Per 
Unlike the other four transport terminals in Eurtec, Halfway Central Station was crowded and decrepit, weary with the tireless hum of androids and humans alike. Only the exposed infrastructure and holographic memories far above the confused masses hinted at the station's past, before the Coalition's ruthless development had left it to the mercy of Eurtec's infamous lower sprawl, the Blood District.
Named after the illegal rubedo trade, those unfortunate enough to live in here had neither love nor pride for it. Ravaged by criminal thaumaturges and dominated by alchemical cartels, no aspect of life here was untouched by paranormal influence. Of course, the privileged residents of Eurtec's Golden District did their best to forget that this world below their feet even existed; the mere suggestion of abnormality would present a threat to their false presumptions of objective normality, as imposed by the Global Occult Coalition's militaristic police force, the Eurtec Enforcers.
Speaking of which, Adrian Ross would have to keep an eye out for them as he shuffled through the stream of disgruntled travelers. He didn't usually allow his now damp, dark hair to drape over his eyes, but considering the fact that his hands were preoccupied with protecting several important documents from both the pouring rain and the occasional pickpocket, he didn't exactly have another option. He knew damn well that the contents of those files would be worth compromising his vision for.
Hell, it's a good thing the station doesn't have a functional roof. Otherwise, no one would be wearing so many layers in such a biologically humid environment without significant mechanical augmentation, or, he supposed, significant risk of stroke.
Adrian scrambled down a cement stairway past a pack of industrial workers loosening their mechanical limbs for the evening while crowded around one of the few remaining station holograms, tuned to the only channel that the lower city was allowed. The fact that would-be looters would only be able to watch Coalition propaganda did little to dissuade locals from dismantling the hologram systems for personal use.
"Good evening, Eurtec. We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you an update on the situation at the MAGE Computing office collapse. Current estimates put the casualties at nearly a hundred — more than the previous month's attacks combined, all believed to be connected to the paraenvironmental terrorist organization known as 'The Serpent's Hand'. In light of the recent terrorist activity, citizens are encouraged to report suspicious activity to their local GOC lower-court marshal immediately. If you have any information —"
Focus, he snapped at himself. What's done is done.
He'd already detailed his exact route to the subway car, which had just reached the station at that moment — something, of course, he had already planned prior. He would depart from the station at approximately 23:50 and reach the next station after twelve minutes. Still, he held little solace in his calculations, considering he had no idea where his final destination was.
Adrian quickened his pace towards the farthest doors of the subway car, trying his best to dodge the flood of vacating Eurtecians. He reckoned that he'd be less conspicuous in the back, with the added benefit of being near an exit in the event he was discovered. He grimaced over an already distasteful expression.
"Oi, eyes up!"
Adrian barely managed to regain his balance as he collided with a camera-eyed straggler. The stranger muttered profanities under his breath as Adrian frantically searched his person, checking that he hadn't lost any of his essentials, before crossing the rather significant gap onto the subway car. Adrian suddenly felt a singe of remorse, remembering that any agency this man once owned no longer existed, forcing him only to drift, quite literally, into his way.
He shook his head, as though doing so would brush away the cluttered thoughts occupying his attention. Pushing his way past other passengers, he finally making his way towards the back of the packed vessel, where he'd already figured he wouldn't be able to get a seat. Guess I'm gonna have to wait a bit longer to rest my legs, he grumbled internally. Adrian briefly scanned the crowd, finally allowing himself to pull his hair back, before glancing down at the series of documents in his hands. Despite having memorized all the information prior, he quickly reviewed the files, tracing his own meticulous handwriting before reaching a name circled several times over.
"Jaiden."
He hadn't even realized that he'd said her name aloud and quickly snapped his head to each side, praying that no one noticed. Then he realized that the other occupants were likely too preoccupied with their own business to pay him any mind. Besides, it wouldn't have mattered if anyone had heard him anyway — Adrian was the shadow of a ghost, an absolute nobody. His identity had been removed from every public record, leaving only a watermark of his past affiliation with the Coalition. He allowed himself to relax once again before pulling out an untraceable flip phone from his left pocket.
[RESTRICTED]: Market street. 5th door to left. Ask for the bartenders favorite. We’ll talk there.
