My parents were Christian. I don’t think I’ve prayed since I was a kid. Not like he ever answered me. But today I deserve a miracle. I ask for one thing: get me out of this city alive.

It was only a matter of time, I suppose. Before the facade came crumbling down. At my apartment door looking back at it now. The holograms are off, dusty wood floors, brown leather couch, ripped out panels. Lanterns outside the window, laundry hanging neighbour to neighbour in our small syphoned block. Most windows bolted shut, harsh blue of LED light’s slipping through the cracks in the metal. Only one window remains open year-round, warm bulbs: Pak Hyo-Jung, eighties, maybe nineties, cooking her meals. Reminds me of my mum. You could see prints on her walls, photographs of family, friends. On my walls? Nothing.

Out the elevator into the streets and you’re hit by the goddamn noise. The ads, the music, not even from my block. Echoing down the boulevard, Jellen Street. Deafening and loud, I can see the lights- so bright so colourful says the ADHD ridden child in me. Holographic man with a nice cock stands over the sex club. Wearing skin-tight jockstrap. Great censorship, Korea. I wish he was real. I wish robots could look like humans so I could fuck one.

It’s cloudy and hot, a humid night and stained with summer sweat. Perfect night for Gasan. Steams blasting out of vents as I walk to my car. It’s boxy, it’s grey. It’s a car. Overhead I hear the electric hum of a cruiser. Flying car, here? In my part of town? Bad juju.

Driving through the city you forget what night looks like, that the sky isn’t meant to be purple and red with light, that holograms and skyscrapers and cruisers and rocket launches aren’t all there are. You forget there were once stars.

Now I’m cruising. Traffics lite, even on streets with no CCTV. Plates are censored, anyway. Three sure ways to tell when you’re going east, out of Old Seoul to the shit part of town. Slimier than Gasan, I know. One: immigrants start piling the streets like rats. The signs read less like Korean and more like a jumbled mix of Hindi/Japanese/wasteland/whatever. Two: the bots get shoddier. Uptown they’re sleek, they’re shiny, they’re quiet and out of site, or trying to sell you something with the perfect pre-recorded Gangnam accent. Here they’re loud, uneven, tagged by kids with metal plates bent out of place with no money to get straight. Three: everyone’s packing. They try to hide it, but you drive down the wrong street you can see it in their eyes, and in their augs.

I’m approaching Yangyang. I see the water. I see my ride. An orange freighter, something Hindi on the side. Leaving my car behind. Keys in a dumpster. Good luck, criminal scum.

Lots of shirtless men, lots of tattoos, lots of sweat. Hatch is closing. Neo-Seoul slips away.
Look, I’m numb to this shit. Don’t know what to say. It’s home, but home is hell.

Used to think the city was broken; result of bad cops, bad mayors, bad people in power- a neon Seoul for our neo souls. And I thought if you fight hard we could change things. If enough good people fought hard D.U.S.K. could change things. And we tried, we really fucking tried. But I was wrong. Nothings broken. It works exactly as it’s meant to. The system isn’t broken because it’s run by bad people… the people are bad because of a broken system.

No winning when the rules aren’t about doing right.

Dot. Dot. Dot.

Sweat dripping off moist skin, dotting the paper with wet periods. The D.U.S.K. inspector paused her writing, the warm glow out the end of the laser-pen illuminating the page, waiting for her to write another word. But none came. She sat in her cabin, a single red light swaying above her head, and the metal walls thinly veiling the noises of the other rooms. Laughter and yelling in foreign languages, wine-bottles being shot open, a Japanese couple arguing next-door, the loud echo of the frigate’s electric motor.

No better than Gasan on any given night.

She scribbled the the final words down before flicking the pen’s switch, the device dying down and being tucked away inside the binds of her case book. This was no night for writing, and from the sounds of things no night for sleeping either.

Shirt unbuttoned- fiber weave off-white, sweaty armpits, suit pants. She needed some air. The hatch door led out into a corridor, wide-enough for one sailor at a time but right now filled to the brim with sea-sick or unconscious passengers. With a judgmental look and not much else the inspector began to trudge through the waste of life lining the level corridor, getting closer and closer to the spiral staircase at the end. Her hand grasped the rail, yellow paint chipping off metal, when suddenly a sweaty palm tapped her shoulder. In a heartbeat she flew around, pinning the stranger against the metal corridor wall, causing a few of the stowaway passengers to look up in curiosity. He was a boy- sixteen, seven-teen. Thin teenager mustache, cut up eyebrows. Dry lips.

“Sorry, miss, sorry! I- I didn’t mean to!” The young man began in his best Korean, raising his arms innocently as the Inspector held him against the metal, forearm over neck. “I was just-look, you’re- you’re a Korean going to Neo-Tokyo is all.”

The inspector squinted. "Koreans not allowed in your city anymore?”

“No! Of course, I’m just-“ The man slobbered over himself slightly, sweat dripping from his brows into his eyes as he tried to figure out the words. “I just- I don’t- I wanted to know why.”

The Inspector let out a sigh, releasing the man reluctantly and making her way up the base of the stairwell again, not answering his question. “You don’t look like the rest of us here, ya know! No offence, I just wanted to know why you were leaving, is all! I’m- I’m a curious guy!” The Japanese man called, scurrying up the metal stairwell after the woman. “They call me Shifty!”

“Is that name supposed to make me trust you more?” The Inspector asked.

“Nah, I mean, nah, it’s just cool name,” Shifty dismissed, continuing to follow.

“Wanted out.. Simple as,” The Inspector grumbled, passing by the level above, the mess-hall where heavy smoke, boxing holograms, and holo-cards could be seen on boxes and makeshift tables. “Just like the rest of you.”

“Wanted out?” Shifty repeated, pausing on the stairs behind her. “Not me, miss. Not… honestly, not anyone else here. My visa ran out. But Neo-Seoul is- it’s the destination, does that make sense?” The man swallowed, trying to find the words. “When I first arrived, it was like a gemstone. It was bright, and magical, and… advanced. It was like all the stories of paradise over the ocean were real.” He smiled to himself.” Neo-Seoul… is the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen.”

