Rogue city - misplaced Data

[Datalog 1755] Babadook

Joseph ran through the narrow streets, running into and dropping all the trash that got into his way. Through his wheezing got worse by the second, he couldn't stop. That thing was behind him, he could hear it shift the rumble behind him. It was fast and it laughed.

He managed to run into the main street, but continued his exhausted run on the crowded sidewalks. Passersby watched in confusion at the man in a classy suit running for his life. None understood and to none he would explain. He checked if the source of this evil was still in his pocket and its presence only assured him of his mission.

Joseph never was a selfless man, he has sold his brother for a promotion at Fell-tech and he sacrificed people that he knew as friends as fodder to climb on the corporate ladder. But when a man was faced with something like this, even the wicked knew what to do. The terror wouldn't let anyone act different.

He turned behind him, and saw a flash of the monster in the midst of the onlookers. All others blissfully unaware of its twisted presence. It's smile evoked something primal in Joseph and he found strength he did not know he had. His mind turned blank and he only knew he had to run.

He was running for so long. His lungs were on fire and he was drenched in his sweat. Somewhere along the way he had lost his tie, but he still held the data-drive in his pocket. His hand stuck in its spasmodic grip.

He took deep breaths and exhaled with a coughing fit. But he made some distance, he had some time. When he shook off the worst of the headache and was able to breathe semi-normally again, he looked around.

A few iron pipes laid on the ground and he quickly grabbed a hold of one. He placed the data drive on the ground and smashed with the pipe as strongly as he could.

Once the pipe made contact, sparks flew out and Joseph was hurled onto his back. The sound resonated and ricocheted around the street, turning into a sick laughter. One Joseph knew very well.

He frantically looked around, but he was alone. The monster did not find him yet, but he felt like the drive revealed his presence, or maybe that the monster knew were he was at all times anyway. His instincts told him that he isn't safe. As long as the drive would exist, it could find him. The monster would haunt him, until it devoured him whole.

He had to wipe the drive with all the data on it. If he did that, the monster would need to disappear. It had to if it had nothing to hold onto.
And Joseph knew just one person capable of clearing it.



Pro-jack was a very competent computer specialist. He was the person that Joseph called when he had to dug up dirt on someone, or when he needed some information to vanish. His lab was laden with misplaced cables and lights. Almost as if the cables were plants, rooting into the rooms walls and growing across its surface.

"So you just want to wipe this drive?" asked the fat hacker seated next to his computer. The drive was nothing special, although something was written on it with a red marker. It was too smudged to make out completely though.

"Yes, I just a...I played it and it was sickening, I want it removed. Completely. And I know I can rely on your professionalism."

"Yeah, but you sure there aren't any copies? It could be futile just to..."

"Yes. I am sure, quickly please, I have a...a thing after. It has to be done quickly." Joseph tried to keep his cool, but Pro-jack seemed suspicious about his behavior.

"I hope this will suffice." Joseph put a credit drive on the table. When Pro-jack scanned it he grinned happily and nodded.

"Def enough chief, happy to be of use." he said as he got into work. He put the data drive into the contact and started typing something onto the computer. His quick movements were replaced by a sudden halt as he stopped typing. He looked at Joseph, confused. Then he put down his goggles and turned to Joseph.

"Its empty, there is nothing on it." he told his employer.

"What..." Joseph's heart tightened. His mind started racing. "What do you mean?"

"There is no data. The drive is completely wiped muchacho, I don't understand what you are talking about." Pro-jack did a double check, but the drive was as empty as could be, it wasn't really even formatted right.

"No!" Joseph shouted at the top of his lungs "It can't be! I saw it! I SAW IT!" his eyes bulged and a crazed expression showed on his face. He started hyperventilating and looked around in panic.

"Chief, what is..."

"Shhh!" shushed Joseph "It's here, I can hear it. I can hear it. It's laughing." he cried out.

Then he ran through the door, shouting and crying frantically.

Honestly, this was a third customer that came in drugged to shit today. Jackson got somewhat used to it. The important part was that the corporate rat left all the credits for him. Pay without work? Now that was a good day.

He continued on with his day, doing various small jobs for all that paid enough for him to notice.

The day was long and he frankly had enough. He turned off his communications and started browsing the freenet. He prepared his gaming station already, but he had to choose what game to play. He decided to go for a simple RPG game that seemed to have a good amount of positive reviews. He downloaded the thing and uploaded it...Shit! He forgot to guy buy more drives, his stash was completely empty!

Before anger at himself could steep into his thoughts, he realized that there still was the completely empty drive next to him. He exhaled in relief and put it into the computer. After basic formatting the game was uploaded to the drive without any problems, so he loaded it to his station and connected himself to the apparatus.

He appeared in a room filled with various weaponry and ammunition. He grabbed what he wanted and got to clearing the waves of enemies.

The game was fairly good, although it was a bit different than he thought. It had a story that he didn't know of. One of those games that has many hidden clues to what has been happening to the character and one of those developers that tries to scare their players.

Jackson found multiple messages from the developer, most being in the lines of: leave or you die, or you don't know what dwells in these walls, or Jackson's favorite: the demon within wakes the madness throughout. It was very well made all things considered. Some grotesque glitches and images appeared out of nowhere and Jackson could see a twisted pig face, ridden with tech-ups and barring its teeth in a crooked smile just long enough to realise what it is.

Honestly these glitches started to be ridiculous, appearing more and more often, damaging the playing experience. Jackson decided to stop playing. He maneuvered to the menu and got to where the log off button was and pressed it.

Instead of him waking up back in his body, the world turned red. Blood started pouring along the walls. The sudden influx of effluvia and nauseating miasma attacked his sense of smell. A wicked laugh resonated throughout the room, along with a metalic clang.

The world turned to a twisted version of itself, keeping Jack to experience all the evil it could bring to him.

Jackson tried to open the door but it was sealed shut.

Something was incoming on the other side. The source of the laughter and the metal clang. The closer it got, the more did the sounds invade Jacksons mind. His heart started beating stronger, panicked. His gaze could not leave the door.

That something stopped behind the doors. Jacksons eyes wandered to the handle.

"Please don't..." he pleaded quietly but the handle did not listen. It started turning, slowly.

Jackson's meeting with the client played back in his mind. The panicked look, the things he said that Jackson didn't understand. The mention of seeing it. He was here too, he experinced it. The thing that was getting inside.

The doors blasted open, and a malgamation of pig, human and machine stayed looked inside. The hideous face of the monster grinned at Jackson, baring its rotten teeth, its sunken hollow eyes. The blood running down its parts where technology met flesh ran along its humungous body. Its mutilated body betrayed by the face of a pleasureable deviance.