At least I know where I'm heading now. Not that his unease was based entirely upon his uncertainty; his mind continued rambling senselessly as paranoia threatened his outwardly neutral resolve.
Stop it. You know why you're doing this. After all, the least he could do for Jaiden was endure a ride on the Eurtec metro.
As the subway pulled out of the station, Halfway Sector would catch the last beams of moonlight available that night. Due to its situation halfway up the height of Eurtec, the pillars of the Golden District cast a permanent shadow over the sector's unfortunate residents. Limited by the Coalition's relentless upwards expansion and the presence of the Undercity far below, Halfway had nowhere to expand but inwards, resulting in a network of tunnels burrowing into the city's own infrastructure — a network that became the Blood District.
The result somewhat resembled an ant colony that some depraved child had dropped a rock onto, which had since been removed — the centrally situated Halfway Downtown remained somewhat exposed, but the fringes of the city were comprised entirely of mechanical passages. Under miles of urbanization, passengers sped through the tunnels of Halfway breathing recycled air and noting the occasional street light as it streaked by.
Secondhand oxygen for second-class citizens, Adrian mused. It was common complaint at anti-Coalition protests. The GOC had no love for Halfway's anomalous population, but the terms of the 1984 Coalition Administration Agreement prohibited open aggression, and if anything, the Coalition always kept its word. After all, the GOC might officially be in charge, but there was no question that the city itself was operated by the Silicon Nornir — three sentient supercomputers that stretched from the Undercity all the way to the peaks of the Golden District.
For a moment, Adrian's memory drifted to the first time he was in Eurtec. The first he saw of the city were the gleaming spires adorning the Urthor Transport Terminal, where hundreds of Ways to the most exotic destinations met at the so-called "capital of the Coalition." Adrian allowed his mind a moment to wander in the relative safety of the subway, back to when everything was right.
"Hey, Sparks?"
Adrian barely turned to face Jaiden. The two of them were seated in a small crowd that was desperately trying to stay awake as the nearly senile centenarian Director November mumbled about the “pride of the Coalition", or something like that.
“What?”
“Director Ukelele’s asleep,” she smirked.
Sure enough, Adrian sighted an extremely ugly individual snoring through a Cheshire-cat grin near the front row.
“Well, he’s never been one for formalities,”
“Sure. But it does make me wonder if I’d be allowed to doze off, though,”
Adrian snorted. “He’s a director. We haven’t even been inducted,”
“Oh, please. You know full well I’m going to get inducted one way or another,” she huffed, crossing her arms.
It was a fair point. She’d practically grown up in the GOC as part of some discontinued paranormal rehabilitation program for children whose parents were killed in anomalous incidents. Of course, the Coalition discarded rehabilitation programs the instant they were able to mass-produce amnestics, but that wasn’t exactly an option back then. It does take quite a bit of time to dissect an 800-kilometer long eel-deity, after all.
“Maybe. But they might put you in with 1151."
"Me? With the Reprobates? Never," she pouted.
Adrian grimaced slightly, glancing towards the attending members of Assessment Team 1151, the notorious "Reprobates." They were known to be ruthlessly efficient, but it wasn't exactly an honor to be selected for 1151 — as its name implied, the unit was founded as a place to lump together skilled assessment personnel that didn't fall in line easily.
Jaiden leaned over his shoulder to see what he was looking at and caught a glimpse of the Reprobates' team lead, the legendary Angel. It was said that his callsign came from the many tattooed wings adorning his back, although no one really knew why he was so fascinated with them. What everyone knew, though, was that Angel was short for Angel of Death — when it came to high-profile assassinations, he was the first-draft pick.
Angel briefly caught the pair's eyes, which was more than enough to dissuade Adrian and Jaiden from even gazing in his general direction. They turned once again to face Director November, who was finally concluding her speech and was preparing to read out the long list of initiates.
“Yeah, there’s no way I’d survive with Azrael or whatever as my team lead,”
"You'll make it into Overwatch for sure," reassured Adrian.
"Maybe. But I already told you that I'm not accepting Overwatch if you're not there with me."
Adrian scoffed. "You'd be an idiot to refuse Overwatch. Hell, you’d be only the third initiates ever to have been invited to join them right out of the Academy."
Jaiden shrugged and reclined in her seat, crossing her legs. "There's plenty of skilled personnel out there. But there's only one Adrian Elliot Ross."