The Inspector looked down at Shifty. And though she couldn’t understand it, why anyone would love the haven of disgrace that was her home, there was sincerity in his words. “Stay in school,” Was all the Inspector responded, continuing up the stairs. “Change the name.”

Cool ocean air hit her as she reached the metal walkway of the deck, save for a single orange lantern on the side of the freighter the world ahead mostly consumed by darkness. Beside her the black waves of the Sea of Japan smashed against the freighter’s side. She felt every sway the vessel made as it pumped forward. The Inspector leaned on the railings, breathing in the salty sea air as another wave smashed up against them.

There was darkness here. Actual darkness. The neon lights of Seoul had faded away, and above her in the sky, the Inspector could swear she could even make out the glint of a star through the night-time clouds. And fuck, if not for the first time in her life did she feel like God had listened. Like he’d delivered her miracle. She was free.

It took her only a moment more to realize that the light in the sky wasn’t a star at all.

---

An explosion lit up the dark screen of the monitor, the freighter having ignited into fire as the drone strike hit. “Down she goes,” A suited man spoke. Fire spread across the orange freighter as it’s hull cracked in two, pixels on the screen clearly vaguely displaying the flailing arms of the passengers being pulled out to sea as the waves consumed the vessel. The man leaned forward, pressing the button again. A few moments later a second strike smashed into the sinking ruins, making sure to destroy what was left of the wreck, and the survivors.

With a sharp breath he let his finger off the button and turned back, looking across the blue control room. “That’s it.” He said. The other operatives in the room looked at each other, and though the atmosphere was tense, on all their faces was relief. An Indian operative in the corner simply glanced down bitterly at the news. “That’s the end of D.U.S.K.”

And then: the music starts playing.

CASE 00: REFORMATION OF THE GUARD

8 Years Later,
November 14th, 2117
District 2

Pink holograms and day-dream vibes, the baseline shaking the plaza as the shoppers moved to-and-fro across the illuminated walkway. The holographic dancer grew in size above the fountain, her form changing between pink and yellow light at seizure inducing rates, deafening music accompanying her moves to the delight of the passing consumers of the plaza. The rich Gangnam shoppers holding overfilled bags of bought goods, lit-up logos on the sides matching their flashy clothing. And, whether he liked it or not, Meon Jong was one of them.

He watched from afar, arms crossed at the edge of the plaza, pink neon light shinning in under the brim of his hat. His pupils lit up at the spectacle, but all he managed to say was: "Jesus Christ I hate winter."

Through the crowds Jong spotted something- the flashing of a police safety vest, walking straight for him. Jong sighed, igniting a cigar as he prepared to face the N.S.P.A. boy. The fourth one they'd sent this month.

"Officer Mun-Tong," Jong began, turning to face the man, lit cigar in mouth as he gave a cheap smile to the uniformed patrol officers. "We saw you arrive, Mister Jong," The officer replied.

"Right, of course. Gangnam matters enough for your camera, of course," Jong smirked poisonously, his voice barely audible over the music. "Listen, rookie- I'll tell you the same thing I told Rusty, the same thing I told those two who stopped me in midtown. The Dhavale case is a civil lawsuit, there are no charges against my man. The police have no right to interfere with my investigation," Jong squinted. "Quote me on that, jackass. Same words as the last three times."

"I’m not here for that, Mister Jong," The officer called, his voice lost in the sound. "I came to deliver a message, one too important to send via hypernet," He yelled, before leaning in to Jong's ears. "December 1st. N.S.P.A. Headquarters. You've been summoned by Commissioner Dikshil."

As the officer moved away from his ear Jong smirked at the man. "Summoned, huh? On what charges?"

"No charges, Mister Jong," The officer said, handing him a sealed N.S.P.A. plastic evidence bag. "A job offer." With the package delivered Officer Mun-Tong backed away into the crowd of flashing shoppers, leaving the private-eye alone. Jong rose an eyebrow before unzipping the evidence bag, pulling out the stiff paper print within. At the top of the letter was one clear word, written in all caps: D.U.S.K.

Meon Jong held the letter and almost let out a laugh. "Jesus Christ," He breathed as the music continued, the world around him lost in the music as he read. "Dikshil, what are you doing now."

3:04AM
November 13th, 2117
District 5

You have 5 unread messages from Yuna.

A low hum of vibration against wood broke silence, followed by an eclectic sounding message tone. Teal light illuminated the darkness for a moment.

You have 6 unread messages from Yuna.

After less than a minute a shrill call tone cut through the peace. Muffled groans emitted from the darkness.

You have 7 unread messages and 1 missed call from Yuna.

Silence. A deep sigh, followed by rustling of sheets gave way to heavy breathing once more. The phone rang again.

“Oh fucking - ”

A hand slammed down on the glassy surface of the disturbance and brought it to the pile of blankets, illuminated slightly by the city lights outside. Within the blankets a groggy voice answered, “Yuna, you're the worst sister in the world."

“Suuu - “ a whine from the other end began, barely audible from the music and voices heard alongside it, “Su, come pick me up? Please?” a sob, “Please. I need you to take me home.”

“Yuna I have work in - ” Sumin pressed her eyes to the glass of her phone, blurry eyes reading the time with a groan, “I have to get up for work in 3 hours. Get your dumb ass in a taxi or – god, just get a taxi.”

The distressed voice on the other end of the line broke into sobs, muttering something inaudible through the tears and the background noise.

“For – what?! What did you say?”

“I...I said...” Yuna hiccuped, her voice louder this time, “I have no money. Dae took it all. He broke up with me, Su. Please come pick me up. I want to go home. Please."

A sigh escaped Sumin's lips. Her hand felt for a furry lump beside her atop of the sheets, the attention met with a succession of gentle purring. A wave of chills swept over her exposed arm.

