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The year is 2016; Lyon, a city in part older than the country of France itself, is the third-largest city in the country. By the year 2022, Lyon and its neighboring cities will be uninhabitable. Nuclear waste and material will have been spread throughout the entirety of southeast France, northwest Italy, and West Switzerland; this critical event will end the lives of hundreds of thousands, possibly millions of civilians, destroying vital infrastructure systems and the environment in the process. The catastrophe will cripple and subsequently end the nuclear power movement in the European Union. Legislation will be passed to place harsh restrictions on the industry and public outcry will demand the total phaseout of nuclear power. Europe will become once again heavily reliant on the dwindling supply of fossil fuels, causing the European energy crisis when all supplies of fossil fuels are exhausted in the next one hundred years. The perpetrator of this atrocity? Pierre-Henri Druveau; a multi-billionaire seeking to cash in on France's nuclear power industry.

Druveau has recently become the head of France's largest provider of nuclear energy, Électricité de France, through his high connections in the French government. Druveau is a man primarily driven by money, he has refused to acknowledge and has even destroyed evidence of weaknesses found during routine inspections of several nuclear plants. After substantial bribes to high-level officials in the Autorité de sûreté nucléaire, Druveau has even begun the construction of several new nuclear plants in the southeast of France using shoddy quality materials and outdated techniques to further the speed of construction. In a Chernobyl-like fashion, these nuclear power plants will explode. A combination of the construction quality, insufficiently enforced safety regulations, and incompetent management will culminate in a critical failure in all four of the plants.

Traveler, this is where you come into the timeline. Druveau is currently stationed in Lyon on a business trip to observe the construction progress of a powerplant located just beyond the city's limits. Your job is to assassinate Druveau and to assist fellow traveler teams in the sabotage, and exposure of the dangerous construction practices taken by the Druveau administration of the E.D.F. Protocol 6 will be suspended through the length of this mission, Good luck, Traveler.

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The soft thunk of the rain hitting the steel roof could not be heard over the boisterous laughter that engulfed the entirety of the almost full four-door sedan. Through his stifled laugh and slurred speech, left-back passenger managed to get out "He- Hey Morgann tu- turn up tha radio would ya?" The driver, Morgane, took his eyes off the road to direct his attention to the radio. His eyes hurt; the harsh streetlights that lay above burned his corneas with a ferocity he had never felt before. He could barely see the radio, the darkness of the car coupled with his blurry woozy vision only allowed him to makeout basic shapes and colors.



Morgane moved his hand off the wheel to click whatever button he thought was the radio, he wasn't able to distinguish which was which in his current state. With a click, color air started coming out the vents around the car. "He- He said the radio Morgane" The two passengers in the back burst out into laughter at Morgane's mistake, "Shaddap Louis" Morgane muttered, his eyes felt so heavy. The road ahead was long, the three had chosen a bar far flung from their usual spot downtown; they had to go all out for Morgane's promotion celebration. Maybe the alcohol was finally catching up to him. The speedometer rose quickly in reading, the car jumped quickly from 60 KPH to 80 KHP in a mere few seconds. Morgane's foot was firmly rested on the accelerated, him nor his friends noticed the car's sharp increase in speed.



Morgane's eyes began to flutter, he was slowly shutting down. He tried to stay awake, gripping the wheel tight forcing his eyes to stay open. "Wha- What is that sound?" A ring grew in Morgane's ear, slow at first. The sound was akin to hundreds of bells ringing at once, a slow constant noise; the noise got stronger. Morgan couldn't hear anymore, the laughter and speech of his friends progressively were overwhelmed by the ringing, he was confused but his mind began to fade. The pain, struck before the end, an indescribable feeling. The pain was tremendous but Morgane's own screaming couldn't be heard over the ringing in his ears. The feeling spread throughout his head at a rampant pace, it started in the middle of his brain radiating into the other parts. 'What was this pain?' Morgane could barely think, his mind was failing him. Memories of his life he could no longer remember, hell, he started to even forget his name.



