Chapter One: Officer Night
As the sun choked out behind the smog-hazed mountains, a city began to dance with holographic and neon lights. Technicolor zeppelins roamed the sky like phantom messengers, their haunting words lurking between the skyscrapers that towered into the dark, smoky skies. Hover vehicles scuttled about like cockroaches, darting through any opening with crazed speed. The masses of robots, cyborgs, and humans littered the sidewalks and alleyways, a surging chaos of flesh, steel, and cybernetics. All this madness and so few to keep the peace… This is Neo Angeles, 2011.
Unrest gripped the city, sparks of violence racked the area as corruption and destruction fell upon all. Nobot (anti-robot) groups clashed with Probot (pro-robot) types, the latter a mixture of man and bot alike while the former was human only. Cyborgs fell into a bullied category where the Nobot group sought to “purify” them by removing all robotic components while the Probots manipulated them for bargaining and recruitment. Clashes were frequent and devastating, robots being torn apart or smashed to pieces while human opposition was subject to electrocution, sterilization, or deliberate maiming to cause them to become cyborgs.
The police were in a bind because aiding or impeding one group only enabled the other and fighting both was costly and time consuming. Due to the current laws and protections, the department could not prohibit gatherings nor could they outlaw something so intangible as an idea. To make matters worse, there was also a serial killer on the loose. The modus operandi was clear however the targets were confusing, they seemed random, disconnected yet always killed in the same fashion: electrocution. The police were stumped as to how this amount of power could be transported with ease and without notice. Very few sightings could help identify this killer, the only clues were that this individual wore a black leather outfit, wore a mask, and rode a modified motorcycle that was nowhere in the registration and seemed to vanish without a trace.
Then, there was The Cult of the Cybermancer. This was a whole other ordeal compared to the goings on in the streets and underbelly. This was digital, electric, beyond the physical world. A menacing group who wanted to plunge the world into a virtual one of their design. They say it’s “better” and “safer” than the real world and so many buy into the line, trying to escape the ugly reality around them, giving into the promise of a “new life.” The cyber cult drains people of their currency and their hope, trapping them in a nightmare world where they cannot escape, controlled by the devils themselves. The police cyber division was thwarted or terrorized on a regular basis, leaving them in the dark while so many slip into the madness of a virtual paradise.
Everyday was a challenge in Neo Angeles, with death, danger, and deception waiting around every corner. A constant power struggle churned within vast, sprawling cityscape, bending to the whims of whichever group seemed more in power that day. The police department was understaffed and undermanned, their daily tasks of seeming to play catch up were barely keeping the peace, each one of them doing their best to stave off the madness and to help those caught in the crossfire of these groups. After Mayor Yogi won office, he implemented many new locations to be funded for yoga as well as dojos for martial arts and defense for the citizens of Neo Angeles. His popularity and success had consequences, his family and life being in jeopardy on a daily basis. He persevered, knowing this to be his “path” as he called it, encouraging others to keep calm and not to become distracted or angered by these outside forces. He was a constant beacon of hope for many in the city but his defiance was becoming a nuisance to some and this night would prove most challenging for the mayor, as well as the city itself.
*
Sitting cross legged on the floor of his office, Mayor Yogi meditated deeply to clear his mind, allowing the emptiness of thoughts to bring him insight and direction for the next day. The smell of juniper hung thick in the air as multiple sticks of incense burned around the room, the wood based scent alleviating the energy in the room and bringing renewal to the office. Mayor Yogi let the fragrance wash over him, smiling as the aroma clung to his loose white clothes, his blonde man bun becoming infused with the helpful haze. As his mind became quiet, he heard a noise that seemed so far away yet so familiar. It rang and rang, then paused. It grew louder and louder until Mayor Yogi realized his phone was ringing, pulling him from the euphoria of bliss back into the office. Slowly, gently, he rose and walked to desk across the room that looked out over the majority of downtown Neo Angeles, the moon overpowered by the mesmerizing lights of the busy city. “Mayor Yogi,” He said calmly, his tone relaxed and welcoming, awaiting whatever words followed next with no apprehension or forethought, his eyes staring into the sea of lights below. “We have your daughter,” A static-filled voice whispered through the phone. Mayor Yogi’s face did not change, he simply inhaled and exhaled before replying. “Not cool,” He said, trying to keep his own cool, pondering on what to do or say next. “If you want her to stay in this world,” the obscured voice echoed, “Neo Angeles airport. Hangar Zero. Midnight. Alone.” The call disconnected, the mayor hung up the phone but did not remove his hand. After a few seconds, he picked it up and dialed one number. There was no ring, only a long pause of silence. When he heard a click, Mayor Yogi spoke. “This is the mayor,” He said, his eyes hardening, this weight of the phone heavy in his hand as he thought about his daughter. “I need to speak with Officer Night.”