“Su? Su are you there? I'm sorry," she waited for response, the background noise of music and people taking over the conversation until Yuna spoke again, "Please answer me!”

“Where are you?”

**

District 2

The neon city lights reflected off the widows of a navy Hyandai 2110 cruising slowly along the streets of Gangnam, the district of Neo Seoul that never seemed to sleep. Even at 3AM there was enough traffic to cause a headache. People swarmed in groups, most drunk, others working or doing late night shopping, some unable to sleep and walking the city streets looking for purpose. Faint music blared from almost every bar, shop and nightclub she drove past, creating an unmistakable soundtrack for night life within the city of Neo Seoul. Advertisements broke through the music and commotion, men and women posing provocatively to sell technology or fashion. Sumin lay her head against her hand, elbow propped up against the windowsill whilst her other gripped the steering wheel. The heater blared loudly.

“Next up on the Hottest New 100 is Sail Away by Niniko, a rising star of the Neo Seoul music scene and one of my growing favourites. Stay tuned for popular boy band ERA with their new single I Want To. This is Late Night Seoul FM.”

Brassy instruments led into a melodic song that took Su's mind off the slow traffic and the intense scenery invading her red-rimmed eyes. She glanced to the dash of her car, displaying a GPS to her destination, trying desperately to ignore the clock flashing 3:38AM. If she was lucky she would get Yuna home and catch up on some much needed sleep before work. Unlikely.

Her phone buzzed on the dash of her car, displaying another missed call from her drunk sister. She refused to answer, used to this by now, and kept driving. Beside her another car was cut off, following a succession of angry honking and sudden braking. Sumin sighed irritably and pulled her car into the right lane, ready to take a right turn into a brightly lit street full of bars and nightclubs.

"Destination on the left in 50 meters. The Element.”

Sumin found a parking space and slammed the door. She ambled to the entrance of the bar, wearing only sleep pants and a large jumper. If this were any other time she would care about her sleep deprived appearance, but the patrons of the nightclubs around here were too drunk to notice anyway. A man threw up the contents of his stomach in the sidewalk not far away. Su flicked her ID to the bodyguard robot to scan and pushed her way into the dimly lit club, it's bass-heavy music and neon lights giving off an otherworldly atmosphere. She spotted her sister fighting with Daejung, her now ex-boyfriend.

" - never in love with you, you fucking maniac!"

Yuna lifted her arm drunkenly, ready to scream at the man, but Su promptly grabbed it and pulled her away. Sumin turned and flipped off Daejung, "Fuck you."

**

The cool air outside winded Su, standing outside the entrance of the bar with her mess of a sister in tow. She glanced at Yuna pityingly, "No wonder you have no money. Drinking in Gangnam, do you want to go broke?!"

Yuna shot her a venomous glare as the two women walked to the car, "I told you, Daejung stole it."

Silence overcame them as they walked along the sidewalk, distant thrumming of music and chattering civilians filling the winter air. Yuna rubbed at the smeared makeup on her red, blotchy cheeks, swinging her heels in her other hand rhythmically. Blue neon lights illuminated the soft puffs of fog that formed every time they took a breath.

"Do you miss her?" Yuna eventually muttered. Her thoughts seemed to be someplace different.

"Who?"

"Erika."

Su didn't answer. They both knew, anyway.

**
8:21AM, N.S.P.A Building.
November 14th, 2117
District 1

"Yeesh, you look like shit," a voice called from behind a desk. Sumin dumped her coat and scarf on her adjacent desk, downing the takeaway coffee in her other hand, "You're also late."

"Thanks," she said, turning to face one of her coworkers who worked in forensic's alongside her, "Has anyone noticed?"

"You're lucky. Not this morning, everyone's still focused on the Hae-Won case. You have a few letters, one seems kind of important. I was given it directly to hand it to you," her co-worker Jae grinned at her, almost cruelly, "Looks like a summon."

Sumin smiled stiffly, her insides going cold. She grabbed the white envelope, very aware that Jae was watching her every reaction. Su slowly opened the envelope. The last thing she needed was a summon. God, what had she done? Today was the first day she had been late in weeks, she had completed all of her work to standard - maybe she had said something inappropriate? Perhaps she had made a vital mistake in a recent case? Her hands threatened to tremble but she suppressed it, not wanting to give her coworker the satisfaction.

Pulling the letter out, she began to read with a frown. Her eyes glanced up after a moment, to Jae, a look of pure, confused awe on her face, "Who did you say gave you this letter?"

[DATE AND LOCATION UNKNOWN]

They had given her a room in her mind. They said it was to keep her active even when her systems were dormant. She remembered their faces that day, when they had booted it up. Dr. Rikken, with his nice mustache. Dr. Choi, always smiling. Dr. Patel, mouth set so thin it had to have hurt her. They just watched her the first time they had tried it. They told her to things and she did them. They didn’t say if she had done them right, just wrote things or make faces at each other. She had been scared. She told them so, and they wrote more and said that it was good she felt such things. Always tell them, that was the rule.

They said later that she had done well. They were so happy to see her look around, make little things to hold and rotate and put into the right holes whenever they asked.

When she made a mirror, they had cheered. She got herself right, she was told, right down the proof marks. They said it proved that they had made her correctly. She knew she was something, and that she could be her own person. She remembered feeling happy about that, but she didn’t know why. It had taken her until now to realize that she wasn’t feeling her own emotions. She wasn’t happy then.

They had told her to be.

She had really felt shame. She wasn’t trying to make herself. She was trying to make what she was before.

She wasn’t gone. The woman whose flesh was nestled in a cradle of fluids and plastic, the one whose bones rested inside a white polymer frame, the one the doctors called a hero.

Amelia.

NIA was to be her legacy. This woman had started the whole project. Her life became a series of sketches drawn in the light of a monitor in the atmospherics wing. The sketches became drawings, became blueprints, became real. She had seen the shell of NIA, and knew what she had to do.

