Byzantium – 4:59 am August 25, 2089
The dome of Byzantium’s upper atmosphere glistens with artificial starlight. At precisely 5am, the transitional shift into morning occurs. The glowing orange hue of a fake sun shimmers in the horizon, and by the time it reaches its uppermost point, it will be covered by thick rain clouds. Greater Byzantium is scheduled for a midday drizzle, which may last into the night. Its citizens are preoccupied by their daily morning rituals, however, a growing concern over recent incidents are beginning to startle the masses.

Two days ago, a family was brutally murdered in their apartment in the residential sector. Their bodies were in a gruesome state of disfigurement, posed in a disturbing manner throughout their home. Suspect(s) still at large. In downtown the following day, a man was seen attacking random citizens. Biting into flesh, bludgeoning skulls, and clawing out eyes. These unrelated events of extreme violence, coupled with the recent spike of criminal activity in Outward, has people worried. The last time anything like this occurred was over five years ago, but even then, it wasn't as aggressive. And with a rumored vaccination patch on the way, people are scared of a possible repeat of what happened before.

Still, the show must go on, and Byzantium's citizens are urged to go about their day without a hitch. The government has responded to safety concerns by sending out hundreds of additional Sentry units to patrol the city. While the notion might be comforting to most, one cannot help but feel that something is off about this place they've now called home...

---

As scheduled, a primary news feed -run by the Byzantium government- is streaming into every cyberized brain the moment they wake up. It appears as running text on the top and bottom of their vision. With a thought and a wink, they can navigate and expand each headlined point to get more info on what is going on today.

-=Governor Aldridge wishes you a wonderful day in Byzantium=-








-=Governor Aldridge wishes you a wonderful day in Byzantium=-

Floyd Conlon - Greater Downtown - 11:37 pm August 24th

As the bar continued to be filled by an overwhelming crowd, the Scottish immigrant awaited his temporary employee. The man took a sip of his Scotch and tapped on the table with a toothpick provided by a very sexy bartender. Taking his eyes away from her rear, he turned to his watch in anticipation, all with still three minutes before meeting time. It was rumored that the man he had called upon was very time-oriented, never late, never early, merely always on-time.

Anyhow, the music boomed loudly as the crowd jammed and danced to its tune. Soon enough, it had turned midnight, hitting twelve o'clock on the watch. Without surprise, as the ticker switched, the chair before the Scottish man was filled. A Caucasian male wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and dark-brown Levi pants popped from out of nowhere to join his employer. This was the man who had created a rumor for himself and was known as a very talented and trained hitman. His appearance though, did not match the expectation. He looked a little more rough than how the rumors described him, but at this point, the Scottish man did not care for his appearance, he cared for his particular set of skills.

"So we finally meet. I've heard meta cultus things about you. You have quite the reputation around th-" he finished as he was abruptly cut off by none other than Floyd Conlon, the gun-for-hire.

"Let's cut to the chase shall we" Conlon said, not worrying nor cautious about anyone in the large bar. "You contacted me for a reason, so spill" he added, crossing his arms and laying back on his chair casually.

The Scottish gentlemen was not amused by the way Conlon behaved himself, but feared saying anything about such a notorious criminal. "Alright Mr. Hanes" the man started, knowing Conlon by the name of Richard Hanes. In fact, nobody knew Conlon's true identity. Every district had a different name for him, all to keep him near ghost-like - unidentified.

"Three nights ago a man by the name of Esteban Kovaleski stole fifteen crates from one of my shipm-" he paused as he was once again cut off by Conlon. "Is he the target?" Floyd asked urgently. "Yea, he is" the Scottish man responded with irritation. "What was in the crates?" Was the follow-up question which was not answered without a little hesitation. The Scottish man feared revealing too much, but knew how all this worked. If he refused to answer any if the questions, Conlon would vanish and never be seen again in the same place. So he decided it'd be best to answer. "Forty-five crates filled with high-yield chemical explosives. If I may, there had been an old rumor that you never asked questions before - is it true?"

"Hand over the suitcase with the information" was Conlon's only response as he stood from his chair. "In three days I will notify you with a small briefin'. That's when I'll tell you exactly when he will be eliminated. But until then, you wait. Do not attempt to contact me, do not attempt to find me, if you do, I will kill you. Other than that, when the job is dun' I'll find you. You pay me then" Floyd instructed as he disappeared into the crowd and exited the building.

Greater Downtown - 1:45 am August 25th

By this time, the bar was across the downtown area, completely out of sight and reach. But now Floyd found himself against a dangerous path. He stood form on the steps of a home, one that did not belong to him, but one he helped pay for - anonymously.

It had been a couple of years since he was informed of having a daughter. After losing his wife and unborn child, this little girl he'd never met was all he thought about. Stripped of his first child, Floyd attempts to see joy through his daughter's success. With rage still in his heart from the past, he's taken on the hardest life he could think of, but one that would ensure his daughter's future. Seventy-five percent of his earnings after every kill goes into twenty different bank accounts, all of which have a different account numbers and passwords everyday. These numerals are chosen at random, configuring them to a point of invulnerability. One that does not know the account number generated not the password does not have a chance in hell to track it or open it. In addition, due to its daily change, the money is transferred through seven accounts weekly, until the money is transferred to a set account. In Floyd's instance, the money is transferred to Heather Claire's bank account, the mother of his daughter.

