Agreed meeting point—second floor of the Garcia Restaurant.
"Let's reintroduce ourselves. Maman Brigitte, Voodoo Boys."
"Songbird, Federal Intelligence Agency."
Bang. The door to the private room closed. Once both women had taken their seats, the Black woman in the sleeveless trench coat introduced herself first. Song So Mi, removing the facial holographic disguise, followed immediately.
Though they had encountered each other a few times in cyberspace, this was their first meeting in the real world.
Black skin, upward-swept silver hair, a sharp, aggressive face, thick lips, gold coin earrings, and long neck—on her cheeks and jaw, deep black whirl-pattern tattoos in Haitian style. It was indeed Maman Brigitte, leader of the Voodoo Boys. Her biological profile and data signature matched perfectly. Song So Mi confirmed her identity.
Her gaze then swept over the other Voodoo members: disposable lackeys, not worth attention—except for one, a dreadlocked Black man known as "Ti Neptune," the netrunner who served as Brigitte's deputy on this trip.
Beep, beep.
[Songbird: The targets are confirmed. Relax, don't put too much pressure on our sensitive friends.]
[FIA: Understood.]
The FIA agents who had followed Song So Mi inside immediately toned down their watchful stares.
"Songbird?"
Not missing a thing, Brigitte chuckled. "Kouri e fè bouch ou." (Haitian Creole for "shut your mouth/keep quiet.") "Codenames... you bureaucrats love wasting time on such meaningless things."
"That's not important," Song replied with a polite, perfunctory smile. "What matters is—I'm here, as you requested."
She sounded casual, but her heart raced with urgency.
Truthfully, she owed this Haitian woman some thanks.
Her journey to Santa Fe had gone smoothly largely because of Brigitte's greed—her relentless hunger for the [Blackwall], and her obsession with the AIs beyond it. Song had merely nudged her gently, and Brigitte herself had demanded this meeting with her 'kindred spirit' from the Wall.
"Ase," Brigitte said, using the Creole word for yes. "Then I hope what you've brought will satisfy me, Miss Songbird."
Without wasting time on names or false formalities, she asked bluntly, "Where's the support?"
"And where's what we asked for?" Song countered evenly.
She made sure to appear disinterested in her westward defection.
Brigitte studied the Korean netrunner across from her for a long moment, then silently pulled a small case from her coat pocket and opened it—inside lay several neatly arranged data chips.
Seeing this, Song tilted her head slightly in signal.
Clack!
On cue, an FIA agent pulled open the second-floor blinds.
From their vantage point, Song could see the parking lot just beyond the restaurant. A shabby Villefort cargo van sat parked, with two street punks squatting on the curb, eating tacos.
Their eyes, however, never left the restaurant.
No doubt—plainclothes agents.
Further beyond, crowds moved along the battered street. Crumbling commercial blocks, half-collapsed ruins from the 2076 Barghest–Lazarus clashes still stood uncleared.
"This is the manifest."
Glancing that way briefly, Song's lips curved into a quiet smile—half assured, half relieved. She slid a data chip across the table to Brigitte. "That van holds the first shipment."
Brigitte nodded after a quick look. "Have my man check it."
She and Song exchanged data chips.
"No problem," Song replied casually.
With a courteous hand gesture, she invited Brigitte to proceed, then inserted the chip Brigitte had handed her into the port at the base of her neck.
"Straightforward woman," Brigitte remarked approvingly. She then waved for Neptune to go verify the goods, before swiftly inserting the FIA chip into the slot behind her ear.
Song So Mi simply smiled back.
Had this Haitian woman misunderstood what that gesture meant?
She didn't bother to explain. Nor to intercept her neural link.
Because they were already as good as dead.
A deep crimson glow ignited within Song So Mi's pupils.
After a brief glance at the data on the chip—the backdoor virus and the information on the Voodoo Boys' reckless digging into the [Blackwall]—Song So Mi ended the readout. She had only needed the excuse of accessing the chip to secretly trigger the combat-hacking program stored in her RAM.
I'm waiting for Arasaka's signal. What are you waiting for?
...
Not far from the Garcia Restaurant, in the narrow gap between buildings, the final preparations for battle were nearly complete.
[Operation Codename: Break the Cage]
Details: [Declassified]
Mission Location: Santa Fe, capital of New Mexico.
Mission Objective: Receive and secure the defector from the NUSA Federal Intelligence Agency, codename "Songbird." Ensure the subject's survival at all costs.
Mission Attachments: Appendix 1 – Songbird; Appendix 2 – Voodoo Boys; Appendix 3 – NUSA Escort Team; Appendix 4 – Santa Fe pro-Washington Influence Map.
"Song So Mi, Korean, female, medium build, extensive cybernetic augmentation, rose-red hair... that's our target."
"Command has given the green light."
Inside the battle-scarred cargo van parked nearby, Tanaka Katsuo spoke in a low voice from the back seat. "Suneo, get ready for assault. David, standby for breach support. Danny, sniper team—cover the site."
"Roger that."
Across the street, in a dim shop interior, David Martinez watched the restaurant through the edge of a security camera feed. Fully equipped with the [EXO Exoskeleton] he had smuggled into Santa Fe, he hefted an M2067 Defender light machine gun.
Having arrived earlier than both the Voodoo Boys and FIA escort, he'd been lying in wait for hours. With a flick, he shut off the HUD data overlay on his optical feed.
"Songbird... Song So Mi, huh."
He murmured to himself, pulling back the charging handle with a metallic clack.
...
As Arasaka's extraction squad closed in on the restaurant, upstairs, Maman Brigitte—having finished reviewing the NUSA aid list and satisfied with the compensation—spoke first. "I see the FIA's sincerity."
"And this," Song replied, "is the Voodoo Boys' sincerity."
After Neptune confirmed, "It's the good stuff," Brigitte pushed the case with the remaining chips toward Song.
But Song So Mi's eyes remained downcast, her pupils flickering with rapid streams of dark red code, as if she were still analyzing data.
The FIA agents nearby looked puzzled but said nothing. After all, none of them had ever interacted with the [Blackwall]. Netrunning at this level was far beyond their expertise. Songbird was the expert here.
"Hm?"
Brigitte frowned. "Miss Songbird, if you want to study it, there'll be time later."
A vague sense of wrongness prickled in her gut. Typical bureaucrat tricks—was this woman planning to use the Voodoo Boys as expendable pawns against Arasaka?
Her gaze hardened. She planted both hands on the table, leaning forward to demand answers—
Vroom—VROOM!
The roar of engines shook the street.
"Damn it! You blind, or just stupid?!"
"That car's out of control?!"
"Shit—shit! It's coming right at us?!"
Shouts from the street below were followed by the crash-crash-clang of metal colliding and the screams of startled diners. The walls trembled, dust falling from the ceiling.
"On guard!"
The FIA agents instantly formed up, shielding Song So Mi. "Report! What's going on?!"
He radioed his comrades downstairs.
"A van just—guh—"
Before the sentence could finish—
RATATATATATAT!
Gunfire erupted.
"Ambush!"
A voice below shouted, "EXO exoskeletons—Arasaka bastards!"
In seconds, the restaurant was engulfed in chaos—bullets smashing through walls, bodies falling, debris scattering. Patrons who had been quietly eating scattered in panic, screaming, scrambling for exits.
"You idiots! You blew our cover!"
The FIA agents upstairs snarled, aiming their guns at the Haitian crew.
"Move! Evacuate Songbird!"
"Call for backup from the Lazarus garrison outside the city!"
Maman Brigitte stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide with disbelief.
Tracked? When?!
Had her own carelessness led Arasaka straight to them?