“Here is your order,” the server said, placing a hot bowl of ramen in front of the man, sitting alone as he always did. “On the house...but next time you could at least bring a pretty girl with you.” She smiled and jabbed at him before heading over to clean off an adjacent table. The aroma of the rich pork broth wafted into his face as a small wind moved through the area, the cooler air only intensifying the smell and flavor mixture of leaks and noodles. Rooftop Ramen was his favorite joint in town, a place he could enjoy hot, hearty food and see a good portion of the city unobstructed by skyscrapers and high rises. Grabbing the chopsticks, he brought the bowl to his face and breathed deep before taking the first bite, letting the warmth caress his face and alleviate the stench of smoke and copper from the city air. “Bring a pretty girl?” A woman’s voice asked from the man’s headset, interrupting his meal momentarily. “Eavesdropping isn’t very ladylike,” he replied, jabbing at the intrusion, slurping down a large amount of noodles. “I’m your partner,” she said matter of factly. “It’s my job to watch your back.” She somewhat mumbled the last part, almost trailing off, avoiding her own words. “Jealousy isn’t very ladylike either,” he said with a smirk, knowing that would only agitate her. “Jealous!?” she said, quite flustered. “I’m just concerned is all...The woman did say to bring a pretty girl which makes me worry that you have been bringing ugly girls wherever you go.” Now, she was fired up and trying to cut him with her words. He finished the bowl of ramen before replying, leaving her in silence for a few moments. “Don’t be so harsh,” he said, rising from his seat and heading over to the edge of the roof, leaning on the railing and staring out into the streets. “You know you’re the only girl I go anywhere with…” he smiled, waiting for the words to sink in, cringing in anticipation. “Just got a call,” her voice was now stern, serious, no longer playful or annoyed. “Multiple disturbances. We’ve got some work ahead of us...if you can stand being seen with an ugly girl that is!?” The man laughed heartily to himself, slicked back, black hair waving in the wind as he bellowed at her response. Grabbing his jacket that read “NLPD” with the words underneath “Mounted Division” he headed to the stairs and made his way down to the street.
His horse awaited him on the street, quietly awaiting his return. He scanned the street as he moved over and mounted her, grabbing the reins with his left hand he moved his right hand up to his right ear, activating the communication device. “This is Officer Night,” he said, reporting in for duty and awaiting his orders. “Copy that, Night. Dispatch has sighted a lone cultist outside of a retro club called Waves, we believe they are there trying to operate outside of their restrictions. There is also a gathering of Probot supporters on the midway trying to get signatures. Everything is quiet, for now, but you know how those things go.” Night gave the information some thought, popping a toothpick into his mouth while squinting, the flashing night lights strobing from numerous sources. He pulled out his glasses for night operations, which limited light effects yet still allowed him to see his surroundings. Putting them on, he signaled with his legs for his horse to move, directing her into the streets before navigating into the alleys. “We will check out Waves first,” Night responded to dispatch, moving in the direction of the club, galloping quickly between cars and side streets. “Keep me updated on the situation on the midway. If things devolve, keep Bux and his boys on standby, just in case.” Dispatch confirmed his request, leaving him focused on one of Cybermancer’s goons for the moment.
At the backdoor to the retro club, a figure wearing a black robe and gloves stood over a kneeling woman, tears streaming down her face. The robed persons face and gender were well hidden, their voice and identity hidden masked a sphere that displayed numerous scenes and depictions. “We can make all of your suffering disappear,” a staticky voice said, placing a hand on the head of the woman to comfort her. “Tell us what you want to be...tell us where you want to go...tell us all of your fears. We shall make you anew. A new life, a new world, just for you.” It was a digital sirens song that beckoned this young woman and her heavy heart could not resist the temptation, the offer of release and peace. “Take my hand and we will show you wonders,” the static choked voice said, reaching not only for her hand but also her mind. The crying woman sobbed as she reached out, ready for the change, accepting her failures and prepared to move on into the unknown. As their hands were about to touch, the black clad figure was snatched away, carried off into the smokey darkness of the alley beyond, the sound of static fading, leaving the confused woman alone.
The back door opened moments later and a solitary person emerged, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply, slowly moving towards the young woman. “Excuse me, miss?” the man asked, his handsome features now in full view, as was his badge. “I’m Officer Night. Do you need assistance? Was anyone bothering you?” He extended his hand and she accepted, rising to her feet from the damp concrete which smelled of rain water and heat. Her mascuera was smeared and her neon green hair was a mess however Night was only concerned with her well being, helping her towards the back door of the club, sitting her down on the steps. “I was ready…” she said, trailing off, looking around anxiously, eyes fixating on the alley beyond. “Something took it away. Someone stopped it.” She was trembling as she mustered out the strange words, running her hands through her hair, the motion changing the color from green to a deep purple. “What do you mean by it?” Night asked, offering her a cigarette and lighting it for he as she accepted, hoping it would help calm her nerves. “One of the cyber goons was here. Said some pretty promising things, but like all of those promises I’ve heard before, it disappeared. I think someone may have taken it before the offer was wasted on me...who cares now. I’m tired.” She took a heavy drag and blew out a large amount of smoke, rising to her feet and stumbling momentarily. “Before you go,” Night made her pause, curious about the ordeal. “Did you see anyone? Hear anything peculiar?” She only shook her head “no” and then patted him on the chest, her inebriation now showing more as she calmed down. “You’re sweet,” she said, smiling faintly and then wandered back inside the club, leaving Night with more questions that answers.
