The icy, desolate landscape of Sector 4 rolled by smoothly as the Mag Train hurtled through the wind and sleet. The single mag rail line was the only reliable method of transportation to and from the science institutes unless you wanted to get trapped in a snow storm. Not that Sector 4 was a popular destination anyway. The carriage was almost empty but for a small balding man filling out a crossword puzzle on his holographic wrist computer, the standard security guard normally stationed in each carriage and a young, skittish woman scrolling through the news on her holographic tablet. Adley Underwood had been dreading making this trip to the Core for weeks. Sector 4 may have been a barren, lonely kind of place but at least it wasn’t [i]hopeless[/i], not like the Core. If it wasn’t the sectors many homeless people creating a feeling of despair then it was the hungry bankers, gang leaders and officials making life worse for those on the streets. Billions of them all piled on top of one another. It was a [i]behavioural sink[/i], Adley thought. Like Calhoun's rat experiments, when space was limited the population would start to turn on one another and deteriorate. The Core was a desperate, narrow existence and, anyone with half a brain knew, it couldn’t go on forever. The change had already begun, as the Liberata movement grew each day. Adley hesitated to call it a revolution as opposed as it was. Her newsfeed was filled with stories about the latest hacks which, regardless of who actually carried them out, were accredited to the Anon. But for each successful or damaging cyber-attack there were two more stories about raid on a “terrorist” cell by the Watchmen. Amongst the white noise of terrorism and liberation she spotted a headline which read “Will new breakthrough from the Queen Institute mean safety for us all?”. The article gushed over the possibility of soldiers which could harness the power of shards to “make our streets safe again”. There was no mention of how this might be achieved, that information wasn’t available to the public, but there didn’t need to be. The propaganda was blatant. Adley put the tablet away in disgust. This was why she was currently hurtling at hundreds of miles per hour towards the Core, to demonstrate the progress that had been made with these “incredible” shard-soldiers. Dr Harold Fairfield, her superior and friend, had sent her on this [i]mission[/i], as he’d called it, to provide their generous benefactors with a demonstration on their progress. [color=PaleGreen]“Harry, honestly, I don’t think I’m the right person for this. You know what I’m like,”[/color] Adley had pleaded a few weeks before. “Unfortunately, yes,” Harold said in good nature, his eyes crinkling in the corners “But as my second in command you’re also the most well informed on the research.” When he saw that she wasn’t convinced he had placed a hand on her shoulder, sighing, “My dear girl, you are the only one I trust to not give the game away and pick up the new blood samples from our friends.” So she had packed a bag, left a note to a friendly botanist named Mark to “please change the feed in my beehive” in greenhouse 12 whilst she was away, put on prototype #356 and boarded the Mag Train. Some hours later and she was watching the 800 foot high wall that separated Sector 4 and the Core growing rapidly on the horizon, swallowing up the sky. [i]And me next,[/i],Adley thinks as the wall opens its gaping maw and eats the train. In the innards of the beast, the checkpoint, Watchmen boarded the train to check each passenger’s identification card and their approved inventory. Adley’s inventory consisted of the prototype shield Dr Fairfield had insisted she take for protection, a tank full of Haematestra infected fish and a number of compounds required for the demonstration. If it was possible for a Watchman to look incredulous in that full body armour, then the Watchman checking Adley’s inventory certainly did. Still, she was allowed through after a cursory check. When the train began to move again, she felt her hands begin to quiver and shake. She wasn’t frightened, exactly, but nervous? Yes, definitely. And full of energy she didn’t know how to expend. She pulled out a cigarette. “No smoking on the train,” the carriage guard announced in a gruff, superior tone. A failed Watchman, probably. She tapped the cigarette against her lip once, twice, before putting it away again. Her fingers thrummed against the table instead, fast and repetitive. The other passenger coughed pointedly. [color=PaleGreen]“Fine. It’s fine.”[/color] She muttered and sank back into her seat, eyes drifting closed. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived anyway. ------------- Not much later, an expensive company owned hovercraft picked her up at The Station to carry her through the district. Adley didn’t gaze out of the window as they went, she could imagine well enough. The tall, teetering houses pressed close together and the millions upon millions of people scurrying through. Adley didn't even notice the hovercraft arrive. The door opened and a woman with a sickly sweet smile and aggressively cheerful attitude appeared, “Dr Underwood, thank you for coming. I’m Lavinia Price from DigiCorps HR team, I’ll be helping you today.” Lavinia Price led Adley into a sleek, reflected skyscraper. In a room on the twenty-third floor, with a view overlooking the more pleasant side of the Core rather than the slums to the south, four men sat on one side of an oval table. Thre of the mean were almost identical, not in looks, but their stoic faces, rigid posture and overall pragmatic air. Cookie cutter business reps. The third was an older, portly man with a receding hair line and round, red face. He looked flustered and continuously dabbed his sweaty forehead with an embroidered handkerchief. [color=PaleGreen][i]He’s from the government then.