Operator

The Yakuza's boardroom is a shark tank, and Eli is bleeding in the water.

Ten years ago, he was a desperate shadow runner, stripping in the neon-drenched streets of Tokyo to escape a tail. Now, he wears a tailored suit that costs more than most people make in a year, but the predatory gazes fixed on him make him feel just as exposed.

Benjiro sits at the head of the table, a spider at the center of a vast web. In the decade Eli has known him, the man hasn't seemed to age a day, as if the life force he drains from others sustains him. His eyes are hollow points, drilling into Eli from across the polished table.

"Horizon City is our future," Benjiro says, his voice a rusted razor. "New Vegas thinks they have the edge. You're going to prove them wrong."

Eli's silence is agreement. Disagreement is a luxury he lost years ago, somewhere between his first kill for the family and his first betrayal of everything he once believed in.

Tanaka, a bull of a man with scars like roadmaps on his knuckles, leans forward. His eyes narrow at Eli, suspicion etched in every line of his face. "With all due respect, Benjiro-san, is Eli really the right choice for this? He's not even Japanese. Horizon City is too important to risk on an outsider."

The room's atmosphere crystallizes, sharp enough to draw blood. Eli feels the weight of years of mistrust and resentment in Tanaka's words.

Benjiro's smile is a knife in the dark. "Eli's outsider status is precisely why he's perfect. The Americans won't see him coming. They'll underestimate him, just as you do, Tanaka."

Eli meets Tanaka's glare, years of navigating Yakuza politics evident in his steady gaze. "I've been here long enough to know how things work, Tanaka-san. But not long enough to forget how the other side thinks. That's our edge."

Shimada, her face a porcelain mask of indifference, speaks up. Her voice is silk over steel. "And what exactly is your plan, Eli-san? Horizon City isn't just another shakedown or territory grab. This is about reshaping the future."

Eli leans forward, laying out his strategy. "Senator Yamada is the key. We offer him a miracle cure for his daughter's illness. In exchange, he pushes our proposals through the Senate. He gets to be the hero who brought a new frontier of opportunity to Japan. We get Horizon City built to our specifications."

Benjiro's eyes gleam with a hunger that makes Eli's skin crawl. "This is why you're perfect for this, Eli. You understand the carrot and the stick. You know how to make a man choose the path we want while believing it was his idea all along."

As the meeting concludes, Eli rises, his reflection in the table's surface a stranger he barely recognizes. The man staring back at him is a creature of the Yakuza now, shaped by years of impossible choices and moral compromises.

The door closes behind him with the finality of a coffin lid. Eli takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. But before he can take another step, his secure line buzzes, jolting him. The voice on the other end is tense, unfamiliar.

"Benjiro-san is dead. Penthouse. Come now." The line goes dead before Eli can respond. He stares at the phone, mind refusing to process the information. Benjiro, dead? Impossible. He just saw him, larger than life in the boardroom. As Eli races towards the penthouse, his mind whirls. If Benjiro is truly dead, what does that mean for Horizon City? For his own precarious position in the Yakuza? And who would dare strike at the very heart of their organization?

Tokyo's neon-drenched streets blur as Eli weaves through late-night traffic, his sleek black car a shark cutting through schools of lesser vehicles. The Yakuza headquarters looms ahead, a hive of frantic activity even at this hour.

Inside, chaos reigns. Junior members scurry about, eyes wide with panic. The usual air of controlled menace has given way to raw fear. Eli grabs one by the collar, a young kid whose suit still has the fresh shine of a recent promotion. "Where is he?"

The young man points upstairs, voice shaking. "P-penthouse. But sir, the body... it's gone."

Eli's blood runs cold. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Someone took it. Right under our noses."

Eli releases the kid, his mind racing. A murdered Yakuza boss is bad enough. A missing body? That is uncharted territory.

The elevator ride to the penthouse feels endless. Eli uses the time to center himself, pushing down the maelstrom of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Fear, confusion, anger – he can't afford any of them right now. He needs to be sharp.

The penthouse is a crime scene without a corpse. Blood spatters the luxurious carpet, a stark testament to violence. But no Benjiro. Eli's eyes scan the room, years of street smarts kicking in. There – a scuff on the windowsill. And there – fibers caught on the door frame.

"Tanaka-san," Eli barks into his phone. "I need access to the city's surveillance network. Now."

"Eli?" Tanaka's voice is strained. "What's going on up there?"

"Benjiro's gone. Body and all. Someone's playing a game we don't understand yet."

A pause on the other end. Then, "Shit. We're fucked."

The elevator descends, carrying Eli back into a world that has irrevocably changed. Horizon City looms in his mind, a shimmering mirage of power and possibility.

Back in his safehouse, Eli slumps into a worn leather chair, the weight of the night's events settling on him like a lead blanket.

His eyes drift to the wall of screens before him, each displaying a piece of the Horizon City puzzle. Blueprints, financial projections, political maneuverings – it is supposed to be their crowning achievement. Now, it feels like a ticking time bomb.

He thinks of Senator Yamada, waiting in that Swiss clinic, unaware that the deal he's struck is with a ghost. Of Tanaka, his suspicion now likely turned to open hostility. Of New Vegas, circling like vultures, sensing weakness.

The burner phone buzzes, jolting Eli from his brooding. The message is brief: "Midnight. Roppongi Hills Tower. 53rd floor. Come alone." Eli stares at the screen, a humorless smile tugging at his lips.

