Marcus composed himself, standing up weakly. Evening had already settled on District One, the view of the sun now an orange bleed through the shades of indigo, purple, and black that now made up the night sky. He stretched with a deep groan, making a mental note to never sleep on that damned floor again as long as he lived. 

Suddenly the voices started back again; how? Marcus had just taken a syringe only an hour or two ago, the hallucinations should have been gone by now. Unless, unless he really *was* going mad. "God...dammit!" Marcus shouted at the top of his lungs, punching a wall, his fury upon him. His mouth was left agape upon looking at the deep dent he had made with his fist. He looked down at his hand; it looked normal, felt normal, but such strength. Surely his fist would have broken upon impact to have made such a dent, but he felt fine - not even a break in the flesh. 

Suddenly the voices picked up in pace, a single command was ushered into the very deep confines of his mind: a command so known and feared, and yet so alien and incomprehensible...[i]Fiat justitia ruat caelum[/i] Marcus inhaled sharply, his pupils dilating. His vision blurred, his legs beyond his own control. He was losing his grasp on his own reality, his own thoughts; his memories. 

Marcus stepped into his bedroom, opening the double wardrobe along one wall. Pushing the back panel in gently, it slid aside, revealing an armory as bleach white as the living room. 

Marcus stepped inside, stripping down and armoring up. His armor was advanced for the time, and consisted of a lightweight skin-tight cloth that was made up of synthetic weave, allowing ease of movement and flexibility without expending durability. The outer layer of the suit was covered in lightweight, bullet-proof armor that was layered around the entirety of his body. The finishing touch was a full-face helmet that Marcus slowly put on. A sharp hiss of air confirmed it was locked into place, and a single red triangle symbol appeared in the middle of the helmets visor. 

Marcus, no...Cypher, then grabbed his weaponry off the various weapon racks: a machete, dual pistols, an assault rifle, and a stun gun. He was ready...

[DISTRICT ONE ADMINISTRATION]
"Sir! Agent Cypher is active and ready for deployment, prepared to transmit orders!" One scientist piped up proudly. Their superior, a, General Stryker approached, his posture tall and stiff, his hands clasped behind his back. "Our informants suggest there is a large amount of Lucid located inside an apartment in District 16. Identity not disclosed yet. If Cypher can get his hands on the Lucid, then we may have a case on our hands."

The scientist nodded in affirmation, typing a few commands into his keyboard. 

[MARCUS' HOUSE]

A single box appeared in the side of Cypher's HUD within his helmet, with a red overlay. [MISSION: THE LOCATION AND POSSIBLE EXTRACTION OF HIGH LEVELS OF LUCID LOCATED IN DISTRICT 16. LETHAL FORCE: NOT AUTHORIZED - SHOOT TO STUN]

Cypher nodded wordlessly and slowly left his building of residence, beginning the long tread to District 16. All law enforcement officers in the area were notified: Agent Cypher is active and released, any interference in his primary mission will be met by [i]severe[/i] repercussions. 

Cypher kept his pace towards a walk, his posture remaining tall and determined. His enhanced abilities made this walk incredibly easy, and little actual energy was wasted. 

Cypher stood outside the apartment, cocking his head slowly. Testing the front door, locked, precisely to his thoughts; Cypher kicked it in with a single kick, the door falling to the ground, completely ripped off its hinges. 

Cypher held his rifle out in front of him - the gun was loaded with tranquilizer rounds. It would hurt like hell, but wouldn't cause any lasting damage to the suspect. Cypher kept his pace slow and careful, sneaking towards what was supposed to be the bedroom 'area' of the studio apartment.

it was small and dingy; lined with random garbage and strewn clothing. Offering only a small exclamation of disgust, Cypher began investigating, looking through every container and crevice possible. 

As he was beginning to lose hope he found the closet; throwing away a pile of tattered jeans scattered within it he found what he was looking for. A whole [i]stash[/i] of Lucid. Whoever this person was, she was either so hooked up to the damn stuff she had to take it constantly, or was a dealer. Either way, she was going down. 

Cypher accessed the communicator hub from his helmet: "Agent Cypher to District One Administration, come in; repeat, come in. I've found a whole stash of Lucid in here, probably the most I've seen anywhere outside a damn factory. No residents located inside, I'm taking the stash and returning it, over and out." 

[DISTRICT ONE ADMINISTRATION]

General Stryker nodded approvingly with a menacing grin. "As soon as Cypher brings in the samples, run anything you can on it. I want whoever owns it to be punished...permanently, if need be." He ended with a sinister tone...