Night moved through the alley, in the direction of the way the spooked young woman kept looking, slowly surveying the area. It was three blocks before he found something peculiar, or rather smelled. It was a heavy, acrid smell of electricity and plastic, of metals and wires overheated. Physically, there was nothing, everything in the alley seemed to be where it belonged. A hiss of material hit the ground next to the officer, the hot substance mixing with the damp ground and smoking from the friction. Night looked up, following the descent in reverse, his eyes scanning the rails and stairs. There it was, high above him, suspended in the air by a cable, the charred remains of a cyber cult member, the iconic view dome completely black and unresponsive. “Dispatch, this is Night,” he said, looking around for any other clues as to who or what caused this scene. “I found the cultist. It has been disconnected, and this time it wasn’t my fault. Get a team at this location to recover and assess. I want to know how this happened.” “Copy that, Night,” dispatch confirmed and coordinated for pick up. “Oh, and Night, things are looking serious on the midway. The Chief wants you there ASAP.” Night shook his head, taking one last look at the alley before heading back to his horse. “It’s gonna be a long shift,” he said to himself as he left the area. High above, watching Night leave, a figure waited, pulling up the body before anyone else arrived.
The Midway was a sort of crossroads where the streets met and the businesses flourished. It was a prime location to find anything from food to clothing, entertainment to exercises, movies and music. During the day, it was mostly commuters and businessmen, the working and wealthy going about their days to keep the money tree growing and nurtured. However, when the shifts ended, the schools let out, and the night took hold, this place changed entirely. In the evening, you could find so much more, including danger. The police tried to avoid it yet kept as close an eye on it as possible, letting the majority handle their own affairs and infractions. Most nights it was small thefts or scuffles, nothing too alarming or malicious. However, when the moon was full and the masses grew wilder, this place would turn into a powderkeg just waiting to explode. The worst event by far was now known as “The Saturday Slaughter.”
It seemed like a dream even though it was a nightmare, a perfect storm that most could not believe even if they were there. One robot, a construction model, went haywire during the remodel of one of the existing buildings. Wielding a rivet gun, its targeting system went on the fritz and it began raining down hot bolts upon those below. However, just as this was happening, a disgruntled woman appeared with heavy weaponry and explosives, taking revenge on a nearby residing business for laying her off for a robot to replace her. Between the two, two hundred lay dead, and five hundred more were wounded or injured, robot and human alike. The woman died in one of her own blasts and the robot was disconnected and melted down after it was stopped. Firearms became outlawed within the city limits, law enforcement also handing in their own sidearms to show support of the order. Surprisingly, this helped heal the city, the tragedy changing the area permanently in the wake of such a loss. The city implemented a screening process for weapons as well as robotic anomalies, helping to prevent either happening again. The mayor helped fund relocation outside of the city limits for those who wanted to keep possession of their arms, respecting their individual rights but also helping to preserve the city and those within it.
A group of people holding signs that read “Robot Lives Matter” stood together near a holofountain, collecting signatures in support of the Probot movement and cheering when they earned another supporter. They were a mixed group, mostly human but there were robots peppered in, those aware enough to think for themselves and others. The ones that ran the biggest risk were the cyborgs, who were considered “trump cards” by both sides of the movement. Those who praised the cybernetic enhancements for giving them freedom and allowing them to continue living would side with the Probot’s. Those that received the robotic curses without asking, the ones who would have rather died and are now left feeling inhuman and alive, they would typically side with the Nobot’s, blinded by their anger and invasion of their natural bodies. Both sides were a mess of information, each believing they were right, each preaching valid points and omitting the damning ones. And, as opposites attract, the Nobot’s found their way to the area to counter the efforts of the Probot group.
Dice was the leader of this group of Nobot’s, rallying his crew to visit the Midway in hopes of removing the robotic menace from the city, to keep it in the hands of the “natural” and “pure.” He was a survivor of The Saturday Slaughter, hardened by the sight of so many dead at the hands of a robot and a crazed woman. However, he felt sympathy for the woman losing her job to a robot, especially given that it was the very robot she lost her job to that killed so many. His parents had tried to shield him for the destruction but everyone around him was harmed in some form. His mother and father lost limbs while Dice himself was maimed by fracturing metal, scarring his face and taking one of his eyes. His family refused robotic replacements from the company responsible, wanting to wear their scars proudly and show the world why robots were not the future.