Adrian grinned. "That's so cliche,"
Jaiden beamed back. "Maybe. We'll see. But wherever you end up, I'll be there with you." She punched his arm playfully before settling back in her seat.
It wasn't long before Director November, who'd been fumbling through the numerical designations sequentially, arrived at Assessment Team 280.
"Please welcome Adrian Marshall Ross to Assessment Team 280 "Quicksilver."
Adrian stood up and began making his way to the stage, where he'd be presented with his new uniform. Gleaming silver and white heraldry adorned the uniform's sleeve, as seen on the arms of his soon-to-be comrades Medusa, Lynx, 2N, and Vesper.
Three of the four would eventually be killed in action. Three people, who were once three promising recruits in the same spot that Adrian stood that day. They had their replacements, sure, and the remaining members would welcome them all the same, but they just weren't the same.
There's plenty of skilled personnel out there. But there's only one Jaiden Sheridan Collins, thought Adrian as he stood alone amongst the packed crowd on the way to find her again.
By the time Adrian emerged from the station, most of the functional streetlights had been deactivated. He couldn't help but sneak a glance towards the horizon where, unsurprisingly, the brilliant neon glow of Halfway Downtown defied the Coalition's city-wide curfew. Unfortunately, the fringe districts weren't as bold, often finding themselves subject to the scrutiny of Enforcer patrols.
Adrian kept close to the glowing graffitied walls of the shadowed buildings and used them as a guide while his eyes adjusted. In the distance, he could hear the distinct blaring of sirens while white and blue lights flashed through cracks in the the far edges of the city. His body naturally tensed in anticipation before the colors faded back into the night.
Night patrols, Adrian warned himself, continuing towards his destination. He'd memorized the back alleys and tunnels in advance in order to avoid patrols, but he knew full well that this didn’t make him immune to being apprehended. Gritting his teeth, he remained overtly cautious of his surroundings, just as he'd done as an investigative operative back in the Coalition.
Concrete walls. Plastic chairs. AC units. Iron bars. The street had been largely deserted, leaving an uncomfortably vacant hollow. A mechanical clanging echoed through the street, likely originating from a clumsy robot or collapsing building.
After several minutes of careful travel, Adrian's eyes adjusted enough to notice the garbage strewn across the street. He mustered the courage to step away from the walls and began walking faster, praying that he wouldn't have to come close to any more Enforcer vehicles.
Soon enough, Adrian was able to catch glimpses of light through the gaps of buildings and windows, suggesting the locale was not as vacant as he was initially led to believe. Turning right onto Market Street, he could just barely make out several silhouettes standing in the distance, none of whom were facing him.
No matter how many rules you lay down, you can't stop someone who lives to defy them, Adrian scoffed as he made his way past rows of empty market stalls and temporarily abandoned storefronts. Counting carefully, he traced his destination to a derelict establishment constructed against the base of a large metal pillar, no doubt supporting the hundreds of floors overhead.
"May we help you?"
Adrian jumped slightly as a dark figure made himself visible to Adrian, face concealed by a heavy hood. He was considerably taller than Adrian, and if he were any good at combat, Adrian's thin, light frame stood no chance against the hulking brute before him. He just hoped that it wouldn't come to that.
"Depends," Adrian responded. "If you're still open, would you mind giving me the bartender's favorite?"
The man paused before giving a slight nod of approval.
"Follow me to the back," he grunted.
Adrian willfully complied, making his way into a largely abandoned bar. As a direct result of the Coalition's curfew, business in such establishments plummeted; now, only a few lonely souls drinking themselves into oblivion were scattered around in the building, paying no attention to him as he followed the hooded man through a rusty door.
Five people looked up as the two of them entered, seated on crates in a circle around a small table illuminated by dim neon lights.
"Sit," commanded the hooded man.
Finding his place among the strangers, he took a moment to study the room's occupants. There was the hooded man standing beside him, who had now taken off his cloak to reveal a mechanically augmented torso. Beside him was a masked middle-aged woman, sitting still enough to be a statue. On his other side was a relatively young Asian girl with short hair who was smoking a cigarette that produced a heavy, purple-tinged smoke. Purple Haze, he realized. Highly illegal — not for its properties, but for its contents, among which include copious amounts of rubedo.
