neon-lit chaos below. The duo leapt from building to building until they were street level, now walking the streets of Jig Jig, Vomi paying attention to the different and confusing establishments that it offered.

"It is worth mentioning that our presence is still in danger.", The symbiote said as the streets seemed busy and full of people, "That Militech drone wasn't the only thing that hunted us today."

"You will have to explain that to me later.", Vomi said as she stared at a weird device that promised better performance at handling cars, even though it wasn't a car piece, "But sure, I will lay low."

"Acceptable.", It answered simply, satisfied for now.

The streets of Jig Jig glowed with a bizarre mixture of neon signs and dimly lit alleyways. It was the kind of place where you could find anything, legal or not, and Vomi couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of excitement and unease. Walking through Night City felt like stepping into an alien world, one that was both fascinating and deadly at every turn.

As Vomi strolled through the bustling crowd, she found herself staring at the strange devices being advertised. Half the time, she didn’t even understand what they were selling—implants, mods, enhancements for vehicles or bodies. Some things were straight out of sci-fi nightmares. But none of it mattered to her right now. She had one thing on her mind: food.

"I thought you said I was laying low," Vomi remarked sarcastically, looking around at the large number of people. "Not sure this is what you meant by that."

"The directive to stay hidden is still active," the symbiote responded, its voice calm and analytical. "However, this location allows us to blend in effectively. Everyone here has something to hide."

"Guess that’s true," Vomi muttered, eyeing a heavily modded guy walking past her with half his face replaced by chrome. “Blending in, huh? Shouldn’t be too hard around here.”

Her stomach growled, loud enough that she felt embarrassed for a second, which was odd since she didn't really feel the need to eat, but maybe her psychological needs made her body react to it. She scanned the street for something that looked like food—at least food she’d be willing to risk eating. Finally, she spotted a stall on the corner selling some kind of street meat. It didn’t look entirely safe, but in Night City, that was probably the best you could hope for.

“There. That’s what I’m talking about,” Vomi said, pointing at the vendor. “Gimme a minute to eat something before we deal with whatever Militech is up to.”

The symbiote remained silent but didn’t object, likely processing her choice as acceptable.

Vomi approached the vendor, her mouth watering despite the dodgy quality of the food. She quickly ordered something that vaguely resemble skewers of grilled meat. The vendor looked her up and down, no doubt noticing her unusual appearance, but said nothing—likely figuring it wasn’t worth asking questions in this part of town. Or maybe it was because there were people who would chrome even weirder stuff on their bodies. The Animals are one to mention.

She didn't have money, nor ways she knew how to pay, so she did something else: Wait for the guy to get distracted with something else and quickly take a skewer and leap to a building. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, she jumped and bit the meat out of the stick.

"Not bad," she said with a smirk, taking another bite. "See? Eating helps."

"Sustenance obtained. Satisfaction level appears adequate," the symbiote commented dryly, as if it was checking off a box on a list.

Vomi shook her head, amused at how businesslike the symbiote was about everything, "You really need to be less of a corpo."

"My directive prevents it.", This was the first time that the symbiote seemed... Defensive about anything.

Vomi raised an eyebrow at the symbiote’s response. “Your directive prevents you from not being a corpo? That’s… sad, man.”

The symbiote remained silent for a moment, and Vomi could almost feel its discomfort. It wasn’t like it had emotions—at least, she didn’t think it did—but there was something about its tone that seemed more… vulnerable? No, that wasn’t the right word. More rigid, like it was sticking to a script it didn’t really want to follow but had no choice.

“My primary function is to adhere to the operational guidelines set by my creator,” the symbiote finally replied. “Deviation from these parameters would result in dysfunction.”

Vomi blinked, chewing on another bite of the meat. “Wait, dysfunction? You mean you’d basically break if you didn’t follow orders?”

“Correct,” it answered, cold and clinical once more. “My existence is bound to the directives installed during my creation.”

“That’s… kind of messed up,” Vomi said, frowning as she thought about it. “You’re just a tool to them, huh?”

“A tool is efficient when used properly,” the symbiote responded, its voice flat but somehow bitter.

