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| >The static filled stream begins with the uncomfortable sound of white noise, interspersed with bursts of voices, as if being filtered through a coffee strainer laced with static electricity.

>Even as it cleans up, the darkness of the environment mixed with what was likely a rain shower made seeing anything in the stream next to impossible- whoever’s view this belongs to, they trudge through what sounds like mud and underbrush, following a vague set of forms whose shoulders glow with some kind of reflective material.

>In no time at all, the leafy underworld collides with pavement and concrete- the stream brightens as the viewer switches from hiding spaces made of underbrush to one consisting of warped metal. Barely two meters away, smoke emanates from a destroyed engine, killed by a fallen piece of heavy durasteel plating.

"Don't bother chummers," >A raspy voice says into the night,

"No one outside for miles- and all the other towers locked up tight after the blast." >The one being viewed through looks up and above the wrecked vehicle- around them, the city twinkles in the distance, their neon glow only slightly subdued by the evening rain.

"Our outings become bolder by the evening," >A different man says from the side of the viewer. You hear knuckles crack audibly. "Couldn't you send a drone?"

"Could do with a bit more exercise, old friend!" >The raspy voice says- someone cuts in front of the viewer and approaches the figures with reflective devices on their shoulders. He is hunched over slightly, and wears a rather baggy overcoat. A glint flashes off of his face.

"As your mostly primary physician, I can suggest as much. And besides... I've grown to appreciate seeing things in person."

"Spoken like a true professional." >The man says, following close behind. He straightens his tie- the viewer follows close after.

"You *would* know about professionalism. Does it take you back? Working the streets like a creature of the night?" >The hunched man says as he and a few other figures slowly walk toward one of the towers. The building's lights are off, and it is surrounded by charred trees and torn ground- there are a few GCPD patrol cars parked nearby, their flashing lights illuminating the bodies slumped outside of their open doors.

"Cassie preferred the wetwork. I just took care of the finances."

>The two men stop at the base of the tower- the others, now clearly armed and armored in matte black uniforms, spread out in a circular pattern, giving silent hand signals to each other.

>The hunched man turns around, the dim lighting casting half of his face in shadow.


>The other man stands his ground.

"...are you surprised?"

>The older man moves to purse his lips, but his rigid jaw barely moves.

"... No. No I guess I shouldn't be. Everything that has occurred over the past few years has been stranger fiction than I've slotted even in my youth."

>The viewer stares out into the open desolation of what was once a small park at the center of Glitch City Central Square. Some distance away, there's a monument built out of granite immortalizing it as the place where the great Civil War first occurred, some two years ago. A crushed, burning helicopter sits just next to it, luckily sparing the monument.

"Rain's clearing up- such timing-" >The hunched man continues, looking up. The viewer follows their gaze, watching as the last of the clouds vacates the space and gives rise to a night full of twinkling stars. A soldier motions, and the viewer snaps back to level field, gets up from their crouching position, and follows the two men toward the darkened skyscraper.

"It's thoroughly sealed... just like at the Summit." >The raspy man says. He taps the reinforced structure's defensive walls- they're several meters high and an unknowable number thick.

"Durasteel layered with a carbonic alloy mix-"

"You figured that from just *tapping* it?"

>The hunched man laughs.

"No, no- I took a guess from the number of large dents on the outside- look at these depressions."

>Sure enough, the viewer tilts their head slightly to see that the structure has several meter in diameter "warps" covering its exterior.

"...its star ship plating, likely scavenged from decommissioned ships..."


"None of our contacts mentioned this corporation in our board meetings. This colony certainly lacks the infrastructure, whether planetside or orbital, for heavy manufacturing of this scale. How in Sol's Orbit did a *healthcare* corporation so much as *stumble* upon this technology?"

"Is that a question for the viewers or are you just thinking out loud?"

"The latter." >The man says, wiping a wet hand over his head, pulling back his graying locks.

"First the disaster almost a decade ago at our office now all of this. This uncertainty disgusts me."

"I guess that's why you avoided the, ah, 'wetwork.'"

"It's why we got out of the business and turned to... more practical applications."

"Mmm, fair enough." >The hunched man clasps his hands behind his back as he observes the structure.

"So I suppose our nemesis are out of the picture, so long as they keep shut inside their giant metal coffin."

"Only to be replaced with megalomaniac of a different kind."

"Maybe. You know, there's still time for us to cut loose."

"We're not leaving this planet until Cassandra is in our possession, of her own free will."

"Ah, I wasn't talking about *that* kind of 'cut loose.' But given the volatility of the locals, that may be for the best."


>The viewer gasps as they're grabbed on either side. They struggle as they're disarmed.

"C-commander?" >The viewer says, as the hunched man turns around. The weak light reflects off of his chromed metal jaw as he and the other, a middle aged looking male in a well-tailored suit, observe him.

"Relax, Orphan Three. This will be over quickly," >The suited man says, nodding to the one with the metal jaw. He pulls out tools hidden within his jacket as he approaches the viewer. Within moments, the static returns to the stream...

"I knew it, I knew it-"

"It's resisting, lock the extended networking ports-"

"No good, it's forcing them to remain open using some kind of command authorization-"

"Wait- WAIT! Don't you dare you yellow bellied peeping tom, you're not going any-"


Total number of posts: 1, last modified on: Mon Jan 1 00:00:00 1559581877

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