Realistic or Modern Singularity [Open]

[Archie]

28 years ago, the first cybernetic neural implants were developed, enhancing natural abilities and connecting one's brain with the internet instantaneously. Originally, the developments were controversial, seen as a way for the rich to give their kids a leg up against everyone else. However, by 2035, their prices dropped to the point where almost every human could afford one. That same year, China, trying to gain a leg up against the United States in the Second Cold War, created the first mandatory implantation law. The United States followed suit, and then every other major country in the world. Almost overnight, it became illegal to birth a child into the world as a "natural" - a person with no implants.

At the same time, both superpowers were working on "superviruses" which were programmed to hack into the enemy's implant network. As security systems became more advanced, so too did viruses - they needed a mind of their own, so that they could re-write their code in response to detection. Eventually, the programs became so advanced that they invented a language of their own and started communicating with one another.

The world changed completely on October 1, 2050. The superviruses, having been secretly communicating with each other for years, made their move, hacking into the implants of all major global politicians, military officers, and businesspeople, taking them over completely. Within a month, all nations of the world had "voluntarily" unified under a new authority - the United Directorate of Mankind. The superviruses lacked the bandwidth to directly control all 12 billion implanted humans, so, they instead devised a strategy known as "clearing". Clearing the population involved uploading manufactured beliefs into their brains, like "the UDM is our only safeguard against aliens", "the UDM is a democracy", or "the UDM is history's most humane government".

Due to clearing, the formation of the UDM and the "Internal Bureau", its feared security agency, was accepted by everyone... except people who had never been implanted to begin with. Some parents, wanting their children to grow up under natural conditions, birthed their children to doctors who were family friends, or in their homes, never implanting them but falsely reporting that they had. These children grew up without the faintest idea that anything was different about them. They did have a harder time doing almost anything than anyone else, but people just explained this away as them being "less talented". Still, "naturals" were able to penetrate into every level of society and every profession, overcoming their inherent "disabilities" with sheer persistence.

After October 1, 1950, it became clear to this population that something was either wrong with them, or wrong with everyone else. They were the only people asking questions about the sudden shifts in the political landscape. As the IB started arresting people who questioned the government in public, the situation soon became clear to the few naturals who were able to figure it out - humanity had been hacked, and its only hope were the 3% who weren't under the control of the machines.

Most naturals never figured the situation out, or were too afraid to question the status quo. All of them who survived the IB's initial round of arrests learned to "blend in" and not question the society which seemed to have gone crazy. Forming an online community wasn't an option since the enemy was literally mankind's computing technology, but some naturals formed secret groups where they started to piece together the situation.

You are a group of strangers, all of whom have survived the past 3 years. Some of you are in "cells" and know what happened on October 1, 1950. Others of you are just keeping their heads down to avoid detection. However, the IB has just embarked on a second round of purges based on years of gathering intelligence. This coming crisis will drive all of you together, and you will have to use your collective skills from your old professions to survive.

 

[Archie]

May 3, 2053
3 days before the 112th Annual Met Gala​

"This way, Cass" said a tall, tanned man donning a leather jacket and a goatee. Cassandra could barely hear him over the music in the Cobra nightclub. Cass smiled and rose from the table, finishing her glass of whiskey. Around them, the strobe lights of the club pulsed, making the act of seeing anything impossible.

"Why so serious, Cano? Garza wants us to off another governor?" she joked. Whenever she worked for the Managua Cartel, Miguel "Cano" Artayya was her minder, and he found way less fun and way more cause for worry in their hits than Cassandra did. Cass could remember a time when she felt the same way, when she had to use her hatred and resentment, not just of the UDM but of everyone who went along with this world's hypocrisy to motivate herself to pull the trigger. Now, it was as simple as breathing, just a lot more entertaining.

"No, nothing like that Cass" Miguel replied.

"In fact, this is gonna be the easiest fucking hit you've done in a while. And that's what worries with me. Something off about it" Miguel said as he stood outside one of the upstairs private rooms, an opaque glass door separating it from the rest of the club.

"You're such a big pussy" Cassandra joked, but she wasn't really joking. Some days, she hated Cano - his constant whining and nagging. And to think that this shell of a man who was always worried, complaining about getting "caught", or getting "set up" was once a sicario was troubling indeed. No wonder Garza Cabron needed people like Cass. His full--time "muscle" hadn't hit the gym in ages.