Anyhow, Floyd just stared at this house, losing his composer. It wasn't because this was his daughter's home, it was because inside, he knew there was a family who slept together in unity, something he would never experience. Wiping his face with his hand, Floyd continued down the path and left Greater Downtown, returning to the Outward slums to sleep for three hours before having to set sail to work at Crater Bay.

Delilah Rould

Apartment 201 - Residential District - 5:00 am August 25, 2089

A soft whurr of the windows changing from a starlit cityscape to a beautiful orange dawn, reflecting the changing of the sky over the entire colony filled Delilah’s room. This usually woke her, but this morning, she was sleeping fitfully until she sat up screaming “STOP!” Breathing heavily, she tried desperately to recall the horrible nightmare, but it eluded her, disappearing as suddenly as her scream had left her lips. Her messy blonde locks obscured her view of the room as she groaned softly, eyes lowering from wide eyed into slits. She looked around her room, the various grey and white tints giving the room a contemporary yet lonely feel as she sat up straight and yawned, arms stiff and back arching. She had client meetings off and on all day and just knew it would be frustrating as hell dealing with some of these people. Why did they choose her as an event planner? Sure, she loved throwing a party. But some of the demands she had to fulfill for these clients were getting out of hand.

”Whatever,” she mumbled to no one in particular, stepping off the bed onto the warm linoleum (it was programed to start warming 15 minutes prior to the window changing). Her ocean blue eyes went directly to her closet, going through in her mind various outfit combinations. When she finally decided on one, another whurr came from her closet. The door slid open and there was the outfit, jewelry hanging from it and shoes underneath. She stripped down and got into the dress. She then walked to her dresser, pressing a button so her makeup and curler lifted up out of it, applying it herself and fixing her hair. She was too particular to have one of those automatic makeup airbrushers installed. One of her friends had been one of the first to try it and it really made her look like a clown. Not that Delilah said anything but it made her mind up about the tech.

She moseyed into her kitchen, a screen popping up when she stood in front of the cabinets between her fridge and oven. She looked through it, choosing bacon and eggs with a biscuit. Sitting down at her table while the breakfast slid from the fridge to the stove and cooked, she sighed, gaze drifting to the window in that room. She was just so… bored. She needed something new to happen. But nothing terrible… like that awful murder a few apartment buildings over in the Residential District. She shivered at the thought, rubbing her arms while her breakfast on a floating tray landed in front of her. She started to eat, just now bothering to read what was happening today in Byzantium in her vision. After going through the headlines, she opened her messages, scrunching her lips to the side as she created a to-do list for the day in a notes section, easy to pull up throughout the day.

Delilah finished her meal, running her hand through her hair once before stepping out of her apartment, heading down to the street in front of her home. She waved for public transport, getting inside the hover car and asking to go to the Beacon. Leaning back into the backseat, Delilah thought about how to unwind later after work. The idea of cocktails and dancing would have to get her through all the fake smiles she got to put on for people at the Beacon, her first one plastered there as soon as she stepped out of the hover car. The money she owed the driver exchanged electronically, as her eyes landed on her first client waiting right there for her . “Hi there! I’m Delilah Rould, we spoke yesterday?”

In front a tower in the Beacon - 7:00 am August 25, 2089

Noah Dulorme – 6:09 am - Outward District 6th point parallel – Little America – Rooftop of Project Building Alpha

Byzantium weather is a phenomena in on itself. The gentle gust of wind, the feint warmth of a rising sun. All of these things felt real. Natural. But somewhere, a team of engineers were orchestrating every subtle nuance of today’s forecast. At least that’s what the centralnet said. Any information beyond that was left for the imagination. Looking out from the rooftop of his project building, the sun rose perfectly behind the Beacon like it always did, igniting its skyscrapers with a lavishing aura that brought permanence to its name. From where he stood, that place may as well have been on the moon. He imagined people in expensive suits drinking expensive liquor, dancing without a care in the world. Maybe someone on one of those exotic tower suites was looking back at him now, thankful that they’d never have to worry about ending up in a dump like this. They must feel like gods, Noah thought. The weather controllers. The Beaconites. Hell, even people in the Residential Ward got it made. They’d be right to think so; if Beacon was on the moon, then Outward was back on earth.

A loud scream was heard somewhere down on street level. Noah paid it no mind. He kept his focus on his hovercycle, double-checking the battery core's wiring. Within minutes, a pack of sentry units darted toward the direction where the scream came from. One of them stopped and redirected its attention toward Noah.

“Halt.” A grizzly, monotone voice echoed from the unit’s speakers. A beam of light flashed from one of its appendages and rigorously scanned Noah. “State the manner of your business Citizen Noah Dulorme.” He froze in place and slowly looked up at the Sentry. It was as large as his hovercycle, and its appendages were now armed with stun weapons. “Just fixing my bike before heading off to work.”Just then, a loud explosion went off not too far from where Noah stood. He turned west and spotted a burning apartment building less than a mile away.

“Potential Arson suspects fleeing the scene. Rerouting to point 5 parallel for assistance. Thank you Citizen for your cooperation. Governor Aldridge wishes you a wonderful day. ” Noah felt the heat from the sentry’s thrusters as it bolted off into the direction of the explosion. He shrugged, then went back to tuning up his hovercycle. Just another typical morning in Outward.

