9:54 PM October 12th

H/DianaUlrichAppreciation [13,256 Silverheads]

Subhaivenn Description: We are a community dedicated to discussing and appreciating the work of Diana Ulrich, Westbrook's newest star heroine! As the daughter of Brian Ulrich, she took the hard and difficult route of entering the Westbrook Police Department at age 19, where she graduated top of her training group and was enrolled in the First Precinct as a Second-Rank Officer. Within a year, she quickly graduated into a First-Rank Officer and was promoted into an Investigator the following year and into a First-Rank Investigator just four months later. During her infiltration of the gang-owned brothel, she stopped an illegal trade of a Gold MAL and ended up receiving its SIM, making her a Gold Adapter. Despite this, she chose to keep her power a secret, her humble nature an inspiration to us all. As an Investigator, she single-handedly dismantled another MAL-smuggling conspiracy at the hands of Simon Jugosla. Together, we're here to make sure her work is known and appreciated.

For any 18+ discussion of Diana Ulrich, please go to H/Silvereye34

Diana

My punches came as blurs of flesh and thunder, and in seconds, Belle was telling me to stop as the reinforced pads on his hands burst into foam. "God damn! You punch as hard as Rick does!"

"It's a perk of being a living generator — and a motor." I snarked, wiping some sweat off my forehead. Lately, staying in one place too long felt like a shackle. Everything in my body was burning to move and be in action. Like fire.

There were quite a few eyes on us here at the training center, more than a few on me in my gym clothes. I wasn't comfortable with it, but I learned to tolerate them… as I always had to.

But fucking hell, they should know better — especially with my name.

I flinched back as I gulped down some water. That thought was something I never wanted to think. To be known as an Ulrich. The 'me' from a year ago would've hated who I am right now, but she hadn't been forced into this damn web of lies; conspiracy; imprisonment; loss.

I stared at the punching bag, my body itching for some damn resistance to my force. Pulling back my hand, I let strength electrocute my arm. What should have felt like stone was only dust to me, the genetically-reinforced leather crumpling around my hand as it stopped inside the stuffing.

"Diana… I uh… you probably shouldn't be going around breaking Fourth Precinct equipment." Belle shook his head at me.

Yeah, he was right. I just didn't care… I hadn't cared about the police ever since my talk with my father.

Letting Soul Killer work without consequence, hell, I wouldn't be surprised if sooner or not the city decided that people like Mr. Skeleton and Dogwhistler were worth keeping around simply because they had power that could be leveraged during the Swarm.

Except those exact people were planning to use the Swarm against the city.

The only way to get these people to actually care about ending the Uncaged Three's influence was if they were pressured to by a corporation. NeoCore, that had to be who would care most, Archangel had said they'd already taken care of some other Uncaged splinter-group in Europe, why not do the same here?

The answer of course, had to do with manpower and resources. How many could they send here, when the entire world would be at risk in less than three years? Still, they would have to care.

Especially if New California was set to become the centerpiece in which the Corporate Nations targeted either The Infinite or The Typhoon.

NeoCore would care. SynTec would care. Yuzhou would care.

Those three Corporations had a stake in this city, and I would have to get them to make the damn police do their job. My father was my best chance at garnering support from either of them as the Corporate Advisor for New California, but his neutrality was grating. I didn't know everything, some way or the other, the lies only went deeper and he was connected to it.

And this Mr. R figure lies at the center of it.

My frustrations beaten against the equipment here, I was ready to leave as I left Ponsky a note saying to contact my father to reimburse them for their broken equipment here — or to upgrade the facilities. Belle was busy making friendly conversation to distract them from my 'blowing steam', and he naturally found himself following me back to the car. The second we got back in, he flashed me one of his annoying grins. "Good news, that Shard Adapter she talked about, Tristan Lockheed? He's very much one of her pawns."

"How is that good news?" I began tying my hair back up, something about this place was making me feel uncomfortable.

"It means that anything he tells us to do, we just have to do the opposite. Without letting him know, of course." Belle revved the car, and I couldn't fault his analysis.

He gave me one last assuring grin. "Don't worry. We'll find those missing children."

———

Our first stop wasn't to any of the orphanages, the last thing we needed to do was immediately start investigating right after Riley Ponsky told us not to. In fact, it was quite easy for both of us to tell that the strange car riding behind us was likely an undercover cop tailing us on her behalf.

If only they put this much effort into their own cases.

They didn't want us to find something here. Whether it was some minor conspiracy of bribery and turning a blind eye or some deeper scheme involving direct cooperation with criminals wasn't yet clear. We'd need to work quickly and decisively.