[/i][/color] “Everyone, this is Dr Adley Underwood from Harold’s lab over at the Queen Instititue,” Miss Price said brighly, “Dr Underwood, this is the Syndustries rep, Jack Credence, the DigiCorp rep-“ [color=PaleGreen]“I don’t care.”[/color] She interrupted then, remembering what Harry had said about [i]tact[/i], added, [color=PaleGreen]“I mean, it isn’t necessary to introduce everyone. This will only be quick.”[/color] She set down the tank of fish in front of the panel. [color=PaleGreen]“These zebrafish were infected with the purified strain of Haematestra three months ago.”[/color] She paused for effect, expecting gasps of shock and awe but their faces remained blank. [color=PaleGreen]“Did anyone read the pre-information packet? It was only two pages long.”[/color] Lavinia Price tried to save face, spluttering, “Of course Miss Underwood-“ [color=PaleGreen]“Dr Underwood. So you should know that fish infected with Haematestra have a life expectancy of approximately one month. We’ve slowed the disease progress considerably.”[/color] Pausing again, the panel looked almost impressed this time so Adley ploughed ahead. [color=PaleGreen]“Highthroughput screening on these fish revealed several compounds which could negate the effects of Testran, the molecule which causes the disease that is, and expand the life of the fish. We still need to make some adjustments to dosage and concentration to see if the effects can last longer but right now it seems that multiple treatments will have to be given over the life of the fish.”[/color] She was pacing the length of the room now, hands gesticulating somewhat wildly as she spoke. “But what about the power?” One of the business shaped cookies, Jack Credence, chimed in. [color=PaleGreen]“I’m sorry?”[/color] “The enhanced power capabilities the shards are supposed to provide.” [color=PaleGreen]“Animal models aren’t like humans, Mr. Credence, they can’t harness the energy from the shards. That is a conscious process.”[/color] “Why aren’t we testing this on humans then?”, another cookie spoke. [color=PaleGreen]“People who naturally develop shard sickness deteriorate over many years, the process is far too slow to study. We’d need to infect humans with the purified strain for the time frame to even be slightly reasonable.”[/color] Silence fell over the room and Adley immediately knew what every one of them was thinking, [i]Let’s do that then[/i] “Ahem, well, we can’t do that of course,” The round government official finally grumbled, “The media would have a field day.” “They don’t have to know.” Credence said, malicious intent creeping into his voice. [color=PaleGreen]“We’re legally obliged to release the nature of our experiments to the public.”[/color] Adley said, simply, [color=PaleGreen]“Now, shall I continue?”[/color] ---------- The meeting took longer than Adley anticipated, each representative doing their best to top the other with the most repulsive, hazardous suggestions if it meant saving money and speeding the project along. Jack Credence from Syndustries was the worst of the lot, genuine malevolence laced in his every word. At the end he had slipped her his number with an arrogant grin. [color=PaleGreen][i]Cretin. Cretin Credence. Corrupt cretin Credence.[/i][/color], Adley repeated to herself like a mantra as she left the building, trying to calm down. It was time for the next part of her “mission”. The part that was actually worth a damn. She assessed her transport options. The only other time she had used the personal mag rail Adley had felt so dizzy and nauseous that she’d sworn never to board the nightmarish transportation system again. She hailed a cab instead and loaded the fish into the trunk. The inside was… not totally repulsive but Adley made sure to perch carefully at the edge of the seat and not touch anything all the same. She told the driver the address of her next meeting elsewhere in the Station District and he sped away. On the journey, she pulled out her tablet to check her messages. [centre]Message from “May Underwood”: “Hello Addie, sweetie.” Said the soft, hopeful voice of Adley’s mother, “I hope you’re having a wonderful time in The Core! I hear there is so much to do there. Your brother says hello. It’s been such a long time since you last visited, maybe you could stop by now that you’re so close? Anyway, I won’t keep you! Lots of love.”[/centre] Adley deleted the message quickly. She’d reply later, if she remembered. She didn’t know how to interact with her mother anymore, in fact, she wasn’t sure she ever really did. It had always been her father, who had understood Adley’s… peculiarities and encouraged her studies. "There's some kind of trouble ahead, a lot of traffic. I'm going to have to take the long way round," The taxi driver said. [color=PaleGreen]"Uh, yeah, that's fine, go for it."