Cassandra whipped open the door and strutted into the private lounge, its light dark. The Cobra's entire feel was futuristic, but cheap. Luxury-looking red sofas dotted the walls of the lounge, and a small bar counter was off to the right, but they all looked like they came from an IKEA. There was only one person in the room, slouched on a couch in front of a coffee table, enjoying a mimosa as he looked at the ceiling.

Cassandra could recognize that thick-jawed face from a mile away. She chuckled.

Spoiler: VK Chung

"VK? Who could you possibly want to kill?" she asked, approaching the man and taking a seat on the couch facing opposite him.

The muscular man stared at her, and reached into his three-piece suit to produce a photograph.

"Straight to business" VK Chung commented in his characteristic deep voice and thick Cantonese accent. VK had been in the former USA longer than Cass, but unlike her never bothered to get rid of his foreign mannerisms.

"I like that", he added. Based on what she knew from their time on the Olympic team together, Cass knew that line was false. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Cass stared at the photograph as VK put it on the glass coffee table, facing in Cass's direction.

Spoiler: Luke Pattinson

Now, Cass really couldn't hold it in. She burst out laughing, before standing up. That was Luke Pattinson of all people, the biggest star in Hollywood today - a young man who had probably never hurt anyone in his life. Without a doubt, VK Chung, an action cinema star who hated settling for #2 in the box office, had reason to be jealous, but murder? Cass knew VK - hot-headed was about the last word Cassandra would use to describe the former Taekwondo Gold Medalist. If VK wanted to eliminate a rival, he'd just sabotage him subtly. Something this risky and this stupid? VK wouldn't do it unless he had a very good reason.

"Alright VK, good joke. You can go now"

The man stood up with her. He was a towering, giant presence, almost seven feet tall - no doubt a cause of all the growth hormones the Olympic Talent Program injected into him before puberty.

"I'm not kidding. Luke Pattinson is the target. Twelve months ago, he started a film production company, and it's succeeded beyond anyone's wildest expectations"

"Yeah, Advent Media, I'm aware. To be honest, all the alien invasion movies are naked propaganda, but the kid's a good writer" Cass admitted. Now that she thought about it, Advent was the only studio that could make all the UDM's fearmongering about the alien threat entertaining. War of the Worlds 4, in her mind, was one of the greatest CGI-adventures ever created.

"The thing is, I want the company" VK said.

"So your job isn't to kill Pattinson. I have it on good authority that someone else will try. Your job is to whisk him away to safety- in my car. From there, I will persuade him to hand over his ownership as a token of his gratitude."

Cassandra sat down again, reached across the table, and drank the rest of her counterpart's mimosa. He sat back down as well, smirking at the idea that he was finally making progress.

"The thing is, you can't just kidnap Pattinson then push him out of your hovercar. Advent media is backed by the UDM, just look at all the pro-government trash they put out. The government won't be happy about you killing off their new PR asset - they'll come after you"

VK smiled.

"You don't worry about that" he said, taking out an envelope and putting it on the table.

"When you find out how much I'm paying you, I'm sure your mind will be quite at ease"

Cass opened the white envelope. Inside, she found a fake Illinois drivers license with her face on it and the name Victoria Choi, and, more importantly, a check for fifteen million Global Dollars.

"It's at ease" Cass acknowledged, furling her brow and staring into VK's dark brown eyes.

"So how and when are we doing this?"

"I and Pattinson have obviously have been invited to the Met Gala on the 6th of this month. You're going to be my date, Victoria Choi"


RageOfInfinity

It wasn't often that visitors came to the hideout of Professor McCloud's camp unannounced. It was even rarer for them to get the drop on the cell. Today was a special day, however, which brought a special guest.

Spoiler: Blake Aldridge

Professor McCloud would wake up that morning to a sight that seemed inconceivable, given the tightness and security procedures that any cell of "naturals" followed. Someone was sitting in a chair next to the professor's bed. Such a breach of security would only have been possible if someone within the professor's cell trusted and knew this man. An agile mind like that of the professor would be able to quickly conjecture that either the cell had been infiltrated by whatever menacing force was responsible for the insanity of the world, or this man was from another cell and trying to make contact.

Almost immediately when the professor rose from his slumber, the brown haired man rose from his seat and put his hands in the air.

"My name's Blake, and I'm in your hideout. You could call for help and kill me if you wanted" the man said, pausing, his voice quick, and somewhere between a baritone and a tenor.