She had lost everything to get to that point. The kids. The job. The money. The wife. The cat. She wasn’t going to let that be the reason for her loss, not for what they wanted her creation to be. NIA would not be a mindless machine. She would be more.

Amelia Nekker had given her life that day.

Knowing that scared NIA to her core, because nobody told her that story. It terrified her, in her private moments. It was a reminder that she...wasn’t. She was a construct, given life from the death of someone they hadn’t even properly killed.

The wipe wasn’t complete. She could see them, clashing with her code. Background programs, running on the periphery of her synthetic consciousness. They were private, not for her to see. They were supposed to be gone, just like the person who created them. NIA was denying her that right.

Warm nothings. The first everythings. A skinned knee and warm smile. A dog and a book. Numbers and letters, born of clay. Home among the grass. A drink on a porch. A bed, nerves keeping it made. Rules forgotten. Pancakes burnt, but eaten by a smiling girl. A ring and a white cloth. Pills and bitter tears. Lights and a knife. One last moment of regret. A face remembered, a promise broken. Then...

Peace.

NIA walked among the endless white, gazing up at a past that was not hers. When she woke, she would ask them. She would walk among the airless rock, drift in the rooms devoid of gravity, gather herself. Then she would ask. They would tell her, and they would know. They were flesh. They knew their own. They would ask why. They would take her down to her frame. Run through her programming. They would terminate her. Her sisters would continue to do what she could not, and NIA would be one more failed prototype.

She would still ask. She had to know.


Was she worth it?

N.S.P.A Headquarters, District 1
13:02, November 18th, 2117

The first snowfall of the year had begun, and it coated downtown in heated mush, save for the tips of the tallest buildings. The N.S.P.A. building was one of the few tall enough to get pure white on it's highest peaks, not yet polluted by the filth of the city's air. Pp into the busy skyway it shot, a tower of concrete and glass, naked art-deco sculptures adorning the edges of the structure like titans of old- faces distinctly Korean, and each looking out across the city-scape bravely. Tasteless, was a word that came to mind. But it was a good building. A good headquarters. Office space enough for all the N.S.P.A. was and more.

On the side of the building several pads strutted out like disks on a cd-rack, all near it's top floors, filled with helicopters and cruisers, some black, most N.S.P.A. blue. An N.S.P.A. landing officer hailed on in, neon-rods of orange flashing in each hand as he indicated it was clear to land. The wind below the cruiser blew up as the flying vessel landed carefully, it's back end resting on the ground before it's front did. The whirl of it's engine began to die as the door slid upward, a trench-coated woman emerging out. From the backseat of the cruiser Commissioner Dikshil grabbed a briefcase and began to march forward toward the entrance at the end of the cruiser pad- into the building. Out of the busy skies and bustling ad-space and Into her domain. Into the ocean of white.

White halls. White desks. White ceilings. A faint glow beneath all of them, a brightness emanating beneath everything. Breathing. This was the aura the top levels of the N.S.P.A. building gave. The offices of S.I.L.O. The offices of the police administration. It was an ocean of white.

The white reflected off the woman's brown skin, moles and forehead wrinkles eased by the warm lights. Dilkshil's eyes intensely stared, through the one-way mirror, into the white containment room, where a droid sat. An android, sleek, advanced looking, though in it's head organic parts could be seen. A human brain.

The Commissioner glanced down at the report in her hands once more before looking to the man who'd brought the machine in. Officer Snefuti looked back at her with anticipating, waiting for a command.

"You cut my lunch short for this?" Dikshil responded at last, breaking the silence. A moment later she gave a smile, clasping Snefuti on the arm. It was a joke. A fun, November joke. "Alright," Dikshil breathed, walking toward the entrance. "Fire her up."

---

NIA's vision suddenly came to. She was in a space not that much unlike the space in her head- pure white, everywhere. And standing before her was a woman: brown skin, a black coat and gloves- a folder under her arm, and a serious expression on her face. With a sigh the woman moved forward, grabbing a white stool and dragging it across the floor, letting it stand across from where NIA sat. Dikshil casually climbed onto the stool and hunched over it, staring across at NIA. "My name is Officer Dikshil, I'm with the N.S.P.A. You're in police custody," Dikshil began, biting her lips as she looked over the mechanical husk. "Can you understand me?"

District 6
November 14th, 2117
12:24 pm

People are generally stupid...or....they aren't as smart as they think they are

"I want her gone! I have enough to deal with with those wretched children throwing rocks through my windows!" Mr. Hwo screamed, spittle flying with every word that flew from his mouth as he pointed towards the barred windows that stood to guard his shop from the assaults of school children. "And now one of my own employees dares to steal from me?! I gave you a job you little dock-rat!" He continued to rail on, directing his bark at the young woman before him. A girl in her late teens, a Neo-Punan native by the looks of her, sporting a heavy raincoat who stood by shooting him a spiteful glare. Between them both, holding the shopkeeper back was Amen, who's gaze drifted back and forth between both parties with a look drenched upon his face that couldn't even remotely hide his disinterest in the whole affair.

"Aight, so..." Amen sighed heavily, raising his data pad and pretending to take notes on it. "You said she stole what exactly?"

"I....stole....nothing!" The woman replied, finding each of her words slowly. Korean was not her first language after all and either she never quite got a grasp of it...or she was faking it to help better serve her case. Either way, a waste of time.

"You stole plenty, girl!" Hwo snapped. "A whole two cases of home repair equipment! Gone! Vanished! Expensive stuff! Imported from Neo-Spa! I found the cases they came in lying in the dumpster this morning! The cameras told the rest of the story! You did look over the footage, didn't you officer?!" Hwo asked, irritably.

"Usually that's my partner's job, sir, I tend to just make the arrests and drive the car," Amen answered, beginning to grow agitated himself with the shopkeep's tone.

"She emptied the contents into her bag, officer!" Hwo exclaimed.