----

The Beacon 7:00 am – UHF Banking Tower

Edward MacArthur impatiently stood in front of his workplace, United Hedge Fund, Beacon’s premier banking tower. Even though the event coordinator arrived on time, the 65 year old bank investor was still irritated. He hated waiting for people. It was beneath him. He just wanted to get this over with so he could get back to work.

“Hi there! I’m Delilah Rould, we spoke yesterday?”

“Yes we did. Edward MacArthur.” He reached out to shake her hand. It felt more like a chore than a welcoming gesture. “Listen, I’m pressed for time so I’ll get to the point. The reason for our face-to-face is so my son won’t try tapping into our conversation. He’s a bit odd like that. Anyways, it’s his birthday and…well, it was two days ago, but I haven’t had the time to plan anything special for him. He’s 21 you see. He and his friends want a night out on the town. I’ve heard that you’ve got quite the connections. Just make sure he has a good time.”

MacArthur winked, forwarding a bio of his son via cyberbrain message. It is specially encrypted so only Delilah could open it.



“I know it’s not much to go on, but you know how kids are. They tell you they like to do certain things, but then scrutinize you for bringing it up. He’s a bit too wound up, you see?” Edward didn’t discuss the topic further, leaving it up to Delilah for interpretation. He glanced at the clock displayed on the bottom left of his vision. “Any questions? Because I have one: How much will your services cost me exactly?”

Delilah Rould

The Beacon – 7:05 am- UHF Banking Tower

Delilah shook Edward MacArthur’s hand, his grip like his exterior… quick, formal, and aggressive. She kept her professional closed lip smile, nodding as he spoke. She didn’t dare interject for delaying him from his daily routine which she had a feeling this meeting was interrupting. She scanned the bio Mr. MacArthur sent, if you could call it that. She wanted to sigh, knowing this would be a lot of work, but at the same time he was at least giving her plenty of room for interpretation which was a lot nicer than ‘I want this this and this for this price. Just do it’. “I can do a good time, Mr. MacArthur… a birthday party like no other,” she reassured him with a convincing wide smile and nod. “My general fee is a little less than what I’m quoting you, but I think you’re wanting something more than a general party for your son,” she said, messaging him a rather high quote… a proverbial take it or leave it note across the table.

“I have one question of my own though,” she interjected to cut whatever reaction he might have to her price. “Do you want me to contact Richard during the planning of this party or make it a surprise? Also shall I get him to the party?” she asked, opening a note in her vision and recording information. 21st birthday party. Richard MacArthur and friends. Night on the town. Captain of Graviskate team. Needs break from University… and probably father.

Edward MacArthur – 7:08 am – UHF Banking Tower

Edward MacArthur grumbled under his breath, glancing continually to the time in the corner of his vision. He didn’t have time to argue numbers. “Fine,” he said, suspecting Delilah might be taking advantage of the fact that he was obviously wealthy, but he didn’t come to this little face-to-face meeting to walk away without someone planning this party. “And no, it should be a surprise. Get him there and his friends. If they find out along the way it’s to his party I could care less, but what the evening will consist of should feel like unplanned fun.” He took a step backwards. “I’ll be forwarding you the money this afternoon to get everything in order. Our meeting must be cut short. Good bye Miss Rould. Don’t disappoint me,” he said firmly with a nod.

Delilah Rould – 7:10 am – UHF Banking Tower

Delilah nodded in return, continuing to add notes before turning back to traffic and waving for another transport craft. She chewed her lip, a bad habit her mother always said, as her head swirled with ideas. First she would book the VIP box for the Graviskate finals tonight. Then make sure Richard MacArthur and guests were on the entrance list to the newest club in town, Heat. Create a tab at the club for any drinks, food, damage to property. She would call in one of her friends, Helga Malone, who would give her a deal on being Richard’s date for the party. Helga was one of the most renowned models in Byzantium, and Delilah had asked her on more than one occasion for this type of favor. Helga usually obliged, liking the good press that came about when photographers wondered “Who is Helga Malone’s new arm candy?” and plastered it on front pages. She would have to book a stretch HUV (hover utility vehicle) for them to make their entrance to each place, and book ad time of some of the flashing signs around Downtown with Richard’s name on them to flash as they drove by. She’d order some of the latest outfits and have them in the HUV in case he and his friends wanted to change for the party, and of course a ride with a hot tub and stocked with alcohol and food. She would also have to book a hotel for the after party and make sure they got a whole floor to themselves at least.

Greater Downtown- 7:35 am – Outside the Graviskate arena

By the time Delilah had thought all this through, the car she was in had stopped in Downtown and she was on her mission to get these things put in motion. She knew if she called some places would answer and some wouldn’t. One of her famous tactics was to stand outside a business, call and ask for something, and if ignored or told no, she marched inside right after and got it done in person. Her first place of business? The Graviskate center. She stood outside and scrolled through faces in her vision until she got to Hector Yates, owner of the arena and usually the one to sit in the center VIP box. Delilah called him and luckily he answered.

“Hector?” she spoke, having a habit of pressing two of her fingers just under her ear when talking into the air while on a call.

“Yes Delilah?” the man asked tentatively, probably aware this wasn’t for a friendly chat.

“I need the VIP box tonight,” she said firmly but in an upbeat tone. A guffaw was heard over the speaker before Hector cleared his throat.