He was hard to miss, Dice, never hiding his face, working hard after the massacre to become physically stronger, his body muscular and larger than any in the crowd. He black sported a shirt with white letters that read “Dead Weight” with a depiction of a robot built like a skeleton. People avoided his intense, one-eyed gaze as he and his gang made their way toward the holofountain, intentionally bumping into robots along the way. “Well, well, well…” Dice hollered as he and the other Nobot’s began to circle around the Probot group, trying to intimidate them. “What have we here?” The group of robot supporters was caught off guard, slightly alarmed at this sudden outburst. A young blonde woman with glasses quickly strolled over to confront the disruptors, the others trying to stop her on her way. “You seem confused, Dice,” She said sharply, tilting her head and smirking. “Is it hard to make out with only the one eye?” Both groups froze as the two stared at one another, both sides waiting to see how this would unfold. Dice burst into laughter to the point his stomach was hurting him, pointing and shaking his head at the woman, wiping a tear from his eye, everyone else still nervous about the situation. “Oh, girly,” Dice said, moving closer to the woman, his large frame towering over her. “My one eye sees very well. I find it quite curious that you wear glasses but preach robotic parts and partners.” Leaning closer, he continued to instigate the woman further in a whispered tone. “Tell me,” Dice said, smiling a grin that made the girl want to puke. “Which one of those toasters is your lover?” It was like a mouse trap going off, the poor little blonde mouse taking the bait, snapping at the insult and kicking Dice in the balls. Before succumbing to the overwhelming pain that can topple a man no matter his size, Dice delivered a headbutt to the girls face, breaking her glasses and knocking her to the ground. The sight of both party leaders becoming injured sent the two factions into a frenzy, the Midway exploding into a mechanical melee.
*
Night and Lady arrived to witness the brawl, each side mashed together and fighting wildly. Reaching into his saddlebag, Night grabbed the flare gun and raised it into the air, firing it high as to signal the awaiting riot team led by Bux as well as to let them know the peacekeeper had arrived. The conflict staggered to a halt, each one seeing the flare and looking to the person who sent it into the air. “Well, if it isn’t Officer Night,” Dice yelled, still holding someone in a headlock and not letting go. “Dice,” Night yelled back, smiling and dismounting, looking around at the crowd as he moved between people. “Why am I not surprised to see your ugly mug here?” The officers words about the disfigured man agitated him, releasing the person he had a hold of and moving toward the arrogant young man. “You oughta be careful, Night,” the angry man replied, moving into the officers face, standing about a foot taller than the lone policeman. “Someone might break that pretty face of yours.” Night smirked at the ugly man’s words before raising his right hand in the air and giving out orders. “Here this,” Night yelled so the crowd could hear him, keeping a firm demeanour. “If you don’t want to be arrested then leave. I will pretend you all were just being a bit unruly instead of causing a calamity. I want the two coordinators front and center though.” Many immediately took their leave while a few stayed and mulled over the officers words, Dice stayed put while the woman with the broken glasses (and nose) fled the scene. “Looks like the Probots ain’t staying,” Dice said, lighting up a cigarette and laughing at the other group.
“What’s going on, Dice?” Night asked, curious as to what happened. “Look, I know you don’t like me,” Dice replied, taking a long drag and breathing out smoke while he responded. “But this time, they struck first. Sure, I probably hurt four eyes’ feelings but she ran her mouth so I responded in kind...bitch kicked me in the jewels. No respect for flesh and blood that group.” Night shook his head, not surprised at the outcome considering Dice’s colorful record of incidents. “You alright?” Night asked, Dice furrowing his brow at the man’s question. “Be better if I wasn’t sleeping behind bars tonight,” the one-eyed man said, wanting to wink but no longer able. “Nah, I don’t feel the paperwork,” the kind man replied, motioning with his head to move one. “Get out of here before the riot squad shows up. You know Bux won’t let you off the hook.” Dice chuckled and nodded. He turned around and whistled, signaling with his hand to his few remaining to head out, the group going their separate ways. As they scattered, and the area began to settle, the riot squad showed up. Moving down the street, one of the nobot’s asked Dice a curious question, “Why didn’t you just thrash that officer?” Dice paused and stared at the young man, shaking his head at his words. “Officer Night?” Dice said, looking back with a concerned expression at the lone officer meeting his backup. “We got lucky, kid. If I, or the whole group, were to fight him then none of us would walk away. Hell, I would’ve gone to the slammer if he had wanted it. He is surprisingly as kind as he is strong and I admire the guy for that, especially as cruel as this world can be. Anyways, let’s get outta here.”