At this Amen turned to the former employee who certainly had a book bag on her person and asked once in Korean, "Gimme the bag," which in turn received no response, prompting him to reiterate in English. "The bag. Come on, now." She surprisingly complied quickly. Too quickly. Amen hastily zipped open the bag, before nonchalantly turning over towards the disgruntled store owner, "Only thing in here is books," he shrugged, showing Hwo it's contents.

"No....I saw the footage,! She took power tools! Around six of them, I know they were..." Hwo shook his head in bewilderment. "The footage! I still have it. We can go over-,"

"Nah, Mr Hwo..."

"It'll only take a minutes!"

"Mr. Hwo! I don't got that kinda time..." Amen lied.

"But-!"

"Look, I'll take her into HQ for questioning. You good with that?" Amen asked, hoping that the irritable store owner would think that was reasonable. And hope won out. A rarity in this city.

Amen placed a pair of cuffs on the accused's wrists. Magnetic locks. Any cop held the key. All they had to do was tune it to the right frequency. To open. He led the woman to where his car was parked before turning around and asking her, in korean, "Where'd you hide the shit?" To no response, before asking in English once more, "Do you actually not speak Korean?"

"I speak it a little..." she responded, sporting a somber look upon her face.

"What was your job at this place again?" Amen asked, asked if he was paying attention when it was first mentioned. If it was ever mentioned at all.

"Cashier..." she answered in a quiet tone.

"...Cashier? How the fuck do you speak to the customers?" He asked only to get a pensive shrug in response. "Aight, look. Enough bullshit," Amen shook his head. "Where'd you hide everything?"

"..." the woman responded. "My coat..." she spoke after a while opening the right sleeve of her jacket to reveal the coat pockets lined with various wrenches, welding tools and so much other assorted home improvement equipment, it was a wonder none of it fell out of her pockets as she walked.

"And you, what, you wanna sell this shit on the black market?" Amen asked.

"No...No!" She shook her head rapidly. "My family....my parents and I...we moved here last month." Probably illegally. "We live in the docks...our house is practically a shed. There are leaks everywhere, mold...repairs are expensive, we could do it ourselves but tools are expensive too...I asked Mr. Hwo for a raise, but he wouldn't do it...he...he hates foreigners, he-"

Click. Magnetic cuffs. Tuned to the right frequency.

The woman looked up at Amen in disbelief. "Wh-what?"

"Wh-what?" Amen mocked. "Go the fuck away, you're free..." he sighed, all but shooing her away. She ran off without another word, darting through the alleyways, presumably heading back home.

Maybe she'd find a better job. She probably won't. Amen didn't really care. Back to HQ. Back to sleep. Back to dreams of better tomorrows and better futures.

The doors flung open. Hyundai's weren't his favorite, but for a beat cop it wasn't too bad.

He inclined back in the leather seat. Not built for comfort but it was enough. Glove box open. Papers hanging out, letters. ...the one he got the one he got this morning. He'd forgotten all about it. Really did eat to read it later in case, he'd finally been indicted, but...

The contents were a footnote in history. The past liked to creep on the present. And when it does, time will tell of it means well or not. Amen sighed and inclined in his seat. He placed the coordiantes in the GPS and let the autopilot take over while he slept. He could've opted to listen to music but he really feeling sleep more.

Back home on his way to the arena, he'd lean back and listen to the sounds of the city sometime. It's rhythm, it's ginga.

On the way back to the station, Amen heard nothing but silence.

23:45
14 November, 2117
District 7

"So who's the old guy?" a young, fresh face asked quietly as the transport hummed along, "Here to pat us on the back for a job well done?"

Lee chuckled, "Careful kid, Haraboji has been kicking down doors longer than you've been alive. Will probably be kicking them down long after you're old and retired, if you make it thay far." the younger lieutenant scoffed. That old man couldn't possibly be a field operator.

"Haraboji, when did you transfer in?" Lee asked casually.

"94." the older man didn't raise his head, the younger stared blankly at him, the man really had been in G.H.S.T. longer than he had been alive. Two years longer.

The transport finally came to a stop, everyone stood in unison and filed out the rear hatch, picking up necessary gear from various racks along the way. A dark, dirty alley awaited them, a hand full of run down cars occupied the street, half the street lamps were out. Eight men crossed the street in file and approached an unassuming door. Multiple layers of paint were peeling off, but the lock was new, high end.

"Jin-Soo, do your thing." Lee directed and the younger lieutenant approached the door with a boxy looking device. Setting it over the lock the thing began whirring as the processors inside went to work determining the lock parameters. "It's alarmed, this'll take just a bit longer than anticipated." the younger explained.

"Nintey seconds." James announced, looking at his watch. His tone wasn't impatient, it was mater of fact, everyone needed to stay on time. A few seconds passed before a quite click announced that the device was finished. Jin-Soo pulled it away and Lee turned the handle slowly. The door swung open, no alarm.

"Sixty seconds."

Lee pressed into the now open stairwell and moved up quickly, rifle at the ready. Seven pairs of boots followed close behind, moving as much like one thing as eight individuals could.

One flight

Two flights

Three flights.

Second story.

Third story.

Forth story.

FIve, six, seven.

"Five seconds." James announced as they arrived at the next door. They could have made better time up the stairs, but they were still on schedule. Jin-Soo approached the door but a firm hand held him back. James pumped the action on what Jin-Soo thought must have been the oldest weapon he'd ever seen.

00:00:01
15 November, 2117

Silence.

It was always a little surreal when it first happened, the augmentation in their ears cut out all sound as the shotgun blast exploded in the closed stairwell. It took less than a moment for the sound to come back.

Lee donkey kicked the door and eight men moved into the room like water through a broken levy, James at the head, Lee taking up the rear, Jin-Soo somewhere in the middle. A combination of muzzle flashes and lasers lit up rooms as operatives cleared them, their ears constantly cycling in and out of protection as the older firearms went off, their inter squad chatter the only constant level.

"Left, clear."
"Clear."
"Hostile...neutralized."
"moving."
"Hostile down."
"Clear right."
"moving."