[/color] Adley's confirmed, distracted. She typed out a quick message to Harry, informing him that the meeting had gone as well as they thought it might and that she was on her way to the next “meeting”. Glancing out she caught a group of people running together, a flash of blue following behind. She blinked once, twice to clear the image and they were gone. The cab dropped Adley off at moderately pleasant restaurant. Within, the lighting was low and the air was filled with soft conspiratorial murmurs as if every person there had a hidden agenda. One man sat at the bar alone. His real name was Jonathan Tuck, not that Adley would ever know this, but he was known within the organisation was Friar. Named after the man in some ancient story about a band of heroes from long before the Ark. Friar had the look of a man who had never even had time to contemplate sleep. His hair was long, black and unkempt, his pale eyes were sunken deep his skill and, Adley couldn’t help but note, he was certainly anaemic. All that really mattered was the red scarf wrapped around his throat. The sign Adley had been told to look for. Honestly, she thought it was terribly melodramatic but they had insisted on this clandestine council. [color=PaleGreen]“Friar?”[/color]She asked, perching on the stool beside him. “Yes. Hello Dr Underwood.” They didn’t shake hands. Friar cut straight to chase, “I don’t have the samples.” [color=PaleGreen]“What do you mean you don’t have them?”[/color] Adley’s voice spiked, drawing a few eyes. “Quiet will you.” Friar hissed, his watery eyes darting around, “The Liberata has taken note of your hard work and your frustration. There is only so much we can achieve by delivering you blood samples and testing the cures you send to us on infected shard junkies.” Adley pressed her lips together tightly, remaining silent. The lab had been pleading for more from the Liberata for the past year. Friar’s voice dropped so low that Adley had to lean in to hear, “We believe we can have miners in the later stages of shard sickness snuck into the Queen Institute using the Mag Train. You’ll finally be able to test and monitor the cure in real time. We’ve hired a small facility in the new complex under a fake branch of the government’s biological research department. We’ve spent months creating it, making sure it wouldn’t be noticed.” [color=PaleGreen]“How are you getting hold of these men?”[/color] “It doesn’t matter- if we didn’t liberate them, they’d only die under government “protection”.” [color=PaleGreen]“Why didn’t you tell us?”[/color] “If we were discovered, we didn’t want anyone in Fairfield’s lab to be implicated. You know what the Watchmen can do." Adley nodded grimly. Before what they were doing had been dangerous, but this could get the entire lab killed. She grabbed her tablet, set on contacting Harry there and then and seeing what he thought of the plan but when she tried the screen only blinked uselessly at her with "no connection available". Friar shook his head, "This building is a blackout zone, no comms devices work within. It's why we use it. It would be too risky to send him the details anyway. It's your decision." They lapsed into silence then and the bartender, another agent it seemed, brought over two drinks. After wiping the rim of the glass with a tissue, Adley sipped at it for a while. [color=PaleGreen]“Okay”[/color] she finally agreed, [color=PaleGreen]” It’s the only way we can move forward. What do I have to do?”[/color] “We’re behind schedule. We had expected to send you back tomorrow night but there have been delays. You’ll have to remain in the city for a while longer whilst we finish. When we’re done, we’ll let you know through one of our messengers.” He explained, vague on any real details. Adley understood the need for his ambiguity, to protect her and the lab, but it made her feel like a pawn. She was part of a rebellion she barely understood. Her fingers began to thrum on the bar top in frustration. Friar watched them for a moment. “Don’t worry, Adley.” He said with a stiff, unused kind of sympathy, “You know the contact in question. A friend of yours I believe? Annelle Caldera?” With the business wrapped up, Friar told Adley he was to take her to temporary accommodation. Outside of the restaurant, a stagnant silence had fallen over the street. No people milling about, no cars or hovercrafts or bikes rushing by. They walked for a while with only their footsteps for company. "Is it normally this quiet out here?" Adley inquired in hushed tones, a fear creeping over her. "No." Friar returned, "We should probably-" Clink. Clink. Scrrrtch. Sccrrrrttttccch. Before they had time to contemplate the noise, a grotesque blue body threw itself from the closest alleyway, it's hideous mouth gaping. It seemed to lock onto them, the only people in the street, and lurch forward with a shriek. Friar drew a gun from his jacket and called out, "Hey there, calm down." [color=PaleGreen]"I don't think it's going to listen to reason."[/color] Adley said in a rush of breath. "I think you're right." Friar began to shoot indiscriminately, hitting the beast repeatedly in the chest. But it was too late, it's momentum and raw, furious [i]hunger[/i] propelled it forward until jagged teeth were embedded in Friar's neck. Both of them fell to the floor in tangle of limbs and spray of blood. Before Adley could consider pulling the creature from Friar, another two had appeared in the street. From beneath the mass Adley could here Friar calling weakly, "Just run!" So she did. Adley had been called many things in her life but none of them had been "brave". She reached the restaurant doors on shaky legs and pulled only to find them locked. [color=PaleGreen]"Please let me in! There's something out here!"[/color] She cried, rattling the doors, but there was no response. She stumbled back into the middle of the desserted street and stood for a moment, frozen in panic. Somewhere close by, a speaker began to announce, "STAY INDOORS. THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL." And beneath the warning call, the shrieks of the monsters began to grow.