A New Age, of old strength and allies (ONC 2023)

1. The familiarity of a stranger

I snorted irritably at the thought of having to shower at the private locker station. The morning and afternoon had been a long one, and the day still wasn't over. I had yet to track down another target and tag him. Though it shouldn't be too difficult, the worst part was finding him amongst the crowds in the underground club, Bluebird.

Rubbing my eyes, I realised that we'd come to a stop as I glanced out of the window to see the growing darkness. The windows often seemed pointless as the bullet train was far too fast to actually see anything. I stood as the usual announcement sounded. Unlocking the door with its familiar hiss, I left the pod, heading straight for the small coded door beneath the stairs that led back up to the surface.

Exhaustion dragged at my heels like a lead weight as I pushed through the door, stripping off to shower within the bare grey walls. The hot water helping me to shed the unpleasantness of sector seven. I shivered as a quick rinse of cold water gave me the proverbial slap I needed to wake up. Wrapping a towel around me, I left the shower, moving over to my locker. Waving my wrist with the implant, the door opened like a cheap magic trick.

After a few moments of towel drying my hair, which had already begun to air-dry, I pulled on my clothes, but as I stared into the mirror, I couldn't help running a hand through my short dark pixie cut. It looked almost black, even after drying. My thoughts wandered as I absentmindedly went to work on my make-up. I could feel my mood darkening as I swiped away a touch of gloss from my lower lip.

Thank god this was the last assignment. I'm really going to enjoy shooting that guy later on.

Though it was a pity that I was only tagging him. I rolled my shoulders, knowing that I didn't have much of a choice but to dress up, as the club had a strict dress code. Although being an operative, I could force them to let me in regardless.

But that would cause a scene.

Straightening the slightly revealing V-neck and belt, I gave one last tug to the hem of my playsuit, satisfied. I appreciated that some of the fashions from back before the brink of the end, had still managed to find their way to the present.

Looking down, I felt the beginnings of a smile of malcontent surfacing, as I checked the slim heel of my black and silver spiked ankle boots. They were always good for a swift kick, when called on. Straightening, I did one unenthusiastic turn for the mirror, catching sight of those familiar sharp blue eyes, but even as I twisted away, it still gave rise to the same old question.

Who did I look like?

A question that was never answered. Stretching, I snorted.

Like it really mattered.

With even less enthusiasm, I picked up my small clutch and left. Leaving behind the smooth walls of the platform, and their ever-changing background adverts of nature from long ago. All that was left of the natural world was now seen as a symbol of hope and reverence.

Climbing the last few steps up to the surface, the lights of the sleek towers and streamlined buildings blazed brightly. Night-time in the centre was always electric, both literally and figuratively. It always filled me with a wicked sense of pleasure, almost as if I lived for its energy. The atmosphere made me feel alive, which was odd as I found no particular comfort from being close to others. Though I did have moments like everyone else where I would simply cut loose, where reckless abandon would run through me and I cared for nothing and no-one, only longing for oblivion.

Not a particularly healthy habit though, as Casimir often reminded me.

As I joined the nightly throngs, we headed towards the outer reaches of Unus, but most people referred to it as the centre, myself included. The longer I walked, the more the streets began to change. Silhouettes were draped in doorways, and to the sides couples lingered in the shadows. Heavily-lidded older women, girls, guys and mature men stood eyeing the passers-by, flaunting their skin with throaty whispers of colourful but empty promises.