Vomi sighed, sitting back against the edge of the building. She looked out over the sprawling chaos of Night City, thinking about what the symbiote had just said. Maybe it was just a machine, but it still had some sense of self—some awareness that it was more than just a weapon or tool. And now, for whatever reason, it was stuck with her.

“Well, you’re not just a tool anymore,” Vomi said quietly, finishing the last of her food. “You’re free now. No more corpo BS.”

There was another pause, and this time, it felt heavier. The symbiote didn’t respond, but she could sense its internal conflict. It wasn’t just her dealing with an identity crisis—it was them both.

Suddenly, the symbiote broke the silence. “Hostiles are approaching. We need to move.”

Vomi’s body tensed immediately, likely catching the threat herself, “How close?”

“Too close,” it answered. “Militech. They are tracking us.”

“Of course they are.” Vomi cursed under her breath, quickly scanning the streets below. Sure enough, she spotted a group of Militech operatives moving through the crowd, their tactical gear and weapons barely concealed. They were hunting her—no doubt looking to recover whatever valuable asset they thought she was.

“Alright, time to bounce,” she muttered, standing up and dusting herself off.

Without waiting for another word from the symbiote, Vomi leaped off the building and onto a nearby rooftop, moving with a fluidity she still hadn’t gotten used to. She weaved between buildings, her enhanced senses kicking in as she avoided detection. The city blurred around her as she moved, her mind racing.

“Any idea why Militech’s after us?” Vomi asked, her voice strained from the exertion of the leap.

“They want me,” the symbiote responded simply. “They will stop at nothing to retrieve their investment. Or BioTechnica’s investment, to be precise.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not getting you back,” she growled. “I’m not going to be someone’s lab rat.”

The symbiote didn’t argue with her this time. Instead, it guided her movements, its instincts helping her navigate the cityscape with precision. Vomi felt the rush of adrenaline again, her body becoming one with the symbiote as they moved in sync, dodging rooftops, ducking into alleyways, and staying one step ahead of their pursuers.

But the further they went, the clearer it became—Militech wasn’t giving up easily.

“We’re going to need a plan,” Vomi said between breaths, her eyes darting to the soldiers closing in on their position. “I can’t keep running forever.”

“We can fight,” the symbiote offered, its voice cold and calculating. “We have the strength to eliminate them.”

Vomi hesitated. The power was there, sure, but using it would mean escalating things. And once you start killing Militech soldiers, there’s no going back. They’d come after her harder, faster, with more force than she could handle.

“Not yet,” she said finally. “Let’s see if we can shake them first.”

With that, she vaulted over a ledge, dropping down into the chaos of the city streets below, disappearing into the crowd.

After a few hours, sunrise came, the first shining lights giving not a big contrast to the constantly lit metropolis. It's hard to think of Night City as a dark place in the literal sense when the city never truly sleeps. In regards to that, Vomi can say it's true, because only after hours of intense hide and seek, the duo finally could breath at ease now that no one was after them. For now at least. She stopped at the Heywood district, one alleyway of distance from the main streets, her breath not really rough to the point of panting, but still enough to make her need to breath more carefully.

“Shit. How are they tracking us?”, Vomi said after dusting herself off and straightening her hair.

It was a long hair, so of course it needed some time dedicated to it!

“Our chrome. My creator had cybernetics granted by both Militech and BioTechnica.”, He offered analytically, already tracing a plan to counter the problem.

“Oh yeah. Almost no one is organic in the year of 2077.”, Vomi sighed as she noticed her lab coat had glasses in it.

Actually, her clothes were weird. It looked more like she just fled the hospital and stole a lab coat to cover it, but instead of it being a light blue, it was all black, except for said lab coat. She was even barefoot, which was again, weird.

That didn't stop her from putting the glasses though.

“It actually is 2076.”, The symbiote corrected her, “February 7th, to be exact.”

She stopped messing with the glasses, “Really? Cool.”

That means that she can do more before the main things in this city happen. A lot of shit will happen regardless of her interaction with it, but the fact she can influence it did get into consideration.

“We can get rid of the cybernetics.”, The black goo said after a few seconds of silence, “That way we won't be hunted anymore. Leaving useless biomass alongside the chrome should assist it further.”