“Delilah, it’s the finals. No amount of money…”

“I’ll give you 3 times regular booking price,” she said, making a note of the figure next to ‘Stadium’ in her notes. There was a pause as Hector weighed the options.

“What about a date with that?” he asked, obviously considering her offer at least.

“Oh Hector. That would just cost you 5 times regular booking price by the time I was done with you,” she smirked, her other hand resting on her hip as the man chuckled and sighed.

“Alright Delilah. But I expect that money in my account tomorrow at the latest,” he said, lighthearted but serious.

“Yes sir,” she smirked, hanging up the call. “Hmm… one thing down,” she mumbled to herself, frowning as she decided to just walk to Heat, as it was only two blocks away.

Greater Downtown – 7:45 am

Floyd Conlon - Carter Bay - 5:00 am August 25th

Ten minutes before five, Conlon had reached Carter Bay and timed in for the morning shift. He had been scheduled for the night shift the week before, but hacked the system and had himself scheduled for the mornings for the next two months. Since the schedules are created two weeks in advance, Conlon decided to keep it on the safe side and not mess with it above the two months already set.

Anyhow, as the sun started rising, Conlon zipped up his ugly uniform and covered his face with a black bandanna. There had been numerous occasions where some of his colleagues were found with deadly infections due to mass exposure of minerals. Whatever it was they were unloading from the docks was toxin to some of Carter Bay's employees. Since it was said that the disease was spread via the respiratory system, it was best to keep the nose and mouth covered as much as possible. For some odd reason, every time someone fell sick and under the weather, they were not spoken of nor seen ever again. And nobody ever asked questions, because if you did, you were fired. But as for the random disappearances, it had something to do with the CDC - Center for Disease Control and Prevention. Every time someone got sick, they would show up and escort them out of that daily shift, then..............they vanished. Conlon was certain there was some kind of conspiracy that the government didn't want anyone knowing. To cover up these disappearances, they would say that whomever had become sick was either hospitalized or had quit due to their health - all bullshit.

But in all honesty, Conlon didn't want to get into all that unless it gave him a splendid amount of cash. Therefore, without questioning current authority, he just continued to unload the giant spaceships and moving them to the next location where another person took responsibility for the next part of the process. It was like an assembly line, but very stretched out to a point of transportation necessities. Due to the mass number of shipments, there needed to be a driver who delivered them to the correct location where yet another person would stock them correctly and numerically or something. Conlon knew all the processes, who was doing them, when they were doing them, and all the information he needed to steal anything he desired or found obligated to take.

Crater Bay to Outward City - 12:00 pm August 25th

By noon, the morning shift was declared over and the morning crew started exiting the Bay. They scanned their time out in their inner system, allowing the guards and detectors to check them out. Unfortunately, everyone had to be scanned and searched numerous times before leaving the Bay. All this was to prevent any form of theft and make certainty that nothing that went into the bay left the bay. This was near all sector limits too. Transferring or traveling from one sector of Byzantium to the next was a pain in the ass. There was security everywhere, especially in the outer circle of the Outward City. Due to the high crime rates, the government pushed forth for more law enforcement officers to guard the other sectors. They wanted to make sure criminals were unable to just roam wherever they chose. But of course, greed defeated any type of instruction. Officers of even the highest quality could be bought by the biggest names in crime. There have been a lot of instances where criminals such as Abban Burk, an Irish convict who escaped prison about seven years ago on a life sentence and is currently taking over the eastern sector of Outward City. That man had already bought over fifty officers, sometimes by actually providing cash, other times by threatening their families or loved ones. Abban was a merciless killer, most likely the one who killed the family that is all over the news cast.

Unfortunately Abban Burk has yet to show up as a target for Conlon. Floyd had a desire to kill the man, but lived by his code, only killing those he was paid to kill. He wasn't your ordinary criminal, he had honor in what he did, trying his best to stick to the rules he'd set up for himself. Sometimes of course, the rules had to be broken to make the job as clean as possible, but most times, it was text-book take downs.

Thirty minutes after he exited Crater Bay, Floyd found himself in Outward City back at the entrance of his apartment. He automatically opened the door with a switch in his system and entered. Unlike the apartment he had purchased in Greater Downtown that was under yet another different name, this one was complete trash. The mattress was who knew how many years old, the television didn't work half the time - which wasn't really needed do to the system within everyone - but was there to remind Conlon of his old home on Earth. He also had an old poster of a couple of television shows he used to watch as a kid. For example, he had a large Sons of Anarchy poster, a smaller one of Transformers and many others. He used to be a trivia guy so was very into movies and stuff like that. The thing that made him the happiest was that he didn't have to change for his wife. The woman loved him just as he was, through his worst and his best. For her, he was the perfect being, or so she said in order to make him happy.

But at the moment, those memories faded as he called upon the computer in his head. "Bring forth everythin' I've gathered on Esteban Kovaleski" he ordered, having his system display everything onto the wall like a hologram. He started to scroll through the many files he had conjured and searched for Kovaleski's next meet location. To Conlon's surprise, the notorious Russian thief would show up that night at one of his rich benefactor's party - the son of Edward MacArthur. For some odd reason, there was no information anywhere on Edward MacArthur other than on his very successful banking career. Of course, he probably had something to do with Kovaleski, there was no possible way a gangster like him would just be allowed near the MacArthur's without some kind of invitation. Once again the damn government was covering something up they didn't want anybody knowing and Edward MacArthur was the one supplying them with the cash to do so.