As the sun choked out behind the smog-hazed mountains, a city began to dance with holographic and neon lights. Technicolor zeppelins roamed the sky like phantom messengers, their haunting words lurking between the skyscrapers that towered into the dark, smoky skies. Hover vehicles scuttled about like cockroaches, darting through any opening with crazed speed. The masses of robots, cyborgs, and humans littered the sidewalks and alleyways, a surging chaos of flesh, steel, and cybernetics. All this madness and so few to keep the peace… This is Neo Angeles, 2011.
Unrest gripped the city, sparks of violence racked the area as corruption and destruction fell upon all. Nobot (anti-robot) groups clashed with Probot (pro-robot) types, the latter a mixture of man and bot alike while the former was human only. Cyborgs fell into a bullied category where the Nobot group sought to “purify” them by removing all robotic components while the Probots manipulated them for bargaining and recruitment. Clashes were frequent and devastating, robots being torn apart or smashed to pieces while human opposition was subject to electrocution, sterilization, or deliberate maiming to cause them to become cyborgs.
The police were in a bind because aiding or impeding one group only enabled the other and fighting both was costly and time consuming. Due to the current laws and protections, the department could not prohibit gatherings nor could they outlaw something so intangible as an idea. To make matters worse, there was also a serial killer on the loose. The modus operandi was clear however the targets were confusing, they seemed random, disconnected yet always killed in the same fashion: electrocution. The police were stumped as to how this amount of power could be transported with ease and without notice. Very few sightings could help identify this killer, the only clues were that this individual wore a black leather outfit, wore a mask, and rode a modified motorcycle that was nowhere in the registration and seemed to vanish without a trace.
Then, there was The Cult of the Cybermancer. This was a whole other ordeal compared to the goings on in the streets and underbelly. This was digital, electric, beyond the physical world. A menacing group who wanted to plunge the world into a virtual one of their design. They say it’s “better” and “safer” than the real world and so many buy into the line, trying to escape the ugly reality around them, giving into the promise of a “new life.” The cyber cult drains people of their currency and their hope, trapping them in a nightmare world where they cannot escape, controlled by the devils themselves. The police cyber division was thwarted or terrorized on a regular basis, leaving them in the dark while so many slip into the madness of a virtual paradise.
Everyday was a challenge in Neo Angeles, with death, danger, and deception waiting around every corner. A constant power struggle churned within vast, sprawling cityscape, bending to the whims of whichever group seemed more in power that day. The police department was understaffed and undermanned, their daily tasks of seeming to play catch up were barely keeping the peace, each one of them doing their best to stave off the madness and to help those caught in the crossfire of these groups. After Mayor Yogi won office, he implemented many new locations to be funded for yoga as well as dojos for martial arts and defense for the citizens of Neo Angeles. His popularity and success had consequences, his family and life being in jeopardy on a daily basis. He persevered, knowing this to be his “path” as he called it, encouraging others to keep calm and not to become distracted or angered by these outside forces. He was a constant beacon of hope for many in the city but his defiance was becoming a nuisance to some and this night would prove most challenging for the mayor, as well as the city itself.
*
Sitting cross legged on the floor of his office, Mayor Yogi meditated deeply to clear his mind, allowing the emptiness of thoughts to bring him insight and direction for the next day. The smell of juniper hung thick in the air as multiple sticks of incense burned around the room, the wood based scent alleviating the energy in the room and bringing renewal to the office. Mayor Yogi let the fragrance wash over him, smiling as the aroma clung to his loose white clothes, his blonde man bun becoming infused with the helpful haze. As his mind became quiet, he heard a noise that seemed so far away yet so familiar. It rang and rang, then paused. It grew louder and louder until Mayor Yogi realized his phone was ringing, pulling him from the euphoria of bliss back into the office. Slowly, gently, he rose and walked to desk across the room that looked out over the majority of downtown Neo Angeles, the moon overpowered by the mesmerizing lights of the busy city. “Mayor Yogi,” He said calmly, his tone relaxed and welcoming, awaiting whatever words followed next with no apprehension or forethought, his eyes staring into the sea of lights below. “We have your daughter,” A static-filled voice whispered through the phone. Mayor Yogi’s face did not change, he simply inhaled and exhaled before replying. “Not cool,” He said, trying to keep his own cool, pondering on what to do or say next. “If you want her to stay in this world,” the obscured voice echoed, “Neo Angeles airport. Hangar Zero. Midnight. Alone.” The call disconnected, the mayor hung up the phone but did not remove his hand. After a few seconds, he picked it up and dialed one number. There was no ring, only a long pause of silence. When he heard a click, Mayor Yogi spoke. “This is the mayor,” He said, his eyes hardening, this weight of the phone heavy in his hand as he thought about his daughter. “I need to speak with Officer Night.”