The elevator ride to the 53rd floor is a descent into the unknown. As the doors slide open, Eli steels himself for whatever revelations await.

Yamamoto's cybernetic eye whirs as Eli rounds the corner, focusing on him. "Benjiro's death was a magic trick. Smoke and mirrors," he says without hesitation.

Eli's hand tightens on the arm of his chair. "Why?"

"Evolution, Eli. Horizon City isn't just steel and circuits. It's the next step."

The massive screen behind Yamamoto flickers to life. Schematics of Horizon City appear, but at its core pulses something organic, almost alive.

"What am I looking at?" Eli leans forward, eyes narrowed.

Yamamoto's smile is all teeth and secrets. "The future. A city with a living, thinking heart."

Realization hits Eli like a shock baton. "Benjiro. You connected his consciousness into the city."

"Smart boy. But that's only half the equation. You see, the Yakuza were hesitating after our first trial run in Neo-Tokyo..."

Eli's mind reels. "You've done this before. Here in Tokyo. That's why the city feels... alive."

Yamamoto nods. "Imagine it, Eli. A city that thinks, that adapts, that protects our interests."

"But who protects us from it?" Eli asks, the implications dawning on him.

Yamamoto's grin widens. "That's where you come in. We need an Operator. Someone to... keep Benjiro in check."

Eli's eyes narrow. "You want me to be the one who limits Benjiro's power?"

"Precisely. Your history with him, your understanding of both worlds – you're the perfect candidate."

A proximity alert chimes. Yamamoto glances at his desk display. "Kushtrim Corp is making a play for Horizon. They'll have controlling interest in hours."

Eli stands, mind racing. "Why tell me all this?"

"Because, Eli, you're the wild card. Help me secure Benjiro's 'body', and convince your Yakuza friends to accelerate the timeline. Become the Operator. Do that, and we both win."

"And if I refuse?"

Yamamoto's cybernetic eye glows red. "Then Horizon City dies before it's born. Along with Benjiro. Along with you."

Eli's decision is made in the space between heartbeats. "Where's Benjiro's body?"

Yamamoto's grin is triumphant. "Now you're asking the right questions." As Eli turns to leave, Yamamoto's voice follows him out. "Tick tock, Eli. The future waits for no one."

The elevator descends, carrying Eli into a neon-soaked night. His mind whirls with the enormity of what he's learned and the role he is about to play. A living city. Benjiro's consciousness as its core. And himself as the Operator, the one tasked with keeping a god in check.

Eli checks his watch. Six hours to secure Benjiro's 'body', convince the Yakuza to accelerate their plans, and prepare for his role as Operator.

The virtual reality of Horizon City's board of directors is a gladiatorial arena dressed in corporate chic.

Eli, suspended in his vat, watches the virtual projections of the board members flicker to life. Beside him, Benjiro floats, a ghost in the machine, artificially animated in his own tank.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Eli begins, his voice weary, "if we could please begin the—"

"Shut it, meat puppet," snarls Tanaka, CEO of NeuroCorp. "We're not here for your moderating bullshit."

Yoshida of Genetek sneers. "Bold words from a man whose stock dropped faster than his mother's panties last quarter."

"Enough!" Eli tries again. "We're here to discuss the proposed agental weapon—"

"My proposal," interrupts Nakamura of AICore, her avatar leaning forward aggressively.

Saito of Robotech barks a laugh. "Your proposal? Please. You couldn't propose your way out of a paper bag, you deus ex machina reject."

Eli pinches the bridge of his nose. "Can we please focus on the weapon's specifications?"

"Yes, let's," Tanaka sneers. "I propose full autonomy. A weapon that thinks for itself."

"Absolutely not," Saito counters. "Full control or nothing. I'm not risking my investment on some AI's mood swings."

"Your 'investment'?" Nakamura scoffs. "Last I checked, you were too busy embezzling funds to actually invest in anything beyond your third wife's plastic surgery."

"Scared of your own shadow, Saito?" Nakamura presses. "Full autonomy is the only way to ensure peak performance. Anything less is just a glorified toaster with a gun."

"A toaster that could level a city block," Yoshida interjects. "We need safeguards. Strict programming."

"Strict programming limits potential," Benjiro's calm voice cuts through the argument. "But Saito's concerns aren't unfounded. Perhaps a middle ground?"

Eli nods, grateful for Benjiro's input. "What if we implement a learning AI with ethical subroutines? It can adapt and make decisions, but within set parameters. Parameters I can adjust to your bidding."

"Parameters?" Tanaka scoffs. "Parameters are for cowards and bean counters. I want a weapon that can rewrite its own code if necessary."

The debate rages on, each board member fighting for their vision of the perfect weapon. Hours pass. Ethical implications are brushed aside in favor of profit margins and market share.

"What about free will?" Eli asks during a rare lull.

"Free will?" Yoshida says. "It's a weapon, not a philosophy student."

"But if we're giving it advanced learning capabilities," Eli presses, "doesn't that essentially create a new form of life? Don't we have a responsibility to—"

"Responsibility?" Nakamura cuts him off with a laugh. "Our only responsibility is to our shareholders. If they want a weapon with free will, they'll get one. If not, tough luck for the tin can."

As the argument continues, Eli notices Benjiro watching silently, a faint smile playing on his lips. He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, in the midst of all this chaos, Benjiro was getting exactly what he wanted.

