May 23rd - 10 h 58 PM

Athomas continues his sprint on the rooftops of Troposville, doing his best to hide from cops and dodging wide open spaces as much as possible. If he has to travel on land, he usually checks for alleyways covered in darkness, with bleak lighting and poor visibility. The fugitive stumbles on a clothesline with many pieces of clothes smelling better than his raggedy stained hoodie. He steals a long sleeve shirt and an orange jacket with yellow tints before jumping back on the roofs, hoping to not get catched by a civilian. In the last five minutes, the cops have increased their intense pursuit of the criminal, having to sport the murder of a cop on his conscience.

What a mess.

Athomas, desperate, tries to breathe in and out while whispering to himself.

“Okay… How much mana is left?”

[ MP : 22/100 ]

Athomas looks pale. Even after a few hours of rest, only around 30% of his mana will be restored. Chances of him leaving unscaved from this chaos are slim. Athomas spent the last week sneaking from city to city to gather information on the government’s last moves. His contractor, an eccentric fellow to say the least, promised a massive coup d’état for how this mutant debacle costs the lives of so many innocent people, including Athomas.

Thermosville’s ex-journalist lost everything. His wife, his kids, his house. Everything.

When the “system” manifested within, he couldn’t help his curiosity and began testing the limits of this absurd reality. In the blink of an eye, a pipe dream was born, one where the perception of “mutations” could be fixed and give access to many opportunities for his family.

[ Blood Censorship ] appeared for the first time three weeks ago. The system had the effect of a ticking time bomb on his marriage, already tense from past transgressions. The rest vanished with a snap of a finger. Athomas’ consolation prize was death threats, pursuits and multiple arrests warrants…

Those warrants disappeared real fast. That’s when the journalist understood something was horribly wrong. Ever since, he met his contractor, the one who showed him a true catastrophe. Someone or some group had the power to silence all mentions of mutations to an international level. We’re talking about shutting down information before it bounces to the media and keeping all control of mutations away from the government’s hands, somehow. There’s no such thing as an underground route or any way for mutants to flee Atmos. The truth Athomas discovered shocked him beyond belief. He’s about to share that truth by sending to his client a USB key containing the information.

BANG

The sound of heavy metal collapsing on the rooftop nearby Athomas catches the fugitive off guard. He takes a good look at the thing that dropped close to him. It’s definitely a thing.

A bipedal machine, humanoid in design, stands tall, leaving a small crater where he landed. This specimen is at least 6 foot 7 inches tall. Imposing is the first word Athomas thinks of to describe the monster. The beast looks rudimentary, ruggish and scrappy. At plexus-level resides a hole where a heart should be, shining a dark orange glow. Athomas takes a step back.

This thing cannot be a product of the government. He worked there for too long and knows the kind of tech the government holds at his disposal. This is something else. All the info Athomas gathered stipulates a craving to control the mutations, but lacking autonomy against those who would decide to capture the creatures. This fact is kept secret. No police officer outside of the big leagues, let alone a minor government body, would be aware of this, as well as the outrageous advance of post-contemporary technology that would birth such a vile monster. Said monster walks with no sign of care for life, observing its prey with two other orange lights emanating from dark holes that serve as eyes. Whoever created this must be connected to the last decade of madness in this country.

“Athomas Killian”, screeches the machine with a dark, monotone voice loaded with glitch-up filters, “We’ve been hunting you for a long time”.

“Is that so… Unfortunately, I’m not in the mood for company”, responds Athomas while shaking. For the mission, for the pain that led to the info gathered in this USB key, Athomas wants to look ferocious. To carry the truth to its destination, Athomas wants to feel powerful, without mercy or without fear, ready to destroy any that stands in his way.

But this robot scares him shitless.

Whatever instrument he has that imitates vocal chords, it produces a disgusting grunt, filled with agony, abnormal. The machine continues its march toward Athomas.

[ Warning - Dangerous Enemy Detected ]

Athomas is left bewildered, yet insulted. This is the first time his subsystem sends out a warning like this. 

The message is crystal clear.

Out of nowhere, the robot throws a punch that traverses through the air and hits the criminal’s jaw at breakneck speed. The punch is so strong it sends Athomas flying, smashing the ground a dozen meters away. Athomas collides on a wall before collapsing, screaming in pain while doing so. The robot then dashes at his opponent.

[ Blood Censorship - Heart Spit : Enabled ]

Athomas then spits out a big chunk of blood to his left before dodging the next attack to his right and another that breaks through the wall. Instincts kicks in and Athomas quickly believes he can use the flood of blood near the robot to teleport behind it and resume his escape.

That’s when a strange sound resonates from the killing machine, like a rocket about to be launched in the sky, as its whole metal body vibrates. miniature-sized jet engines appears on its iron calves.

“You cannot escape, Athomas Killian”.

In half a second, the unnamed entity traverses the distance between it and its victim, leaving a trail of flames behind it. The robot grabs Athomas by the stomach with his giant bionic hand. A look of despair glooms on the fugitive, so close to the goal.

The machine then throws the fugitive like a javelin, the latter floats  atop five other apartment complexes before diving straight on a main road, destroying another cop's car that is frantically driving by.

Athomas’ body bounces onto another dark alleyway, leaving giant stains of blood at every contact with the concrete, landing on a giant garbage disposal.

He stays there for many seconds. His left leg and his two arms are broken, and he doesn’t feel his spine. He doesn’t have the strength to let out a yelp of agony. Athomas was so close. In an instant, all that progress got fractured in half like the bones in his body. Athomas needs a backup plan, and fast.

The metal creature lands in the alleyway, a few meters away. It glances down the living-dead victim it ragdolled around the block with a cold stare. The robot remains Idle.

The voice of a woman comes out of nowhere and calls out to Athomas’ memory.

“I’ll have to be honest, it’s not everyday we hear journalists flying. Did your demon teach you how to do that, my dear?”

“I taught him how to fly”, retorts the machine, deadpan in its delivery.

“Goodness, I was making a joke, Toska”, replies the lady, stylishly walking like nothing happened.

As soon as he recognizes the voice of the woman walking towards him, Athomas feels his body brought back to life, stupefied, as he musters the strength to  stand on his last remaining leg, still stuck in the garbage container.

A beautiful brunette, with round glasses that hides her eyes, sports a full body latex suit, hidden by a long coat that falls to her knees. She stands side by side with the machine, without any fear what-so-ever. The robot named Toska does nothing to respond to her sudden arrival.

Athomas grimaces with hatred, as heat boils up in his veins. He can barely muster the name of this woman who threw his whole life in shambles.

“You! Ta…TAYLA MCKENZIE !!”