"Pull everythin' on his son Richard MacArthur" Conlon added to his search. Unlike his father, Richard had quite the record. He didn't seem to be a terrible child, but had his flaws. But the kid's main contribution was to Graviskate. "Link Esteban to the MacArthurs, find anythin" Conlon added, trying to find a connection other than the one he conspired on his own. "Now everythin' on tonight's party, location, time, capacity, cast, everythin."

By this time, Conlon had already opened the information provided by Hanes, his employer. The information helped Floyd understand more about Kovaleski, but it wouldn't help him with the job itself. But as he dug through the ancient paperwork and suddenly found a note he found rather strange. There was a phone number, but no name on it or anything. Floyd inspected the note and made sure it wasn't anything that would catch his finger prints or something. With the present technology, it would be easy to catch him, but has been extremely hard due to his overwhelming precaution to take things slow. Though tonight, he would go against that and attempt to take out Kovaleski during the party. This chance was too good to just miss and in addition to that, would bring in the money the next day. It was time to work.

Triss Merril - The Derelict - 8:37 AM August 25th, 2089
There was something both incredibly therapeutic and incredibly terrifying about being in the zero gravity vacuum of space, clad in a heavy airtight suit and only kept from floating into the void by a thick cable tether. It was here that Triss Merril could feel truly at peace, among the great constructs of the old humans that existed pre-apocalypse. Byzantium was, of course, built on the ruins of a derelict space station, and a lot of work went into maintaining it. But today Triss's job was incredibly monotonous. As Byzantium took more people in, it had to be expanded. The old earth space station had plenty of room, but much of it was still in shambles. So Triss and a swarm of others have been set with the task to patch up the hull breaches that littered the old station, making it air tight and liveable. A very long and arduous job, but one that bought a unique sense of peace. It was amazing to look out from one of the breaches and see the wasteland that is Earth. It reminded Triss of how far she has come to get here. So Triss continued, finding happiness in her work.

Triss Merril - Outward Distric t- 4:30 PM August 25th, 2089
The outward district. Triss didn't like to be here, but the walk was required to get to the old parts of the station. Traveling through the Outward District was her least favorite part of the day. The walk to the nearest transit station was a short one, but anything could happen in that short timespan. The engineers always stuck together here. Safety in numbers. The Outward District was a very scary place still, especially to Triss. There was always a ne'er-do-well on every street corner and the occasional gunshot or scream breaking out over the avenues. A single sentry often escorted the group, but today it was strangely absent. It's well known that the AI Drones are becoming far too spread thin. Perhaps more should be created, but it often isn't that simple. Did Byzantium have to resources to mass produce AI? Few could say. But thankfully Triss's walk today was uneventful. She always stuck to the center of the group of engineers, although she didn't know many of them, and few wished to talk to her. Perhaps something about her was slightly off-putting.

Triss Merril - Residential Sector - 7:04 PM August 25th, 2089
It was during the evening hours that Triss found herself lost. Not in the sense that she didn't know where she was, but she lost herself. During her time alone, she realized she has no idea who she is anymore. She definitely isn't the happy girl she was back before... everything. She could hardly speak to a stranger without losing her composure. The only time she was at true peace was in the bowels of Byzantium, working. She found true happiness floating high above Earth, barely kept from sinking into the endless black void. But here, at home, by herself, she had nothing. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to keep her going except some small modicum of hope for the next day. All she could do was throw herself into study. Read more, learn more. But she found little satisfaction in that. She wanted to be able to have friends. But she couldn't bring herself to. Triss Merril hated the person she has become.

Chester Dune - Outward District - 5:42 AM - apartment building 14

The sound of a glass bottle smashing was the first thing Chester heard that morning it came from behind him, somewhere in the kitchen. He jumped slightly from the noise and tried to look over his shoulder from the torn up recliner he had been sleeping on seconds ago. it was too dark to see anything behind him and once the familiar soreness and splitting headache associated with heavy drinking the night prior began to sink in, he realized that this wasn't his apartment. He kept his eyes towards the kitchen until he noticed the poster of a naked woman hanging upside down on a wall and then he knew where he was suddenly. This was that shithead Francis apartment, he had been here before in pretty much the same exact situation, he regretted it almost every time but he almost always paid for the booze so who was he to say no? Dune made his was towards he kitchen slowly "Hey man, I'm gonna go back home, but uh..you got anything for the head...ache.." Chester began to slow down once he saw Francis standing a few feet from him holding a broken bottle in one hand and what looked like a human ear in the other.

Francis didn't make any moves but it looked like he was trying to say something, that's when Chester saw that he had a large piece of gauze taped to his right ear. "You stupid fucker! You did this, I know it was you!." Francis suddenly started shouting at Chester, it had become clear from his voice that he was on something, and not just drunk. "Dude, hey man you're fucked up on something I didn't touch you!" Chester said slowly backing up from Francis, he was in no state to fight him, and somewhere deep down he didn't really want to fight him. Chester started acting as fast as he could, he threw the closest bottle in Francis general direction, and then booked it for the door without seeing where it landed, as he was running he took a sharp inhale through his nose and noticed all he could smell was gas, he slammed into the door and reached for the handle only to find that it had been knocked off at some point. Things just kept getting better.