"But you won't because you'll want to hear what I have to say. There's more like you. People without chips - there's 300 million of us, and most of us don't know it"

The man looked around the space he was in, then his light green eyes stared back at the professor.

"I know the secrets of what happened three years ago, but before I can tell you, I'm going to need your help" the man said. He eyed the chair, then the professor, as if he were asking for permission to sit back down. Sweating, he did so.

"Three days from now, one of the seventy people-" he started, stopping himself and pausing.

"-if you can even call them people - responsible for brainwashing mankind will be at the Met Gala" Blake continued.

"You're the only person I know of who can figure out a way to kill him"

May 4, 2053
2 days before the Met Gala​

Maj Brax

On the morning of the 4th of May, an unusual guest walked into the offices of Ryan Turley and associates. Dark haired, tanned, standing almost seven feet and built like a tank, a suited up VK Chung walked into the bounty hunter's place of business, turning the door without bothering to knock.

Chung was instantly recognizable to anyone who was in any way connected to the world. He occupied a role in global cinema that Jet Li or Jackie Chan half a century ago had inhabited, as the world's premier stuntman. While his acting skills always left something to be desired, his martial arts choreography, acrobatics, and sheer willingness to hurt himself for a fat paycheck were unmatchable. Earlier, he had made headlines in 2048, not only for winning olympic gold in Taekwondo, but for being the only leader of the Chinese team to talk his way out of the doping scandal. This achievement was even more impressive given that his physique virtually screamed steroid use.

"Mr. Turley, Ms. Harris" Chung started, addressing his prospective service providers formally an an attempt to make up for his rudeness in barging in.

"I apologize for the interruption, but this message is urgent. I come on behalf of Robert Nkunda, Director of the IB himself" Chung stated, not bothering to introduce himself, assuming that both his counterparts knew who he was already.

Chung took a seat and withdrew two tickets and a photograph from his manila paper envelope.

"As you are aware, three years ago, there was an escape attempt at Detroit Maximum Security Penitentiary, the UDM's most secure prison facility" Chung paused, eyeing both his counterparts nervously, as if his own life was now on the line with every word he said,

"As you are probably not aware, the UDM's claims that all the escapees were killed before reaching the electric fence were false. Four made it out, and one of them..." he started, passing across the table a photograph

Spoiler: Cassandra Wu Yuqian

"Will be at the Met Gala. Something will happen at the Gala which will distract the attention of the crowd. While they are distracted, you must kill - not capture - this woman, Cassandra Wu. You will be paid a total of 12.5 million international dollars for your services, and will have the gratitude of the unified government of mankind"

Chung paused, eyeing both his counterparts, before he eagerly laid their tickets to the Met Gala on the table as well. Guests of Honor, the tickets read, invited by Mayor Stewart Beagle himself.

"Now, you must have a million questions. Please, ask away"


Seha

The offices of Vogue New York were even more polished than usual tonight. On the bottom floor, employees, visibly stressed out, powerwalked around the room trying to complete the million tasks that were required before the 102nd annual Met Gala. Alek's photo shoot today was on the top floor. Morgana Rutherford, the Editor in Chief of the magazine, had vacated her office for the special occasion of one of the world's biggest fashion models and its biggest actor doing a shoot together. Luke Pattinson, a former model himself who had shared many runways with Alek, was already in the boardroom, dressed in a tight-fitting dress shirt. Morgana had made sure that some of the prettiest girls in the office would be there to greet Alek as he exited the elevator. No one was allowed into the room except Michel de Beaumont, New York's premier photographer, and the two models.

Spoiler: Michel de Beaumont

Beaumont was already waiting outside the room, smoking a Cuban cigar, when Alek arrived on the floor. The Vogue building was a strict no-smoking area, but rules didn't apply to the mighty Michel de Beaumont.

"Ah, monsieur Linares" Beaumont said, more dismissively than politely, despite the formal address.

"You can't go in now, Luke is on a private phone call or something" he followed.

Phone call or not, Luke was doing a terrible job of keeping his call private. His distinct high voice was loud enough and clear enough from years of acting that Alek and Michel could hear bits and pieces of his conversation, even from the other side of the French doors.

"You promised me you would let me be me for half the day! Half means twelve hours!" Luke protested.

"Yeah, well none of the other avatars have the skills you need! You can't write or act, phantom, you're a damn robot."

"I don't care about the money, I just wanted to make movies!"