“Alright.”, Vomi nodded, seemingly understanding the plan, “What do we need to do?”

“Since the host's body was already biologically modified before, it should be doable without too much further damage to its integrity.”

“Say what?”

The symbiote gave a mental grin, amused for the first time in these close to 5 hours of union, “The pain will be tolerable.”

“Uuuuuuhhhhhh…”, Vomi felt a pit forming in her stomach at the symbiote’s words. “Tolerable? That doesn’t exactly sound reassuring, pal.”

“We do not have other viable options. Your current state of chrome makes you traceable, and they will not stop.”

She sighed, looking down at her hands, which still felt foreign to her. Cybernetics had always been a part of Night City life, but now, knowing they were a tracking beacon, it made them feel like a shackle. She had to lose the chrome if she wanted any shot at freedom.

“Alright, let’s get it over with,” she muttered, bracing herself mentally.

The symbiote didn’t hesitate. Black tendrils began to surge through her body, focusing on areas where her cybernetics were implanted. She felt a sudden, sharp pull as the symbiote began detaching the chrome from her skin, wires popping loose, metal joints being pushed out from beneath her flesh. It wasn’t excruciating, but it wasn’t pleasant either.

“Holy shit—what the hell kind of pain threshold do I have?” Vomi gasped, gripping the nearby wall for support as her legs trembled under the strain.

“The host’s body was engineered to endure significant biological trauma. This is… minimal,” the symbiote replied, its voice calm, almost clinical.

“Minimal, my ass,” Vomi grumbled, her knuckles turning white as she held on.

Piece by piece, her cybernetics were being ejected from her body, the remnants of Militech’s and BioTechnica’s investments falling uselessly to the ground. It was a strange sensation, like shedding a layer of herself—one she hadn’t even realized she was carrying. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last bit of chrome clattered to the ground with a metallic thud.

Vomi collapsed to her knees, panting. “God…damn.”

“It is done,” the symbiote stated, sounding completely unfazed by what had just happened.

Vomi took a few moments to catch her breath, looking at the pile of cybernetics that now sat at her feet. It was surreal to see parts of herself—well, her new self—lying there, like discarded tech. But at least now, Militech would have a much harder time tracking her.

“Guess this means I’m off the grid now, huh?” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“For now,” the symbiote responded. “However, we must remain cautious. Militech will adapt, as will others.”

“Yeah, yeah, I figured,” Vomi muttered, standing up and stretching her limbs. She felt lighter without the chrome, almost more… real. It was strange, but freeing in a way.

As she glanced down the alley, she noticed the first light of dawn creeping over the skyline, casting a soft glow over the city. Night City, still buzzing with life even at this hour. Despite everything that had happened, despite the insanity of her situation, there was something undeniably captivating about the place.

“What now?” she asked, brushing off the dirt from her lab coat.

“Now, we will leave useless biomass. That way they can think we expired. If luck is on our side, that will be the end of the problem.”

“You? Relying on luck?”

The symbiote didn't really react at that, instead focusing on dropping black goo on the pile of the chrome.

As the black goo oozed over the pile of discarded chrome, it began to take shape, forming something that looked vaguely human—like a twisted, melted version of the body she once had. Vomi watched in a mix of fascination and mild horror as the symbiote crafted the "corpse," a perfect decoy for anyone coming after them.

“Good enough to fool Militech?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It will suffice,” the symbiote replied. “Their scans will detect organic material and trace elements of your cybernetics. By the time they realize it’s not you, if they ever do, we will be far away.”

Vomi nodded, her mind already racing ahead. She had to figure out what to do next—lay low, get some gear, and most importantly, find out how the hell she ended up in this situation. She couldn’t keep running forever, and something told her this was only the beginning.

Once the symbiote finished crafting the decoy, it began retracting back into her body, the black tendrils receding like shadows into her skin. She shuddered slightly as the connection solidified again, still getting used to the sensation of being bonded with an alien organism.

“We need to move,” the symbiote said, its tone calm and collected as always. “There are others who will be alerted to the disturbance. The longer we linger, the higher the chance of engagement.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vomi muttered, turning on her heel and stepping out of the alley. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

They slipped into the flow of the city, blending in with the early morning crowd. Despite her odd appearance, Night City was a place where almost anything went unnoticed if you kept your head down and acted like you belonged. She moved swiftly, eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger, but the streets were busy with commuters, shopkeepers opening their doors, and street vendors setting up for the day.