"I see you little piggy," a distorted voice carried it's evil intent. "and you will be mine...".

Jackson got pulled back to his room. He frantically looked around, but he was alone. His heart was pumping and he had to control his breathing.

Whatever that game was, having it so he must see this when exiting was wicked. He would have to destroy whatever reputation that developer had.

He put the driver into his breast pocket and stood up. When he noticed something.

In the far corner in his room, a small red light emerged, followed with a familiar laugh and a pig face.

The thing was here. It came with him from the drive.

He grabbed the drive with his hand, gripping it tightly. He had to destroy it, or the monster could follow him anywhere.

[Datalog 899] The lady Fortune

Her ankles were killing her after the gala. The high heels made her look even prettier than usual, but for beauty you pay a price and she was willing to pay a hefty price to look her best today.

Missandra took the shoes and placed them next to the bed. Then she ordered a champagne bottle and two glasses, with a side of fresh strawberries. She expected company and champagne was her go to celebratory drink. She was confident that there would be a lot to celebrate tonight.

She changed the TV to the news channel where the announcement would be, then she checked her makeup and reapplied her perfume. She wanted this night to be perfect. She wanted herself to be perfect. That's why she bought this apartment, just for today.

The white modern decor filled the room with an eccentric mood, the bonsai and the flowers breathed fresh air and the real wood was polished enough to reflect. Rose petals were sprinkled around the bed and the TV. The pink lights dimply illuminated the room and since she paid for premium lodging, the playlist of music adapted to the mood inside. Right now, it was serene but expecting.

She was in the midst of her second glass when her date came. An idolstar, a part of a famous singing group. He was her beloved from the moment she first saw their show. He was extremely charming and handsome, his toned body pushing against the tight suit he came in with. His beaming smile and long hair finishing his looks like a cherry on a cake.

"I am sorry for the delay, there was a shoot-out on the way and I simply had to watch." he said eloquently.

"You kept me waiting." She extended her arm and he gently grabbed it and kissed her fingers. Then she motioned him to sit next to her.

She was getting all tingley just by his mere presence. She was so close to the life she envisioned for herself when she was young. She was a step from fulfilling her promise.

"Strawberry?" asked Mihung as he handed her the chocolate covered fruit. She bit into a seductively, keeping the eye contact between them. Feeling the fresh and sweet taste of the fruit made her purr. Older she might have been, Missandra took care of herself very carefully. Be it the natural yoga, or the plethora of implants and tech-ups she acquired. Her beauty did not betray her now, when she saw the young man gulp at her lustful actions. But she would rail it down again, she wanted to see her speech before they got to the main act.

The music turned playful and romantic as she licked the rest of the chocolate off of the idol's fingers.

The boy regained his composure fairly quick, grabbing a glass and hefting it to the air.

"To your success, mistress."

To that she could drink.



The night was even better than she though it would be. She was getting hot and her restraints kept slipping under the boys tries to unclothe her. But she held off long enough as her speech was just to be broadcasted.

"We are happy to announce the launch of our processing language and sense unit rapid enhancer! P.L.E.A.S.U.R.E. is there for your enjoyment! Finely tuned for deepening the experience and increasing the strength of satisfaction!" Cheers erupted from the crowd.

"Never again will your days feel mundane and empty!"

The speech continued and the waves of cheers and celebration increased with every point she was making. This was her triumph, her ticket to the elite.

A well-known journalist now stood up, asking the question Missandra answered perfectly.

"Hello, John Forward, Our Technik Daily, I have a question about the inner workings of this tech-up and the potential unwanted side-effects of the device?"

"Hello, yes. The potential side-effects were our primary concern as thsey are for every piece of technology directly connected and working with the brain. We have undergone numerous tests and trials to gouge out the potential glitches and I am happy to say, that we have made strides to having next to no glitches. Our test subjects have reported light headaches and harmless fever, which have both been amended. Additionally, with our warranty of over two years, you are eligible for a full brain transplant if needed, so you have nothing to worry."

The scene shifted back to the news anchor.

"The P.L.E.A.S.U.R.E. has taken world by storm, her company's stocks had almost reached the height of Fell-tech, and more and more people flock to the brain implant, promising to better even the average aspects of life. We will continue to monitor this occurrence and report any additional news. Next, game of sex or game of death, what is really happening in Harpers grove?..."

What would her younger self say?

She was sitting in a luxurious suite, with the personification of an ideal man, her success branded on every news channel and billboards anyone could see. She was the most important person for a full day in the whole of Rogue City.

She would say that their efforts weren't in vain, that all their sacrifices meant and led to something.

Suddenly Mihung's phone started ringing and he excused himself to answer it.

She prepared everything for the moment he came. She dressed down to her undergarments, prepared a couple of wax candles, popped a pill and turned the TV volume down. Everything was ready, Mihung would thank the god himself for leading him to this night. Even the music understood and turned to seductive and erotic songs.

At least it should have happened, but Mihung didn't come back.

Even with drugs coursing through her veins Missandra grew restless and angry, the tone in music reflecting it with some harsh metal. How could the little boy spoil the biggest night in her life like this? She looked everywhere for him, but he wasn't in the suite, he must have left.

She decided that she had to ruin his life after that. Nobody had the option to go against her wishes, especially now.

To blow off some steam, she sat down back at the TV again. She turned on some soap opera reality show, she was still too angry to understand anything that happened there.

Suddenly, the news came on.

"We are interrupting the transmission to dire news. The new brain tech-up known as P.L.E.A.S.U.R.E. has taken its first victims and more are dying every minute."
The image of a body with an exploded head showed behind the anchors. Missandra's heart froze.

"There are currently fort-eight known casualties with at least two hundred in critical condition and the number keeps rising. The announcement of this brain-device took place..."

Missandra's flooded with questions.

But we had so many tests, we did everything we could...how could it...how could I...

The music in the suite took on an ominous vibe, the lights turned red.

"New information arrived, explaining that interference with negatively charged electromagnetic poles is causing the devices to explode. This is the biggest mistake of the 22nd century, experts say. Even more in hospitals..."

Her heart couldn't stop beating, the sound of it washing over her.

"You lost," she heard a familiar voice say. "I am coming..."

Images of people dying with exploded heads flashed through her mind, but she did not care.

Frantically searching on the tablet she looked at her company's stocks. They were lower than ever and still dropping.

The music started to build-up, its ominous sounds scraping her spine.

She was a step away from the life she wanted, but she fell down.

There still was a bottle of pills on the table and it called out to her. She hurriedly agreed.