Jin-Soo was amazed watching James move through the building. He and the others were skilled, deadly, efficient, but seeing the old man, they weren't on his level. He moved with a little less caution, but more confidence, swift and precise to a level that, even at the head of such a well trained and augmented unit as this one was, stood out.

The older operator made the final hall, a single door between him and their target. Shoulder to the door, a crack as the latch snapped, James rolled in with his rifle up. A man stood in the middle of the room, hands raised. "Kim Sung." James growled.

"Sorry to disappoint you captain, looks like you will have to rely on your legal system once again." the man sneered, "As you can see, I am not a hostile target."

Kim Sung had been a step ahead of the N.S.P.A. for years, he had been arrested multiple times but each time charges never stuck, for what ever reason. The man ran a mid level gang pushing drugs and contraband weapons, they were the source of more than their fair share of violence in the district. James lowered his rifle and pulled a side arm from a holster in the small of his back.

"Tell me, have you ever seen one of these?" he asked casually, "M nineteen eleven, this one is over one hundred years old. It's been passed down in my family for generations, from my great great grandfather. He served in the Republic of Korea airforce." James reminisced as his biological hand moved over the weapon. "Steel, wood, lead. A fine weapon. You know the thing about a weapon this old? There is no fingerprint scanner. No geo location. No reports."

James raised the weapon towards a now visibly shaken Kim Sung. "You can't."

"I can't? I can. I won't even have to write a report. You will die as you should, with nothing to remember you by." James pulled the trigger.

01:13
15 November, 2117

The city was asleep. At least the parts of it that slept were. Downtown, Gangnam, Incheon, those districts were always awake. The neon lights of those districts cast a glow on the horizon. James stood in silence on the roof, gazing out at the hot spots around the city.

"We're wrapped up down stairs Haraboji." Lee approached him. "Ready to head home."

"94." James said quietly. "I've done this for twenty three years."

Lee came and stood next to him, "Long time." the two men stood side by side for a moment in silence. "Some of the guys say you'll live forever, kicking down doors."

"Sometimes I feel like I already have. I never asked to live forever, Neo-Seoul asked me to."

04:23
15 November, 2117
District 1

James opened the door to his micro apartment. A single room, shower to one side, small kitchen area to the other, a futon, a fold down table, and a desk with a monitor. The only other space was a small toilet closet. There was one window, on the ledge of which was a small house plant. Leaning down he picked up the various mail that had been delivered through the slot in the door, one piece catching his eye, a N.S.P.A. official use envelope. He pressed his thumb to the scanner to unsealed the package, scanning its contents quickly.

Summons...

Commissioner...

D.U.S.K...

00:05am
14 November, 2117
District 14

"Target Acquired. Zooming in." He spoke to no one except the small camera implanted in his goggles. A small red light began to blink slowly, indicating that it was recording.

"Target is male, 38. Wanted in all districts for possession with intent to sell, solicitation of illicit substances, assault, and battery and now, smuggling of an illicit substance across a controlled border. Target is identified as Shiro Yakamoto. Fled Neo-Tokyo four months ago after his crew was discovered slaughtered by a rival gang."

He took a deep breath, aiming the sniper rifle. He squeezed the trigger between heartbeats and watched as his target collapsed to the ground. A few more shots cleared the scene of the remaining hostiles.

He pulled the radio from his hip and dialed in the correct frequency. "Target is down, you may move in a collect." He powered the radio off and clipped it back to his hip. With his rifle now slung over his shoulder, he cleared the scene before the sirens filled the sky, the flashing red and blue lights lost among the glow from the nearby lively districts that refused to sleep.
The light stopped blinking, and a small loading bar indicated the at the video file had been uploaded to a private server as well as to the police database.

1 message received: Unknown Sender. Read? Discard? Ignore? A wave of his hand and the ignore option was chosen. He lifted the goggles from his eyes, shutting down the HUD, transferring all messages to his phone. It buzzed repeatedly in his pocket, but he let it go to voicemail. He'd broken protocol again, his only target had been Shiro, the cops were supposed to apprehend the others. However, He'd taken enough video evidence of the drug deal to convict everyone they'd suspected. He knew the raids would begin shortly, and for a while, the supply of Fairydust would be low within the city proper.

He let the single passenger Sonic autopilot itself home. His shift had ended six hours ago, but he'd volunteered to take Yakamoto down. The drive home was uneventful, silent. The sniper rifle resting in the space beside him and the door. Upon arriving at home, he discovered that the message he'd received had been from the light AI he used as an assistant of sorts. An envelope sat on the faux wood floor of his studio apartment. He slipped a finger beneath the flap and pulled the documents from inside.

"Were you expecting something?" The childlike voice quipped through the speakers embedded in the ceiling.
"No. This is unexpected but welcome." A smirk crossed his face as he placed the documents on the countertop as he grabbed a small pot and began to make himself dinner. "What could you have planned?" He muttered, watching the water fill the pot.

The Knut Sack, District 10
November 14th, 2117
1:35PM

In the midst of the city lay a district brimming with the heat of waning culture, a haven of endangered language and trade from a melting pot of immigrants that had somehow found themselves in Neo Seoul. The Knut Sack was filled with mismatched brick apartment buildings and small shops overflowing with refugees and immigrants from all around the world, a hub overflowing with life. In the middle of the district a long road severed the sea of buildings into a market place where merchants sold their goods from the Neo cities and havens alike. Market Street - so it was named - was one of the 'seven wonders' of Neo Seoul, a bustling market full of food stalls from any country you could think of. There were stores selling furniture imported from Neo Spa, spice stalls, small Japanese supermarkets, a famous tattoo parlor owned by a Portuguese man from Neo Manaus, stalls selling knock-off handbags made in Malaysia and more. It was also a place for musicians and artists alike to practice their skills, with performances and buskers coming here to earn a bit of cash. Little known artists sold huge canvases with beautiful art and graffiti covered the walls of buildings with huge sweeping political statements in the form of artistic freedom. Walking down Market St was an attack on the senses, but there was a feeling of home here that wasn't found anywhere else in the city.

