Thursday May 23rd - 10 h 46 PM

The night sky, illuminated by stars. Light from the lamps dissolves. The streets are announcing that they are falling asleep. The moon is full. Mysteries arise under its glow.

Beneath such a sight, shadows are traversing at high velocities.

A man is running and jumping from building to building, alarmed and terrified. His frantic sprint is hidden by a torn hoodie, of light brown colour. Black gloves and a ski mask blurs the rest of his identity. They are not designed for fashion, with different mixes of fluid, mainly blood, already dried and marked as permanent stains.

At his pursuit, the Troposville sector of the police department. Four cars drive through the main road at full speed, while their prey hardcore parcours out of their grasp atop residential buildings.

In the first car, the upstart and future-sergeant Richard Young with his two protégés from this morning: York Mezzanine and Holland D. Pétrarque. They both serve as apprentices for their tutor who recommended them as recruits. They’re used to seeing Richard as their hero, but he’s not in the mood for heroïsm. After months of endless research in this forsaken city, Atmos’s shining ray of hope is about to catch one of these mutant bastards. Fury corrupts his excitement. Could you imagine, after all this time, eight years since the darkest incident this country has ever faced, finally catching one of the foul monsters responsible for this mess? Richard is getting worked up from the prospect of being the people’s champion; he's grinning his teeth like a mad man.

“York! You better take that megaphone! Holland, prepare the submachine gun! We’re gonna get this scum where he least expects it!” Screams the soon-to-be Sergeant.

“B-Boss, with all due respect, we are LITERALLY in a residential area! We can’t just shoot a submachine gun when citizens are around!”, explains Holland, unable to keep his composure.

“And!? After years of nothing, I am not about to let this monster escape, not when we’ve gotten this far in the big leagues! I didn’t accept you two in my squad to be push overs! We have to do this! There is no other choice! Now get the damn submachine gun!” Compels the leader of the squad, driving like a lunatic.

It’s not euphoria that pushes Richard to such maddening ideas. It’s ego.

Holland, in a state of panic, wields the firearm against his will and prepares to shoot. York grabs the megaphone, impassionned. He opens the front right car window and yells in the megaphone as he pushes his voice to heights he never thought possible.

“S-Stop right there, mutant! The Atmos police department is asking you to stop running! H-hey! I said stop running!”

The “mutant” looks back at the first car, filled with grief despite the trepidation.

“All of them should be ashamed, shouting like a scared cat from the comfort of his passenger seat! Corrupted, just like all the rest!” whispers the fugitive. By the time he gets his sight back on the car, another window opens up and Holland pokes his head out with a submachine gun in hand, shocking the escapee. Both of them, the terrorized rookie cop and the stupefied running man, have a rapid eye-contact.

“Shit! They couldn’t possibly be thinking of shooting in a residential-!”

The man doesn’t finish his sentence as Holland screams his lungs out and shoots rapid fire. Holland was trained with basic weapon usage, but his experience with an actual submachine gun is limited by a few practice shots that could only last a total of five minutes. Holland underestimates by a landslide the submachine gun’s recoil, and bullets begin to fly around at random bursts. Upper windows and balcony doors of five apartment complexes are caught in the crossfire, which only serves to panic Holland further, before he gets to touch his main target in both legs as the latter jumps from one building to the next.

The fugitive screams his guts out in pain before knocking his stomach on a corner of the rooftop. He holds on to that rooftop for dear life, struggling. He can sense that his lower body is lighter, as blood leaks profusely from what remains of his two legs.

That’s when a rectangle screen decorated with golden ornaments with touches of green bright crystals appears before him. A dark message addressed to the criminal is projected on the mysterious screen.

[ Attention: player “Athomas Killian” is in danger. Sudden loss of 25% of his HP. Body parts affected: { Legs } ]

“No shit, you filthy piece of tech!”, mutters the aptly named Athomas, inbetween the suffering.

All this commotion and sounds of guns and shattered glass woke up the city of Troposville. Some people are opening their lights and their windows to see what the heck is going on. Some civilians look terrified, for they have an excellent visual of the devastated, bleeding legs of the fugitive.

The police cars stop on their tracks, as Richard and his squad gets out of the vehicle. Richard is still in his trance, at least enough to not notice two police officers leaving the second car livid.

“Richard, is it you that ordered your kids to blast off at bystanders!? Are you fucking crazy in the head!?”, yells the officer while pointing at Holland. The rookie is still holding the submachine gun, terrified.

“Hey asshole!”, yells back Richard. “I don’t know about you, but I’d gladly get fined or get in a lawsuit if it means that we catch this punk! These monsters have been running amok the city, hurting and killing innocent victims, just like what happened at Mésosville! You wanna sit there and complain about accuracy while the fate of the country is at stake here!?” 

“There will be nobody to cheer for us if we murder them before these mutants do, do you get that through your thick skull!?”

Richard and the rageful cop argue back and forth, while the rest of the cops secures the perimeter. One cop, with a fiery look in his eyes, takes the submachine gun away from Holland by force, leaving the rookie to tremble in a corner and look away while muttering “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry”.

The rest of the police force prepares to fire their weapons and put an end to the madness.

Richard Young seemingly won his argument because he walks with an overdose of pride as he savors his victory. He was acting a bit crazy ever since they got news of the mutant evading judgement day later this afternoon. Now that the suspect is captured and impaired, a round of questions, worry, insecurities and satisfaction all burst in his head at once. He grabs by force the megaphone from York’s hands, who has to watch as Holland is taken in custody for his actions while the guy he considers his mentor ignores their plight. 

“Alright, mutant scum! The game of cat and mouse is over! If you surrender and answer for your people, we promise to make it painless!”

Athomas is laughing under his breath. “His people”? He recognizes the voice on the megaphone too. Such a level of hypocrisy incenses him.

The fugitive sees another luxurious screen of the exact same decor appear in front of him. He holds on to the corner of the rooftop but his arms are losing more and more strength, as his eyes are beginning to feel blurry and his face is pale from the loss of blood.

[ Universal Nightmare System: Shout the password to active the subsystem. ]

Under these circumstances, Athomas barely listens to what’s going on. It’s a matter of living another day and accomplishing his task due to the system, or dying without an ounce of progress towards liberation, all because of a once trusted ally too.

The system has been quite unpredictable. Athomas first had the impression life was mocking his tragic fate with MMORPG stats above his head, only to understand the complex nature of this object in record time and realise he’s the only one who can see this screen. If other “players” can behave in similar ways, some of the properties of this system are strictly his. It’s been a learning journey forced onto him by the events that unfolded in the last few weeks. Athomas gives one last glance towards Richard. What a pity. He used to have a bond with this man. Seeing someone he once cared about turn into such a maniac is proof that his tipper was right. The system is definitely rigged, and Athomas would vow to help destroy the current regime into smithereens.

“Sorry old comrade. Our friendship dies here and now!”

Athomas breathes in before yelling with all the strength left.

“BLOOD CENSORSHIP!”

[ Password: authorized ] 

All the cops are taken aback by the response of the fugitive to the crazy cop’s orders.

Richard, on the other hand, makes a sudden connection in his mind. He hadn’t heard of Athomas in weeks, and he’d recognise the voice of the mutant without a second thoughts. His emotions are all over the place.

“No no no, this must be some twisted joke…”, expresses Richard, bewildered.

[ Do you want to activate your Universal Nightmare System ? : Yes / No ] 

“What do you think!? Activate it, now!” Yells Athomas as his voice cracks. He’s so close to falling unconscious. 

[ Sub-system { Blood Censorship } : Enabled ]