She emptied the bottle, gulping down each and every pill.

As her mind started disconnecting, it flashed with images past. Her childhood, her father leaving, her making a deal with a demon, with a corporation that would help her if she proved useful, but would own her soul. She signed.

And now her lifeless body dropped an empty pill container to the ground, as the music reached its crescendo.

[Datalog 329] The Merry few

A can of beans. That's all there ever is. A can of beans.
"It looks great honey." lied Tobby through his teeth. He knew it wasn't the fault of his wife that this was all she could prepare, there was literally nothing else. Although beans have become the stuff of nightmares to him, he still ate. He couldn't leave his darling wife alone.
"I.AM.GLAD." she said, moving to the kitchen to wash the dishes. She methodically picked up a plate after plate, washing them with soap and putting them to dry. She was a darling of a woman.
Their place was clean, she made sure of that. Whenever Tobby spent the energy to look about from his sofa, she was always diligently cleaning. He told her to and she was very diligent.
Tobby, on the other hand, had not taken a shower for at least two months. His sofa was always wet and his clothes were sticking to him like a band-aid. He smelt of sweat and piss, but the scent of lemon from cleaning products made it bearable. He paid no mind to his hygiene, thankfully, neither did she. There were worse things than being a little smelly.
"CLEAN?" pointed his wife to the pristine glass vases collection. For some reason, she loved those especially. She took her sweet time cleaning them.
"I won't stop you, but it'll be great if you wait until I am asleep if you don't mind." Then he just put his favorite sports game on.
"SURE.THING." she exclaimed as she hurried to another of her chores. Her white apron swaying behind her.
The room was dimly lit, with no natural light, that much would be expected from a bunker obviously, but he thought, he'd miss it. Surprisingly he did not miss anything, all he cared about was here.
He stood up from the sofa, with a squelch the leather detached from his thigh. He walked over to the kitchen, where his lovely wife was just cleaning the walls. He came up behind her and gave her a gentle hug. His thick arms connected around her cold angular body. Her long blonde hair smelt off lemon too.
"OH.YOU.SUPRISED.ME.HA.HA.HA." she laughed. He remembered that he married his wife for her laugh.
"That's me, ever the prankster." He said and as he retracted his hands, his wife's hair fell to the floor. She was nervous about her having to wear wigs, as she had no hair on her own. So, he quietly grabbed the wig and placed it back on his wife, so she wouldn't notice.
"You know I love you, right?" he whispered quietly, his voice quivering.
"OF.COURSE.I.DO.TOO." she said. Although her words were reassuring, Tobby felt none the better.
"I am thinking of going to the garden..." he let his words hang. It was a big decision and he pondered what course of action he should take, but he finally arrived to this one. He got to the safedoors and started opening one of the many locks.
"DO.NOT!YOU.WILL.NOT.COME.BACK.I.DONT.WANT.TO.BE.ALONE"
She was right, how could he leave her? She was his wife after all. He could never do something to his family, to the people...to the one he loved most. He turned back around and gone back to her. She made a happy sound and got back to work.
"I.WILL.MAKE.YOU.YOUR.FAVORITE." she said
"Thank you, I will eat it tomorrow." He had been too tired from the day. Honestly, he had been tired ever since locking himself inside the bunker. It was so long ago that he forgot what was outside. He knew that grass was green and sky was blue of course. He knew what trees were, he knew birds and puppies and all kinds of different animals. But what it felt like...what did a gust of wind feel like on the skin? What was it like to bury your toes in soil? What was it like to run?
As his wife was making something out of the beans, Tobby slowly creeped behind her and got to the door.
He opened the other locks, activating the lever mechanism that slid the door to his side.
He steadied his breath, prepared for anything that might come. He looked outside and...was looking onto a street. A street? He had his ranch here, he was sure of that. Before the bloody war, he had a ranch. His children...some children were playing on swings close to the bunker.
But here there was just grime and gray. Some liquid was dropping from the stone walls and green lights lit the narrow street. This wasn't the world he hid from, this was something different altogether. He still walked out onto the street, looking in different directions. In his surprised stupor, he didn't notice the pack of teens walking his way.
"What are you goggling at?" the boy out of the group asked. Now that he noticed them, he was even more surprised. They wore half-torn clothes, big heavy iron-laden boots and many colors probably sprayed on their bodies. One of the two girls had long neon blue hair and the other was bald, only little iron spikes replacing any hair. The boy in front had a fairly normal haircut, but parts of his face were replaced with metal, with lights and other parts.
"You lost again old man?" the boy mocked.
This was all too much, Tobby couldn't muster a single word. His one hope that the world was alright. That if he just waited long enough before he opened those doors, the world would be making sense again. This hope was crushed and it destroyed all that Tobby still had with-in him.
"Ay! Still deaf?" shouted the boy. But Tobby paid him no mind. His inner turmoil consumed all his thoughts, numbing him to all of his senses.
He did not feel the group pushing him to the ground, nor the weight of their boots as they kicked him. He did not notice as they tried to rob him, finding nothing. The wet splashed of the boy spitting at him. He did not stand up when they left, did not realize how long he was lying there.
"HONEY.WHAT.HAPPENED." his wife called from behind him, moving to his rescue. "ARE.YOU.ALRIGHT?"
His wife...no. The robot that he made to remind him of her. That was all that it was. An unfeeling machine, that was there for him to forget that he left his one true love outside, when he feared the bombs would come. A machine for his sanity. A machine that was taking him back to his house. A machine...no, not a machine. His wife. His wife came to rescue him. They will live together happily in the bunker.
She closed the doors. Seated him to his sofa and put on his favorite game. Then she made him beans.