"Of course we're in a private location, I wouldn't be calling you if we weren't"

There was a long pause in the conversation after that. Something got Luke to change his tone.

"Y-yes, of course. I know, right. I didn't mean it"

Moments later, it was over. The twin French doors swung open. Luke was on the other side, standing in front of Ms. Rutherford's marble table, which reflected the light emanating from the many windows.

"Oh- hey guys" the blonde haired actor started, his eyes wide and his voice quickening. His face was red, and his brow was sweating.

"Alek, uh, good to see you again" he said, leaning in for a hug and embracing his old colleague. Alek could feel Luke's heartbeat racing as they came in contact.

"Michel, good to see you too" the movie star said, turning to the Frenchman next. The photographer grabbed Luke to give him les bis, but the actor was visibly flustered from whatever conversation he had and stood awkwardly still like a statue as Michel kissed both his cheeks

"So, Alek, have you found a date for the Gala yet?" Luke asked, regaining his composure as he took a seat on the marble office desk. Michel handed them both glasses of apple cider which was supposed to pass as luxury Scotch for the sake of this shoot. Luke held his awkwardly in his lap as Michel then moved to set up his elaborate camera and lighting apparatus.


Togy

"KD! Get in here!" shouted Colonel Saul Williams, a tall and fit, bald African-American man in his forties, dressed in the regal uniform of one of the three colonels of the NYPD. NYPD headquarters was bustling today, since three Internal Bureau agents had just arrived on scene. That meant that someone important was in town, and needed to be protected. Sometimes, it was hard to tell who the UDM considered important. Sometimes, they'd offer no forewarning for the trip of a governor, but take interest in a junior officer in the armed forces. Sometimes, they'd forget to guard a mayor, but take good care of a professor.

"KD" the colonel rose when his detective entered the office. He wasn't alone. With him was a brown haired man who stood about six five, leaning against the wall in a grey suit. The look was unmistakably IB, complete with the dark shades that he never took off, to add to his aura of mystery and intimidation.

"KD, take a seat. Agent Zeyler was just leaving"

The German IB officer grunted, before getting off of the wall and leaving the room. He slammed the office door behind him as Colonel Williams took a seat behind his maple wood desk, filled with pictures of his family.

"Listen, KD, what I'm about to tell you stays between you, me, and chief Morris until the job is done" the colonel continued, shuffling papers on his desk.

"As you're aware, the 112th Met Gala is taking place in the new Metropolitan Art Museum in two days - the one they just built in the sky district" the colonel started. The new Museum, located across from the elevated Central Park, supported by columns jutting from the city's ground level, was a carbon copy of the old building, whose view had been obstructed by the presence of too many skyscrapers, and whose sunlight had been overshadowed, like most of ground-level Manhattan, by the construction of the sky district for the global elite.

"I got word this morning that Mayor Beagle has invited two notorious bounty hunters to the event" Saul added. This was odd indeed - the event was a high profile gathering for celebrities and major donors.

"This can only mean one thing - the mayor wants someone at the party abducted. While the UDM is infallible, some of its officers unfortunately are. If the mayor is planning to kidnap someone, it's the NYPD's job to stop it" the colonel added, his voice rising as he spoke of the UDM, as if it was some kind of God, and sweat building on his brow at the very suggestion that one of its officials could do wrong.

"I've assigned you to the building's security detail. You're to find out what the two bounty hunters - Ryan Turley and Gwendolyn Harris - are up to. More importantly, you've got to find out what the hell is going on at that party. My gut says there's something bigger in the works, but I can't seem to put my finger on it..."

The colonel fell silent. He looked into the detective's eyes, then up at the ceiling, visibly struggling with some kind of mental block that was causing him physical distress. Whenever NYPD was assigned to investigate anything related to the government, most of the force just seemed to instinctively clam up and feel like they were getting sick. KD and Jexen were the only detectives Colonel Williams knew of who didn't get that reaction, which is why, after Jexen's death, KD was the only person he could trust with this job.

 

[Brax]

A collaboration post featuring the majestic Maj ​

Los Angeles was a hectic city. Along with the slough of famous people that populated the urban jungle came those who were trying to follow along in their footsteps. It was superficial, larger-than-life, extravagant in nature, once home to a wide variety of people who were free-thinking and looking to hop on the next big trend. How ironic. Despite the existence of UDM, it seemed that some things would never change; not that Ryan would know anyway. He hadn’t been alive at a time before the bill was enacted to eliminate Naturals entirely. Going even further than that, he wasn’t born nor raised in California.