Our first stop was a motel, some run-down place that smelled faintly of drugs and sex that Belle claimed was the safest place to stay the night, assuming management was the same as when he was younger.

Approaching the clerk, I made sure my face mask was tight-fitting and my sunglasses were dark enough that my eyes were hidden. "Two of us, separate rooms."

The clerk, his eyes glazed under some virtual screen, took his hands out of his pockets and shook his head at me. I couldn't help but notice they were… moist. "Right, right… that'll be-"

He blinked, and I could already feel his eyes boring into my features. Wearing a mask and sunglasses tends to have people look deeper into your appearance sometimes. It'd already been bad months before, but ever since my identity as a Gold Adapter and Brian Ulrich's daughter had been plastered onto every damn article on the front page of the Net, I'd been turned into the unwilling poster girl of the First Precinct.

They'd already used generative intelligence to make an artificial modeling program to drive up recruitment into the Police force. Apparently, my father had the rights to my own image, and he'd been making sure there was a billboard of me with a gun and a tight-fitting bodysuit on every block of the Pleasure Lanes. I'd been getting paid very handsomely for it, but it was demeaning and violated my own rights to myself. If I wasn't busy with Soul Killer, my ass would be sitting in a damn courtroom every day.

"Ahem…" He coughed. "That'll be 10,000 Shards for both rooms."

"You're kidding?" Belle slammed his hand down on the counter. "What VIP rooms do you have in this shabby cockspace of yours?"

The clerk raised his hands up defensively. "Hey, she's got the shards for it, if it's too much, she can pay in a different-"

"I'll pay for the rooms." I let a flash of lightning burn down my hand as I reached in for a tablet connected to my subdermal frame. "In fact, I'll make sure to post all about this shanty house on…"

Wait… did I even have access to my own Hotgram account?

"Leave it, Diana." Belle put his hands on my shoulder. "We got plenty of other, more hospitable, places to stay the night."

That's what he thought, but clearly, I'd underestimated just how widely my image had spread through Westcrook. There wasn't a damn cashier in this town who had the right mind to give me a fair deal, at the very least, they should have tried asking me for an autograph before pulling a Rorsche.

"I'm really sorry about this, Diana." Belle apologized as he got into the driver's seat. "I really had a better image of my hometown than it actually is."

"It's not an issue." I sighed. "You don't have to apologize on behalf of these people. You said your aunt lives here, so why don't we just stay there? I'm fine with a couch."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Uh…" He gripped the wheel tighter, and he scrunched his face up where it was easy to feel his discomfort. "My aunt? Sure, but she's a little bit of a personality. I think that's the best way to say it."

"You'd be surprised as to how many… personalities I've seen in my life." I sank down in my seat, massaging my temples. "I'll sleep on a couch, don't try and pull a chivalrous deed and get me on a bed. I'm done with any of that."

He nodded, and the rest of the ride was pretty quiet as we drove over to his aunt's place. She lived in one of those collapsible homes that were commonplace during the earthquake, the sort of mass-manufactured build-it-yourself houses that permeated every street of low-income neighborhoods. Rapping on the door, Belle was greeted by the aged face of a woman with a snarl on her face. "Well, well, well…"

"Hey, Aunt Vicky." He waved with a hint of shyness. "I'm here on police business, and was hoping I could stay the night. Me and my… partner — police partner."

"Tch, I know you Belly — and I know who she is, heard it from Charmaine that a damn hotblood was walkin' round the streets. No way in fuck you ever bagged a girl like her, and get your asses in here before a Tyger sniffs you down."

"That bad?"

"Worse." She huffed some smoke from a large pipe, opening the door wide as she let us into her… admittedly not-too-shabby building. It had the clear signs of largely being self-repaired, nicks and scratches across everything that was metal, but furnishing-wise, everything you needed was there. "Belle's staying on the couch, this lady of yours can stay in the guest room. That's hospitality and my-say as the homeowner so no debatin', ya' hear me?!"

"That's a copy," Belle smirked, to which Vicky only growled.

"Ugh, last thing I want to hear in my walls is that lingo you use." Vicky turned from him, her eyes honing in on me. "And you? Darlin', would you like some tea? Belle wouldn't stop sending me his homegrown variants, figured you might like one o' them. They don't get me high enough."

"Oh, uh… sure." I hastily nodded; she was quite the personality indeed.

With her walking away, I decided to get the answer to a term I hadn't heard before. "What's a hotblood?"

