The pounding bass of the club could be heard behind the sealed door, thrumming in Leon's ears. He and 12 other men, all wearing balaclavas, stood at the ready in a dimly lit employee hallway, waiting for their mark to enter. They worked for Hyperion Red Security and were members of the Emergency VIP Extraction & Protection unit, or EVIPEP.
"Everyone remember their role?" Leon asked, turning to look at his team. As always there were no questions or objections. He turned back around to face the door, his eyes flashing bright green. The blackness in the room he stood in quickly changed to a light gray as his eyes enhanced the illumination. "NVG's on. Team 2 are you in position?" He asked. Three computerized beeps replied. "Prepare to enter." He placed his boot on the synth-wood door and grabbed the metallic handle. There was a vibration in his ear and he moved forward quickly, twisting the handle and putting his weight into the movement and pushing the door open.
The flashing lights made Leon wince for a moment as his eyes quickly adjusted to the added brightness. The music, which was basically a form of blaring techno-trash, completely deafened the sound of the door slamming on the adjacent wall. He entered onto a circular balcony with an open middle - like a doughnut - looking down on the dance floor below. As they had been trained to do, the 12 men at his back split, six and six, and started their way around the balcony, keeping low to stay out of sight.
Leon shouldered his rifle and scanned for threats. The club had been mostly evacuated of civilians, but there could always be stragglers. And unnecessary casualties weren’t how Leon worked. He spotted two human figures directly across from him on the other side; they didn't seem to notice him or his men. He pressed a small button on his rifle, close to the end of his foregrip, with his left index finger and the two men were illuminated by invisible red outlines.
"Contact twelve o' clock. Two men. They're armed. Take them quietly." Leon said into his comm-headset.
Simultaneously, two shots were fired. Both rounds impacted at the exact same time and resulted in the same effect; two neutralized threats. Leon moved quickly around the left side of the balcony, checking individual booths for both threats and civilians. His team split again, this time into six two-man teams, and began clearing the upper level. Leon didn't like doing this but with the amount of exits and contact points for threats it was necessary.
He stacked up in front of a door directly across from the one they had all entered in with two other team members. “Breach and clear on my go.” He said calmly. The two team members nodded with approval. “Ready…”
“Go!”
The team exited out the front door quickly, VIP secured and safe; Leon in the lead. Police cars and strategic response units at the ready. The police screamed at them to put their weapons down and get on the ground. Just as things might have escalated, a
Hyperion Red personnel carrier swooped overhead and hovered between Leon’s team and the police. A female voice boomed out over a loudspeaker mounted on the craft.
“Stand down! We are with Hyperion Red Security, a subsidiary of the United Science Division! You will lower your weapons and allow our employee’s to exit. We are not a hostile force!”
“Move!” Leon bellowed out and they began to move towards the slowly descending aircraft. “Becca, don’t land just hover, we’ll jump on!” He said over the comm-headset.
“Roger that. Maintaining altitude of 10 meters. You sure you don’t want me lower?” She responded.
Leon made a hand gesture to his men, signaling his intentions. Additional blood pumped to his leg muscles and he felt the synth-muscle in his calves, thighs, and glutes, expand and contract. While in a light jog, he dropped into a lunge position and sprang upwards, easily clearing the 10 meters and touching his boots to the metal decking.
“10 meters is fine.” He called up to the cabin, a small smirk on his face.
“Confident aren’t you?” Becca replied, leaning back to look at Leon, her fire red hair struggling to keep itself under her flight helmet.
His team followed in behind him, VIP in hand.
“Jack, how’s the package?” He asked the member carrying the VIP.
Jack ripped his balaclava off, revealing a young face and platinum blond hair. “Vital signs are good, sir. He’s going to have one hell of a hangover when he wakes up though; alcohol and sedative don’t mix so well.”
Leon nodded. “I think he’ll be okay with a hangover from hell to being dead any day of the week.” He responded as the last member of the team entered the vehicle and hit the button to close the cargo door. “Becca we’re good to go. Let’s head home.” He said, leaning back in the chair.
The aircraft hummed loudly and shook as it gained altitude, flying back to the HRS building. The lights dimmed for a moment but were suddenly replaced by blazing red security lighting. Leon pulled his balaclava off his head and dropped it in his lap, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Good work today, boys. Damn good work.” He said loudly, trying to be heard over the sound of the engines.
Once Leon and his crew were debriefed, he took a shower. He dressed himself in his three-piece suit that he always wore when he was in his office and sat down at his desk; it was his responsibility to do up an after action report after each contract they went out on. His office was very spacious, easily being 25 feet by 25 feet. Despite its size there was very little in it aside from a large work desk, a bookcase, and two modern couches and a small table in the corner. The most extravagant feature was the large ornate chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It was functional and minimalist and that’s all Leon needed. It was located just past the middle of the building and featured a massive glass window, easily 15 feet high, that overlooked the building’s lobby.
He had just about finished the report and about to send it off when his in-office phone beeped. Leon pressed a button on his desk and answered the call. “Commander Miller’s Office.”
“Leon. It’s Johnathan. Come up and see me please.”
“Yes, sir. On my way.”
