In a deserted alley, between two dishevelled buildings, a manhole cover shifted slightly and then budged a few centimetres before eventually shifting completely.
An equally dishevelled young man with dark hair in a cheap suit breathlessly scrambled out of the sewers.
Zack warily glanced at his surroundings, then slowly slid the cover back into place.
Breathing out a sigh, he wearily leaned against the nearby building, deeply inhaling several lungfuls of air. After a few moments, he leaned down, retching violently on the ground.
"Shit!"
He'd been through literal shit.
He slammed his fist into the wall furiously, then caught himself.
His reflection stared back somberly at him from a nearby puddle.
"Bloody hell...I look like shit."
Zack sighed, absentmindedly wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his suit. He smoothed back his hair, then straightened his suit.
"Crimson...that bastard!"
He ground his teeth, slowly thinking of all the different ways he'd make him pay.
After a few moments, he inhaled deeply and then briskly made his way through a thick maze of alleys. After a few steps, he stopped, listening intently for a while.
Then he heard it. The sound of footsteps dashing across the roofs.
"Fuck!"
Zack ducked, barely dodging a cryogenic round. Ice bloomed at the spot where his head had been seconds ago on the side of the building.
" That damn snake Pete!"
He cursed Pete using all the unsavoury words he knew and then some.
" After him! He can't get far, surround him!"
Behind him, several cryogenic rounds slammed into the wet concrete.
The rough voices were most likely those of the other members of the Crimson gang, who had been lying in wait.
The Enforcers were more subtle and that much more deadlier.
Their preferred style of operation was silent kills. No witnesses left alive.
Zack sprinted through the alleys at breakneck speed, my ally turning through the different back way alleys in his mind.
Just then, a street rat scurried across his path.
"Move it!"
The startled boy lunged out of the way, then got blasted with a cryogenic round the next second for his trouble.
An agonized yell rang out.
Zack spared the kid a glance, then gritted his teeth.
The round had blasted through the kid's side, the ice instantly freezing up his innards.
The sudden drop in temperature instantly sent the kid into shock.
"Freaking Crimson, I'm gonna kill that wretched bastard."
He slid sideways, the stunt killing his momentum almost instantly.
With a shout, he leapt, jumping from wall to wall.
With a flip, he landed next to the injured kid, hauling him up in one fluid motion.
The kid groaned weakly, clutching subconsciously at the frozen hole through his torso.
Cryogenic rounds punched through the body and froze the organs from the inside out.
If the target was weak, they immediately went into shock.
And if they were resilient, their body still broke down after three rounds.
Zack had to admit that it was a lethal but effective method of restraining criminals, or in this case, civilians.
With the additional baggage, his speed reduced slightly.
Several cryogenic rounds blasted the ground around him, each missing him by a hair's breadth.
With a calm focus, he swiftly bolted through the twists and turns of the slums.
Growing up in the outer rim had its advantages.
An Outer rim Rat like him knew the backstreet like the palm of his Hand.
In the distance, exposed power cables snaked overhead, humming softly and occasionally spitting sparks that briefly lit up the rusted fire escapes, and graffiti scrawled with cheap neon paint.
Adjusting the groaning kid on his shoulder, Zack ducked into an alley barely wider than his shoulders, just managing to squeeze through it.
"Shit, shit shit!"
The alley was a dead end. However, not entirely, considering the narrow section exposed above.
And if you knew what you were doing.
Taking a deep breath, Zack dashed forward.
Using the momentum of his run as leverage, he sprang into the air, climbing up the wall using tiny spaces between the bricks as handholds.
The sound of thudding footsteps echoed by him, his pulse quickening.
With only a few seconds to spare, he vaulted over the last section, landing on the other side of the alley.
A couple of kids scattered at his appearance.
"Wait! Jasper!"
One of the rats, a tall youth with mousy, unkempt hair, stopped, peering at him.
" Zack? Is that you? You look like shit...
"There's no time to explain. Take him to Molly; he's hurt. Disappear. Use the sewers. I need to lose these guys."
In the next moment, a low whistle rang out.