[Datalog 1082019] A Philanthropist

Kripli thought that he would pass out. The heat that came from the supercomputer made him sweat and sway with nausea. His chair was drenched and he drank more water in the past half-hour than in the past three months. But he still wasn't done. There were traces on the freenet left, something that a professional could reverse to the message that was sent out.
The blue light reflecting off the gleaming metallic walls harshly contrasted against the red screens of the computer. The spherical shape of the room only broken by the island with the computer in the middle with a bridge to it. It was designed more for design than practical use and it showed. A little part of Kripli's mind couldn't help but complain about that. If his higher-ups cared about efficiency better and used the space for proper cooling, he would have a much better time fixing the problems they cause.
All this torture just because his boss couldn't keep it in his pants even though he's married and was stupid enough to get taped. His boss made it clear that no one was to know what happened. He basically threatened his job. Kripli's cheeks would be red from his anger alone if they weren't already.
He blew up another datacenter server core, just because the footage had gone there. The collateral damage was off the charts, but his boss made it awfully clear that he didn't care how many lives he would burden, the footage had to disappear, even if all the hardware had to go with it. And it was just Kripli's luck that Pro-jack hadn't come online for the last two weeks. Otherwise he could just pass the work on his prodigy and call it a day.
Another mainframe reduced to a burning pile. Hacker he might have been, Kripli hated dirty jobs like this. Whenever he issued the command that turned all the software haywire, his soul hurt a little. But a job is the job.
After three hours of blowing up devices that ever might have contained the specific data, Kripli was finally done. He leaned back on his chair and exhaled through the heat. The smell of burning electronics was still in the air.
"They better pay me a hoard of gold after this!" he grumbled. After cooling down and disconnecting from the freenet, Kripli almost made a huge mistake, he still left the video sample on the computer. He laughed at himself, even with his experience, he still almost failed at his task.
He maneuvered over to the video file, ready to terminate the last piece of evidence of the infidelity. Suddenly his DaemonDrive flared. It wasn't often that demons required his services, they were wont to care more about the mortal world than the cyber one, but most jobs were interesting.
The client was left anonymous, but the sum was huge. Definitely more than he got paid for his hard work normally. But the goal of the job made Kripli uneasy.

"Watch the video." It said.

Whatever little voice that might have been urging him to watch it before was silenced. The sounds in the sphere seemed to be growing in volume and the simple message on the tablet device was etching itself to his brain. All his instincts told him not to take the deal. It was a lot of money, for little work, but he knew the way of Demons. The consequences never showed themselves until it was too late.

But he clicked on the video anyway.




The Smelter Stadium was filled to the brim with the unruly, waiting for their favorite bloodsport. Cormec, the chief researcher of a distant Fell-tech branch Pharmaco, was chosen as the honored man to sing the clubs motto.
As he was walking to the spot where he was supposed to sing, his achievements played out in his mind.
The first man he killed on his seventh birthday. The gang he assembled when he was but eleven, which he sold for a position at Pharmaco in his late teens. His parrot and his puppy, that he dissected, trying to find out what made them tick. When he bought the most beautiful woman in the world and made her his wife. When he...he better forget that.
Cormec kissed his ring, a piece of jewelry passed on by every generation, making its way to its final heir. Cormec had offspring, but he wrote to be buried with his ring. Unable to accept a loss of such treasure even in death.
As he walked to the center of the stadium, he was met with a wave of cheer. He was a big player in the game of Rogue City, and he was treated like one. One could say the world was made for him to live in it, others were there just to make it interesting.
He had vocal cord tech-ups made just for the occasion and his voice was second to angels themselves. At least in his eyes. The crowd did not seem disappointed, but they weren't going crazy about his singing prowess either.
Cormec found the lack of enthusiasm no fault of his own. These people were savages and they savages wont to enjoy just the primal and primitive, and his singing was anything but. Every rise and drop in tone and tempo was ordered and perfect. His dance movements added the touch of flare that the motto needed and his bravado was a shining beacon of excellence. They all might have wanted a brute, with a harsh voice and an angry expression, but he will shove them that grace is the real killer.

"The Man of men, the machine of muscle

Be ready for our impending tussle!

The bloodied knocks, the limbs will be flying

For your entertainment our enemies are dying!

We will kill, we will kill, we will kill

Darkness, death and bone

Let us kill, let us bone

We are here to deliver

More than twenty pieces

Of fresh cut liver!"

As the chief of Pharmaco stopped signing, the Jumbotron turned on and a man appeared, seated behind a table.
"Cormec La Bor has committed the most twisted of acts, and for his glory he recorded himself for all of us to judge. To you Mister Cormec. I can only say that you will burn in hell for what you have done and that no memory of you will be a fond one.
"To the rest. I know none of you understand and won't heed my advice, but I will warn you nonetheless. Do not watch, if you don't want your life to be forfeit. The footage is so vile, that even demons sicken from the wickedness with-in. You have been warned. That being said. Watch the video." The man in the screen took out a shotgun, swallowed the barrel and shot himself.
Most onlookers were questioning their seat neighbors in shock. Even the players came out of their spaces in confusion. A man has just broadcasted his suicide in front of them, warning them about the honored man's actions. But none averted their gaze from the display.
After a few seconds of static a video started playing. A video where the a certain chief researcher pays a visit to a school institution. Even before the video was halfway done, all that was left of mister Cormec La Bor, was his treasured bloodied ring.

