[u][b]September 12, 2015 - 4:27 PM EAT
Somewhere in East Africa[/b][/u]

The mission was pretty straight forward; go in, kill the insurgents in the area giving the local government problems, "de-ass" the area with the quickness. Nothing fancy. Tyler looked through the MRAP window and viewed the big city in the distance, a combination of primitive masonry and modern steel. Beyond that, for as far as a man could see, was nothing but arid desert with remnants of jungle here and there. According the eggheads in Intelligence, the enemy encampment is an approximately 1.5 hour trip from their current position. [i]"[color=007236]This is gonna be a long one, gents...[/color]"[/i], Tyler thought to himself. [i]"[color=007236]Good thing these MRAPs have air conditioning.[/color]"[/i] Looking over to his left, he caught a look at his driver, PFC Velasquez. The kid looked pretty nervous.

"[color=007236]It helps to breathe, ya know...[/color]", Tyler said. Velasquez gave a rather bemused look. "[color=82ca9d]Whaddya mean, Sergeant[/color]", he asked. "[color=007236]First things first, we're not in garrison; call me Tyler. Secondly, your too stressed and nothing has even happened yet. Slow, steady breathes, just like on the range.[/color]" Velasquez was quiet for a few seconds and began to breathe like a novice yoga instructor. "[color=82ca9d]Like that?[/color]" Tyler wasn't expecting to give feedback on breathing and gave a confused look. "[color=007236]Sure[/color]", he said halfheartedly. Velasquez didn't detect to sarcasm on Tyler's voice and said, "[color=82ca9d]Thanks, Ser-... Tyler[/color]." This brought a smirk to Tyler's face.

[u][b]26 minutes later - 4:53 PM EAT[/b][/u]

Contact was made, but not in the way they were expecting.

"[color=82ca9d]So, what do we do...?[/color]" Velasquez looked over to Tyler. "[color=007236]I guess we talk to him... or try to, anyway[/color]", Tyler said somewhat sheepishly. "[color=007236]You stay here and keep on the radio to alert the rest of the convoy in case something goes wrong.[/color]" Velasquez gave a nod. Tyler exited the vehicle and gave a hand signal that meant "eyes open" to the vehicle behind them. The man was standing smack in the center of the road and about twenty paces from the MRAP. "[color=007236]Hey!![/color]", Tyler shouted. "(in broken Swahili) [color=007236]State your intent![/color]" He was about ten paces away, slowly and cautiously approaching. He noticed that a smell was emanating from the stranger, a smell that was stronger then the typical bad hygiene smell of the locals. He smelled like... like... [i]"[color=007236]Dead. This poor schmuck is fuckin' dead.[/color]"[/i] He looked like he had been dead for about a day or two. His face and body showed signs of emaciation. How he was "standing" was through simply being held up by two poles holding his corpse up. The most important detail, however, was at his feet; the tip of an HE shell was slightly exposed out of the dirt. "[color=007236]Oh, SHIT!!![/color]" Tyler turned back to Velasquez sitting the lead vehicle. "[color=007236]GET BACK!! GET BA-[/color]"

A blinding light and a deafening blast... 

[b][u]February 5, 2020 - 1:25 PM PST
CALMagLev Train 113, LA-NC Line[/u][/b]

Tyler woke up with a gasp. He was in quite a state for a few moments. He gave a look around; he wasn't in Africa, he wasn't in the Marines anymore, and he wasn't dying. He gave a look at his watch. The time was 1:25 PM. [i]"[color=007236]About five more minutes[/color]"[/i], Tyler thought to himself. He sank back into his seat and began breathing very slowly. [i]"[color=007236]Remember Tyler, calm people live, tense people die...[/color]"[/i]

[b][u]5 Minutes Later - 1:30 PM PST
Fujiyama-Anderson Station, Night City, CA[/u][/b]

The train slowed down and eventually came to a complete stop. The arrival jingle played though grungy speakers. "[color=f6989d]You have arrived at Fujiyama-Anderson Station, Night City. Local time is 1330, Pacific Standard Time. Next stop, Embarcadero Station, San Francisco, departing at 1335, Pacific Standard Time. Thank you for riding CALMagLev[sup]TM[/sup] and have a nice day![/color]" A more disingenuous automated voiced couldn't have existed anywhere in the the world. However, that was the cost of living these days; to have no life left in you.

The station was abuzz with this "life"; urban homeless, some with cardboard signs, some missing limbs; beat cops, ready to respond at a moments notice; corporate yuppies of all races with nothing but money on the mind. In the middle of all this, Tyler stood, trying to remember which way the convention center was. [i]"[color=007236]6 or 7 blocks... south, I think. Yeah, south.[/color]"[/i] That's pretty far in terms of walking especially on the streets of Night City. Tyler wasn't on home turf anymore and home turf isn't all that safe either. Being a police officer meant that he was able to protect himself without consequence but he couldn't call for back-up because he didn't know anyone in the NCPD. [i]"[color=007236]Well, here we go... This new robot better be worth it...[/color]"[/i]