A moment of clarity. The ringing ceased, the screaming stopped, and there was peace after the pain; the upload had been successful. Morgane released his foot from the acceleration quickly, pushing his foot down on the break to completely stop the vehicle. Two back passengers were shaken into a moment of soberness in the aftermath of Morgane's screaming fest. "It's Traveler 3528, everyone here?" Morgane asked turning to look in the back seat, the look on the people's faces said more than words could express. Their eyes were wide, staring into Morgane's with a pure look of concern. "Are... Are you alright bud?" Louis spoke up, his mouth slightly agape, not knowing what else to say. "Y-Yeah I'm fine... Just fine." Morgane turned his head back to the road, 'A misfire... On our tactician too? The mission isn't looking too bright.'



Morgane's head pounded with a sweltering pain, migrating from the center of his forehead to the ends of his temples. 'The briefing never included anything to do with alcohol.' Morgane could smell his own breath, the stench reeked of hard liquor, he wasn't the team's medic but he could definitely tell when he was completely intoxicated. "One of ya, c- call someone to get us." His head felt heavy on his shoulders; the alcohol supply was limited in the future, and many, such as Morgane, were never afforded the luxury to try. He leaned back into his seat, his head placed softly onto the headrest, 'One...One second of shuteye won't hurt.'

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"My head is killing me..." Morgane awoke to a plain monochrome room, towering glass windows sat opposite the bed in which he lay, and sunlight flowed through panes like a calm ocean wave hitting the shoreline. Morgane, or now 3528, has never seen a ray of true sunlight in his entire life. Before being transplanted into the body of Morgane Laurent, 3528 lived under the harsh fluorescent light, and 100 times recycled air of shelter 43; now, he is experiencing the fresh air of the early 21st century and a view of the sky not blocked by an encompassing sheet of ice.

Morgane had dwelled on his past long enough, "protocol 2..." he whispered to himself, swinging his legs off the bed. Morgane could barely bring himself to stand, the ever-present headache he was afflicted with made it hard for him to even think. His hands traced the wall of the unfamiliar landscape of the room as he staggered across to the lone computer, although the sunlight was a mesmerizing sight, his continued observance only intensified the headache he was suffering from. Morgane fell into the office chair, his eyes squinted as he clicked on the desktop computer. The startup screen flashed onto the monitor, lucky enough, the original Morgane never set a password.

Morgane clicked through the login screen and opened the web browser. It was old-looking, even ancient when compared to future standards, Morgane was surprised it could even run the Director's deep web forum. He typed in the string of intangible code, which he had committed to memory after hours of trial and error, to the search bar. The browser tab completely covered the monitor after Morgane hit enter, hundreds of lines of code in symbols unrecognizable to most floated across the screen. Slowly, sections of these strings departed from their larger whole, forming in the center a message, "Welcome, Traveler 3528. Arrive at the coordinates 45.715103, 4.830390 to receive your first mission."

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Sylvie hated children. Hate, hate, hated children. Her family had mocked her when she took a job at Zoo de Lyon. Sylvie could not count how many times a family member reminded her of the worst part of her job: Interacting with guests. There was a reason that Sylvie had taken a job within the animal care field. Humans sucked. Luckily, working with the animals meant relatively little interaction with other people.

Usually.

Someone’s precious little crotch goblin had taken off at seemingly light speed, because no one had been able to find her. The park had been put on lockdown to make sure no one had stolen… oh, what was her name? Susy? Rachel? Sylvie was not sure. Maybe it made her a bad person to care as little as she did. It certainly made her a neglectful person. In all honesty, this was not the first missing child Sylvie had had to deal with. Snot nosed brats always showed up somewhere. Usually, they were sticking their grimy hands in a cotton candy machine or trying to break into an enclosure.

Sylvie was not entirely complaining, though. Looking for a lost brat meant she could tuck herself away in the areas behind the enclosures and pretend she was looking around. It would put her behind schedule for feeding the lions, something her boss would give her no end of shit about. But it was a short, free break all the same.