[Datalog 999] Theophany for beginners

The time has come again to bless the devoted with the divine. In the temple of descent an angelic chant moved through the air. The holy beings preparing one of their own for their mission. The white impossibly tall columns, the unending mosaic of godly scriptures moved through the walls of marble. The silver tiles reflected the ever-present light of salvation.
Zenithal was adored by his siblings, known for his compassion and wisdom, he was selected to be the beacon for the faithful once more. The angel arrived in his bound-less form and his brethren started shaping his material self.
The angel decided to be male, as male qualities seemed closer to what he represented than that of a female. After passing this information to the others, the important work began.
One shaped his face, big eyes to calm, a strong nose and mouth to be a pillar of strength, hair long and brown to show understanding. Others shaped his body, a tall lean form, albeit made from firm muscle and sinew, capable of hefting the burden of mortals. His arms and legs long and thin, capable of love, yet powerful. The last shaping his wings. He felt remorse at her sight, for she desired nothing more than his position. It was her desire that failed her, for it they wouldn't select her. Although desire and selfish wants were wrong and unjust, he understood her yearning, for humans were the fruit of their labor. The children of Theirs.
"Be sad not Annael, for your time will come." he said to her. Had she form, she would smile. She shaped his wings to be that of a hawk, though four times as large.
He brandished his wings before his siblings and let a cloud form a white dress. He looked over the others, sharing his happiness in the moment. Annael made sure to congratulate and motivate him, though he knew she hurt inside. Such a young clear soul, if it was up to him, he would let her take his station. Up to him it was not.
A pillar of light enveloped hi and he said his goodbyes, though not for long.
While he travelled in the tunnel the light made, he observed his destination. Zenithal remembered the pristine and magnificent cathedrals and other pious structures a-like it, the beautiful works of expert masonry that humans managed to build. Of course they did not meet the excellence of heaven's architecture, but they were mortals and yet they managed such feats. But...the church he was flying to betrayed none of the historic sentiments, the building was decrepit, its walls riddled with cracks, the holy symbols mostly missing. Though the flock of believers still remained and that was the important part. Zenithal felt disappointment creep on his shoulder, but he shielded himself from these wild emotions. These beings that liked to manipulate the dying and immortal.
When he arrived, the faithful around chanted an incantation to summon a godly being, which was a problem, since he answered no calls, but instead came from a necessity, he would have to clear the misunderstanding.
The people wore white robes with a pointy white head, on which a crucifix was fixed. They could constitute as pious robes, but just barely. Had he not know beforehand, he would think that his was a mockery.
"Greetings mortals, I have come to show you the ways of our lord and to learn of your troubles."
A synchronous cheer erupted in the room, yet the hoods on their heads remained down, hiding their faces. Zenithal did not mind, many prostrated themselves before bigger beings in their own ways, theirs may have been a little different than what he was used to, but to each their own.
"Oh, holy one, what do you require of us?" said the high priest. Zenithal could make out his position by the number of small golden plates pinned to his chest. Though he couldn't see the man's face, he seemed old, his frame buckling under the weight of his years.
"Naught, but an ear and a guide to show me what your life is like." Zenithal exclaimed, moving his hands with his words, his flowing white sleeves trailing in the wind, adding gravitas to his speech.
"If I may suffice, I would be honored to show Thee our place of worship." the man bent further to his knees.
Zenithal motioned the man to show him the way. The human was surprisingly fast considering his supposed age, the angel had to take big strides to keep up.
If he thought that the church nave was old and unkept, the outside was a world of ruin. Red and green lights shone at broken walls, the unnatural vines of wicked plant-life protruded from their shared housing, their lodging placed in open space, bedrolls placed between puddles of murky water. The whole area covered in a dome of stained glass. This might have been a place just for innitiates, the unimportant, but it seemed more a prison than a place for cleasing ones soul.
The adepts lived in wooden to stone huts, they had beds, some personal space and access to the lowest level of their library. Food and water were provided for them by the initiates, who they treated like personal slaves. The living conditions were considerably higher, but they still did not meet the angel's expectations.
Forgetting all other titles, the other two groups were priests and high priest, there was a supposed highest head of their society, but he was in their biggest station. These priests lived two possible lives, either one of reckless indulgence, tainting the religion at its strongest point, or utter obedience, where they did not remove fungi and mold from their skin, as they had no time to waste on simple matters of the mortal realm, aiming to pray at and all times. The angels guide looked the latter sort.
Zenithal knew better than to judge anyone, especially mortals, but these people by themselves would have died out. He wasn't lucky to meet one of their actual leaders, but he was sure of their existence. Ironic, but at least somewhat intelligent design was obvious in their plans and actions.
"Now to show you how we spread the word of god."
The priest led the angel down a spiraling set of steps. His wings scraped the sides of the staircase and left marks on the walls. The stone was awfully wet.
The lighting changed as they delved deeper, the hue of the lights slowly turning crimson red.
They arrived at the base of the stairs and were faced with a number of passages. The priest opened one of the doors, showing the angel a horrific sight. People in the room were connected to vats of electric components submerged in chemicals, their eyes rolling back in their heads, their breath quick and ragged. A hoard of bodies lying in a corner.
"This is how we manufacture belief." said the priest, prideful at the wicked act "We use it to power some of our machines you see, we are more than capable of converting even demon spawn to our cause with their rays."
Zenithal lacked the words to use, so he silently followed the priest, watching his new giddy and excited attitude.
He led him to another room. A demon was chained to a wall while four priests flayed it with spiked leather belts, chanting a hymn of sin as they did so. The demon cried in agony, looking at the angel for mercy.
Zenithal had been ordered not to interfere with the mortal ways, so he averted his gaze and continued on. The flogged demon cries following him to the next room. A single man covered in bloodied rags danced in the middle of glass shards, his feet splashing blood wherever he kicked in his movements. The life liquid dripped from the ceiling, the walls. A canal siphoned the blood from the room. Where? Zenithal decided he did not want to know.
"What is tarnation is this?" the angel shouted.
"That's where we make our guards." The priest said, watching the dancing man with glee. "We pump belief into their wounds, making them heal and harden. The belief helps them keep a cool head too. Some of the demon blood makes them stronger and faster and surprisingly rather subservient. They are almost indestructible too, though they are costly."
"What do they cost." asked the angel, scared of the possible answer.
"The belief of at least twenty initiates and two full jugs of demon blood."
Twenty people dead, for an abomination. These people were not pious, they prayers might have reached the ear of heaven, but they were wicked, twisted. This was work of evil. What happened in the great blinding, for people to become this evil?
Suddenly Zenithal felt strong belts close around his waist and legs, cuffs coming close on his hands. He turned to the priest in rage.
"We apologize holy one, but we need services of thee." he laughed mockingly "The dancers would be much stronger with an angel counterpart and we do need more protection."
The angel flexed his heavenly muscles and broke his constraints. The rage overtook him and he pierced the priest's chest and took out his black heart. After the act, his wrath subsided quickly and Zenithal instantly regretted his outburst. He tainted the excellence he was before and it would take a long time to better himself again, though the man impersonating a pious believer deserved such a fate.
But the priest only laughed. He let down his robes.
An unholy unity of technology, man, machine and demon appeared before him. The legs and arms were metal and red fur, fading into a sickly skin with scales. The beast's chest was a hollow hole, The strands of flesh slowly reaching for one another and multiplying with incredible speed. The face of the man more reminiscent of an eldritch being than a demon or man.
The sight made Zenithal run with panic. Using his wings he hefted himself out of the underground complex, destroying the steps in his path. Stones and brick falling after him.
He then flew through a part of the glass dome, breaking a relief he had no time to understand. Then his brethren took him back.
His siblings were excited, ready for the good news. Their mood turned nervous and worried as they saw their elder in distress.
Zenithal looked at his brothers and sisters. "They are worse than the devil."