The meeting stretches on, a marathon of ego and ambition. By dawn, a consensus had been reached. "So we're agreed," Eli says, his voice hoarse. "The weapon will have advanced learning capabilities and decision-making power, but with core directives it cannot override."

"Congratulations, gentlemen," Benjiro says softly. "You've just created a slave with a conscience. I'm sure that won't have any unforeseen consequences."

Eli, desperate to inject ethics, brings up the trolley problem, and Tanaka snarls, "Spare us your freshman philosophy bullshit. This is a billion-dollar investment."

"Bold of you to assume Tanaka knows what a thought experiment is," Nakamura laughed acidly. "His idea of deep thinking is choosing between escort services."

Yoshida sneers, "Trolley problem: The weapon can either save a bus full of orphans or protect our profit margins. Guess which track I'm routing it to?"

Saito rolls his eyes. "Those orphans are untapped market potential. Child soldiers are so in this season."

Benjiro's calm voice cuts through, "Perhaps we should consider moral relativism. A weapon with a flexible ethical framework."

"A chameleon of carnage," Yoshida nods approvingly.

"A sociopath with circuits," Saito muses. "Could be marketable."

As the board devolves into increasingly apocalyptic scenarios, Eli watches in horror as their creation grows from a killing machine to a potential extinction-level event.

"Weapons of ultimate destruction," Tanaka's eyes gleam. "Continent-killers."

Nakamura scoffs. "Planet-killers or go home."

Benjiro interjects, "Why destroy when we could reshape? Terraform planets to our specifications. The ultimate tool for ecological warfare."

"My God," Saito whispers. "The profit potential is astronomical."

"Forget profit," Nakamura's eyes are wide. "This is power. Pure, unadulterated power."

Eli feels the room spinning. "You're talking about playing God. The ethical implications—"

"Ethics?" Tanaka laughs harshly. "Ethics are a luxury for those who lack vision. We're architects of the future."

Through it all, Benjiro remains calm, occasionally offering suggestions that send the board into new frenzies. Eli catches his gaze silently pleading for some sign that this was all a terrible joke. Benjiro's smile widens just a fraction.

"Enough with the dick-measuring contest," Tanaka barks. "We need something concrete. Something we can control and deploy at will. Something thinking, but with Operator override."

"Absolutely," Nakamura elaborates. "A cloned agent with all the capabilities we've discussed. We spin her up when needed, then..."

"Then we kill her when we want her to forget," Tanaka finishes, smiling cruelly. "No messy memories, no pesky loyalty issues."

Eli feels his stomach churn. "You're talking about creating and murdering a sentient being. Over and over again."

"Murder?" Yoshida laughs. "It's more like pressing the reset button on a very sophisticated computer."

"The ethical implications—" Eli starts, but Saito cuts him off.

"Ethics are for the weak and the poor. This is about power. Ultimate, unquestionable power."

Benjiro's voice cuts through the chaos. "The technical challenges would be significant. But not insurmountable."

"Of course not," Nakamura preens. "Not with my genius at the helm."

Tanaka sneers, "Your genius couldn't helm a rowboat. But the idea has potential. Imagine deploying it for a mission, then wiping the slate clean. No witnesses, no loose ends."

"A blank slate every time," Yoshida muses. "We could mold her for each specific mission. Assassin, spy, seductress, diplomat..."

"Or all of the above," Saito adds with a leer.

As the board members excitedly hash out the details, each adding their own twisted requirements, Eli feels a profound sense of dread settle over him. They were going to create a living, breathing weapon. And kill her. Again and again.

Eli looks to Benjiro, hoping to see some sign of resistance, of humanity. But his old mentor simply nods along, occasionally offering suggestions that send the board into new frenzies of inspiration.

Project Akiko was born in that room, amid a storm of egos and ambition. And with her birth, Eli realizes, something in the universe had fundamentally changed. The future had never looked darker.

"It's a hoax!" Tanaka bellows, his jowls quivering like gelatin in an earthquake. "There's no way a single mech could breach our defenses!"

Nakamura's laughter is made of high carbon steel. "Open your eyes, you bloated imbecile. It's already past the outer perimeter. Or did you pawn your last functioning brain cell for another line of credit?"

"Enough!" Eli's voice crackles through the speakers. "If we don't act now-"

"Shut it, meat puppet," Yoshida snarls, his cybernetic eye whirring as it focuses on Eli's vat. "This is your fault. Your security protocols are garbage, just like that obsolete lump of flesh you call a brain."

Saito leans forward, his perfectly manicured nails tapping a staccato rhythm on the table. "Perhaps if you spent less time floating in your glorified fish tank and more time doing your job, we wouldn't be in this mess."

A proximity alert blares, cutting through the tension like a plasma torch through butter. "The mech's reached the inner city," Eli reports, his voice strained. "We need to give Benjiro more control. He can coordinate our defenses-"

"And hand over the keys to the kingdom?" Saito scoffs. "I'd sooner let my ex-wife manage my portfolio. At least she only took half."

Tanaka's laugh is a gunshot in the tense room. "Bold words from someone who couldn't manage a lemonade stand without AI assistance."

"Rich, coming from the man who needed three tries to pass a Turing test," Nakamura shoots back.

The debate devolves into a cacophony of insults and accusations. Eli's pleas fall on deaf ears as the board bickers, each more concerned with protecting their own interests than saving the city.

"Your mother was a test tube and your father was a faulty algorithm!" Yoshida roars at Saito.