“Here is your order,” the server said, placing a hot bowl of ramen in front of the man, sitting alone as he always did. “On the house...but next time you could at least bring a pretty girl with you.” She smiled and jabbed at him before heading over to clean off an adjacent table. The aroma of the rich pork broth wafted into his face as a small wind moved through the area, the cooler air only intensifying the smell and flavor mixture of leaks and noodles. Rooftop Ramen was his favorite joint in town, a place he could enjoy hot, hearty food and see a good portion of the city unobstructed by skyscrapers and high rises. Grabbing the chopsticks, he brought the bowl to his face and breathed deep before taking the first bite, letting the warmth caress his face and alleviate the stench of smoke and copper from the city air. “Bring a pretty girl?” A woman’s voice asked from the man’s headset, interrupting his meal momentarily. “Eavesdropping isn’t very ladylike,” he replied, jabbing at the intrusion, slurping down a large amount of noodles. “I’m your partner,” she said matter of factly. “It’s my job to watch your back.” She somewhat mumbled the last part, almost trailing off, avoiding her own words. “Jealousy isn’t very ladylike either,” he said with a smirk, knowing that would only agitate her. “Jealous!?” she said, quite flustered. “I’m just concerned is all...The woman did say to bring a pretty girl which makes me worry that you have been bringing ugly girls wherever you go.” Now, she was fired up and trying to cut him with her words. He finished the bowl of ramen before replying, leaving her in silence for a few moments. “Don’t be so harsh,” he said, rising from his seat and heading over to the edge of the roof, leaning on the railing and staring out into the streets. “You know you’re the only girl I go anywhere with…” he smiled, waiting for the words to sink in, cringing in anticipation. “Just got a call,” her voice was now stern, serious, no longer playful or annoyed. “Multiple disturbances. We’ve got some work ahead of us...if you can stand being seen with an ugly girl that is!?” The man laughed heartily to himself, slicked back, black hair waving in the wind as he bellowed at her response. Grabbing his jacket that read “NLPD” with the words underneath “Mounted Division” he headed to the stairs and made his way down to the street.
His horse awaited him on the street, quietly awaiting his return. He scanned the street as he moved over and mounted her, grabbing the reins with his left hand he moved his right hand up to his right ear, activating the communication device. “This is Officer Night,” he said, reporting in for duty and awaiting his orders. “Copy that, Night. Dispatch has sighted a lone cultist outside of a retro club called Waves, we believe they are there trying to operate outside of their restrictions. There is also a gathering of Probot supporters on the midway trying to get signatures. Everything is quiet, for now, but you know how those things go.” Night gave the information some thought, popping a toothpick into his mouth while squinting, the flashing night lights strobing from numerous sources. He pulled out his glasses for night operations, which limited light effects yet still allowed him to see his surroundings. Putting them on, he signaled with his legs for his horse to move, directing her into the streets before navigating into the alleys. “We will check out Waves first,” Night responded to dispatch, moving in the direction of the club, galloping quickly between cars and side streets. “Keep me updated on the situation on the midway. If things devolve, keep Bux and his boys on standby, just in case.” Dispatch confirmed his request, leaving him focused on one of Cybermancer’s goons for the moment.
At the backdoor to the retro club, a figure wearing a black robe and gloves stood over a kneeling woman, tears streaming down her face. The robed persons face and gender were well hidden, their voice and identity hidden masked a sphere that displayed numerous scenes and depictions. “We can make all of your suffering disappear,” a staticky voice said, placing a hand on the head of the woman to comfort her. “Tell us what you want to be...tell us where you want to go...tell us all of your fears. We shall make you anew. A new life, a new world, just for you.” It was a digital sirens song that beckoned this young woman and her heavy heart could not resist the temptation, the offer of release and peace. “Take my hand and we will show you wonders,” the static choked voice said, reaching not only for her hand but also her mind. The crying woman sobbed as she reached out, ready for the change, accepting her failures and prepared to move on into the unknown. As their hands were about to touch, the black clad figure was snatched away, carried off into the smokey darkness of the alley beyond, the sound of static fading, leaving the confused woman alone.
The back door opened moments later and a solitary person emerged, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply, slowly moving towards the young woman. “Excuse me, miss?” the man asked, his handsome features now in full view, as was his badge. “I’m Officer Night. Do you need assistance? Was anyone bothering you?” He extended his hand and she accepted, rising to her feet from the damp concrete which smelled of rain water and heat. Her mascuera was smeared and her neon green hair was a mess however Night was only concerned with her well being, helping her towards the back door of the club, sitting her down on the steps. “I was ready…” she said, trailing off, looking around anxiously, eyes fixating on the alley beyond. “Something took it away. Someone stopped it.” She was trembling as she mustered out the strange words, running her hands through her hair, the motion changing the color from green to a deep purple. “What do you mean by it?” Night asked, offering her a cigarette and lighting it for he as she accepted, hoping it would help calm her nerves. “One of the cyber goons was here. Said some pretty promising things, but like all of those promises I’ve heard before, it disappeared. I think someone may have taken it before the offer was wasted on me...who cares now. I’m tired.” She took a heavy drag and blew out a large amount of smoke, rising to her feet and stumbling momentarily. “Before you go,” Night made her pause, curious about the ordeal. “Did you see anyone? Hear anything peculiar?” She only shook her head “no” and then patted him on the chest, her inebriation now showing more as she calmed down. “You’re sweet,” she said, smiling faintly and then wandered back inside the club, leaving Night with more questions that answers.