With seamlessly practiced coordination, a couple of kids slid the injured boy through a door that had seemingly appeared in the wall and disappeared as quickly as it had.
Zack ran across the empty street, then abruptly turned, sprinting into a new maze of alleys.
Steam vented from a broken heat exchanger at ankle level, fogging the air and biting at his lungs with the stink of ozone and rot.
A stench he was now accustomed to.
Somewhere above, a recycler unit rattled like it was on its last legs, dumping half-processed waste that pooled in sluggish, iridescent streams along the cracked pavement.
" Fucking hell!"
He barely dodged the steaming pile of shit, ducking away in the nick of time.
The ground dipped suddenly, an old drainage trench from before the slums had grown vertical.
Zack vaulted it on instinct, boots splashing through shallow runoff as cryogenic rounds slammed into the walls behind him.
A dark grin flickered across his face.
" They're catching up, I wonder how Grayson's doing..."
Ice spiderwebbed across brick and ferrocrete, creeping outward in jagged patterns before shattering under the next footfall.
" Stop you, coward!"
A voice roared in the distance.
Zack scoffed derisively.
" What an idiot..."
There was nothing cowardly about fleeing in the face of such overwhelming numbers.
Better to survive than die a heroic death.
He twisted left, then right, arriving at a familiar spot.
One alley dead-ended into a stacked shanty wall, but Zack didn't slow. He hit it running, rebounded off a bolted scrap-metal panel, and cut through a curtain of dangling cloth strips meant to hide a squatter den.
A low sound of moans, groans, and rhythmic pounding reached his ears.
Zack sniggered in amusement, then burst through the den.
" Well, at least they're having fun. "
A shrill scream pierced the air at his arrival.
" What the hell, man?"
" Get off me!"
Voices shouted in surprise and anger at his sudden intrusion.
Zack suppressed a laugh, slipping out a hidden door and disappearing into the darkness.
A few moments later, a dark-haired man stepped out on the street clad in a cheap black suit, with a faded bowling cap on his head.
He walked forward a few blocks, then eventually reached a cheap, dirty restaurant.
The hanged man was nearly filled at this time of day.
Zack briefly raised his hand to order a drink, then sighed wearily, taking off the hat.
His drink slid in front of him almost instantly.
Zack stared at the perspiring drink in front of him for a few short-lived seconds,, then gulped it down in one go.
The bitter taste of lime and a special concoction made just for him hit his palate with a refreshing jolt.
Zack lifted his hand once more, and a second drink slid his way.
"Rough day? The bartender, an elderly gentleman, asked.
Zack shrugged, shaking his head slightly. The man stared at him for a few moments before collecting the empty glass.
He knew better than to pry.
The conversation ended there.
Today, Zack had learnt another lesson in trust.
A few moments later, a burly man stepped up to the bar.
"Where were you followed?"
Grayson curtly shook his head.
A split second later, a quiet hum rippled through the air in the bar.
Just then, Zack gasped, dropping the glass in his hand.
Grayson spun and lunged towards Zack, shielding him with his body.
A split second later, the larger man's head exploded in a gory display of brains and ice.
Zack instinctively grabbed the falling body, gently lowering it to the ground with shock and disbelief on his face.
A mixture of anger and sadness wound itself tight in his chest, the emotion gripping him with a maddening intensity.
He snarled, leaping forward, then stopped, feeling a cold muzzle touch the back of his neck.
"Zack Haleric...you're under arrest.
Zack stared wordlessly at Grayson's still bleeding corpse lying on the bar counter.
It almost seemed as though reality were playing a cruel prank on him, but the blood and brain on his face and the lingering scent of iron in the air spoke a completely different story.
Frantic screams rippled through the bar, and the silence of the night as the hanged man's usual patrons frantically scrambled out of the lively bar turned murder scene.
"Anything you say can and will probably be used against you."
Zack barely registered the cold voice reading out his dominion rights to him, his eyes fixed on the still bleeding corpse of the man who had been by his side for as long as he could remember, in front of him.
"Glory to the Dominion"
A bright flash of light flared across his vision, then everything went dark.