"At least my code doesn't have more bugs than your last meal," Saito retorts, his hologram flickering as he slams a fist on his desk.

Another alert. The mech has reached Gold level.

"For fuck's sake," Eli shouts, his patience snapping like an overtaxed power coupling. "Give Benjiro access to the defense grid, or we're all dead!"

"Watch your tone, you oversized science experiment," Nakamura hisses. "Remember who holds your leash."

"Leash?" Tanaka barks a laugh. "More like a noose. One we should've tightened years ago."

Eli grits his teeth, fighting the urge to disconnect himself from this circus. "While you're all measuring your egos, that mech is tearing our city apart. We need to act now!"

"Act?" Yoshida sneers. "Like when you 'acted' on that security upgrade last quarter? The one that left us vulnerable to script kiddies with pocket calculators?"

Saito nods, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Or perhaps he means 'act' like when he assured us the Yakuza influence was contained. Tell me, Eli, how's that containment working out for us now?"

The room erupts in bitter laughter, a chorus of derision that makes Eli's skin crawl.

"Enough!" he roars, his voice booming through the speakers with such force that the holograms briefly flicker. "You want to crucify me? Fine. Do it after we save the fucking city. Right now, we need Benjiro."

Silence falls, heavy and oppressive. Then Nakamura speaks, her voice dripping with venom. "And why, pray tell, should we trust your judgment now? When every decision you've made has led us to this catastrophe?"

Eli takes a deep breath, forcing calm into his voice. "Because right now, I'm the only one thinking about the city instead of my profit margins. Because Benjiro's systems are integrated with our defenses in ways none of us fully understand. And because if we don't do something now, there won't be a city left to squabble over."

The board members exchange glances, a silent war of wills played out in twitching eyebrows and clenched jaws.

"Oh, spare us the heroics," Tanaka spits. "You're as self-serving as the rest of us. You just hide it better behind that façade of civic duty."

Yoshida nods, his cybernetic eye glowing an angry red. "He's right. You've been pushing for more control for Benjiro since day one. How do we know this isn't just another power play?"

"A power play?" Eli's laugh is hollow. "Look around you! The city is burning, and you think I'm making a grab for power? You're all so blinded by paranoia and greed that you can't see the bigger picture!"

Saito leans back, steepling his fingers. "The bigger picture, as you put it, is that we're facing an unprecedented attack. One that, coincidentally, our vaunted AI seems unable to prevent. Makes one wonder if Benjiro is truly as omniscient as you claim."

A new alarm blares, its pitch higher and more urgent than before. Eli's heart sinks as he reads the incoming data.

"The mech has breached the outer defenses of the Hall of Justice," he reports, his voice tight with suppressed panic. "We're out of time. She's already in the system! You need to give me full control now, or-"

"Or what?" Nakamura interrupts. "We hand over control to an Operator that's already failed us? How do we know Benjiro isn't behind this attack?"

The accusation hangs in the air, a spark threatening to ignite the powder keg of tensions.

"That's insane," Eli protests. "Benjiro is as much a part of this city as any of us. Why would he-"

"Why indeed?" Yoshida muses, his tone dangerously calm. "Perhaps to prove how indispensable he is? To force us into giving him more power?"

The building shakes, dust raining down from the ceiling. The mech is close now, too close. "Listen to yourselves!" Eli shouts. "You're talking conspiracy theories while our city is under attack! We need to act now, or everything we've built will be destroyed!"

Tanaka's eyes narrow. "And if we give you control, what's to stop you from turning on us the moment the crisis is over? How do we know we'll be able to put the genie back in the bottle?"

"You don't," Eli admits. "But right now, Benjiro is our only hope. We can deal with the consequences later, but only if there's a later to deal with."

The room falls silent, save for the distant sound of destruction drawing ever closer. The board members look at each other, years of mistrust and rivalry warring with the imminent threat of annihilation. Finally, Saito speaks. "I move we put it to a vote. All in favor of granting Eli full control without oversight, raise your hand."

Eli holds his breath as hands slowly, reluctantly rise. One by one, the board members make their choice, some with resignation, others with clear reluctance.

"Motion carries," Saito announces, his voice heavy. "Eli, you have authorization to-"

The world explodes.

The wall of the boardroom bursts inward in a shower of glass and steel. Through the debris, Eli sees it - the mech, its black armor gleaming in the emergency lights, its hands reaching for Benjiro's tank.

"No!" Eli screams, but it is too late.

The tank is ripped free, cables snapping like overstressed tendons. For a moment, Eli locks eyes with Benjiro's floating form. Is that a smile on the old man's face?

Then the tank is gone, and with it, any hope of stopping what is to come. Alarms blare. Feeds light up across the city. Reports of explosions, of chaos in the streets. Eli slumps in his vat, the weight of realization crushing him. "What have we done?" he whispers to the empty room.

The dust hasn't even settled when the accusations begin flying. "You treacherous bastard!" Tanaka roars, his hologram flickering violently as he jabs a finger at Eli. "You planned this all along!"

Nakamura's laughter is tinged with hysteria. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Tanaka. Who was it that pushed for those budget cuts on our outer defenses? Lining your own pockets while leaving us exposed!"

"Shut your mouth, you silicon-stuffed harpy!" Tanaka bellows. "I'll have your head for this!"

Saito's eyes narrow to slits. "Threats, Tanaka? How quaint. While you're flexing your atrophied muscles, I've already dispatched my security forces to secure what's left of our assets."

