The streets of Morgan Antimatter, 21:44 hours Central Continent Time
The guard's face was bored as he surveyed the streets. Normally Central Avenue would be bustling with life, but recent terrorist attacks had sent the locals scurrying for cover. But he knew his fellow Morganites, and nothing would keep them from their beloved commerce for long. Soon enough the insurgents would be crushed, and life would return to normal. Outwardly, Morgan Industries placed a high emphasis on wealth and personal gain, valuing business nous and efficiency, discarding even friends and family when they became a liability. But it also valued peace and security, even at the expense of lives. A celebration was sure to follow the Morganic victory, and the guard wanted to be there.
As he stood by the office building's door, almost nodding off, a man in a business suit moved past him quickly, not paying attention to anything around him. The guard received a brief idea of dark at the back of the man's neck as he moved away, and at the sudden contrast he glanced up momentarily. Other than that, though, there was nothing unusual about the man. Businesspeople came and went at all hours of the day in Morganic cities, from places unknown to equally uncertain destinations. The guard yawned.
Beep beep beep. The guard's SecurityLink activated, snapping him fully awake. He read:
All security personnel in the metropolitan area are advised to be on the lookout for a Free Drone operative identified at the airport two hours ago. The suspect is approximately 1.75 metres tall, 70 kilograms, with sandy blonde hair. Barcode tattoo on the back of his neck, acquired while held in a Hive prison during Months 2 and 3...
There was more, but the guard did not read it. Entering a general call for assistance on his SecurityLink, he ran into the building. He cast his eyes desperately through the not-insubstantial crowd, looking for the man. Ah! he was leaving a computer terminal and heading for...the restroom. Now he was trapped. Where was the backup? It did not matter. Purposefully the guard strode towards the restroom, loosening his pistol in its holster as he did.
"Freeze!" The guard threw the door open, drawing his weapon as he did. But only silence greeted him. Creeping into the high-ceilinged room, he glanced quickly over its open areas. His prey had concealed himself well; how had the spy known he was coming? He could really use that backup.
Carefully pushing open the door of the first stall, he saw no-one. Two left; the first of these also empty. He was inching towards the last one, when his trained ears picked up the slightest sound behind him. Not careful enough, he thought gleefully, and turned.
But it was too late. The Free Drone's tranquilizer gun was aimed directly at his chest. Before he could even raise his own weapon, the guard's world went black.
The guard's face was bored as he surveyed the streets. Normally Central Avenue would be bustling with life, but recent terrorist attacks had sent the locals scurrying for cover. But he knew his fellow Morganites, and nothing would keep them from their beloved commerce for long. Soon enough the insurgents would be crushed, and life would return to normal. Outwardly, Morgan Industries placed a high emphasis on wealth and personal gain, valuing business nous and efficiency, discarding even friends and family when they became a liability. But it also valued peace and security, even at the expense of lives. A celebration was sure to follow the Morganic victory, and the guard wanted to be there.
As he stood by the office building's door, almost nodding off, a man in a business suit moved past him quickly, not paying attention to anything around him. The guard received a brief idea of dark at the back of the man's neck as he moved away, and at the sudden contrast he glanced up momentarily. Other than that, though, there was nothing unusual about the man. Businesspeople came and went at all hours of the day in Morganic cities, from places unknown to equally uncertain destinations. The guard yawned.
Beep beep beep. The guard's SecurityLink activated, snapping him fully awake. He read:
All security personnel in the metropolitan area are advised to be on the lookout for a Free Drone operative identified at the airport two hours ago. The suspect is approximately 1.75 metres tall, 70 kilograms, with sandy blonde hair. Barcode tattoo on the back of his neck, acquired while held in a Hive prison during Months 2 and 3...
There was more, but the guard did not read it. Entering a general call for assistance on his SecurityLink, he ran into the building. He cast his eyes desperately through the not-insubstantial crowd, looking for the man. Ah! he was leaving a computer terminal and heading for...the restroom. Now he was trapped. Where was the backup? It did not matter. Purposefully the guard strode towards the restroom, loosening his pistol in its holster as he did.
"Freeze!" The guard threw the door open, drawing his weapon as he did. But only silence greeted him. Creeping into the high-ceilinged room, he glanced quickly over its open areas. His prey had concealed himself well; how had the spy known he was coming? He could really use that backup.
Carefully pushing open the door of the first stall, he saw no-one. Two left; the first of these also empty. He was inching towards the last one, when his trained ears picked up the slightest sound behind him. Not careful enough, he thought gleefully, and turned.
But it was too late. The Free Drone's tranquilizer gun was aimed directly at his chest. Before he could even raise his own weapon, the guard's world went black.
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