Francis showed up in hot pursuit of Chester and took heavy swing with the broken bottle right at Chester's face, his movements were blunt but he somehow managed to avoid the bottle. He retaliated by kicking Francis in the stomach hard enough to knock him over, hopefully giving him enough time to find a window to jump out of. Sure enough Francis crumpled forward and dropped both his ear and his bottle, Chester took this time to make it to the window across the room and began trying to lift the window open but the wood around it was so warped it wouldn't be moving anytime soon. Chester cussed under his breath and turned around to look at Francis who was holding something new in his hand. He began talking incomprehensibly and shouting at Chester waving his new item violently at him, a glint of morning light had come through the window and Chester saw that it was a shiny new lighter. Francis began to drunkenly attempt to light it either touching the striker but his finger sliding off of it or just missing all together.

Outward District - 6:12 AM - apartment 14

Chester Dune was falling out of a window from the third floor of apartment 14, a split second after he exited the room it burst in brilliant flame, subsequently destroying it. Chester landed roughly on a bums house, fortunately made of old mattresses and what he could only assume were rugs at some point. The bum who lived there apparently wasn't home currently as the little shack was completely empty. Dune stood up, his head killing him him, which was the least of his worries at this point as he could see the faint glow of sentries in the distance coming towards him. This time it honestly wasn't his fault, but he had this strange feeling that they wouldn't believe him. He looked up at the artificial morning growing slowly in the artificial sky with a crumbling, burning building in the foreground, today was not going to be the best day, but at least it wasn't raining.

Kipper Dulorme – speeding through Outward via hovercycle toward Apartment Building 14 6:25 am

“Shit, Chess! What the fuck did you do now?!” Kipper blasted through the air in his red bucket of bolts, eyes shifting between what was in front of him and the burning apartment building in the distance. He knew that building all too well. It’s where shithead Francis lived, the place he left his coworker after they finished a bottle of cheap vodka down at the Podunk bar after work. His younger brother Noah told him about the burning building before he left for his shift, mentioning how he’d ‘appreciate that kind of thing, being a pyromaniac and all.’ It was no secret that Kipper had a fetish for fire, but not under these circumstances. Chess was a good friend, but if he got arrested, he’d do anything to shorten his sentence at the H&W center; like rat him and his hovercycle gang out for a laundry list of crimes committed. Kipper had a mouth on him, and he told Chess about almost every crazy thing the Outward Law ever did. If the BPF found out about it...

“Come on damn it pick up!” He tried communicating directly through cyber brain, but Chess didn’t answer. Several sentry units appeared overhead, sending him the cautionary message: Please Drive Safe as they flew past him. “Oh, fuck me.” The BPF were more than likely at the scene by now, but they went and sent more backup? That meant more eyes. Chess was a slippery guy, but with that amount of sentries on patrol he wouldn’t last long.

He disengaged the thrusters and made for a low descent. Instead of direct dialing, he decided to send a text message through a hacked ID that couldn’t be traced: “I know whats goin on. Meet at the spot.” Kipper hoped Chess had enough sense to know that the spot, was the abandoned bowling alley near Main Street, and not the strip club with the canned spaghetti buffet they got thrown out of.It's only a couple of blocks from Francis' place. He should be fine, Kipper reasoned. That bastard better get this... He sent the message with a blink and made his way toward the location.

---

Noah & Arthur Dulorme – Crater Bay – 12:00 p.m.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Noah said, trying to calm his big brother down. Arthur was a big man, and the thick mane and beard he sported made him look like a grizzly bear.

“Why the fuck would I lie about this?” His fierce glare pierced into Noah, who was more concerned than afraid for his brother. Arthur was a pilot for the excavation ships that came in from earth. Every morning at 4am, Arthur was shuttled over to the outskirts at the large hangar bay doors where the vessels always came through. He’d board the designated ship and manually take over the controls to steer it right through Wayward and into Crater Bay. After the ship was relieved of its cargo, he’d then fly it back to the hangar bay gates, where the automated AI pilot would take over and set a course back to earth. Arthur would then wait at the hangar bay outpost until the next vessel arrived, repeating the same cycle until 3pm. Arthur was one of the best in his field; a near perfect employee that never messed up, until now. “Fifteen fucking pieces of cargo, right out from under my damn nose. FUCK!”

Noah drew his brother closer, motioning him further away from prying eyes and over to a large rock face. “Listen, I know your supe. Dulaney right? That guy still owes me for covering his ass when we got audited. I’ll give him a talk. You’ll get a slap on the wrist, brother. Everything’s peach.” Arthur was about to open his mouth to say something, but Noah interjected. “Besides, they’ll cross reference the surveillance cameras on the ships you piloted with the visual feed from your cyberbrain. Most you’ll get tagged with is negligence – which is way nicer than what I’d say about you.”

"When the fuck did you get so smart?" Arthur shook his head. It didn’t feel right having his younger brother cover for him. It was always the other way around. Still, he wasn’t going to just drop it. Arthur has way too much pride, much less a reputation to worry about. If word got out that someone stole from him, and he did nothing about it, Arthur and The Outward Law would be perceived as pushovers. Weak. He couldn’t have that, not when he had a neighborhood to protect.

“We call up our hounds. Make them sniff around and find out who’s behind this. Soon as we do, we’ll make the fuckers pay and send the bodies to the BPF.”