Leon ended the call and practically jumped out of his chair. Johnathan Brooks was the CEO and President of Hyperion Red. He was the person Leon had to thank for giving him his life back. He was also someone that you didn’t keep waiting. He fast walked over to the elevator and hit the highest button on the board. The doors closed and his knees flexed as the velocity of the elevator hit him.
Leon meticulously went over everything that had happened on the contract that he could remember and nothing seemed out of place, so it couldn’t have anything to do with that. Could it? Everything about his recent and previous performance was near perfect so it couldn’t be a bad meeting and Leon knew that he wasn’t prepared to fire him because they had just accepted a huge workload from USD. What could it be?
The elevator dinged and the doors swished open, opening up to a hallway, about 20 or so feet, that led to a single door. Brooks’ office was the only one of this level. Leon began a trek that felt like it took forever. He clenched his fists and opened the door.
Johnathan Brooks was an older gentleman, around 50 or so, but he kept himself in incredible shape. He had short grey hair, blue eyes, and a gray beard that was closely cropped to his square jaw.
His desk was on a small riser, having to go up three or four stairs to reach it. “Commander Miller,” he said, standing from his desk, “come in. I’ll be right down. Have a seat.”
Leon closed the distance quickly; Brooks’ office was huge. 40-foot-high vaulted ceilings, a huge glass window that looked out onto the cityscape of Mars, beautiful synth-wood flooring, and a lounge area tucked away in the corner of the office. There was a hidden door, one that Leon had learned about through Brooks himself, that led out onto a retractable heli-platform for emergency exits.
Leon sat down on the couch facing Brooks. “You asked for me sir?” He asked.
Brooks walked down the stairs and towards Leon. “What do you know about the recent uprisings that have been happening around the city?”
Leon furrowed his brow, shrugging his mouth. “They’re caused by criminals, people not happy with how the system is run. They’re similar to the Wage Riots of 2025.”
“And you are very familiar with those aren’t you?”
Leon grimaced. “Unfortunately. But without the events transpiring the way they did, I wouldn’t be here today.” He finished strongly.
Brooks chuckled. “That’s true. What if I told you that the uprisings are not just about wages? Or discrimination. Or anything…human.”
“Sir?” Leon responded quizzically.
“Something has come down the chain from someone even higher than me. Someone from USD has passed along information that I am now passing along to you. What do you know about Section 8?” Brooks said, standing from his chair and moving towards a raised, circular table. Leon followed.
“Black Ops stuff, sir. It’s all covered in red tape and shadow. I’ve heard rumors though, from the employees.” Leon replied, walking towards Brooks.
“And? What are the rumors telling you?”
“They deal with things that aren’t normal. They’re a special task force that nobody knows about. Like I said before, sir, they’re Special Ops. That’s all I’ve heard.”
Brooks typed a few commands into the computer and a holo-screen appeared, displaying a portrait of a woman. She was probably the same age as Leon and a little bit taller. Being a cyborg himself, he could tell that she was the same way. “This is Hotaru Utada Usanagi. She is a member of Section 8. Myself and the, let’s just call them ‘the powers that be’, have arranged a meeting between the two of you.”
Leon looked from the picture to Brooks. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” He asked.
“You can always speak freely with me, Leon.” Brooks responded.
“I know I’m single but this seems like a pretty elaborate way to get me to go on a date isn’t it?” Leon said, his voice holding no humor.
Brooks leaned on the computer, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the machine. “I’m being serious. We are potentially facing something that is larger than any of us can even imagine.” He said, Brooks understood humor about as well as Leon did. “They’re looking for members to join their task force and I put your name forward.”
“What? Am I being let go?” Leon said, his mind started to race; it was one of the rare times that he was flustered.
Brooks shook his head. “Section 8 is a USD controlled group. And since 80% of Hyperion Red Securities is owned by USD, I’m technically promoting you.” Brooks pulled a tablet from underneath the computer they were standing beside. “You’ll still have your office, and you’ll still technically be employed by HRS, but you’ll operate with them. Your yearly salary will triple as well.”
Leon stood slack-jawed. “I…uhh…” He cleared his throat; he was certainly taken aback by this change of events. “EVIPEP. What about my men?”
“You’ll have to choose a replacement. Your pick.” Brooks smiled.
This strange deal was sounding more and more interesting and that was before he even factored in the money. Leon looked at the tablet in Brooks’ hand, his mind racing a mile a minute. This was one of those decisions that only came once in a lifetime. He took a deep breath.
“What do you need from me?” He asked.
Brooks held out the tablet, the screen glowing to life. “All I need is a handprint.”
Leon’s nose twitched, something it hadn’t done since the reconstruction. This was a good sign. He looked up at Brooks, striking a pose and saluting. He smiled.
“Right or left?”
Leon, freshly promoted, strode down the extended hallway to the elevator. He pulled his portable comm-set out of his jacket pocket, punching in the contact info that Brooks had supplied him with.
“Agent Usanagi? This is Commander Leonhard Miller of the Emergency VIP Extraction & Protection unit at Hyperion Red Security. I’m told you have a job for me.” He finished as the elevator doors closed in front of him.
