Cyberpunk #panam Novels & Stories

It was quite surprising for Aaron. He thought for a while and turned on his laptop. He logged into the highly secure profile- The Black Panther. Aaron didn't get time to open it for many months. He checked some messages and replied only needful questions. Then he left a question. In the group, “Anyone know the great neurosurgeon Dr. Anamika?” A reply popped up in his inbox, “Why? What happened? By the way, no one had seen her yet. But she is damn successful and intelligent.”

He was smoking a thick cigar, blowing perfect smoke rings into the chimney draft. Standing by the window, staring at the digital security feeds, was Cyberpunk Cyprian (The Titan). Half his face was chrome. His left eye was a red optical sensor that whirred softly as it tracked data streams invisible to the others. And sitting at the desk, legs crossed, checking stock prices on a phone, was Cyra Hale. She was the anomaly. The gender-flipped variant. But the energy radiating off her—the cold, controlled, lethal calmness—was identical to the men in the room.

Everyone in South City knew that Stella Wallace and Julian Quinn were famous for never getting along. As Julian’s fiancee in name only, Stella had laid out three rules. He was not allowed to go street racing. He was not allowed to stay out all night. Above all, he was not allowed to go see his crush, Yara Xenford. Julian deliberately went against her. He would either race along every inch of South City’s mountain roads or spend the entire night drinking at a private club until he could barely stand. On Stella’s birthday, he even purposely kissed Yara under a sky full of fireworks. He made a complete fool of Stella in front of everyone. Everyone was waiting for the drama to begin. They

“You’re going to help me leak the evidence. We split the data into five encrypted packets, set to be sent from five global nodes. No trace, no delay, and no reversal. I stared at the upload progress. Thirty percent. Sixty. Ninety. Upload complete. At the same time, in Panama, Damon’s compound lit up. I watched via drone feed. Doors kicked in. Files pulled. Hard drives smashed. And then, fire. He was burning his own kingdom. Layla leaned in. “This means war.” I nodded. “No. It means it’s already started.” The burner buzzed. “Congratulations, Ariella. You’ve just declared it.” Damon's message.

Lina sat on the sofa, typing fast on her laptop. The burner on the desk buzzed. Dominic picked it up. "Yeah." "Kenji's changing his play," Moss said over the speaker. "Wallace tracked the cash. He's washing everything through Panama." Dominic set his pen down. "Hiding the trail." "Worse. We're stuck in red tape without a warrant," Moss said. "Watch your back. A smoke screen means a knife is coming." "My perimeter is locked," Dominic said. "Keep me posted." He hung up and looked at Lina. "Panama."

Not wanting to take the chance that a light might wake her partner, Pam made her way to the window to crack open the blinds and let in some light from the city streets; stubbing her toe and stifling a curse as she did. Luckily Fiana’s computer desk was nestled in the nook in front of the window. The lights of the city provided sufficient visibility to allow Pam to maneuver the keys on the keyboard with relative ease. Time passed excruciatingly slowly while she waited for Fiana’s dinosaur to come to life. Almost immediately, it informed her of new mail available.

In wire transfers, the cascade of payments all passed through assorted shell companies but landed in one place. Panama. A front office for what looked to be a legitimate security consulting firm but was in fact organizing mercenary shenanigans. Caelum, Kent and Ryker struck the position at two o'clock in the morning local time. I watched from home through an encrypted video feed Kent had arranged, the grainy image from their body cameras as they stormed the office. It was empty. Abandoned recently judging from the cold coffee sitting on desks, computers still warm.

Samuel We’re trying our best to restrain ourselves from acting on our instinticts and claiming her right here but she’s not helping any of us with that look upon her eyes. They were on fire but there was something else dancing on those gorgeous hazel eyes. Innocence. And that was driving us mad. Pandora

"Hey, Panther, after two years of separation, we meet again. I've missed you so much." Panther remained cold-faced, but the several assassins behind him shook in this strange atmosphere. "Camellia, what are you doing in W City?" Panther asked in a deep voice, his protective instincts kicking in. He couldn't care less about many things at the moment. He had witnessed Camellia's seductiveness. She was a deadly weapon when it came to killing. In the Philippines, she had charmed a weapons dealer, and twisted his neck. His boss, Marcus, had no time to tell him the truth, so Panther naturally misunderstood that she would use the same technique on Mr. Marcus.

But just when he thought things were going to balance out, his dealer became impatient and dragged him to a pimp so they could make him work for the debts he owed. Ben stole from his client, took a bus to Dallas. Was planning to work his way into NewYork where he believed he could hide away. But unknown to him, when he was brought in, he was drugged and a tracker was implanted in his body. Unknown to him, once you get into the Czarna Pantera black market network, the only way out was by death. Even if he had stayed and worked off his debt, he would never be free. There were a lot of ways in, but one way out.