#InfinityProtocol

[lappel-de-la-verite]

POST #004 — “LIVING GHOSTS”

The following footage was recorded via direct neural stream. No dramatization. No filters. Sound distortion minimized to preserve clarity without compromising identity.

It started with a hushed conversation.

An Exec looking to order a job. A foray into a Biotechnica storage facility, built on the edge of the Old Combat Zone. The goal: source lists for the ingredients used for a recent product. QC reports. Anything that might indicate a subpar product.

Word got to me. I got to them. Said I'd help put together the crew — and come along myself. On one condition: everything we see, everything we extract, I broadcast. Unfiltered. Uncensored.

They agreed.

I started digging — cross-referencing merc chatter, scan logs, and black market medical supply routes. MedTechs don't work in a vacuum. They need gear. They need stock. Eventually, one name surfaced. Someone who'd been slipping into that same Biotechnica facility — late, quiet, unlisted.

I reached out. They accepted. The way in was now secured. All we had to do was survive the rest.

Meanwhile, the fixer filled in the blanks. A Solo. A Netrunner. One to extract the data. One to keep us breathing while they did.

We showed up in disguise — just convincing enough to buy us a few quiet minutes. The MedTech’s contact had done their part: the door was unlocked.

Peace didn’t last.

05:32 — an employee crosses our path.

The Exec panics. Says the wrong thing. No cover story. No fallback.

The alarm trips.

06:34 — security measures engage.

A turret drops from the ceiling like a guillotine. The Exec reaches up, and jams a virus into its maintenance port while it warmed up.

06:42 — the override kicks in. Her hands shook just once.

Then, the hallway erupted. Gunfire. Screams. Shattered tiles. We returned fire out of instinct, not strategy.

The Netrunner used the turret as an access point. Turned their own defenses against them.

07:42 — silence. Brief, and grim.

We moved while it lasted. Made for the offices upstairs. Barricaded ourselves in. The windows would have to serve as an exit.

The Solo set up the barricade. The Exec prepared the getaway car. The MedTech patched up any wounds we had. I searched for physical records. The Netrunner jacked in.

What she found wasn’t just tight security. It was a Lich-class daemon — old code, war-forged. Arasaka architecture. She cracked the ICE, pulled the data, and made it out intact — barely.

During extraction, drones gave chase. The Solo turned them into scrap.

Back at the safehouse, the Exec reviewed the haul. It wasn’t what we went in for — but it was bigger. This wasn’t about a faulty product. This was about something buried deeper.

The file wasn’t QC logs. It was infrastructure planning. Memos between senior Biotechnica staff. Mentions of cloning incubators, leftover war-era mainframes, and something called the Infinity Protocol.

The phrase that stood out: “To house the SPIs.”

If you know what that means, you already understand the scale. If you don’t, you should read it for yourself.

I’ve included both the neural footage and the memo — unaltered.

[🔗 BD-Archive-004: “Living Ghosts”] (Viewer warning: Includes live-fire footage, high-level system breach, and Lich-class daemon interaction. Minimal compression. Voice masking applied.)

[📄 File Attachment: “MEMO 1 – BM-cRS Infrastructure Upgrade”] (Internal Biotechnica communication regarding enhanced cloning incubators, mainframes, and project security. Reference to “Infinity Protocol” and “SPIs” included.)

Ghosts don’t just haunt the past. Now, they might haunt the future, too.