A Detailed Chronology of the World's Collapse {IC}

[Shalashaska]

Fifty years ago, a demon was brought into the world. Not a corporeal "fallen angel," not a foreign invader; no, this was the physical manifestation of one of the most harrowing embodiments of chaos. This demon embodied change, that which comes to all and spares none. This demon was called biografting. Five men of English birth brought it into this world in the form of a presentation to the United Nations; the United Kingdom was given access to the blueprints for this new technology. They shared the blueprint with the United States and France, but they weren't the only ones in on the action. Nearly every other country with the means to do so began producing knockoffs, desperately searching for the answer that- they felt- was right in front of them. The surgeries were risky and often fatal, but they could see that the benefits outweighed the losses. This was when humanity began to slip away from itself.

What no one but the UK, US, and France understood was that biografting was not what it seemed. It had been presented as a means of creating newer, better prosthetic limbs; however, there was much, much more. Lying just below the surface, there was even more to biografting. Spain and Italy could see this, and they backed each other at the next United Nations summit; they demanded the blueprints for biografting, and succeeded in obtaining them. This heavily angered the rest of the world, and it led to several outbreaks of violence and even the formation of terrorist groups. These groups, branded terrorists by their own governments, staged bombings in London, Paris, and even Washington D.C.; Rome was hit, too, while Spain remained untouched. One of the groups- it is unknown which, as all of them claimed responsibility- uncovered the designs for the full extent of biografting and made them public.

The dirty secrets of the US, UK and France were revealed; the UK's Royal Air Force all had "enhanced perception" chips in their brains; the US' Marine Corps. and Navy SEALS had "iron lungs," which allowed them to recycle oxygen for much longer periods of time; France had gone a different route, using the biografting technology to develop "EXO Suits," which were lighter, more efficient sets of body armor. Indeed, biografting was far more complex than advertised. The final nail in the coffin was that the governments had concealed all of this from the public. More and more extremist groups rose up, some in favor of what would come to be known as "Enhancing," others opposed to it.

It is said that the fall of empires begins with a revolution and ends with a war; every major nation that had control over biografting felt the pains of revolution, and soon after, all the great nations went to war. Everyone was alone; alliances went up in smoke, and if you weren't a major nation you became part of one by force. A mere thirty years after biografting emerged, the world tore itself to bits, and the select few were there to pick up the pieces. It's very likely that you were there. After all, you're fine, aren't you? Hell, you like this kind of life. You're not a normal person; you're cyberpunk.

~~~

It was all very stereotypical. A shadowy penthouse, a man in a wheelchair and a young, fit aide. In this case, the aide was a male, and happened to have a special connection to the man in the wheelchair. They were bound by far more than the secrets they shared- but the secrets were certainly binding enough. The man in the wheelchair let out a small, rasping cough, but his aide ignored it; he was used to it by now. "Would you like a handkerchief, sir?"

"Heh." The man coughed again, shaking his head. "Wouldn't 'ave gotten this far if I was a pansy, eh? I'm fine, 'Arry. Cheers, though." The man was sitting in front of a large wall of monitors, and seemed to be viewing the city below him. His city. "Is it ready yet, 'Arry?"

His aide, Harry, appeared to be uncomfortable. He gave a small cough and shook his head. "No, Mr. Stewart. The biochip is still being created; it all has to be perfect in order to preserve your safety, and the signal must be precise to keep all those involved alive." Harry shifted awkwardly. "Mr. Stewart, are you certain you'd like to go through with this? We can always wait, and see how things pan o-"

Mr. Stewart cut Harry off, slamming his right fist as hard as he could down on the arm of his wheelchair. "Listen, 'Arry, I've 'eard that speech 'undreds of times before and I'm sure I'll 'ear it 'undreds of times after today. I don't need it from you, eh? I've done enough thinking. This world is going to shit, and I'm going to see it happen." Mr. Stewart began coughing again, and Harry pursed his lips. He let the topic drop, for now.