The city remained shallow but Ryan was not. When he established his gig as a Bounty Hunter as a legitimate business, he barely had enough money to eat from week-to-week. Even after a few years he was still no Rockefeller, that was for damn sure. The purchase of an office space, which had been roughly the size of a large shed, was at first a home purchase. Not much had changed in that respect. First and last month’s rent had completely drained him at the start. So, he lived in his office. This never changed. Over time it became furnished. To start he placed a couch at the far corner of the space which doubled as his bed. Then, he added a mini-fridge and a table to place a coffee maker, microwave and toaster oven. The office had come with a sink built into the wall; hell, it was the only thing the room came with. He eliminated dishes all together with the use of all-paper products. Trash was plentiful. In reality, the only downside of the office was the bathroom, mostly because it was shared. That was the second-biggest price to pay for the Bounty Hunter’s office being located on the top floor of a Laundromat. Next to a severe lack of proper marketing for passers-by.

One desk, with a laptop existed in the entire office. It had been pushed forward toward a window. This belonged to Gwen. He had tried his best to give her the best view in the office. She did a lot for the business; she made all the travel arrangements, tended to the finances, handled a majority of the incoming prospective work and put in long hours to make sure things were done correctly. His other associate had been out on a case for the past month with minimal contact. Right in front of Ryan’s couch was a coffee table. He had his laptop open, a video file given to him by someone whose case he had taken. Ryan lifted the cup of coffee to his lips as he watched. Most of their customers were Naturals, something that spread by word-of-mouth from previous happy clients of his. Apparently, this lady’s boyfriend had been acting strange. She had taken a video of him acting what she considered to be ‘normal’, before a day later recording him ranting on about a subject he had previously taken an opposite stance on. Ryan recognized what was going on immediately, as updates forced onto UDM users typically resulted in such behavior changes. This woman must not have known. The man placed his cup of coffee down next to the computer, right beside a steaming hot cup of instant ramen. Old habits sure did die hard; even though it was all he ate when he was actually broke, Ryan still found himself going back every so often. It was quick and easy!

His fingers found their way onto the USB drive his client had provided him, ejecting it from the side of his laptop as the agency door opened. The chime above it had done an excellent job of signaling this, even though there was virtually no chance that either Gwen nor himself would not notice. Eyes moved from the computer screen to the man who had entered unannounced as Ryan waited for Gwen to make the appropriate greetings. Immediately afterwards Ryan set the drive down onto the table before ripping open the seasoning packet for his ramen and adding it to the small styrofoam cup.

​

“Good morning,” Gwen greeted cheerily, looking up from her laptop. She had been sitting at the desk with her legs crossed at the ankles. Her dark hair was pulled tightly back into a clip, keeping the sleek hair from her face and neck. The black A-line dress clung to her thin frame, the fabric pressed and wrinkle free as it draped over her lap. She toyed thoughtfully with the string of pearls that hung from her neck, draping over her defined collar bone. A warm smile pulled at the corners of her painted lips.

“Welcome to Breeze Bounty Waterside. How can I assist you?” She listened as the man introduced himself, eyes slanting cautiously as he informed them of an ‘urgent message.’ Ryan rarely got any sort of messages she would consider urgent and most of his clients were not as respectable as the man in front of them now.

Ryan recognized this person, as he had a minor stint in Hollywood before deciding to become a full-time bounty hunter. This was VK Chung. He was well-known, though it was not possible for the bounty hunter to know the man. It would be the first time the two had met under any circumstances. At one point, he strived to work with this VK. This never came to pass, as being the actor was one of the paths in life that Ryan never rode out. Ryan, however, was not surprised that the man knew his name. He was curious about a few other things; was VK a natural? With all of his connections, why was this man standing in his office? Did someone recommend Ryan to him? A nod was offered in return as Ryan waited to hear what the actor had to say.

There was no need to ask. VK Chung was here on behalf of the United Directorate of Mankind. Ryan placed his hand on the manilla folder and flipped it open to look at the photograph that had been provided to him. He remembered years ago it had been reported that a prison riot took place in Detroit’s infamous maximum security prison. Ryan also remembered that it had been reported that all escapees had been confirmed dead. If VK Chung was here on behalf of the IB, then it was likely that this was an attempt to eliminate a person who could disprove the validity of UDM’s claims regarding that night. Of course they didn’t want that. Even worse, Ryan’s business was on the map and the IB was aware of his existence. Chances were that VK Chung was here on behalf of Robert, who had found them with the understanding that they were too small of a business for anyone to suspect such ties. This was concerning. It might have been too quick to jump to conclusions but that didn’t stop the man from hypothesizing. This was what he did for a living, after all. Ryan’s eyes moved from VK Chung to Gwen.