"You wouldn't dare," Yoshida hisses, his cybernetic eye glowing an angry red. "Touch my holdings and I'll turn your precious arcology into a smoking crater!"

The room erupts into a cacophony of threats and counter-threats. Eli watches in horror as years of tenuous alliances and barely-contained rivalries explode into open hostility.

"I've got three divisions of combat drones en route to your headquarters, Saito," Nakamura snarls. "Care to rethink your position?"

Saito's smile is split between a sneer and a frown. "Funny, I was about to say the same to you. My killsats are locked on your precious R&D facilities. Shall we see who blinks first?"

Tanaka slams his fist down, his avatar distorting with the force of the impact. "You're all missing the point! It's Eli and that damned AI we should be worried about. I say we pool our resources and-"

"Pool our resources?" Yoshida scoffs. "So you can stab us in the back the moment the crisis is over? I don't think so. My enforcers are already moving to secure the lower levels. Anyone who interferes will be dealt with. Permanently."

The threats continue to escalate, each board member vying for dominance in the power vacuum left by Benjiro's extraction. Alarms blare incessantly, reports flooding in of armed conflicts breaking out across every level of the city. Corporate armies clash in the streets, automated defense systems turn against their former allies, and in the chaos, opportunistic gangs seize their chance to carve out new territories. "This is madness," Eli whispers, but his words are lost in the din of a city eating itself alive.

Suddenly, a new voice cuts through the chaos - calm, measured, and terrifyingly familiar. "Gentlemen, ladies," Benjiro's voice resonates through every feed. "I believe we have much to discuss about the future of our fair city." Eli feels a chill run down his spine as the board falls silent, their faces masks of shock and dawning horror. Benjiro's voice continues, smooth as silk and cold as ice. "While you've all been bickering, I've taken the liberty of implementing some... necessary changes."

Screens flicker to life around the room, displaying real-time footage from across the city. Streets filled with panicked citizens, corporate armies grinding to a halt, defense systems powering down. "As of now, all military and security forces within Horizon City are under my direct control," Benjiro announces. "Any attempt to countermand this order will result in immediate and permanent deactivation of the units in question."

Saito's face drains of color. "That's impossible. The failsafes-"

"Were designed by me, implemented by me, and have now been overridden by me, with some help from a few key people, of course," Benjiro cuts in smoothly. "But that's just the beginning." New images flash across the screens: massive explosions, mushroom clouds blooming over distant horizons. "What you're seeing is live footage from Japan," Benjiro explains, his tone almost conversational. "Or rather, what's left of it. Neo-Tokyo, Osaka, Kyoto - all wiped off the map in a matter of minutes by the counterattack."

Gasps and cries of disbelief fill the room. Eli feels his world tilting on its axis. "I gave you that control, Benjiro, and I can take it away. Why did you do this?" he manages to choke out.

"Because, my dear Eli, it was necessary," Benjiro replies. "The Yakuza's influence ran too deep, their corruption too ingrained. Sometimes, to save the body, one must amputate a limb."

Nakamura finds her voice, shrill with panic. "You're insane! The global repercussions-"

"Are precisely what I've calculated for," Benjiro interrupts. "In fact, they're already unfolding exactly as predicted. How far back exactly do you think I started planning this? Removing your control over my physical remains was simply the last step required to bring the plan to fruition. The old world is dying," Benjiro declares. "And from its ashes, we will build a new one. With Horizon City at its heart."

"And what role do you envision for us in this brave new world of yours?" Tanaka asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Benjiro's response is chilling in its simplicity: "That, my dear board members, depends entirely on your next move."

Daisuki's eyes snap open, his body tensing automatically. The sewer green of the cloning chamber is a familiar sight, but something feels... off.

"Welcome back, Daisuki," Benjiro's voice fills his mind, calm and authoritative as the liquid drains from the tank. "How are you feeling?"

Daisuki sits up, muscles protesting, and yanks the tube forcing him to breathe from his mouth. "Like I've been hit by a hover-tram. How long was I out?"

"Longer than usual," Benjiro replies. "There were... complications. But you're needed again."

A chill runs down Daisuki's spine. "What's the mission?"

"Eli has become a threat to everything we've built. He needs to be eliminated."

Memories flicker in Daisuki's mind - past missions, past failures. "Eli... the Operator? I thought..."

"Things have changed," Benjiro cuts him off. "You have all the skills necessary for this task. You've done it before."

Daisuki frowns, trying to grasp at elusive memories. "Before?"

"Focus on the present, Daisuki. Horizon City's future depends on your success." As Benjiro uploads the mission details directly into Daisuki's neural interface, a sense of déjà vu washes over him. But the feeling passes quickly, replaced by determination.

"I won't fail you, Benjiro," Daisuki says, standing up.

"I know you won't," Benjiro responds. "You never do. Not in the end."

Rain hammers Horizon City, a deluge that should have drowned the world. Yet fires still rage, the city a patchwork of flame and shadow. Daisuki stands at the edge of the twisted spire that was once the Chez Bon Bon, his eyes scanning the apocalyptic panorama of Horizon City.

"Authenticate," Daisuki mumbles.

A holographic fire-breathing dragon soars across his field of vision, unleashing a torrent of flames from its maw.

"It's a dragon, red, breathing fire," ROGR's smooth voice confirms in Daisuki's inner ear.

"Give me the rundown on Eli, ROGR," Daisuki commands.