Twenty minutes… That was a long time for a child to be missing. Even Sylvie was starting to get nervous. Sure, she hated children. That did not mean she wanted one to get hurt. Or worse… A shock of anxiety danced up Sylvie’s spine. It occurred to her, as she speedwalked down the path behind the african animals exhibit, that she had not taken her anxiety medication that morning. That would explain why she was basically pacing in the same area instead of doing something more productive for the search. It would also explain the slowly growing migraine that nagged at her.

Sylvie rounded a corner and found herself back in the small hut that acted as a breakroom for her and the other zookeepers of the African Animals exhibit. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. All of her coworkers were on the hunt for Lina. That was the girl’s name. Sylvie had heard her boss speak it over her walkie talkie.
She just needed a break! To calm down. Then everything would be fine… plus, if she was lucky, Sal left some ibuprofen in the cupboards. They’ll find the kid soon. Surely. She tossed her keys and phone onto the table and went to get herself some water.


There had not been ibuprofen in the cupboards. That was just Sylvie’s luck. The migraine had worsened considerably and the brat had still not been found. That meant that the walkie talkie was going off every other minute, exacerbating the growing pain. Sylvie had plunked herself down into a chair that gave her a good look at the door. That way, if anyone arrived, she could at least pretend she was being helpful. A glass of water sat half empty in front of her.

Maybe it was that migraine that had caused Sylvie’s reaction time to be so slow. It took her several seconds to process the door opening. Several more to hear the mischievous giggles of a snot nosed creature darting into the room. By the time Sylvie had looked up from her glass towards the noise, the girl was sprinting out of the door.

Lina had to be ten at the latest. Old enough to be a sneaky bastard but young enough to still be stupid. Brown hair and devilish green eyes… plus a t-shirt that read “NYC” on it. Great, not only was she an annoying brat, but she was probably a foreigner. Sylvie pushed herself to her feet… but frowned. Maybe she could get away with radioing someone? It would be easier than walking around with this migraine.

Sylvie turned to look at the table beside her– and froze. Her phone was there. The walkie-talkie was there. Her keys, however, were gone. Sylvie patted her pockets in a panic. Then dug around in the cupboards she had looked for the medicine in. She had no luck. Her heart dropped and she looked back towards the door.


”Hey! Get back here!” Sylvie’s words were slurred slightly.
The migraine had worsened to an unimaginable degree. It was nearly impossible for Sylvie to run. She lamented briefly about how she should be in better shape than this, given her job… but then tried to focus on the task at hand.

Lina dashed around a corner ahead of Sylvie. With those keys, there was no telling where that little brat could go.


Ringing. That damned ringing. Sylvie’s body felt sluggish and her vision swam. If it weren’t for where that brat was going, Sylvie would have given up and crumpled to the ground minutes ago… was it minutes ago? It was so hard to think.

”Kitty! Kitty!”

”D-Damn it! Sss…Stop!”

How could this runt be so fast?! By the time Sylvie had gotten to the first door of the lion pen, Lina had already left the door hanging wide open. It was fine, though… there was still another door! Two if you counted the one that actually went into the feeding area. But that was locked. The only anyone even had a key to there was if they were supposed to go in and feed the lions. Besides, the lions were only in there if…

They had not been fed.


Sylvie thought she was going to throw up. The ringing in her ears was loud enough to send her anxiety through the roof, though it was already there. Sylvie leaned heavily on the door frame of the feeding area. It was a smallish shed attached to the main enclosure. A stone slab sat where Sylvie would usually put the meat. That task usually had the layer of seperation that was several tools that put distance between her and the cats. There was no distance here. The girl ran straight for the door where the lions came in. Through Sylvie’s blurring vision, she could see the beasts creeping towards them, whiskers twitching with curiousity.

”Here, kitty kitty kitty!”
Sylvie tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out.


Sylvie crumpled to the ground. She hadn’t gotten even close to Lina. The migraine had overwhelmed her and her vision went dark. Each squealing ring in her ears seemed to get further and further away. When had she started screaming? She couldn’t hear it over the sound but she could feel it.