Noah nodded in agreement, which seemed to take the edge off Arthur’s rage. He sought to quell his mood even further. “Look brother,” he began, scratching the thin scar running down his right eye. “Me and Kip pitched in.” Arthur turned to him, confused. “With you and Alaina getting hitched soon, we want to throw you a nice bachelor party. Last chance to sow your royal oats and shit.” Noah then sent a message confirmation to Arthur for several box seat tickets to tonight’s Graviskate match up. Arthur’s shitty work day suddenly made a turn for the better.

“You…? No fuckin way. Box seats!? This is a big game, Noah. How the fuck did you land these?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Noah smiled as he playfully swatted his big brother’s shoulder. “All this shit that's going on? I’ll take care of it. Today is your day.”

---

Outward District- 4:30 PM

A group of men on hovercycles stood in a collapsed opening of a deserted building. They each had leather jackets with a giant patch sewn on their backs that read: "The Skeleton Kings". A big man with a metal chain around his neck crossed his arms. Trinidad was his name.

“See?” He said, nodding over to what they all were looking at. “Like clockwork. Everyday. Same time.” The group of engineer workers huddled close to each other as they hurried down the sidewalk toward the transit station.

“Any females?” A short bald man snickered.

Their leader stepped forward and they all fell silent. Every piece of his flesh was covered in ink. He looked like a ghoul, draped with a mosaic of disturbing images, and no one dared ask for their meaning. “Not the point, Sam.” He spat. “We need them for something else. Something better.” His silent, yet maniacal laugh made the group uncomfortable. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing, except divine providence, and that group of engineers was going to take him to it. “I prayed to the void...and he sent me angels.”

Delilah Rould

Greater Downtown

Delilah Rould went through the rest of her day on a power trip, pulling strings, getting in touch with contacts, and setting everything up for this MacArthur kid. Even though he was only a few years her junior she still couldn’t help but think of anyone younger than herself as a kid. It was probably an annoying trait but she couldn’t help herself. Helga had been more than happy to get a box seat to see the Graviskate finals and a trip to Heat even if it was on the arm of this Richard guy. Delilah had even offered to contact the paparazzi for her ahead of time and Helga was easily on board and didn’t request a dime. The club had been about to undergo renovations so it was going to be shut down for the night, but Delilah convinced the owner to hold off a night before doing so and got the whole place just for Richard and his guests. The ads were easy to secure and a top floor on one of the premier hotels, the Parisian. They would have access to the roof as well where there was a pool, and she reiterated to the staff to keep the floor under them free as well. She had no idea how crazy this guy wanted to go and she wasn’t having complaints on her bill. She had a guy for the clothes and other stocking items, but the HUV was the hardest thing to secure. Turns out the type of thing she was looking for was only found at the very edge of Downtown, almost in the Outward District. She’d made the trip though, and gotten the HUV stocked and ready.

”This guy better appreciate all my work… who am I kidding. The only appreciation I’ll get is a good pay day,” she mumbled, having had calls and clients demanding things of her all day between setting this party up. Sure, it would look fantastic on her resume. Her name would be in the papers right along with Helga’s and MacArthur’s… “Event Coordinator Extraordinaire Delilah Rould does it again!” she smirked and shook her head. It would be in small print at the end of the article no doubt, but it would be there and she would get more work. If everything went perfectly she could even start charging what she’d charged MacArthur as a regular fee instead of an inflated one. She still wouldn’t have to worry about money for a month easy if she didn’t have another client again this month thanks to the banker’s check, but it was only so important to her. Sure, she loved the amenities she got and was used to. She was self aware enough to know she was spoiled in her life. But that didn’t mean it was fulfilling. Especially when it was party planning for some University brat who wanted to get drunk and break things. If she was planning a party for someone who deserved it… like a little girl from the Outward district whose apartment had been in the building that burned down on the news… that would be fulfilling.

Beacon University of Prestige – 7:00 pm - Phi Delta Theta Frat House

Delilah snapped out of her thoughts as she stepped out of the HUV, having been sitting in the passenger seat next to the driver she’d hired once they pulled up to the frat house she’d found out Richard belonged to. She had made him stop by her apartment to let her change before coming out here to the Beacon, but otherwise her day had revolved around making this evening the best of the kid’s life. ”Honk the horn,” Delilah instructed, leaning down to talk to the driver again. The man nodded, honking a few times before loud ‘Yeah!’s muffled by the frat door were heard getting louder and louder like a stampede before bursting open. Helga was stepping out of the main part of the HUV and the boys stopped as she appeared and smiled, giving a flirty wave before speaking in a thick accent. “Which one of you is Richard?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. The client’s son came forward, a goofy half smirk on his lips as he approached her. “That would be me, doll,” he said, his voice gravely from one too many beers and cigarettes. “Happy Birthday, love!” she exclaimed, kissing each of his cheeks before getting back in the HUV, Richard and his posse following, cheering once more. Richard popped back out once more and came up to Delilah. “Stop by each of the sororities before we go and honk. We need more women in this bitch,” he smiled, jumping back in the vehicle and slamming the door. Delilah let her plastered smile turn into a sneer before rolling her eyes and getting back in. “Yeah drive around and honk at the sorority girls. Apparently Helga isn’t enough woman for them,” Delilah mumbled, having expected such a gesture but still finding herself rubbing her temple. She would be glad when they arrived to the game. She would be able to get a beer at least.

