An airy electronic beat filled the smoky, hazy room of the bar. The TV flickered quietly on the far wall, set to a news channel. An eco-terrorist attack had recently been unleashed, a series of dirty bombs across New Helena. The local police department had kicked into full gear, with private security firms looking to preserve their employer’s investments. Vehicles drove to and fro. The public transit line was completely shut down.

Different, smaller news pieces drifted lazily across the dim, dirty screen. A raid on an ancient set of ruins yielded new technology for Transen Corporation. The military was performing exercises in the traditionally rebellious region of Ampshure. A private security firm gunned down ten. A prominent theocrat had been assassinated. It painted a gruesome picture of strife and conflict.

A cigarette was crushed into a grimy ashtray. The brief flick of a lighter, and the light warmth and security of a small flame. A circle of men sat at one of the corner tables of the bar, every so often glancing up to the news. They spoke in hushed tones, of politics and recent events. These weren’t the average patrons.

One was New Helena’s G6E inspector, the most prominent anti-terrorist division in the police department’s arsenal. The next was a prominent congressman of the fascist lean. Finally, the last was a CEO of an arms corporation, the largest in the region. They controlled the flow of weapons in and out of New Helena.

A singular beep. The green glow of a holographic display. The inspector got to his feet, shrugging on his trenchcoat. Saying his goodbyes to his benefactors, he made his exit. His division had been called to handle the attack. The remnants of his position lingered, the smoke trail slowly drifting upwards in a lazy arc.

The other two continued their smoke. They spoke very little amongst themselves. Mainly they shared looks, sending orders and messages across their respective empires from the safety of the bar and their holowatches.