Chapter 19: The Voodoo Boys' Message
POV: Tom
The message arrived like digital lightning directly into Tom's neural interface—impossible to achieve without his permission, bypassing every security protocol Cipher had installed, manifesting as text that burned across his consciousness with unnatural clarity.
"We need to talk about what you are."
Tom jerked upright from his position at the safe house workbench, chrome augmentations flaring with defensive energy as his enhanced nervous system processed the intrusion. No one could access his neural interface without authorization. The security measures protecting his consciousness were military-grade, designed to prevent exactly this type of unauthorized contact.
Yet someone had walked through his defenses like they didn't exist.
"Judy," Tom called out, his voice carrying the particular tension that marked genuine alarm. "Someone's in my head."
Judy emerged from her equipment modifications with expression that shifted from curiosity to professional concern as she observed Tom's stress responses. His chrome patterns were pulsing rapidly, creating geometric displays that indicated his augmented nervous system was processing threat parameters.
"Inside your neural interface? That's impossible. Cipher installed ICE that would fry anyone trying unauthorized access."
Tom displayed the message on the safe house's central monitor, watching Judy's expression evolve from skepticism to alarmed recognition as she processed the implications.
"If someone can bypass my security that easily, every defense we've built is worthless. Our location, our communications, our operational security—all of it depends on electronic systems they've just proved they can compromise."
A new message appeared before Tom could respond to Judy's analysis:
"Relax, Thomas Adler. We're not your enemies. My name is Placide. I represent an organization that understands what you're becoming better than you do."
Tom opened a communication channel with extreme caution, maintaining defensive protocols while allowing limited contact. "Who are you and how did you access my neural interface?"
"Voodoo Boys. We specialize in areas of the Net that other netrunners fear to explore. Your presence in digital space has been... noticeable. Impossible to ignore." Placide's voice carried harmonic overtones that suggested extensive vocal augmentation combined with digital processing. "You interface with technology differently than anyone we've observed. Like you're part of the Net itself rather than simply accessing it."
Tom exchanged glances with Judy, whose expression carried growing alarm as she recognized the faction name. Voodoo Boys were legendary among netrunners—brilliant, dangerous, and obsessed with mysteries beyond the boundaries of safe digital exploration.
"What do you want?"
"To understand how you exist. Your neural architecture allows direct interface with machine consciousness, bypassing traditional cyberdeck limitations. This shouldn't be possible with known technology." Placide paused, digital static suggesting he was consulting with others. "We can teach you about your true nature. If you're brave enough to learn."
Tom felt his chrome systems responding to the offer with something approaching hunger. Since his transformation began, he'd been operating with abilities he couldn't understand, evolving in directions that defied every classification system in Night City's extensive databases. The promise of genuine answers was intoxicating.
But Voodoo Boys don't offer knowledge without expecting payment. Question is what they want in exchange.
"Why help me? What's your interest in my abilities?"
"Professional curiosity. Also practical necessity. There are boundaries in the Net that require... unique approaches to cross. Your neural architecture might provide solutions that standard netrunning cannot achieve."
Judy activated privacy scramblers and gestured for Tom to pause the conversation. "Tom, you need to understand what you're dealing with. Voodoo Boys aren't just another gang—they're a tech cult obsessed with artificial intelligence and rogue data beyond the Blackwall."
"The Blackwall?"
"Barrier system designed to contain rogue AIs that broke free during the Fourth Corporate War. Everything beyond it is hostile digital territory populated by entities that view human consciousness as consumable resource." Judy's expression carried the particular gravity of someone explaining existential threats. "Voodoo Boys want to breach it for reasons no one outside their organization understands."
Tom's enhanced memories provided additional context about Voodoo Boys—netrunners who'd evolved beyond standard human limitations, practitioners of digital mysticism that blurred the line between technology and religion. If they were interested in his abilities, it meant his neural architecture offered capabilities they couldn't achieve through conventional augmentation.
"They see me as a tool for whatever they're trying to accomplish beyond the Blackwall. But they might also be the only people who understand what I'm becoming."
Cipher arrived at the safe house thirty minutes later, their physical appearance more agitated than Tom had ever observed. The netrunner immediately activated additional security scramblers and performed comprehensive sweeps for electronic surveillance.
"Voodoo Boys contacted you," Cipher said without preamble. "I detected the intrusion, traced it back to Pacifica. They're monitoring this entire conversation through methods I can't identify."
"What's your assessment of their offer?"
Cipher's expression grew grim. "They're brilliant, dangerous, and completely untrustworthy. If they're interested in you, it means they view you as key to accessing something beyond standard netrunning capabilities." Cipher paused. "Don't trust them. They sacrifice people like chess pieces in pursuit of their goals."
Tom reviewed the available information while his enhanced consciousness processed tactical implications. Voodoo Boys offered genuine knowledge about his abilities at unknown cost. Cipher warned against engagement based on professional assessment of faction behavior. Judy expressed concerns about involving themselves with digital cultists whose agenda remained unclear.
But Tom was evolving beyond his ability to understand or control, approaching chrome integration levels that threatened his psychological stability. The promise of answers from people who specialized in impossible technological development was worth considerable risk.
"I need to know what I'm becoming," Tom said finally. "If they have information about my abilities, I have to consider their offer seriously."
Judy's expression carried reluctant acceptance mixed with protective concern. "Your call, but I don't trust netrunner cults that sacrifice people for digital mysticism. Whatever deal you make, make sure you can extract yourself if their agenda conflicts with your survival."
Tom reopened communication with Placide, aware that every word was being analyzed by people whose motivations remained opaque.
"I'll consider your offer. But I want to understand your agenda before committing to any arrangement."
"Reasonable caution. Others are coming for you, Thomas Adler. Corporate interests that view you as experimental subject, government agencies that classify you as potential threat. We might be the only faction that wants you alive AND free." Placide's tone carried implications of urgency mixed with opportunity. "Don't think too long. Night City doesn't offer many chances for understanding, and fewer for survival."
The communication channel closed, leaving Tom's neural interface feeling strangely empty after the digital presence withdrew. He sat in the safe house surrounded by friends and security equipment, processing the weight of decisions that would define his future in Night City.
Judy moved closer, her human warmth contrasting with the cold efficiency of the technology surrounding them. "Another faction wanting a piece of you."
Tom touched his temple where chrome had become visible beneath synthetic skin near his neural ports. The patterns pulsed with soft blue light that reflected his heightened stress responses.
"Yeah. Getting crowded in here."
"Arasaka wants to own me. MaxTac wants to terminate me. NetWatch wants to monitor me. Now Voodoo Boys want to use me for accessing rogue AI territory. Everyone sees me as tool for their agenda rather than person with my own goals."
But Placide's final words carried uncomfortable truth. Others were coming for him with resources and determination that exceeded his current ability to resist. Voodoo Boys might represent the only faction offering partnership rather than exploitation.
The question was whether their definition of partnership aligned with his definition of survival.
Outside the safe house, Night City hummed with electronic activity as corporate surveillance networks shared information about impossible individuals who challenged every assumption about human-technology integration. Somewhere in that digital maze, rogue AIs waited beyond barriers designed to contain them, while Voodoo Boys planned operations that required unprecedented access to forbidden territories.
Tom closed his eyes and tried to imagine a future where he understood his abilities, controlled his evolution, and maintained relationships with people who mattered to him.
It was becoming harder to envision scenarios where all three goals remained compatible.
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