God, Sylvie hated children.


The ringing calmed… then went silent. Each wave of pain was duller than the last. Sylvie looked up from where she was curled on the ground. The first thing she realized was how… warm and bright everything was. The next thing she realized was that two massive cats were creeping towards her with hungry eyes. Sylvie yelped and leapt to her feet.
Her screaming had distracted the lions from the poor, panicking child. At least there was that. Sylvie glanced around at her surroundings, taking in the moment. Then she dashed forward as fast as her migraine addled mind could handle. Sylvie grabbed Lina’s arm and dragged her towards the door of the enclosure. The lions were shocked at Sylvie’s movement, stunning them long enough that Sylvie could toss the girl out of the room.

Behind Sylvie, one of the beasts let out a growl. Released from their confusion, they darted towards the zookeeper. Sylvie leapt out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She pressed all of her weight into the door and prayed that would be enough to stop the beasts from breaking through. They thudded against the metal hard but, to Sylvie’s great relief, did not break through. She locked the door as quickly as she could and turned back to the child. With a dishevled grunt, she snatched the keys from her hands.



”Go back to your mom. She’s at the office. If you go straight to her, I won’t tell anyone what happened.”

In truth, Sylvie did not intend to tell anyone what happened regardless of what Lina did. The less press on her, the better. She did not want to end up as the headline ‘Heroic Zookeeper Saves Child’. It was hardly better than ‘Heroic Zookeeper Dies to Save Girl from Viscious Lion’.

Lina darted away whimpering about how sad she was that the cats did not like her. Poor little thing… she was probably traumatized. Sylvie felt bad for the kid. She felt more bad for this body. She was shaking like a leaf. On the bright side, Sylvie doubted anyone had seen her.
Sylvie started wandering around, looking for an exit. It was a good way to learn about her surroundings… Ah, perhaps Sylvie was the wrong name. It would be a weird one to get used to. Traveler 3563 strode along the paths, doing her best to seem like she was looking for Lina.

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The animals of the zoo had been so exotic… and so had most of everything in Lyon. Sylvie was glad her host did not drive. It meant she got to take the bus home, which meant a leisurely view of the city. The air here was so clear. The people were un-marred by the effects of the future.

When Sylvie had gotten home, she spent a long time inspecting the place. Her host was definitely not a vegetarian… but that could change. The apartment was a studio apartment. One room, save for the bathroom. The walls were decorated with shelf upon shelf of books. A single table and two chairs sat at the center of the crowded place. On top of the table was a desktop computer. Ancient, but decent enough for the standards of 2022. The bed, a small mattress tucked away in the corner, was covered in a fluffy, brown blanket and more pillows and stuffed animals than Sylvie could count. It was quite cute… though when she spotted the big lion plush, she tucked it underneath the bed.

Relaxed in her new surroundings, Traveler 3563 sat at the table. Guessing the password to the computer was easy enough. A note had been left attached to the side some time ago with the word “Giraffe123” etched in poor handwriting. Sylvie smiled and opened up chrome. Ah… so vintage! It was refreshing.

For someone like her, getting to the Director’s deep web forum was easy. Typing in the code was even easier. It had been one of the first things she had memorized all that time ago… The computer screen went dark. She suspected it would for a minute or two. Sylvie got up and got herself a fresh glass of water, then moved back over to watch the screen. Suddenly, words flickered to life.

"Welcome, Traveler 3563. Arrive at the coordinates 45.715103, 4.830390 to receive your first mission."

JULIETTE GAGNEUX

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Music rattles in Juliette’s teeth as she dives under the table, narrowly dodging the jagged glass. Bastien broke the bottle shoving her across the counter and seems rather intent on doing a hell of a lot worse than that now. He brandishes the neck of it like a knife. For all of his flaws, he always was a resourceful son of a bitch. The lights of the club refract garishly through both the glass and his glasses. Speaking of flaws—who wears their glasses in a bar fight?