"Oh, that?" Belle blew a rasp of air out. "Just a term the folk use around here for anyone with clear gene-editing. Silver hair and eyes ain't exactly natural, it's tossed around a few times interchangeably with SIM Adapters too, but if they ain't pretty they're called—"

"Genefreaks?" That was the term I was familiar with in the First Precinct.

"Nope, we call them ghouls 'round here." Belle stood up, reaching for a mini-fridge, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "By the way, wouldn't risk drinking the water here. Alcohol's more safe to drink with how polluted everything is — I've seen Tier IIs get stomach-aches."

He poured me a glass, but then I had a cup of tea settle down seconds later as Vicky returned. She glanced at both sets of opposing beverages, chuckling in amusement. "Now this is a conflictin'. I know what I would choose."

I knew, too, taking a sip of the whiskey and then washing down the burn with some tea. It was a surprisingly nice aftertaste of honey and dates.

"Ooh, now you're different, aren't you?" Vicky settled down, leaning her back onto a comfortable rocking chair and grabbing a half-filled bottle from the table next to her. "This case, what's it about?"

"Missing children," I said in between a sip of whiskey.

"The orphanages?"

Belle nodded, and Vicky sighed. "One of them disappeared out of my classes, a kid named Roy Barry. Smart kid, worried he was too smart."

"Could he have been picked up as a recruit by Steel Tygers?"

"Nah, too smart to do that." She pointed to Belle with her thumb. "Reminded me of this numbskull, wanted to head to Central Cali, had dreams of bein' a Shard Op'. Has a little sister too, would never endanger her." She took a deep gulp of the auburn liquid. "Steel Tyger is ruthless, been tearin' these streets through their dickholes. A few years back, a girl I was teachin' off'ed herself after her boyfriend initiated himself into their claws at a party. She was the price, poor girl didn't even know what happened that night until a video spread throughout the school."

"That's… terrible." I held myself back from gripping the glass too tightly, or it would have cracked.

"It's the price we pay for being 'unfortunate'." Hazy smoke flowed from Vicky's lips as she tapped ash off her cigar. "If I could say it out loud, I'd have all these kids try to get out as soon as possible. But Steel Tyger has their claws in every business here, there's always someone you know implicated with them."

"And the police don't do anything about it." I said that as a fact. "We're spec-ops, we can do something."

"Yup. Something that's gonna fuck us up." Vicky looked tired when she said that. "Honestly, I'd like to say you two could help. I'd love it if you just offed Raiden in one go, but killin' the head's not gonna stop nothin'. I'll wager they'd just split up, war with each other and kill a whole more folk in the process. You stop them from takin' in kids now, another week and they'll be back up once you're done arresting everyone else."

I frowned. "You know how they're making their money?"

"How else?" She scoffed. "Drugs, Implant trading, pimping, Shard Operating, robbery and whatnot. Everyone has a quota to fill, long as Raiden gets his blood-money, he leaves us well."

"If he doesn't?"

"Normally does somethin' terrible to his litter, some act of public humiliation or offin' a family member or two. Lately, he's been… abducting their bodies."

"Bodies?"

"Corpses." Vicky eyed me seriously. "Not the most uncommon practice, not if they have good Shardware or Mutations, but these were normal folk — nothin' Warped about them. It's only been getting more common lately."

"You've given us more information than any of the cops." I nodded appreciatively.

"Well, those pigs are useless half the time." She sighed, before rotating her gaze back to me. "Not includin' you. Why'd you even come to this pissfuck anyhow? Thought Spec-ops don't care about anything worth less a Silver."

"Well… some of us have silver inserted into us from birth." I gulped down the whiskey, I'd finished it far before any of the tea. "I take the cases that are worth it to me. Children… I know what it's like to have your future taken. To… be away from family without a roof on your head."

"You were on the streets?"

"By choice." I glanced away.

"Then you joined up with the cops? Shit, from one side of the gun to the other."

No, first I'd been taken off the streets by Yve-

Cracking porcelain alerted me to the wetness dripping out of the teacup, I'd made a mess of my clothes and… fuck. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Please, that was the ugliest set I owned — Belle sent it my way." Vicky got up, heading off to the kitchen. "I'll try to find a clean rag somewhere around here, you sit tight."

Her steps trailed off, and my heart beat too loud once I'd returned to Belle's gaze. He'd been hearing everything. "That was more info about you in one conversation with my aunt than an entire month in the Spec-Ops, maybe we should've come here sooner."

"Shut it." I said quickly. "It's all in the past."

"I get it, there's a reason I haven't visited in years. Sometimes… you gotta be dragged through all the muck to realize it's just… actually, I dunno. Philosophy was never my strong suit. Shit just sucks sometimes and we have to tough it out." Belle gulped more liquor down and his face seethed from the taste, and I held my cup out for more.