For once such person it had been home for some time now. In the middle of Market St stood a store painted a faded, dirty yellow, located below a brown, brick apartment building. An abundance of different coloured neon signs and painted on words in every kind of language covered the windows and walls of the shop in a messy, confusing way. On the top read a sign in bold, black, faded letters 'GORGE'S RUG BAZAAR'. Where there was space huge fluorescent stickers that were peeling off read 'SALE' and '50% off'. The residents of The Knut Sack would tell you that those signs had never been removed and the store was never on sale. Faded rugs of every pattern and colour were piled up against the front of the building, giving the impression that the store was overflowing with merchandise. It was very ugly.

Inside the shop was not much different, but in a way it felt homely, much like The Knut Sack. It was always lit up with an orange glow, illuminating the hundreds of rugs that were piled up either side of the doorway, creating a narrow path to the back of the store where an old wooden counter with piles of papers, a computer, a phone and a man sat. The window behind him was open a crack, letting the smoke from his cigarette filter through. He was an older man with long, dull brown hair, a shitty beard and circle glasses. He flicked the ash of his cigarette into the ash tray and took a deep drag, narrowing his brown eyes to the doorway when someone entered. With a puff of smoke he grabbed a key that had been on his desk, holding it in his thumb and forefinger, giving the man before him a tired grin.

"Hi, Amen. Forget something?" Paul Gorge waved Amen's apartment key in the air, "Listen, you can have it back if you pay your rent on time this month, it's not that fucking hard."

Gorge stood, disturbing the grey cat that was fast asleep on a pile of rugs beside his desk, and threw the key to Amen while suppressing a laugh, "You look like ass. Bad morning?"

The Knut Sack, District 10
November 14th, 2117
1:35PM 

Amen glared at Gorge apathetically before silently walking outside. Seconds later, the shattering of glass could be heard. Minutes after this, Amen casually walked back in, the backpack that had been in his apartment now being slung over his shoulder with one hand and pointed his thumb behind him with the other. "Some kid shattered one of your windows, Gorge. How am I supposed to fork over money for an apartment without reinforced windows. Not in the Knut Sack..." he stated before leaving.

"I'm thinkin' about moooooving, Gorge!" He laughed as he exited Gorge's Rug Bazaar, as he exited, disgruntled that he even had to make. If he was heading back to HQ, some things just shouldn't be forgotten, he stated, rifling through his things as he got back into his car.

The Knut Sack, District 10
November 14th, 2117
1:35PM

A heavy sigh was heard from behind Amen as he stood at his car. The officer turned to see a blue-cloaked patrol officer standing with his arms crossed, masked and augged out civilians walking behind him under the canopy of buildings that littered the district. "Domestic disturbance?" The officer grunted to Amen. "Again?"

Gorge approached the officer and Amen, stamping on his cigarette on the concrete and smiling up at them, "Hello, Gyeong. Sorry about this, it looks like Amen hasn't taken his medication today."

Officer Gyeong let out a long sigh as he looked between the two men. He did not have a holopad out, not yet ready to write anyone up. "What's the deal this time? You get those shit droplets on your face again?" He asked, giving an annoyed glare at Amen. "Honestly, every other day there's some noise with you, De Silva." Gyeong grunted. "It's what I expected from the rest of the rabble but you? You're a cop, for Christ's sake."

Gyeong turned to Gorge with a sigh as an electric bike loudly buzzed passed them on the busy Knut Sack street. "You want to press charges or what?"

Gyeong Han. You ever know someone who just had to be that asshole Gyeong Han was that asshole. "Nah, he's good. We're all good. Listen," Amen spoke, answering for Gorge. "I was just fuckin' with him. You know what a joke is, Han? It's that shit that always goes over your head," Amen smirked, dismissively flipping the older patrol officer's cap from his head and onto the ground. "So go home, go to a brothel, go to the library, I personally don't give a fuck so long as I don't have to keep rappin' with you..."

"Haha! Yeah, we were just fucking around," Gorge grinned, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket and slapping it on Amen's chest, "That's why you're evicted!"

Gorge turned and walked back to his shitty store, now with one broken window, "See you around, Gyeong."

Gyeong smirked, placing his cap back on before pushing past Amen, into the busy streets of the sack. And with that, Amen Rodrigo De Silva was homeless.

"Hey Gorge...what's this?" Amen asked of Gorge about the letter ominously given to him. "Seriously, what is this, man...?" He turned around following Gorge. "No seriously man, what is this! You know I was fuckin' with you, right? Gorge! I was gonna pay for the window! Remember when you fucked up my plumbing? Gorge...hey Gorge, man!" Amen started, finally glancing over the contents of the paper, the second piece of the paper mail he'd received today, this one vastly less intriguing than the first. "...Fuck, man!" He sighed, taking his hat off and combing through his hair in frustration before tossing it towards the ground. "FUCK!"

A few heads turned to Amen as he swore, his backpack of shit and the vehicle he leaned against all he had to his name. Legally, anyway. But soon the immigrants and their worn bucket-helmets, dirty jumpsuits, and cheap augs continued on their day. A new sucker in the Knut Sack was not a rare sight...

Jong Investigate Services, Guri, District 7
November 15th, 2117
2:14 P.M.

A cruiser shone it's headlamps through the slit shades of Meon Jong's office, the bright purple lights sliding across Meon's sleeping face as it passed. The loud rumble of the cruiser shook his office slightly, the musky papers and holopads on the desk shaking gently- but this was Guri. An industrial vehicle was always passing by. Neo-Seoul was a city of noise. Of people's noise, of advertisements. Guri's noise was that of vehicles. You got used to it. Or at least, Meon Jong did.

He sat slumped against his couch, snoring loudly, rolled up in the blankets on the other end of the treated leather was a girl half his age- silver-hair, messily clumped about her slightly chubby face- black roots sprouting from the base of her Korean head, also passed out. A pizza box lay at their feet, empty beer bottles lining the carpet.