[Datalog 541] Brush under the rug

Gate parked his car at the sidewalk and stepped out. He didn't even bother to lock it. Someone would steal it again either way. Gate used to be a robot, but he was much more now. His giant purple eye took most of his face, but he saw a many things others would miss. He fixed his blue coat, straightened his gray pants and positioned his formal hat the way it was meant to be worn. With a slight decline in the front, covering his singular eye.
When someone was a private investigator in Rogue City for long enough, they learned that image was as important as results.
He walked into the entry hall of the house. The space was incredible. Had they wanted to, they could make comfortable living quarters for at least a dozen people from this room alone, but nobody would expect that. If you lived in Rogue City for long enough, you learned that compassion is very low on the short list of qualities some people may possess.
A small imp was seated behind a desk and scampered off at the sight of the detective.
The angry woman came at her valet's notice of his arrival. Her surely expansive white fur coat was dragged behind her as she stomped in her heels. Her red hair and make-up reflecting the wrath she carried within. Her generous curves imprinting themselves into the dreams of man.
"You are finally here!" she exclaimed loudly, her clothes swaying with her aggressive movements.
"As you requested ma'am. Now, what do you need me for?" the detective asked, grabbing his lighter instinctively. It always calmed him down.
"Imp! The pictures."
The little red hell-spawn ran somewhere at its master's behest, returning with a file. As Gate opened it, he grumbled in surprise. The very first picture was of a bullet casing, it was a simple 9mm caliber with no discernable additional markings, but the second picture was...well...it was a shot puppy. A fluffy, red, definitely dead puppy. Gate switched his gaze at his client.
"You want me to investigate this? A dead pupper?" the detective remarked. He almost said it was bellow his paygrade, but...well...it wasn't.
"Christi was the sunshine of my life detective." the woman started. "The little angel, never hurt a soul. She had a soft and happy bark. And she was murdered in cold blood, by Fell-tech!" the woman half-shouted. Many actors would be envious by her heart-wrenching performance no doubt. But Gate was not an actor.
"Why would Fell-tech kill your dog?"
"Because she was like my daughter! They know I have a big promotion incoming and my competitors need to put me off my game, but they will see. I will show these assholes what it..."
"Please, calm down." said Gate, as he shifted through the rest of the papers. "Not a lot to go on from this."
The woman looked him up and down, then she showed a sly smile.
"I heard you were...good." she put a hand on his chest. Most would be moved by this, but if you lived in Rogue City for long enough, you learned that sex is among the cheapest forms of payment.
"I am." he said as he took a step back. "But that doesn't mean I can produce miracles. I need more than this."
She looked him up and down again, this time more thoroughly.
"Nobody but Fell-tech executives of some level have entry to this parlor, it must have been one of them. I can give you a list?"
"Good start." Gate pulled out a notepad with a pen and started writing. The woman scoffed at the paper, but Gate paid it no mind. He liked to do things in the old style.
"Where were you when the...incident happened?"
"Out of this district, I had some business meetings I had to attend. One of my valets was supposed to take care of her for the time being."
"I presume hi is?" he motioned cutting his neck with a finger.
"Missing." she said with a smile that confirmed his suspicions.
"Did he at least say something that might help with the case? Anyone he might have saw, etc." the detective slowly exhaled, in a futile attempt to release his frustrations.
The woman stopped with her confident demeanor, surely realizing that silencing the only witness might have been a stupid decision. Gate was used to these things. If you lived in Rogue City long enough, you realized that the higher class were incompetent babies, acting only based on their impulses. They had too many subjects to clean up their mess, they would never learn. But he couldn't really complain, since it was the biggest source of his income.
"He said something about a man with a tech-up in his face and a beard, but I know of at least four executives with that description. "
"That narrows it down somewhat. Show me the scene of the...show me where it happened."
The woman led him to her expensive suite. The dor was dull, the couches were white, the walls were white, everything was white. Except a little red spot on the otherwise clean white carpet. No doubt where the pup ate a bullet.
The woman excused herself, saying that this sight hurt her eyes, but she seemed less distraught than she wanted to.
The room looked clean and unshaken, no strong quarrel was taking place here.
Then he noticed it, a little thin blood trail, leading under the carpet. He moved it to the side, revealing glyphs and runes beneath. As his big eye scanned the symbols for their meaning, suddenly Gate lost his mind. As if falling to a coma.


When he came to, he was holding his bloodied clients body, his hand of metal and wire sticking out of her opened chest. He didn't know what happened, but he well remembered what his body did. It killed her brutally. Played with her bones and muscle while she was still alive, how it silenced her throat, so she would not make a sound. How it ended her suffering by breaking her heart. He was scared, he heard of malware attacking the senses of robots, but he was sentient...or was he? Would he be able to realize if there was still some program within him. Something that under the right circumstances, would lead him to kill again. Thoughts to think over later, but now he had a carcass in his hands. Others might have been nervous, clueless as to what to do. But when you lived your whole life in Rogue City, you learned how to hide a body.

[Datalog 7] One must imagine Prometheus innards

It has been at least three days, but Fred did not have a wink of sleep. His mouth agape even when he worked, the bags under his eyes stretched and his bald spot conquered its neighboring territory. But his eyes still shone with his inner fire. He was close to what he envisioned and he needed it.

The room was lit only by the screens on his sides, reporting various data about his experiment, be it healthy tissue samples, chemical reactions and similar things. By just a glance, Fred managed to grasp all the data he needed and continued his work.

Holding vials with liquids of all origins, he slowly merged them together, under the strict conditions of his own formula. Vapor and bubbles appeared there, a natural occurring vortex blended another two liquids perfectly here. He successfully merged two otherwise conflicting elements resulting in a completely new one, never before seen. But that did not sway Fred, he did not even smile at his discovery. His vision promised him so much more than that.

His hands moved swiftly and accurately, showing no signs of the fatigue that tried to defeat him. His head clearer than ever and his life finally with a purpose.

The room was otherwise full of junk. A stopwatch capable of evaluating the air purity, a headband that tightened when someone was lying, a white rabbit plushie, rid with deadly lasers, capable of destroying a small district.
A few days ago, he would call it inventions. A few days ago, he would even be proud. But now, he had a lot more than meager aspirations and beliefs, he would finish this magnum opus of his.

The final solution was in a vial. Now as per his dreams, he had to leave it to reach equilibrium first. Then he would sample it and then he would go public with it.
Even now, when he wasn't focused on his work, he still could not sleep. Possibilities with what he created were endless. Surely, this was the biggest discovery since fire itself. He was to be remembered for this, forever revered. Though remembered he would have no need to be.

For the first time ever, he was glad to have his talent. From a ripe age of nine, he could see what he would make before he made it. It appeared to him in dreams, visions. He always managed to create exactly what he wanted to. That was why he was one of the more reputable researches in Fell-tech.

His life's recollection has ended abruptly, as the liquid in the vial shined with golden light. As his dream showed. Fred breathed slowly in anticipation. He walked over to the vial and opened it.

He was nervous, stressed, doubting himself. What if he created a poison? What if he failed in some of the steps? Maybe he should try again? But he shook the thoughts away. They were thoughts of a scientist much inferior to him, a scientist he was no more.

He drank the contents. The liquid burned with heat and cold, it cut his throat but it was gentle, slimy and clear. He drank the whole of it. Then he put the vial on the table. He expected something. A violent outburst in his organs, maybe a clear manifestation on his skin; a sense of strength and vitality. But nothing came, he was still exhausted, his muscles twitching from holding his weight without rest.