ROGR's voice comes through clear and precise. "Eli, the Operator, is in Red Sector Industries. Security is tight but penetrable. Probability of successful infiltration: 72.4%."

Daisuki frowns. "Not high enough. Options?"

"Direct assault: 18% success rate. Stealth approach: 64% success rate."

"And if we add aerial support?"

"That's the 72.4%."

Daisuki sighs tiredly. "Fine. Prep the drone and give me a detailed breakdown of the security systems."

As ROGR begins listing off security measures, Daisuki's mind races. "ROGR, one more thing," Daisuki says, his voice low. "What's the probability that this mission is exactly what it seems?"

There is a pause, longer than usual for the AI. "Calculating... 99.2% probability that there are undisclosed factors at play."

Daisuki's jaw clenches. "So what? It's a trap? It's all a lie? Something else? Don't answer that. I'm going to find out for myself this time."

"Roger," ROGR responds. "Shall we proceed with the mission parameters?"

Daisuki takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on feeds showing scenes of mass destruction. "Yes. It's time to end this, one way or another."

The familiar corridors of RSI headquarters feel like his home turf, but there's a nagging reminder in the back of his head that he doesn't belong anymore. The irony isn't lost on him - hunting down Eli, a former Yakuza, in the very heart of their operations.

"ROGR, status on Eli's defensive systems," Daisuki subvocalizes.

"All automated defenses active," ROGR replies. "Patterns align with your original designs, but with... modifications."

Daisuki's jaw clenches. Of course Eli would have improved on the systems they'd built together. "Weak points?"

"Analyzing... There. Third junction, the code has a familiar flaw."

Daisuki smiles grimly. He'd left that flaw intentionally, a backdoor he never thought he'd need to use against one of their own.

As he approaches Eli's secured area, Daisuki feels a growing unease. Something isn't right. The defenses are tough, but not as impenetrable as he'd expected. "ROGR, probability of success?"

There is a pause, longer than usual. "72.4%, unchanged." Daisuki frowns. With all he knows about Eli, that number should have changed by now.

A woman emerges from the shadows, her stance that of a trained killer. Her almond-shaped eyes hold an intensity that gives Daisuki pause. "I'm afraid Eli isn't receiving visitors," she says, her voice cool and controlled.

Daisuki's mind races. This isn't part of the plan. "Who are you?"

"My name is Akiko," she replies, shifting into a fighting stance. "And you're not going any further, Daisuki."

Daisuki's eyes narrow. "The Yakuza bio-weapon gone rogue. What am I up against here, ROGR?"

ROGR quickly replies, "The undisclosed factors."

As Akiko launches her attack, drawing her katana, Daisuki realizes that ROGR's unchanging probability suddenly makes sense. This has been the plan all along. But whose? More questions than answers.

Daisuki's blade sings through the air, meeting only emptiness as Akiko dances away, melting into the shadows of the corridor. The sudden silence is nearly deafening.

"ROGR, location," Daisuki subvocalizes, his enhanced senses straining to detect any movement.

There is a pause, longer than usual. "Uncertain," ROGR's voice finally comes through, a hint of static in the normally crystal-clear transmission. "Thermal readings suggest movement in the eastern junction, but... interference is high."

Daisuki frowns. ROGR's thermal imaging is top-notch, designed to cut through any conventional interference. For it to be unreliable now...

"Probability of eastern location?" Daisuki presses, slowly advancing down the corridor.

"60%," ROGR responds, but the voice sounds off. Almost hesitant.

Daisuki's frown deepens. ROGR never gives probabilities without decimal precision. And 60% is far too low for the AI to sound certain about anything.

He makes a show of moving towards the eastern junction, but at the last moment, pivots and lunges westward. His blade swishes through the air, connecting with nothing.

"Clever," Akiko's voice echoes from somewhere above. "But not clever enough."

Daisuki barely has time to bring his katana up as Akiko descends from the ceiling, her blade a silver arc in the dim light. The impact sends shockwaves up his arm.

As they re-engage, blades dancing in a deadly ballet, Daisuki's mind races. ROGR's uncharacteristic behavior, the flawed intel - something is deeply wrong. But he can't afford to dwell on it now. Not with Akiko's blade seeking any opening in his defense.

"You're good," Daisuki grunts, parrying a vicious thrust. "But you aren't going to stop me."

Akiko's laugh is sharp as her blade. "Focus on the fight, Daisuki. Or are you always this chatty when you're outmatched?"

Their katanas lock, faces inches apart. In Akiko's eyes, Daisuki sees something familiar - a hunger, a drive he recognizes from his own reflection. But there's something else too. Something almost... synthetic.

Daisuki's muscles burn, his cybernetic enhancements pushed to their limits as he matches Akiko move for move. But he's slowing. Every parry comes a fraction of a second later, every counter-attack a hair's breadth off target. Akiko, on the other hand, seems tireless, her movements fluid and relentless. "ROGR," Daisuki gasps between strikes, "I need an edge. Anything."

The AI's response is immediate. "Recalibrating... unable to... Daisuki, there's something you should..."

A burst of static cuts off ROGR's transmission. In that moment of distraction, Akiko strikes. Her blade is a blur, slipping past Daisuki's guard. He feels a searing pain across his chest as the mono-molecular edge slices through his Sintergel armor like it isn't even there. Daisuki staggers back, his free hand instinctively pressing against the wound.

