His name is Raymond Long. He says he loves me. I love him too. He’s also my boss at the department. I’m one of the top in the 7th as a last resort crisis solving agent. That explains the weapons. I’m also not entirely human. According to Long, I was designed in a lab, then grown in a tank. Good thing those memories aren’t back. Works for me, I just want to know what the hell happened back there before I woke up in that room. I am one of Long’s employees, which means I get order and follow them. What kind of department chef would start a relationship with a subordinate? I wonder what I’ve done so far. Do I have terminal rights on these computers. If I can’t, I already know I can hack anything. There is a file on me. I seem to be looking at it with full access. My name is Layla Cho, I work for the Crisis Detachment, 7th department. I’m a class 1 operative with no restriction in security and a license to kill. Multiple people. Without explanation afterwards. I have been trained in all weapons available to the department, and have natural combat skills in a list of martial arts that runs well into three screens. What am I? Biorecord... it seems every part of me has been enhanced in some way. Yeah, even there. Whoever designed me was both a perfectionist and a perv. Too bad I’m self aware, already I’m starting to hate whatever nerd initially came up with me. Obviously it was a man, you don’t go around designing killing machines of your own gender. I wonder if I can find him anywhere here. Hmm. No mention of a patent, copyright and anything. Guess I own myself. How ironic. Track record..


Oh shit


I have a recorded death count of 821 people in six years. There are video attachments to each entry. Where did these come from? Biorecord neural recorders. They really did work a number on me. I’m a walking membank with a seven cube storage capacity. It doesn’t mention the way of accessing it. Must be done in a lab somewhere. Raymond wants to know what I’m doing. Sit down and listen. He doesn’t seem to like my story. He says I was sent there to neutralise an organisation responsible for recent terror attacks at the main council. I was supposed to take out the 5 key targets, and if possible retrieve any information regarding their foreign operations. I can’t remember. He wants to know if I remember anything at all. I seem to remember you, don’t I. He doesn’t understand. I probably outrange him in the IQ department, and I don’t understand either. Stop him. He wants to see if I lost the records of the operation. Stop... he’s asking me if it’s okay to look at them. ... he’s holding my left hand. ...I.. he has brown eyes. Agree.




That was it? I don’t even know what you accessed. You look worried. What the hell happened there? He can’t tell me. There’s nothing of it in my recorders. I wonder if that means I’ve been wiped or something. I have a weakness. Raymond says he doesn’t understand. He seems upset. He wants to find out who did this and get back to them. He really seems upset. Where’s that terminal. Appearently all computers here have access to the main systems. Name of the organisation. Record. They’ve been rather busy. Current status. It hasn’t been marked. Why am I not listed as operating on it? I’m a nonlisted special forces operative? I want to go back. Answer me. I want to find out what happened and tell you about it. Answer me. I want to get those memories back so I know what went wrong. Answer me! I want to know what the hell I am and where I just came from!


...what do you mean, “no”...?