Turning away from the dim glow of the cigarette, Adrian spotted a disheveled, pale man with a deep gash along his right eye. Looking deeper at the wound, he now noticed a black, tar-like substance sticking along the outside edges of the incision itself. The man gave him a passing glance, causing Adrian to momentarily flinch in senseless preparation.
"Ross." A fifth person leaned forward through the smoke, studying Adrian with a stone-cold stare. He cocked his head patronizingly, irritating Adrian more than he'd have liked to admit.
"Call me Garter."
"And the others?" Adrian asked, squirming slightly on his crate.
"Cobra escorted you back here. The lady next to him is Python. To your right is Viper, and next to her is Mamba."
Adrian nodded, keeping his gaze solely fixated on Garter.
"I assume you're here because of our recent discussions?"
"Not exactly," Adrian admitted. "Word on the streets is that you've been snagging your goods," Adrian paused to nod towards the stacked crates in the corner of the room, "from some bad people,"
Garter chuckled slightly. "We all seem to be 'bad people' in this neighborhood in the eyes of the Coalition,"
"Nonetheless, you didn't mention anything about that during our discussions," Adrian asserted, swallowing the agitation bubbling at the back of his throat. "But that's not what matters to me. What matters is what you know about your suppliers, and what they do,"
Garter paused briefly, taking a moment to release a deep-rooted sigh.
"In this line of work, we have to interact with the lowest of scum, yes. None of us find pleasure in being involved with human traffickers. But our people are being persecuted and killed, right here on the streets. Our city is corrupted by greed and wealth. Tell me, Ross, what would you do in our shoes?"
"If you know what's happening, why haven't you done anything to stop it?" Adrian asked, noticing the relative stillness of spectators around him.
"We're in a very delicate position," Garter continued, his eyes remaining focused on Adrian. "We're having a hard enough time staying afloat as is, while the Coalition continues to mobilize more and more task forces to shut us down. The Hand doesn't have limitless resources, and fewer still to spend on a few small-time rubedo smugglers — we're simply stretched too thin, Ross," he paused, reading Adrian's expression.
"Which is why we'd like to ask for your help."
Adrian remained silent.
Garter continued. "We want the same thing. It's pretty simple — you help us, and we help you. You'd have an easy task, all things considered."
"And what would that be?"
Garter smiled. "Well, if you're asking that, I can only assume you've accepted my offer." He slid a small folder across the table to Adrian.
"That has everything you need to know, including times, places, people, and —"
The sudden shriek of sirens interrupted whatever statement Garter was concluding. Coalition Enforcers. Adrian stood up immediately, seizing the file, as the others around him began to realize what was going on. Garter's expression had also shifted by that point, reflecting what Adrian could have only assumed to be disgust and anguish.
Garter glanced towards Adrian. "We can continue this some other time. You need to leave now. The back door is to your left. Take it, follow the instructions in the file, and we will find you. Go, now!"
Adrian nodded before sprinting towards the exit. In that moment, nothing mattered to Adrian more than withdrawing himself from the conflict completely. Under no circumstance could he let himself be spotted by the Enforcers.
He allowed himself a moment to watch as the five sprinted into action. The masked woman threw arcs of lightning towards the Enforcer vehicles from behind the cover of Cobra's titanium exoskeleton while Viper sprang into action wielding what appeared to be a ten-foot long naginata.
Just like we used to, he realized.
Adrian quickened his pace, making his way towards Angle Street through a nearby back alley. A large explosion behind him convinced him to run even faster.
I can make it, he thought. He focused on that singular thought, using it to reinforce his resolve. The danger dissipated behind him as he spotted the intersection of Angle and Market Streets.
I can make it.
Suddenly, a black Coalition hoverbike grinded to a halt directly in front of him. A rider covered from head-to-toe in black tactical gear jumped off.
Adrian racked his brain for an excuse. “I heard gunfire, somewhere near Market Street. I was on my way to report the incident.” He paused for a moment before adding, "If you need to identify me, I'm Glenn Forrester." 2N’s name — no one would be searching for the deceased operative.
“That's interesting. Vesper told me 2N's long gone."
The man rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, revealing arms covered with the familiar winged motif of the Angel of Death, before pointing a Coalition handgun directly towards Adrian's head.
I might not make it.