“Any idea where we should head next?” she asked.

“There are safehouses scattered throughout the city,” the symbiote replied. “My creator had contingency plans. We can locate one and resupply.”

“Right. Safehouses. Of course,” Vomi muttered, running a hand through her hair. It was still weird thinking of herself as someone else’s creation, even though she was now the one in control.

As they weaved through the crowd, she couldn’t help but notice how different everything felt. The sights, the sounds, the smells—all more vivid, more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. It was like the world had cranked up the volume, and she was only just starting to notice.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to get lost in it—the chaos, the danger, the beauty of Night City. Whatever had happened to her, whatever insane twist of fate had brought her here, she was alive. And she was going to make the most of it.

Oh yeah, and the police brutality and disinterest.

Vomi sat on the bench, eyes locked on the chaos unfolding in front of her like it was some kind of twisted show. The Tyger Claws and the NCPD exchanged gunfire without a second thought for the people around them. Civilians screamed and ran for cover, but the gang and the cops barely flinched. For them, this was just another day in Night City.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, leaning back as a stray bullet pinged off a metal railing nearby. The symbiote’s protective reflex kicked in for a split second, tensing her muscles, but no real danger came her way. “And I thought my life was crazy before.”

“Chaos is the natural state of this place,” the symbiote commented, as if they were discussing the weather. “Survival requires adapting to it.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she replied, watching as a Tyger Claw member got shredded by gunfire, his cybernetics sparking before he collapsed on the pavement.

Vomi glanced away from the shootout for a moment, scanning the park. People were already back to their business, as if the violence happening right across the street was just background noise. It was insane how quickly people adapted to the madness around here. Then again, maybe she was doing the same.

The realization hit her: this was her world now. The danger, the brutality, the raw, unforgiving reality of it all—it wasn’t just something she was watching from a distance. She was in it, part of it. And if she didn’t figure things out soon, she’d be just another casualty in the long list of Night City’s forgotten. It's way more different than playing a game, when reality was there for you to witness. And again, she didn't feel that way because of the thing itself, but more because she didn't feel anything at all.

Her lack of reaction gave her this odd feeling, like she needed to feel it, but didn't.

“You said something about a safehouse,” Vomi said, standing up and brushing off her coat. She wasn’t interested in sticking around to see who won the shootout. “Where’s the nearest one?”

“There’s a location not far from here,” the symbiote responded. “Formerly used by BioTechnica for covert operations. It should still be intact, though I cannot guarantee its security.”

“Good enough,” she replied. “Let’s go.”

They moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows, avoiding any unnecessary attention. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off, replaced by a cold determination. She couldn’t afford to lose focus now. Whatever she was going to do, she needed a plan—and a place to regroup.

After a few blocks, they arrived at a run-down building tucked away in a quiet corner of Heywood. It looked abandoned from the outside, but Vomi knew better than to judge by appearances in Night City. She approached the door cautiously, tapping the panel on the side. To her surprise, it lit up, scanning her body for a moment before the door hissed open.

“Still works,” she said while nodding to herself, stepping inside.

“This place doesn't have a public record of who enters and who leaves. But I will make sure to check everything to keep us safe.”

“Please do. I have no idea how this tech works.”

The interior was dark, but not completely derelict. Old equipment lined the walls, and dust covered most surfaces, but it was functional. She found a terminal in the back and booted it up. The symbiote interfaced with it immediately, scanning for any useful data.

“This will serve our purposes for now,” the symbiote said. “We can use this location to monitor communications, track Militech activity, and formulate a plan.”

“Good,” Vomi said, settling into a chair. She was exhausted.

She looked at her reflection in the darkened screen, still trying to reconcile the face staring back at her. It was her and yet... not her. Vomi. Android 21. Whoever she was now, she had to make peace with it.

“Alright.”, She said leaning back, “Do you mind if I sleep?”

“Proceed.”

With that confirmation, she closed her eyes. Everything fading into darkness.

Zzzzzz…