~~~

"Up!" Thomas' eyes snapped open and he lurched forward, out of his cot. It had been like this whenever he was needed; there was no, "At your leisure, Thomas, could you..." or "When you get a chance, mate, it'd be nice if..." No. It was always, "Up!" And Thomas couldn't help it; he always snapped up, quick to serve. After all, if he failed to serve his overlords, he would be terminated. Thomas Cale had a limiter implanted in his brain; if he failed to do as ordered, he would be terminated.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Thomas muttered, standing up and rubbing his eyes. Currently, he was in a fairly livable room in a fairly livable hotel in a completely unlivable neighborhood. As far as he knew, this had once been Liverpool; he was on the outskirts of New London, but he had been allowed to choose his lodgings. He wanted to be as far away from Machina Corpus as possible. Of course, he always carried Machina Corpus around with him; through the limiter in his head, they had a direct line to him. They could talk to him whenever they wanted, which had been useful at times and annoying at others.

"You've got a new mission, lad." Thomas tried to block out the voice while he examined his "skin." The IM suit- IM for Invisible Man, ha ha, funny- had been designed to double as a metal skin. Obviously, it was made of a very, very light metal, but it was metal nonetheless. "I'm putting the coordinates in your... er, in your head. Go to the location and meet with our liaison. She'll fill in the rest of the details. Corporate espionage, lad; from what I've been told, someone's been dabbling with the black market, and it's your lot to investigate and then off him." The voice in Thomas' head was quite annoying; his codename was Metallurgist, but Thomas doubted anyone really knew what that meant anymore.

Thomas knew, but he purposefully avoided thinking about the definition, just in case the idiot could hear his thoughts. Thomas groaned and headed over to his footlocker, which he took with him whenever he moved locations. Opening it, he removed a small pistol, which had been designed specifically for him. It was jet black, with a silencer mounted on the end and a laser attached to the bottom of the barrel. The weapon was made of the same material his IM suit was; it could disappear just as well as he could. The IM suit was far from perfect; it didn't cover his eyes, clothes or hair, but he had had a second surgery which produced an interesting effect. The IM suit made a hexagon pattern on his "skin," and each hexagon could alter in appearance; therefore, he could appear to be wearing clothes while he truly wasn't. Thomas had had his testes and genitalia removed, a fact which he was not ashamed of at all; it merely made him more intelligent and less emotional, which appealed to him. As for covering his eyes and hair, he had several added panels on his head which emerged from his forehead to cover his eyes and hair.

All in all, Thomas was hardly human; however, his insides were still human. He hadn't been issued a robot heart, or metallic lungs. He was still very much human on the inside; he was, unfortunately, seen as a cyborg by any who saw him in public, and this led to many people disliking or distrusting him. Thomas cut that line of thought short and switched to his favorite "outfit"; a crisp-looking black suit, black undershirt and tie. When he wore black, the hexagonal pattern was almost invisible. While it didn't make him feel any more human, it reassured him to know that the rest of the world might think he was.

Not that Thomas Cale had a problem with being Enhanced. He knew that the only way to survive was to play follow the leader; hell, he had even heard a term being thrown around more and more often. Cyberpunk. He quite liked it. Holstering his pistol, he stepped out of his door and began the tedious walk to the nearest Tube station.

[Kilo6]

Catalina stepped off the riverboat that had taken her into Paris. She wore a dark grey sweater and a pair of jeans as her casual attire. Catalina walked up to the checkpoint to be greeted by two heavily armed guards and a man who was to check her passport. She watched as he carefully scanned through it while the guards watched her every movement.

"You are all clear Miss Dach, hope you have a pleasant stay in Paris." The man said, handing back her passport.

She said a simply thank you and walked away with her fake luggage. Her actual gear was to arrive at the safe house her company had set up for their operations. She walked up from the river landing and onto the road, seeing an almost surreal sight. There were ancient structures that had existed for hundreds of years surrounded by all sorts of advance technology. Armed Guards and police patrolled the streets as many civilians walked by the historic structures, most of which were almost, if not, were cyborgs. Catalina noted the highly advance aircraft flying about the Arc du Triomphe and the particularly increased security around the Eiffel Tower. On top of that, most of the armed guards seem to be Russian. All of this added together created a strange atmosphere about the city that made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Her HUD displayed that she had about an hour and a half to kill before she had to meet with the client, so she decided to head over to a cafe to get something to eat. She sat at her table, browsing the local news through her B.T.A. Enhancement finding that most of it was either biased reports or uninteresting news stories. She decided to just try to enjoy the old city's atmosphere, or at least try to imagine what it was like without all the armed men and cyborgs on the streets.