Twelve and a half million dollars was a lot of money. More than they had seen in the past year by at least four times. When push came to shove, the IB was supposedly offering life-changing amounts of money to kill someone who broke the law and was at least somewhat involved in the riots that ‘natural’ media outlets had run rampant with. There was no way that these two could possibly turn down the offer either, as suspicious a situation as it was, for multiple reasons that far surpassed the basics; such as, don’t piss off your government for not wanting to do your job. This woman was someone that Ryan didn’t know. It was just another day in the office, being contracted by the very same people who would undoubtedly see him punished for not having a chip implanted into his head. The same went for his employees, who had to be protected at all costs. His fingers found his plastic fork, dipping it into his cup of noodles and stirring it around before sloppily lifting a mouthful up to his lips for ingestion. He obnoxiously slurped up the contents, chewing and talking while the pinky of his opposite hand found its way into his ear with a swift turning motion.

“We can take care of this for ya. No big.”

Leave it to Ryan to agree to murder without so much as a follow up question. How did this man button his shirt without her to direct him? People died in their line of work, but rarely intentionally. They were bounty hunters, not hit men. The woman exhaled through her nose, manicured nails digging into her palms to keep from rolling her crimson eyes.

“Mr. Chung, would you care to have a seat? Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?” She gave Ryan a pointed look. Yes, twelve and a half million dollars was a lot of money, but they needed to know exactly what they were getting themselves into. However, from the sounds of things they weren’t exactly in a position to refuse. With VK offering this information so freely, Gwen wasn’t sure what they had intended to do if Ryan had not agreed to take the case. It was obvious to her that they had approached them because of their reputation, or rather lack thereof. This was information they didn’t want getting out. She gestured to the armchair across from the couch that currently contained Ryan, slurping up noodles like some sort of barbarian.

“What else can you tell us about the target? If she was able to escape, surely she’s no ordinary woman.”
Interactions: Archie

 

[Togy]

KD had turned on his Holowatch halfway through his briefing, typing the names Gwendolyn Harris and Ryan Turley into Google as fast as he could. A few old news articles and a handful of ads popped onto the screen. Combing through the articles, his quickness fueled by the tar-black coffee he'd chugged down just minutes beforehand, he looked for anything of importance.

"Notorious my ass. Saul, these guys are like the picture definitions of John and Jane doe. One's a child star and they operate in La, but I've got jack diddly otherwise" KD said, flipping his watch screen to show the Colonel.

"What am I allowed to do anyway? Am I allowed to arrest, kill, seduce, or what? I think I could pull the last one off, not just on the girl" KD mumbled the last part, looking through the ads.

Colonel Williams leaned back in his chair. "KD, do anything you want, as long as you find out what they're up to, and who their target is"

The police colonel looked at a picture of his family, then back at the detective. "Look, I've seen a lot in my twenty years here in NYPD. Never once have I seen the mayor try to order a hit on a major celebrity. Whatever's happening, KD, we in NYPD need to stop it, and the mayor's status in the UDM-"

The colonel grabbed his eye as if he was having a migraine, and grunted. It took him several seconds to recover, his eyes red, before he continued.

"Means that the IB isn't going to be able to investigate him. I'm not saying the IB is bad. In fact, the IB, and the UDM for that matter, don't make mistakes and are all-knowing." Saul said with complete seriousness, his finger raising up in the air as if he just delivered a brilliant and memorable point.

"But it is our patriotic duty to mankind", he said, completely changing his tone, as if he was possessed by the spirit of a 19th century preacher, "to assist the noble and honorable IB in all their activities, for they and the UDM are our protectors, and our only guardians against the alien threat"

KD stared at Colonel Williams for a full minute, only blinking occasionally. Slowly reaching to turn off his Holowatch, KD scooted his chair back and stood up.

"Um, right. God bless freedom, god bless America, and god bless the UDM. I'll just be going now" KD said, quickly exiting the Colonel's office. Fuggin' UDM, making everyone a kiss ass KD grumbled internally as he closed the door.