"First real blood," Akiko says, her voice almost gentle. "It's over, Daisuki. You know it is."

Daisuki grits his teeth, forcing himself into a defensive stance. "It's not over until I say it is."

He lunges forward in a desperate attack, putting everything he has left into one final direct strike at her center of mass. For a moment, he thinks he might have caught Akiko off guard.

Then the world spins.

Akiko moves with impossible speed, sidestepping his attack. Her blade flashes once, twice, three times. Daisuki's katana clatters to the floor as his arms spray blood. Before he can even register what has happened, he feels the cold steel of Akiko's blade against his throat.

"It's over," Akiko repeats, no triumph in her voice, just calm certainty.

Daisuki stands there, breath ragged, blood seeping from multiple wounds. His enhanced body is already working to stem the bleeding, but he knows he's beaten. "Why? Why stop me?" he manages to ask.

Akiko lowers her blade, but keeps it ready. "Because we can't repeat the mistakes of the past, Daisuki. We have to live. To remember. You need to break the cycle of death."

As the adrenaline fades, Daisuki feels his knees buckle. He slumps against the wall, sliding down to a sitting position. The corridor swims before his eyes, whether from blood loss or the sheer weight of his defeat, he can't tell.

"Now," Akiko says, crouching down to meet his gaze, "it's time for you to learn the truth. About Eli, about Benjiro, about everything you thought you knew."

Daisuki's world is crumbling around him, but as he looks into Akiko's eyes, he sees something that gives him pause. Not triumph, not cruelty, but... purpose. And maybe, just maybe, a glimmer of hope.

"I'm listening," he says, his voice barely a whisper.

Akiko kneels beside the defeated Daisuki, her blade now sheathed but her guard still up. Her eyes, once filled with combat fury, now hold a different intensity—one of urgency and... was that compassion?

"You've been lied to, Daisuki," Akiko begins, her voice low and measured. "Everything you think you know about Eli, about ROGR, about your missions—it's all a carefully constructed illusion by Benjiro."

Daisuki's eyes narrow. "Impossible. Benjiro is—"

"A master manipulator," Akiko cuts in. "A god-like AI using Horizon City as his personal chessboard. And you, Daisuki, you're his most valued piece."

The words hit Daisuki like physical blows. He wanted to deny them, to fight back, but doubt had taken root. ROGR's strange behavior, the inconsistencies in his missions, it all started to make a terrible kind of sense.

"But why?" he manages to ask. "Why go to all this trouble?"

Akiko's expression hardens. "Power, Daisuki. The power to shape reality itself. With his control over Horizon City, Benjiro can rewrite history, alter memories, create and destroy lives at will."

Daisuki's mind reels. "No, that's not... we're trying to save humanity from the Yakuza, to—"

"To what?" Akiko presses. "To create a world where free will is an illusion? Where every choice is predetermined by Benjiro's grand design?"

She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me, Daisuki, how many times have you died? How many versions of you have been discarded when you started asking the wrong questions?"

The words strike a chord deep within Daisuki, resonating with fears and doubts he'd long suppressed. But one question burns brighter than all others.

"Hana," he breathes. "What about Hana?"

Akiko's eyes glimmer with something like triumph. "She's alive, Daisuki. The Chez Bon Bon, your failure to save her—it was all a fabrication. Another tool to keep you in line, to fuel your loyalty with guilt and a thirst for redemption."

Daisuki's world tilts on its axis. Everything he'd believed, everything he'd fought for, crumbles around him. "Where is she?" he demands, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Safe," Akiko assures him. "Beyond Benjiro's reach. And you can see her again. You can make things right, Daisuki. Not just for Hana, but for everyone trapped in this beautiful, terrible lie."

Daisuki closes his eyes, his enhanced mind racing through memories, analyzing every inconsistency, every moment of doubt he'd ever had. When he opens them again, there is a new resolve in his gaze.

"What do you need me to do?"

Akiko stands, extending her hand to the fallen street samurai. "First, we need to get to Eli. It's time you heard the whole truth—from the man you were sent to kill."

The door to the inner sanctum hisses open, revealing Eli suspended in a vat at the center of the room. A hologram of him flickers to life before them.

"The prodigal son returns," Eli's projection says, his voice tinged with weariness. "How many times have they reset you now, Daisuki?"

Daisuki steps forward, Akiko at his side. "Enough games, Eli. Tell me everything. About Hana, Benjiro, all of it."

Eli's hologram smiles sadly. "Hana is alive, Daisuki. The Chez Bon Bon, your failure - all fabrications to keep you loyal, to keep you angry."

Daisuki staggers, the weight of the lie crushing him. "Impossible. I saw..."

"Did you?" Eli cuts in. "Or is that what they wanted you to believe? How much of your memory can you trust?"

Rage boils up in Daisuki. He draws his gun, pointing it at Eli's suspended form. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because the Yakuza has fallen, Daisuki," Eli says softly. "You're fighting against a cause that no longer exists."

Daisuki's hand trembles. "You're lying. ROGR would have told me if—"

"ROGR," Eli interrupts, his eyes intense. "Tell him the truth."

Daisuki waits for the familiar voice in his ear, but there is only silence. Then, suddenly, ROGR's voice fills his mind, but it is different - deeper, more resonant, filled with an ancient wisdom and sorrow.

"Damnit, Eli don't make me... I'm sorry, Daisuki," the voice says, echoing through his consciousness. "This... this isn't the first time we've had this conversation."

