Project A.N.E.W

John Kovacs

There is an ache in John's right arm which doesn't go away, but he keeps pace with it's pulsing complaints as he walks, nonetheless.

By the time he reaches the entrance of The Syndicate, two men are dead behind him.

Perhaps it had been something in his stance, or the gait of his walk, which had changed. Maybe it was a micro-expression, caught on security camera, and analysed by a rudimentary artificial intelligence.

Things like that happened. It's why the Interplanetary Police began their false identity program to begin with.

Whatever the reason, two men had intercepted John along the way, when he was nearing proximity to the building where he had awoken as Aiden Witchowski.

Both now lay dead in dark alleyways; drips of icy water from the surface freezing on their bodies...

Perhaps, one day, this planet would be an underground paradise. Holographic skies could be installed, along with walls displaying a synthetic and ever-changing natural environment, as uniquely calculated by an artificial intelligence.

Plants could bask amidst running water features. There could be fish, and selected wildlife. Humans, too, could stand; awash with the light and warmth of synthetic suns.

But not now. Now it is tall, grey towering buildings, and a ceiling of darkness above. Colourful, holographic adds flash amidst the darkness, reflecting off the constant, dripping moisture from the unseen ceiling, far, far above.

And then, before John, is the nesting place of the Syndicate. It sprawls amidst the crawling city of underground, cement skyscrapers. It has legs branching into even deeper levels of the city, while a tall, reinforced glass roof looms above; a dome, striped with bars of steel, so that it vaguely resembles a budding flower.

Lights flicker within the clouded glass, shining blue through its hazy tint. From a distance, John sees the vague, moving shapes of lit elevators ascending and descending within.

Entering the building, John holds his arms out—pink manilla folder in one hand—at a security check. Two armed human guards watch, disinterested, as a flying drone scans his body for weapons.

John angles his body towards one of the men, so the hand with the ring lines up with him, whilst looking at the other.

The moment the drone's beam turns red on John's pocket, his hand is already holding the beginnings of the gun. Just as the drone's miniature alarm begins to sound, he shoots the guard he was already aiming at with a radiation blast strong enough to leave his roasted body sliding down against the wall.

The other man watches on in horror, and is too late as John turns on him. He unleashes a second blast just as he can see the whites in the guard's eyes.

Leaving the steaming bodies behind him, John walks on as alarms begin to sound throughout the facility.

Here and there staff members in lab coats dash out into the hallway, only to be seared in equal measure. He still holds the delicate manilla folder, gently clasped under one arm, as he makes his way through the building.

He glances in the rooms with windows or glass doors as he does, looking for evidence of a 3D printer, even as people dash around him to evacuate—or try to.

When he finally finds one, he lets the gun dissolve back into his flesh, before grabbing the hilt of the energy sword and pressing it against the reinforced glass.

Activating it, he shatters it, before doing the same to the next door and entering the—hitherto locked—room.

He approaches the large printer, and severs its vitals, before feeling his left arm go limp. The pink manilla folder slides to the ground; papers splattered with blood.