Night moved through the alley, in the direction of the way the spooked young woman kept looking, slowly surveying the area. It was three blocks before he found something peculiar, or rather smelled. It was a heavy, acrid smell of electricity and plastic, of metals and wires overheated. Physically, there was nothing, everything in the alley seemed to be where it belonged. A hiss of material hit the ground next to the officer, the hot substance mixing with the damp ground and smoking from the friction. Night looked up, following the descent in reverse, his eyes scanning the rails and stairs. There it was, high above him, suspended in the air by a cable, the charred remains of a cyber cult member, the iconic view dome completely black and unresponsive. “Dispatch, this is Night,” he said, looking around for any other clues as to who or what caused this scene. “I found the cultist. It has been disconnected, and this time it wasn’t my fault. Get a team at this location to recover and assess. I want to know how this happened.” “Copy that, Night,” dispatch confirmed and coordinated for pick up. “Oh, and Night, things are looking serious on the midway. The Chief wants you there ASAP.” Night shook his head, taking one last look at the alley before heading back to his horse. “It’s gonna be a long shift,” he said to himself as he left the area. High above, watching Night leave, a figure waited, pulling up the body before anyone else arrived.
The Midway was a sort of crossroads where the streets met and the businesses flourished. It was a prime location to find anything from food to clothing, entertainment to exercises, movies and music. During the day, it was mostly commuters and businessmen, the working and wealthy going about their days to keep the money tree growing and nurtured. However, when the shifts ended, the schools let out, and the night took hold, this place changed entirely. In the evening, you could find so much more, including danger. The police tried to avoid it yet kept as close an eye on it as possible, letting the majority handle their own affairs and infractions. Most nights it was small thefts or scuffles, nothing too alarming or malicious. However, when the moon was full and the masses grew wilder, this place would turn into a powderkeg just waiting to explode. The worst event by far was now known as “The Saturday Slaughter.”
It seemed like a dream even though it was a nightmare, a perfect storm that most could not believe even if they were there. One robot, a construction model, went haywire during the remodel of one of the existing buildings. Wielding a rivet gun, its targeting system went on the fritz and it began raining down hot bolts upon those below. However, just as this was happening, a disgruntled woman appeared with heavy weaponry and explosives, taking revenge on a nearby residing business for laying her off for a robot to replace her. Between the two, two hundred lay dead, and five hundred more were wounded or injured, robot and human alike. The woman died in one of her own blasts and the robot was disconnected and melted down after it was stopped. Firearms became outlawed within the city limits, law enforcement also handing in their own sidearms to show support of the order. Surprisingly, this helped heal the city, the tragedy changing the area permanently in the wake of such a loss. The city implemented a screening process for weapons as well as robotic anomalies, helping to prevent either happening again. The mayor helped fund relocation outside of the city limits for those who wanted to keep possession of their arms, respecting their individual rights but also helping to preserve the city and those within it.
A group of people holding signs that read “Robot Lives Matter” stood together near a holofountain, collecting signatures in support of the Probot movement and cheering when they earned another supporter. They were a mixed group, mostly human but there were robots peppered in, those aware enough to think for themselves and others. The ones that ran the biggest risk were the cyborgs, who were considered “trump cards” by both sides of the movement. Those who praised the cybernetic enhancements for giving them freedom and allowing them to continue living would side with the Probot’s. Those that received the robotic curses without asking, the ones who would have rather died and are now left feeling inhuman and alive, they would typically side with the Nobot’s, blinded by their anger and invasion of their natural bodies. Both sides were a mess of information, each believing they were right, each preaching valid points and omitting the damning ones. And, as opposites attract, the Nobot’s found their way to the area to counter the efforts of the Probot group.
Dice was the leader of this group of Nobot’s, rallying his crew to visit the Midway in hopes of removing the robotic menace from the city, to keep it in the hands of the “natural” and “pure.” He was a survivor of The Saturday Slaughter, hardened by the sight of so many dead at the hands of a robot and a crazed woman. However, he felt sympathy for the woman losing her job to a robot, especially given that it was the very robot she lost her job to that killed so many. His parents had tried to shield him for the destruction but everyone around him was harmed in some form. His mother and father lost limbs while Dice himself was maimed by fracturing metal, scarring his face and taking one of his eyes. His family refused robotic replacements from the company responsible, wanting to wear their scars proudly and show the world why robots were not the future.