But he must have succeeded. He must have. He knew that. He knew that enough to look around and grab the first knife he found. He knew that enough to pierce his hand with it. He still knew even when he was looking through the hole in his hand.

And he knew that he succeeded, when the muscle tissue in his hand filled the hole, as the fibers connected. It took less than five seconds for the healing process, which was unheard of, until today. Some tech-ups were capable of somewhat accelerated healing, but they were machines. Prone to failure and unreliable. They also affected only the part where they were in.

He grabbed the knife and stabbed himself in the gut. He fell to the ground, feeling his own blood escape his insides. He pulled the blade out and turned on his back. He weakly grabbed a mirror and looked on, as his transformed body healed itself with incredible speed. Taking no more than eight seconds, his stomach looked undisturbed, other than the blood that was already on the ground.

After a few similar tests, Fred was flabbergasted. He did not know how, but it was like he had lost no blood at all. Although there was at least two liters on the ground, he had his normal amount flowing in his veins. Had he somehow regained blood? How was that possible?

He tried again, this time catching as much of his blood in big round vials for keeping. But when he measured again, his blood was all in his body. He had been so dumbfounded, he had to try five more times. Ending with ten two-liter vials filled with his own blood. In the span of five minutes.

But that was just the beginning, he had to find out all the miraculous effects of his chemical substance.
He chopped off his pinky, but it regrew. He sawed off his hand, but it regrew. He took out a kidney, but it grew back again.

There was still a number of ways to die, but a total body evisceration was not one of them.

In bliss, he called his superior and announced his findings to him. It took mere fifteen minutes for the man to arrive. He came with four guards, positioning two of them outside. Fred understood, it was well to protect such a discovery.

"How much did you make?" he inquired."

"Just one for now," answered Fred honestly "But I am completely capable of producing more."

The superior scanned the vials of organs that Fred already harvested from his body. The gaze of the man kept switching between the Fred and his insides, when he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"I need to see it." he said and handed Fred his knife.

The pain of taking your own organs wasn't something you could get used to, but Fred understood the man's doubts. It's not every day that you find an immortality serum.

Fred gone for his intestines, cutting a meter long section and handing it to his superior, he then fell to the ground. His body repaired itself as he dropped. The three man observing him all looked at him in surprise, but the fact was undeniable. He was immortal. There was no way to test if the process of aging was averted, but he was confident it was.

"Again please, go for the heart." said his boss.

As much as Fred did not want that for sentimental reasons, he still followed the order, cutting out his own heart, staying just barely awake.

Suddenly his boss made a sound and the two guards jumped him. They cuffed him to a metal pipe on the wall and handed the heart to their boss. It was still lightly beating in his hand, though it stopped fairly quick.

Before Fred could regain enough energy to speak, a leather belt with a cotton ball was placed over his mouth.
Two guards from the outside brought an iron table inside and they cuffed him to it. His hands, legs, and head was bound, making him unable to escape.

Than they started cutting, again and again and again. They paid no mind to their amateurish technique. They did not care when Fred tried to scream and shout. They did not care that the formula for life longevity was only in Fred's mind and that breaking that mind would make it disappear forever.

They just put his organs into boxes. Again and again.

[Datalog 1225] Everyday metamorphosis

Ravenna was a temptress, that used to be her station. She reveled in the feeble minds of man, ensnaring male and female alike with her curves and dances. She knew what to whisper in their ear, where to look, how to act. Even if she was a lowborn, her reputation grew and none dared to call her a lesser demon. She was one of the most accomplished in the art of seduction and her victims numbered over tens of thousands. But that was long gone.

After the great blinding, she realized that human minds, hearts and even souls had undergone some sort of mutation. They didn't react to her advances, her generous curves brought her little to no attention and only lowlifes ever called her for her surfaces. Still, she decided to live in the mundane realm again.

She cleaned the rest of the dishes and dressed herself in her clothes. Cheap it might have been, her clothes were still stylish. She stepped out of the studio building and started walking to her apartment. The gentle rain caressed her cheeks and the everlasting green light illuminated her way home.

The streets were filthy and quiet, as they always were. For the chaos this city was most of the time, this street was a serene paradise. A green, murky, stinking paradise that made her feel beshawelled. But she enjoyed the calm.

She knew hell very well. She might have been rather young compared to her other brethren, but she travelled across the burning plains, to the rings of sin and other happy go lucky places. She knew the chaos and madness it was filled in, she rejoiced in it for some time.

She unlocked the lock and opened her door. When she was attacked by her orange cat - Azazel. A smile appeared across her face as she petted him.

She had a humble living, a one-bedroom apartment, but it did have enough for her. She kept her apartment clean and free of mold. Her sheets washed and her windows locked and barricaded.

Though there still was something missing from her life, she was surprisingly...content? Her at the pinnacle of her power would laugh at and mock her, for being weak, for falling under the spell of mundane normalcy. But she just did not understand.

She made herself some tea and a dinner for both her and Azazel. The raindrops outside had increased in number and her room smelt of scented candles. The book she read made her giggle at the innocent way the characters expressed love. Though the romance was riddled with misunderstandings and inconvenient timing, it was very sweet. Sweet enough to make her slightly blush.

She had an early shift tomorrow and she just had to have her seven hours of sleep.


The work was going slow. There were a lot more customers than usual and her legs began cramping. She never knew that even the bodies of demons could fall victim to cramps, but as she found out, they could, in more ways than one.
Thankfully her friend Nixxie noticed and switched with her, so she could relax a bit behind the bar.

A young man came inside the shop. He had a medium build, although he was clearly working out, his hair was groomed and his short beard well-kept. He looked at Ravenna and then averted his eyes, his cheeks started reddening a little. The old Ravenna would use this as a chance, someone susceptible to her magic would be a prime prey. But the Ravenna of today just smiled.

"What it'll be?" she asked as soon as the man sat on a barstool, still wearing her smile.

"Hello, one black coffee please. No sugar." his gentle voice carried.

"Sure thing!" she turned around and started heating the coffee.

"Thanks. Uh...how are you?" he asked her, while having trouble keeping the eye contact up. His fingers tapping the bar slightly.

"I am doing alright, but you know...with all that parade happening, there is a lot of customers, it can be a struggle sometimes." she sighted.

"Oh, sorry. We don't mean to be a bother." the man said, looking devasted by the feeling like he caused her more effort.

"I did not mean it like that, don't worry." she shook her hand.

"Why are you not in the parade anyway? You are too beautiful to not get invited." he inquired curiously. Most his age were already there, either drugged to oblivion or selling drugs. She used to enjoy such substances, but no more. And since he asked nicely...