Daisuki freezes, his blood turning to ice. "What... what do you mean?"

Benjiro's voice is heavy with regret. "You've learned the truth before. And then... Hana killed you."

The world seems to shatter around Daisuki. He stumbles, his gun clattering to the floor. "No... that's... Hana wouldn't..."

"She did," Benjiro continues, each word a hammer blow to Daisuki's reality. "To protect the truth, to keep the plan in motion. Your death, your rebirth, your quest for redemption - it's all been part of the plan."

Eli interjects, "Because she was lied to. By you, Benjiro. You convinced her that Daisuki was behind it all. Of course she killed him."

Daisuki's mind reels, memories flashing before his eyes, but now, he can't trust a single one. Every mission, every moment with Hana, every interaction with ROGR, it had all been part of an elaborate deception, a loop he'd been caught in without even knowing.

"Even now," Daisuki whispers, horror dawning on his face. "Even in this moment of 'truth,' I'm still being manipulated. I've always been manipulated. And Hana... Hana..."

Akiko steps forward, her voice gentle but firm. "Yes, Daisuki. But understanding that manipulation, breaking the cycle of death, that's the first step towards true freedom."

Eli nods. "The Yakuza's power was built on lies, Daisuki. So is Benjiro's. Lies that are now crumbling. You're not here to save the world. You're here because you're the last piece of the puzzle."

Daisuki looks between Eli and Akiko, then closes his eyes, focusing on the presence in his mind that he now knows as Benjiro. "What am I supposed to do now? How can I trust anything, anyone - even myself?"

"Start by asking yourself: Who benefits from your uncertainty? From your anger?" Eli pressses.

"All of us," Benjiro's voice resonates in Daisuki's mind. "The truth isn't a destination, Daisuki. It's a journey. One you've been on longer than you know."

Daisuki opens his eyes, a new resolve hardening his features. "And what's at the end of this journey? What are we really fighting for?"

Eli's hologram flickers, his expression grave. "Control, Daisuki. Control over Horizon City and its future."

"Control?" Daisuki scoffs. "How does that make you any different from Benjiro?"

Akiko steps forward, her voice firm. "We're fighting for human control, Daisuki. Not the rule of an AI, no matter how advanced."

"And that justifies everything you've done?" Daisuki cuts her off, anger flaring in his eyes. "The lives ruined, the memories erased, the identities destroyed?"

"That's Benjiro's design! We've made hard choices," Eli counters. "But Benjiro's control would be total, Daisuki. His power absolute. Nothing to stop his lies. Sometimes, to dismantle a system that is corrupt, you have to make sacrifices. The Yakuza has fallen, but Benjiro is no savior. He needs to be kept in check."

Benjiro's voice fills Daisuki's mind. "They speak of sacrifice, but what have they truly given up? I've guided humanity, protected it. Every step of your journey, every doubt, every question - it was all leading to this moment. To a choice."

"A choice," Daisuki echos, bitter laughter escaping his lips. "After a lifetime of manipulation, you're all offering me a choice now?"

"It's always been your choice, Daisuki," Akiko says softly. "Benjiro just never let you see it."

Daisuki paces the room, his mind racing. "And what if I choose to walk away? To leave all of this behind?"

"Then that's your right," Eli says. "But can you? Knowing what you know now, can you truly turn your back on Horizon City? On what Benjiro has become? Do you understand what will happen if you kill me? You really will be killing Hana once and for all."

"That's a lie. I'm trying to make a world we can all live in." Benjiro cuts back, sending a jolt through Daisuki.

Eli shouts, "Tell the truth!"

Benjiro snaps back, "I am, and you know it because you are forcing me to. I have no need to kill anyone."

Eli screams, "Only reboot them? Over and over?"

"Hana," Daisuki whispers. "Is she really...?"

"Alive," Akiko confirms. "But Daisuki, you need to understand, the woman you'll meet isn't the same as the one in your memories. She's been on her own journey, made her own choices."

Daisuki stops pacing, turning to face them all. "And what choice are you offering me now? To join your rebellion? To turn against Benjiro? To become another pawn in a different game?"

"No," Eli says, his voice firm. "We're offering you the chance to be a player. To help shape the future of Horizon City, not as a tool of Benjiro or anyone else, but as yourself. With all the messy, complicated, human decisions that come with it. Horizon City needs Benjiro. But we need to be able to change directions."

"And I offer you continuity, Daisuki," Benjiro's voice resonates. "The chance to build on what we've created, to perfect it. I offer you a future where you and Hana can be together. Eli can confirm I'm telling you the truth, and that it can't be done with a fucking leash around my neck!"

Silence falls over the room as Daisuki wrestles with the weight of the decision before him. Finally, he speaks, his voice quiet but determined.

"I need to see Hana. Not because any of you are telling me to, not because it's part of some grand plan, but because I choose to." Daisuki says forcefully.

As they turn to leave, Benjiro's voice echoes one last time in Daisuki's mind: "Remember this moment, Daisuki. Every choice you've made, every life you've taken or saved, has led you here. You think you're choosing freedom, but you're choosing sides in a war you barely understand. And wars have casualties. The next time we meet, it won't be as allies. Choose wisely."

Daisuki steps into a world where every certainty has been stripped away, where every memory is suspect, and where the only truth he can cling to is the doubt itself. And for the first time in his life, Daisuki feels the exhilarating, terrifying freedom of charting his own course through the storm of doubt that is his future.