Esteban Kovaleski - The Beacon - 7:00 pm

A police department's hover car glided through the glamorous streets of The Beacon. The beauty of the sector was incredible compared to what Outward residents were used to. Unlike the gruesome trash that just stayed itself along Outward streets, The Beacon was mere perfection. It seemed completely white, a giant cloud of infrastructure. But this view was not new to Kovaleski. The thief - or gangster as some define him as - had been traveling in and out of The Beacon sector. He handled most of his business in the Wayward, intercepting shipments in and out of the city. The way he did this was by large investments, the right amount of money to the right people and one could go about like a ghost. And it wasn't just money to one person with all the power, it was to various people, some not even pronounced important to society.

Some of his investments went to normal working citizens, but citizens who could pull various strings. These strings were mapped out throughout the entire new world. It was like a piece of art in Kovaleski's head. The thief new the correct people and had become really wealthy in his short time in Byzantium. Of course, he was hated by many and wanted in prison, but his connections did not allow his capture. All his sins were always forgotten or erased from existence. Sometimes, these sins were produced by other people if you know what I'm talking about.

But regardless all this information, Kovaleski had made a name for himself. The Russian Thief had now crossed into The Beacon and was being transported to the party of one of his benefactors to pay his respect. Well, in all honesty, he was going to the party itself, seeking drinks and women. He was accompanied by five of his best men; men trained to give their lives for their leader. Due to many people's desire to eliminate Kovaleski, he was always accompanied. There have been numerous occasions were Kovaleski stole from other notorious criminals. He climbed up the criminal ladder and has now become a legend amongst the Byzantium people.

His vehicle suddenly paused before the giant stadium, all forms of vehicles parked around. The whole place was already packed, hardly any spaces for any more hover vehicles. But luckily, VIP personnel had their own little section to park. But as a classy man, Kovaleski opened the door and exited his vehicle, allowing the car to drive off to its parking space. Kovaleski fixed his tie and suit and walked in a stride towards the entrance, hearing the anticipation from the crowd as he made it inside. "Я приехал" (I have arrived)

Outward district - Outside the remainder of apartment 14 - 6:26

The whirr of the sentries grew louder as they began to close in on Chess, He could see from a distance that they were already arming themselves to stun and apprehend whomever cause the fire, namely Chester. With that it mind he began running, he didn't really have a direct destination in mind until he received a message he blinked a few times and-“I know whats goin on. Meet at the spot.”- scrolled in front of his eyes, it was from Kipper Dulorme, he must've sent it through some private channel or something. One of the few actual friends Chester had. He began running towards the strip joint they frequented, but then turned sharply nearly falling over and ran towards main street instead. Why would he go there? Unless it was spaghetti night there was no reason, he must've meant the old bowling alley, he could lose some of the sentries on the way at lest but Kip had better be waiting for him otherwise he'd have a nice stay at the H&W center...again.

Outward district - Main street and 33rd Bigpin Bowling Alley - 6:31

Chester had lost one or two of the sentries by taking a few narrow paths, and eventually made it to the old bowling alley. He ran around to the back and for the second time that day jumped through a window, He rolled to a stop and looked around, he was in the small office in the back. Oddly enough this is one of the first places Chester robbed when he came to Byzantium, and he had been in this office before, he had been masked that time though, and managed to get away. He probably ended up putting more money back into the place than he took from it once he and Kipper came here so often. Dune walked out of the Office and into he main room of the building and let out a low whistle, it wasn't necessarily a call, but it was something Chester did often enough to be recognized as him if Kipper was here, and that way if the sentries were listening they wouldn't get a name.

Greater Downtown – 7:45 pm – Graviskate Arena

The HUV made the rounds to everywhere Richard ordered and then they had finally headed to the arena. They had a VIP parking spot and the driver quickly pulled in. Not 2 seconds afterwards a giant throng of young adults rushed out of the HUV and made their way towards the stadium. ”Oh geez,” Delilah whispered, thanking the driver who would be staying in the vehicle but watching the game nonetheless through a live showing. She hurried to beat them to the door so she could explain who the party was. The ushers looked annoyed until they saw Delilah who most of them recognized. She smiled and waved, finding Remy, the manager. ”I need these guys rounded up to their VIP box seats. Hector should have vouched for me?” she asked, praying he hadn’t forgotten. “Oh right right,” Remy nodded, getting two of the ushers and explaining the situation so no one would be asked for tickets. “Right this way MacArthur party!” one shouted, and the 20 year olds followed up to their seats. ”Thank you,” Delilah smiled, electronically tipping Remy and the two ushers.

She followed the group up to the box, finding a seat out of the way. She enjoyed Graviskate but she also could care less who won as long as the game was entertaining. Thankfully it usually was. Now that she was settled she let the kids have at it, drinking, eating, flirting with each other. She sat in her seat, moving money around in the screen of her vision, paying everything up. She deposited the rest of MacArthur’s money into her bank account and smiled slightly. Well, if the job wasn’t worth the aggravation, at least she was paid well for it. While she was sitting by herself, one of the frat guys came up to her and tried hitting on her, but she gave him a pitying smile. ”Sorry, you’re just not my type. But that brunette over there looks jealous that you’re talking to me,” Delilah lied, smiling and coyly pointing to a girl. The guy puffed out his chest and walked over to the girl, making Delilah giggle to herself.