Rain slammed against Toma's visor as he pushed the bike harder, the engine whining under the strain.
His delivery bag bumped against his back, the sleek black case tucked safely inside.
Behind him, the two sedans grew larger in his mirrors, blacked-out windows, no plates, smooth body kits.
Definitely not city patrol.
Toma cursed under his breath. "Not tonight, man. Not tonight."
He gunned the accelerator, weaving between late-night traffic and construction drones.
The glowing skyline of Tennin District loomed ahead, its towers like glass knives piercing the clouds.
Incoming call: UNKNOWN ID.
He flicked it away.
Another call. Another rejection.
Then a text hit the corner of his cracked HUD: "Pull over now and drop the package. We'll make it clean."
He laughed bitterly. "You expect a broke delivery boy to trust that?"
Then the first shot rang out.
CRACK!
The side mirror exploded.
Toma veered right, barely missing a food truck, and cut hard down a maintenance ramp into the lower arterial roads, back alleys of Tennin where the rain pooled like oil and every streetlight buzzed like it was about to die.
His comms lit up again.
"We're not here to arrest you, kid. We just want what doesn't belong to you."
A second voice chimed in, colder, older, clipped. Military. "Shoot the bike. Not the head. We want him breathing."
Toma skidded around a corner, tires slipping. "Nope. I'm out."
He killed the lights on the bike and ditched it behind a row of trash bins, pulling the case with him. He darted into a half-collapsed parking garage.
Dim. Echoing with the sound of dripping water and distant sirens.
Footsteps soon followed. Three of them.
Heavy boots.
Toma ducked behind a rusted SUV and pulled out a boxcutter. It was all he had.
"You know what's in that case, kid?" one of them called. "You just stole a data payload worth more than this block. You don't want to die over something you can't even open."
Toma stayed silent, heart hammering.
Another voice, this one closer. "The system it's linked to… it doesn't like leaks. We're the plug."
Suddenly, a bang.
Too close. A bullet sparked off a concrete pillar.
They were flushing him out.
Toma took a breath, then ran.
He sprinted toward the emergency stairwell, boots slamming against cracked concrete. Shots echoed behind him.
A graze clipped his shoulder.
"GHK-!" He stumbled but didn't stop.
He burst out onto the rooftop, and found himself face-to-face with a fourth man already waiting.
All black. Combat armor. Clean-cut. No expression.
The man stepped forward. "No sudden moves."
Toma raised his hands, trembling. The case was still strapped to his shoulder.
"Look," Toma gasped, "I'm just a courier. I didn't open it. I don't even know what's inside."
"That's not the issue." The man reached for the case.
And then, Toma panicked.
He grabbed the boxcutter and slashed.
It barely scratched the armor, but it bought him half a second.
The enforcer shoved him hard.
Toma fell backward, smashing through a rooftop air vent and plummeting into darkness.
CRASH!
23:12 PM – Abandoned CyberLab Unit C
Pain.
Dust.
Rain dripping through the collapsed roof.
Toma groaned, coughing as he sat up in a pile of shattered electronics. The case had cracked open beside him. Not fully, but enough.
Inside was something he hadn't expected.
A single matte-black card.
No chip. No logo. Just smooth obsidian metal and a faint pulsing line down the middle.
It was glowing. Faint red.
Toma blinked. "What the hell…"
He reached for it.
And the moment his fingers touched it, his ears screamed.
Static. Feedback. Words.
[OVERDRAFT SYSTEM INITIALIZING… SCANNING HOST PROFILE…]
He clutched his head.
[LINKING DEBT REGISTER… MATCH FOUND: TOMOYA KISARAGI. CURRENT BALANCE: -¥18,000,000. SYSTEM ENGAGED.]
A burst of light. Like his brain caught fire.
[CONTRACT ACCEPTED. DEBT RECOVERY PROGRAM ACTIVE.]
Toma collapsed to the floor, gasping.
The card vanished, dissolved into particles that flowed into his skin like ink through water. "Wh… what…?"
Then a voice, calm, male, crisp, spoke directly into his head.
[Welcome, Kisaragi Toma. You are now under active enforcement of the Overdraft Protocol.]
"What the hell is this?! Who are you!?" Toma shouted.
[ I am OVERDRAFT. A combat-financial AI designed for debt reclamation via lethal skill acquisition.]
Toma stumbled to his feet. "I didn't agree to this!"
[You accepted the case. You touched the card. Consent is inferred. Survival requires earnings. Earnings require kills.]
"Wha-No! I'm not a damn killer!"
[Correction: you are now a debt-bound asset. Target acquisition begins in 30 seconds. Use of lethal force is authorized. Balance: -¥18,000,000.
Footsteps above.
The mercs had followed him down. Toma looked around frantically.
The boxcutter was gone.
His vision flickered, like HUD overlays.
And suddenly… his body felt lighter.
Faster.
Sharper.
[Basic combat instincts unlocked: Courier-Level Reflex Suite v1.1. Estimated kill value per target: ¥750,000.]
Toma's hands shook. "What the hell are you trying to turn me into…?"
[A survivor. You kill, you earn. You spend, you upgrade. If your balance hits zero… system termination will be triggered.]
More boots.
A voice barked: "He's down here!"
[Hostile proximity confirmed. Would you like assistance with your first investment?]
Toma swallowed.
The case was gone. The card was inside him. And three armed men were about to walk through that door.
He had no choice.
"Fine," he whispered. "Help me fight."
[Acknowledged. Initiating Overdraft Combat Mode.]