"Your aunt likes it here more than the First?"

"Oh, Founders no, hates it! But she's just trying to be what she can for these kids. She was there for me, but eh, looks like I wasn't enough to take her away from the path of martyrdom."

Martyrdom, was that really the simple fate of those who tried to make life better for others? I sloshed the liquid down in my cup, knowing no answer would come from it. But maybe a peace, a loving warm peace found at the bottom of a bottle. That was Dryder's motto, if I were to guess.

Too bad I'd need pure ethanol to get drunk in a few months with how my rate of metabolism was changing. Vicky came by quickly, giving me an old drape that matched the design of the teacup. Had Belle sent all of this to his aunt? They were about to pour me another glass when I raised my hand up.

"I think I'll take an early rest."

Vicky nodded. "First door to your left, was Belle's old room before he left. And before you protest, you're a guest. He's a dimwit. Dimwit's sleep on couches in my house."

"I paid for it." He pointed out.

"My name is on it." She retorted.

Taking my leave, I spent a few lonesome hours scrolling through files appearing on my vision. All of it was information about New Houston Yards and the The Fourth Precinct. All of it was terrible. Little Requiem was a shithole, but there was a structure and hierarchy to the business running there thanks to Skeleton and the four Premier gangs of Westcrook. Here, everyone was out to gut another for a simple sheddy.

Once I'd felt two Neuroframes laying horizontally in what I assumed was a couch and bed, I stood up. Sleep came less often now, I ran on electricity. Enough of it, and I could run for a week. Well… not actual running.

Consuming a few pills made me feel both drowsy, nauseous and bursting with heat. Gene-stimulants, Bronze-Grade, and the feeling disappeared in a brief moment.

[G] Mutation: Electrosomatic Organism [Metabolism/Cognition] is now at 9% Development.

[G] Mutation: Limited Morphology Manipulation [Alteration] is now at 12% Development.

[G] Mutation: Inorganic Metabolism [Alteration/Integrity] is now at 8% Development.

No Meta-Mutations. I'd only gone up a single percent in three Mutations… and that was 70,000 Shardyne down the drain. Any other Tier II Adapter would have been knocked cold with a fever for a week with the amount of pills I'd ingested. I was… different. A monster in terms of genetics.

I was content knowing that. Monsters riddled this city, swam in its sewer-like streets. Survival of the fittest, survival of the damned. I'd be whatever was needed to rid the filth out, nothing would come in my way. Not even Titanium.

Staring in the mirror, my face began to melt. It was almost a relief. For a few grand hours, I would no longer be Diana Jones. Not Diana Ulrich.

"Lilian Rose… that's who you are now." My reflection spoke to me, a woman who was said to be a failed SynTec agent and now part-time mercenary and investigator for hire.

Straight black hair instead of wavy silver, eyes that burned red, stone-gray skin and freckles with slightly bushier eyebrows was the most I could stretch my shapeshifting abilities. It was limited, I wasn't growing new organs, tails, wings or whips with it, but could slightly manipulate my muscles and skin for now — increase their density. If Spec-Ops knew I could shape-shift, I'd never be Diana Ulrich or Jones as they'd send me undercover — but maybe that would be a good thing. I couldn't give them the idea that I could be running around looking like anyone, doing anything they didn't approve of.

Lillian Rose was already having a case built upon her for multiple breaking and entering attempts, but it was the image I felt safest in. Sometimes even more than as Diana, considering all the eyes on me.

"Lilian Rose… seems only fitting she'd use a touch of heat." Dryder had enough weaponry bought over the years to outfit a whole low-level gang like The Snake Fangs, a particular favorite of mine were these External Shardware bracers that ejected a foot-long blade. A Scorpion's Handshake, he called them.

A thin tube ran within the bracelet, my blood flowing through it from an artery right below my thumb. Lilian was supposed to be someone who you couldn't tell if she had a BUG or a SIM — maybe both, but the point was to be wrapped in mystery. If things got ugly, she'd stab some poor scrap and boil their blood. In reality, I'd need to carefully convert the electrical current in my blood into thermal energy through Thermokinetic Catalyst that would boil their skin off.

I was in over my head, as always, but inaction was never my way.

Those days of being trapped were long behind me. Whether it was my father, or Soul Killer. As long as I could do something, I would do it.

If I could, I'd burn suffering away.

I hopped out of the window, sending a small jolt into the metal handle to telekinetically close it from the inside. For now, Diana Jones… Diana Ulrich… they were gone.

Lilian Rose was off to enjoy the night.

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