“Stop!” yells Helen. Her voice is drowned out by the music. “Jesus Christ, you guys, stop!”

Juliette scrambles out from under the table, grabbing a chair by the leg and flinging it at Bastien. It barely scrapes the tabletop before clattering to the ground. He smirks. She swallows. Shit. Shit. Stupid cheap-ass chairs! He vaults over the table and swings again. She ducks, but not fast enough—the bottle catches in her hair, snagging and ripping out a curly red chunk. It takes all her will not to scream.



Before she can even react, he grabs the back of her head and slams her face into the wall. Once. Twice. Helen is definitely screaming now—Juliette isn’t sure if it’s the pounding of blood in her ears or the howling of her best friend, but she can’t hear the music anymore. Deliriously, she laments this. And then finds it funny. And then laments it again. Bastien cracks her head against the wall again. A hysterical laugh fizzes in her chest; it is trapped when he starts to choke her.



The moment his hand closes around her throat, a horrible noise rips through her skull. Worse than the screaming, worse than the blood, worse than the, ha, music—it reaches a fever pitch in seconds. Brutal microphone feedback. She meets Helen’s eyes over Bastien’s shoulder. They’re both screaming now, Juliette’s voice trapped, Helen’s rushing free, and for a moment she can imagine they’re singing together. Just like the old days. Just like. Just…



Silence. Perfect silence while her senses fade in, processing stimuli one at a time. Pressure to the neck, numbness of the lips, sweat running down her forehead—blood flow to the brain is being cut off. She brings her knee up into her attacker’s balls, hard, and he cries out. Doesn’t release. Okay. He hasn’t restrained her hands. She shoves a finger into his eyeball, carving towards her with the nail. Another scream. Still doesn’t let go. Who is this guy?



She goes limp for a moment, grimacing at the extra pressure on her neck, but achieves a better angle from which to headbutt him. Which she does. That gets him off her. Air rushes through her, forcing a coughing fit. She falls to her knees and tries to recover, tries not to feel like she’s going to cough up a lung, and surveys the scene before her. Looks like he hit a chair on the way down. Probably not dead. Not that she’s going to wait around to find out. Then there’s a touch at her back—she whirls around, swinging blindly—

“Stop! For the love of God, Jules, stop, it’s me!”

She blinks hard, eyes watering. A final cough or two. The woman before her is tall, dark-haired, and blurred by a slimy sting of melting mascara. Juliette wipes the black gunk from her eyes and meets her gaze.

“Sorry,” she says. It sounds hollow, even to her.

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The cold drum of rain is a blessed reprieve from the club. That many bodies packed into one place is suffocating—dancing produces just as much body heat as fighting. A pleasant shiver runs through Juliette as she drops her bag next to a bass guitar. It’s smothered in cat stickers. Charming. Helen—that’s the woman’s name, revealed through some questioning that was sure to convince her Juliette was either crazy or concussed, hopefully the latter—is saying something again. Juliette turns to her, watching her lock the door to the apartment with more force than is strictly necessary. “Sure, just, um, give me a minute. I have to go to the bathroom.”

Helen looks at her like she is, in fact, crazy, but that’s a problem for after briefing. She shoots her an apologetic smile that melts immediately into a wince. Yeah, she definitely needs to check on her jaw.

Setting out into the tiny apartment, it’s easy enough to locate the door to the bathroom and lock it before being questioned further. She fishes through the pockets of her jeans—black, bootcut, and covered in rhinestones. Tacky as all hell, but… well, at least her host knew how to catch people’s attention. Not that it worked out for her.

Locating a smartphone in her pockets, she unlocks it with the fingerprint scanner. It doesn’t take long to access the Director’s forum. She’s hopeless with technology, but she can follow directions. Strings of code flow from her mind to the screen in steady taps. Not so different from sequencing DNA, at the end of the day. The display goes black. Then, bright, warm, galvanizing:

"Welcome, Traveler 3599. Arrive at the coordinates 45.715103, 4.830390 to receive your first mission."