He was hard to miss, Dice, never hiding his face, working hard after the massacre to become physically stronger, his body muscular and larger than any in the crowd. He black sported a shirt with white letters that read “Dead Weight” with a depiction of a robot built like a skeleton. People avoided his intense, one-eyed gaze as he and his gang made their way toward the holofountain, intentionally bumping into robots along the way. “Well, well, well…” Dice hollered as he and the other Nobot’s began to circle around the Probot group, trying to intimidate them. “What have we here?” The group of robot supporters was caught off guard, slightly alarmed at this sudden outburst. A young blonde woman with glasses quickly strolled over to confront the disruptors, the others trying to stop her on her way. “You seem confused, Dice,” She said sharply, tilting her head and smirking. “Is it hard to make out with only the one eye?” Both groups froze as the two stared at one another, both sides waiting to see how this would unfold. Dice burst into laughter to the point his stomach was hurting him, pointing and shaking his head at the woman, wiping a tear from his eye, everyone else still nervous about the situation. “Oh, girly,” Dice said, moving closer to the woman, his large frame towering over her. “My one eye sees very well. I find it quite curious that you wear glasses but preach robotic parts and partners.” Leaning closer, he continued to instigate the woman further in a whispered tone. “Tell me,” Dice said, smiling a grin that made the girl want to puke. “Which one of those toasters is your lover?” It was like a mouse trap going off, the poor little blonde mouse taking the bait, snapping at the insult and kicking Dice in the balls. Before succumbing to the overwhelming pain that can topple a man no matter his size, Dice delivered a headbutt to the girls face, breaking her glasses and knocking her to the ground. The sight of both party leaders becoming injured sent the two factions into a frenzy, the Midway exploding into a mechanical melee.
*
Night and Lady arrived to witness the brawl, each side mashed together and fighting wildly. Reaching into his saddlebag, Night grabbed the flare gun and raised it into the air, firing it high as to signal the awaiting riot team led by Bux as well as to let them know the peacekeeper had arrived. The conflict staggered to a halt, each one seeing the flare and looking to the person who sent it into the air. “Well, if it isn’t Officer Night,” Dice yelled, still holding someone in a headlock and not letting go. “Dice,” Night yelled back, smiling and dismounting, looking around at the crowd as he moved between people. “Why am I not surprised to see your ugly mug here?” The officers words about the disfigured man agitated him, releasing the person he had a hold of and moving toward the arrogant young man. “You oughta be careful, Night,” the angry man replied, moving into the officers face, standing about a foot taller than the lone policeman. “Someone might break that pretty face of yours.” Night smirked at the ugly man’s words before raising his right hand in the air and giving out orders. “Here this,” Night yelled so the crowd could hear him, keeping a firm demeanour. “If you don’t want to be arrested then leave. I will pretend you all were just being a bit unruly instead of causing a calamity. I want the two coordinators front and center though.” Many immediately took their leave while a few stayed and mulled over the officers words, Dice stayed put while the woman with the broken glasses (and nose) fled the scene. “Looks like the Probots ain’t staying,” Dice said, lighting up a cigarette and laughing at the other group.
“What’s going on, Dice?” Night asked, curious as to what happened. “Look, I know you don’t like me,” Dice replied, taking a long drag and breathing out smoke while he responded. “But this time, they struck first. Sure, I probably hurt four eyes’ feelings but she ran her mouth so I responded in kind...bitch kicked me in the jewels. No respect for flesh and blood that group.” Night shook his head, not surprised at the outcome considering Dice’s colorful record of incidents. “You alright?” Night asked, Dice furrowing his brow at the man’s question. “Be better if I wasn’t sleeping behind bars tonight,” the one-eyed man said, wanting to wink but no longer able. “Nah, I don’t feel the paperwork,” the kind man replied, motioning with his head to move one. “Get out of here before the riot squad shows up. You know Bux won’t let you off the hook.” Dice chuckled and nodded. He turned around and whistled, signaling with his hand to his few remaining to head out, the group going their separate ways. As they scattered, and the area began to settle, the riot squad showed up. Moving down the street, one of the nobot’s asked Dice a curious question, “Why didn’t you just thrash that officer?” Dice paused and stared at the young man, shaking his head at his words. “Officer Night?” Dice said, looking back with a concerned expression at the lone officer meeting his backup. “We got lucky, kid. If I, or the whole group, were to fight him then none of us would walk away. Hell, I would’ve gone to the slammer if he had wanted it. He is surprisingly as kind as he is strong and I admire the guy for that, especially as cruel as this world can be. Anyways, let’s get outta here.”