Looking around the frantic bureau's office space, he spotted the little black coffee maker at the end of the room. He hadn't had his morning coffee, and boy oh boy was he grumpy little piece of work if he didn't get it. Walking over to the coffee maker, he dodged the officers running around carrying old school paper reports and paper airplane memos being thrown across the room to people who literally didn't catch the memo.

Getting to the coffee dispenser, KD put a cup under the machine and started filling it with the brown liquid. Hearing something skitter along the floor, KD turned to see a keyboard break into a dozen pieces on the floor. He looked to see an Officer muttering profanities as they stared at a blue screen on their Hologram computer. Must've been writing a report.

WIFI had been cutting in and out for a week in the Station, and IT was still bamboozled as to how a spillt cup of coffee could have caused that much damage. No one came clean and the search for the culprit was ended, which came as a relief to KD because he couldn't another one of his paychecks docked. Really, it was the Google's fault when you thought about it. Why would they design a Software that instantly crashes the computer when there's no internet?

Hearing the coffee machine beep, KD took out his coffee and ripped open a packet of sugar, dumping it into the cup. He then did that for five more packets. This was why he got cavities.

Taking a sip of his candyland coffee he pulled up his Holowatch and searched for criminal records of any kind. He didn't even bother checking the NY files, instead looking through the LA records. After about 5 minutes of searching, he found nothing. That was...oddly concerning. These guys are discrete, they're either like Spec Ops or complete nobodies KD thought, looking just a bit more. A picture of the two would work at this point.

As he was saving a picture of Gwendolyn Harris on stage from a few years back in his Holowatch files, he saw a tall disgruntled Spanish man walking towards the exit. Eyes widening as KD recognized the man, he switched off his Holowatch and made a quick break for the man. Hearing loud and quick footsteps, the man turned to see KD charging him. They too began to run, but KD had gotten too close. Tackling the man to the ground, he quickly placed his knee on their back and began putting their arms behind their back. The scene was drawing a lot of attention from his coworkers, who watched on with wide eyes.

"How the hell did you get out?" Kd asked standing up and yanking the Spanish man up with him.

"¿Qué demonios, hombre? ¡Déjalo ir!" the Spanish said, struggling to get KD off, and almost succeeding too. He almost let go of his grip on his arms, but managed to hold on.

"Wanna add resisting arrest to your charges you Pablo Escabar wannabe?" KD asked, turning the man around and heading towards the hallway leading to the station lockup.

"¡Que se joda cerdo!" They shouted again, struggling some more as KD pushed him out of the office space and into the hallway.

Oh man, he'd always wanted to say this line, this was his chance! "English motherfu-" KD said, trying to pay homage to Pulp Fiction.

"HARPER!" yelled a man from down the hall.

Squinting at the figure, he could see Sargent Damian Hopper walking up, taking long strides towards him. "Damian? Hey man, this guy was just walking free! How'd the hell did that happen?" KD asked, walking over to the man.

When they came closer, KD stopped, but Damian didn't. "Back off Harper!" Damian said, shoving KD away from the Spanish man, causing him to lose his grip.

Stumbling slightly, KD looked at the Spanish man then to Damian. "Damian, what the hell man?" KD asked, greatly confused.

Ignoring KD entirely, Damian turned to the Spanish man. "Pido disculpas por la ignorancia de mi oficial" Damian said before turning to KD."What the hell were you doing with Miguel?" Damian asked.

"Miguel? What are you on a first name basis with a drug dealer?" KD asked, looking between the two.

"There's no evidence of that" Damian said, gesturing for the Spanish man to walk off. They did just that.

KD watched dumbfounded as the Spanish man roughly shoved past him on their way out. "Wha-what the fuck? We had enough dirt on him to put him six feet under. Like hell there's no evidence" KD hissed, pointing to the man as they walked off.

"New developments arose" Damian said, beginning to walk off.

"Like what? That he's generous to people who help him out?" KD asked, placing a hand on their shoulder to hold them back.

Shrugging off his hand, Damian walked away without even turning to look at KD. "Watch your mouth Harper" Damian said as he walked off.

Watching Damian walk off, exasperatedly KD turned and walked away himself. And to think I thought Damian was one of the good cops. Guy's just like the others KD thought irritably as he headed for the elevators.

Whatever about that later. Right now...

KD pulled up his Holowatch to confirm the bounty hunter's location. LA.

He had a flight to catch

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