"Thank you, but it is not a thing for me I suppose." she brought a pie to a different customer, than she gone back to the man. She wanted to talk with him more, but since he looked more interested in swirling a little spoon in his coffee than her, she had to be on the offensive.

"Why are you here? You are not bad looking yourself." a smile crept up on his face.

"I guess I don't really like it. Believe it or not, but all those drugs and pride and drugs. I just don't get it. You know what they say, It's like grinding bone from a wolf..."

"To feed a horse with, yeah. I understand why you would see it as unnatural. Especially now when children can participate." The thought felt wrong even to her and she used to be a demon.

"Yeah." he replied. He looked like he wanted to come up with something, but then he just shook his head and extended his hand. "Natan."

"Ravenna." she accepted. "My shift ends at four."

His cheeks reddened further with embarrassment, but he took in in stride. He gulped down his coffee and ordered one more. She made a little heart on the cup with a red marker, along with her id number.

"Gotta be awake until four." he said with a smile as she put it down. She realized she did like the mundane realm.

[Datalog 2028a] In the eyes of Mathias Evergreen

Fluorescent lights lit the way for Mathies, warning him of the various puddles and holes in the ground. The light of the water reflected the outside world in sickly green, through which even Rogue City looked worse than it really was.
His steps were fast, but relaxed. His breathing calm and head empty of stress and nerves. He was used to walking in the back alleys of his city.

He heard all there was to hear of the city's lowlifes. But the word lowlife meant something else for Mathies, than it did for most of the other caste. Lowlifes were troublemakers, boors, as well as rich magnates worsening the life for all other inhabitants of this pinnacle of a city.

His long hair swayed in the wind as Mathias dodged another giant puddle, this time with sizzling neon green fluid. His dark glasses fixed onto his face without moving an inch, his beanie, his overlong shirt that reached all the way to his knees. In a different day and time, people would say he is a hippie. Although he sympathized with their beliefs more often than not, he was aware of the error in their ways. Nobody would make a shred of difference in Rogue City by staying on the sidelines.

He finally made his way to his favorite shop, The Trueman's Vacay. The window displays were riddled with bongs and pipes, ashtrays, cigarettes and everything else you could possibly smoke. Just the place for Mathies.

He entered the shop, immediately getting a sharp welcome from the old school bell over the doors. The inside was as advertised in the displays. Dried plants of all kinds packed into small plastic bags, weird clay-like substances on trays, poppy oil in small bottles. It was heaven for a recreational drug user.

Smoke came out from behind the counter, followed by a huge afro, with such magnitude to make it seem inconvenient. The ball of hair was followed by the clerks white face and red-filled eyes.

"Hello, mi amigo." said Francis, seemingly fighting with his eye lids. They did not want to stay open.

"Hey Frank, am here for the usual." he placed the credits on the counter.

"Sorry amigo, aint got no more of that sweet smoke."

"Shame, what do you have then."

"What I got? Everything man! I got..." he started hefting numerous plastic bags around, remembering the name of each one. "Forget me not, but don't believe the name, cuz I don't even know where I got it. A story to remember, again false advertising. Take my kids and let me breathe, but that gets you into that dark zone. Then I got..."

"Something more like, The price for piece is high?"

"Strawberry excellence?"

"Yeah, that one. Just give me that and we are good."

"Sure thing amigo." Francis opened the bag and put half into a different one. That was much more than what Mathias actually paid for, but he knew that Francis would just take offense if he mentioned it. He was a good guy.

"Be careful though..." he said as he gave Mathias the bag. "Some weird people walking around my shop the last five days. Devotee's in hiding I am guessing."

"Thanks for the heads up. Take care Frank."

The clerk lit a joint as his goodbyes and sank into the pillows behind the counter.


Mathias threw the stub into his bin and walked over to the couch. Put his legs on his wooden table and turned on the huge TV. A documentary about some scientists discoveries was playing and he decided to leave that on.

It was times like these that his mind raced with the numerous options he had to make a difference. His dad was fairly high in the Rogue City hierarchy, maybe his words carried enough weight to make a real change, but he would have to persuade him first. And since his father was the one that cut every connection Mathias might have had to him, it was more of a fiction to talk him into anything, than reality. The channel changed to a life report of some apartments that were on fire and Mathias turned it off. He did not enjoy suffering as the others did.

Instead he walked over to the great glass window, where he had an incredible view to the city. It always filled him with an assortment of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the city was chaos manifested, people killed each other everyday, robbed stores, caused harm. But on the other hand, a lot of them just lived their own lives, like Frank, he had his shop and caused no problems at all. That was rare.

Mathias's father was greedy, he knew, but he also remembered his childhood. The man clearly had compassion in himself, empathy, love, it was just hiding somewhere deep inside. He took care of him after all, even if it was just by sending a hefty sum to his account every month and buying him an apartment. He appreciated those things, but he never got any time to spend with his dad.

Another fire erupted in the distance, a side-effect of a shootout or another blood feud no doubt. It was rare to look into Rogue City and not see high flames scorching some place down.

But when Mathias looked closer he realized something. He quickly ran for his goggles and zoomed into the fire. And there it was...The Trueman's Vacay dying in flames. The perfect shop of Rogue City, the bastion of weed and lighter drugs. His heart dropped and his weight seemed to double. He almost buckled under the pressure of losing another of the city's bright spots.

He grabbed some clothes, quickly put them on and got on his motorcycle and put it to levitating mode, riding as fast as he could, he gained height, so he could avoid crashes and anything that might slow him down. He narrowly dodged a medivac and almost crashed straight into a trading center, but managed to avoid both.

Then he arrived to his destination. The slow dark smoke gathered from the fire, the scent of burnt plants in the air. Even from this far up, the heat was becoming unbearable, so Mathias parked down on the street and watched on as the fire consumed what he loved most.

As he watched on, he lamented his friends death. Francis would never hurt nobody, he was a standup guy. He was the kind of person they hadn't had enough around.

"Don't worry your soul for me amigo." said a familiar voice behind him. He turned around and saw Francis holding a shotgun in one hand and a full joint on the other. He walked over to the flames of what used to be his shop and lit it.

"I thought you were dead."

"Almost was. Would have been if I didn't feel like a walk in that time."

Lucky. He was so lucky. But people like Francis shouldn't need to be lucky to stay alive, they should be protected. He had to assemble a force, strong enough to uphold the law in places where justice couldn't see. Fast enough to catch culprits before they put matches into gasoline. Inventive enough to save what they could.

He would start with his father, until he had enough support to start. And he was sure that he would.