Suddenly a buzz. A harsh vibration on his heart. Jong's eyes snapped open irritably as his hands went to his chest, where the intense vibration of his phone caught him off guard. He slid open the thin piece of glass, the holographic display within showing a woman's face flashing and the words incoming call beneath them in orange. It was a woman he recognized well. His ex wife. Kwon Jong.

Meon bit his lip slightly, still not sure how he felt with her using his name, but with a grunt he rose, coming his hair back with a hand and pressing answer. "Hello?" Meon's voice was that of a man just woken up as the video-call went through....

"Where the hell are you?" Kwon's angry voice replied, her face scrunched up in a frown. It looked as though she had just gotten home from work - dressed in a black woman's suit, her long dark hair pulled up into a bun. She carried the phone around with her, the background of the video call showing a modern, sleek white interior of a house.

"You said you would meet Ryu -" her shrill tone suddenly quietened down into a gritting, hushed whisper, glancing behind her as if she were trying to hide her words from someone, "You said you would meet your son four hours ago, Meon. He's been at home, alone, for four fucking hours waiting for his father to come see him for...what, the first time in 2 months?"

Meon squinted at the bright light of the phone, the image of his ex-wife shining threw and illuminating his small, dank office. "What, no? What? No, that was the twentieth, Ryu visits on the twentieth," Meon said, raising an eyebrow into the screen. "Shit... Okay, maybe I fucked up. But you know I'm working, I'm working at the office right now."

A high-pitched moan came from behind Jong as from the couch his girlfriend shifted, grabbing at the covers as they fell to her side, revealing a chubby mole covered breast as she adjusted position. Jong quickly tried to block her from the screen with his face. "I'm working hard," He repeated.

Kwon's expression softened slightly, not seeming to notice or hear the girl behind him, "I know, listen, I know. But he's your son, Meon, he's already starting to ask questions. He thinks you don't want to see him - he, he seems fine right now but he's..." she bit her lip and glanced behind her, "He's like you. He wont tell me if there's something wrong. He wont tell me if he thinks his father doesn't love him." She swallowed, "Don't make promises to him and not show up. That's - God, that's the worst. Call me if you get busy with work but I...I cant keep making excuses for you forever."

Jong paused, a glint of anger in his eyes. He paused, not sure what to say. But something in her words, as they so often did, lit a fire inside him. They hit him just the right way. "First off, don't whisper to God that I'm the fucking worst, I'm not the fucking worst. I'm on the street fighting the fucking worst. I'm not the one who made the kid promises, either. He's my son," Jong scoffed for a moment. "Kwon, okay- listen- it was the twentieth, and I think you know it was the twentieth, and it's parentally wrong to tell a kid to wait at my house on the wrong day and expect me to come. You want me to act like he's my son? Sure," Jong raised his non-phone holding hand innocently, as if trying to indicate he was backing off. "You won. He's my son. Even though I wasn't at the hospital, I couldn't even name him, and we conveniently don't know how many men you were with that week- he's my son."

There was a sudden door shut from behind him. Jong glanced back to see his couch abandoned, the door to his wash closet shut closed. Jong looked worriedly at where his girlfriend had hidden before turning back to the woman he once loved. "How 'bout we both fucked up?" He offered after a moment.

Kwon's face seemed blank, unreadable for a moment. She was good at that; swallowing down her emotion when it mattered. It's what made her good at a job in business. It's what got her through the divorce.

"I'm not letting you see him until you can get your act together. Not that it seems to matter to you anyway," she pushed a hair away from her face, "You know I have the rights to do that. You know I have the right of sole custody."

Silence consumed their conversation for a moment. Kwon looked down awkwardly and cleared her throat, "We've been through this before. You act like you don't care and then you call me back a month later asking to see Ryu. Or to see me. You're a mess, Meon. You're fucking up my child. He deserves better than you."

And with that, her stinging words cut off as Kwon hung up the phone.

"Right, you tell the kid half the time I can see him and half the time I can't, and you wonder why he's confused," Jong shot back before the screen snapped off. Jong looked into the blank glass as it went back to his homepage, his sweaty fingers visible through the phone. And he just stared down at it, as if he had more to say, but instead just swore. A long, precise, fuck.

He threw the phone onto the couch before collapsing back himself, letting his head hang off the top of the leather. After a moment he reached down beside him and picked up the glass phone, thumbing to his calendar. The screen lit up to November 17th, the document edited by both him and Kwon. "Fucking... psychopath," He breathed for a moment, pocketing the device.

The wash closet door opened to reveal the young woman, Pae: her hair still messy but now dressed. Black jeans and a t-shirt on tight, a pulsing light on the chest. "You okay, Meon?" Pae whispered in a high pitched coo.

"No, Kwon sent my son halfway across the city to wait at my door alone- apparently for hours," Meon replied, pushing up from the couch. He moved forward to his desk, grabbing his car keys off the table. "I'm going to pick him up. The woman doesn't even give me his number so I don't even know-"

"Weren't you gonna investigate the D.U.S.K. stuff?" Pae questioned, a confused look on her face as Meon headed toward the door.

"He's more important," Meon sighed, grabbing his hat off the coat-stand and tightening it on his head. He turned to the woman. "I'll be back."

"I know," Pae whispered. "I love you." And with that she leaned forward, onto the tips of her toes, and planted a kiss on the man.

Meon smiled as the kiss released, looking at the young beauty before him. "I love you too... money's on the table." And with that he turned and left.

11:45
15 November, 2117
Kumgang Special en-route to Kumgang Station, District 13

Massive towers and glowing neon had gradually given way to Korea, a Korea that many people had forgotten even before the long winter, before the third war, before the reunification. As a result Kumgang had forgotten to advance with the rest of Neo-Seoul.

The bullet train coasted along silently, one of the few things in Kumgang that was on par technologically with the rest of the city. It raced along its track at near 700 km/h, reducing the nearest scenery to little more than a blur. James watched the distant mountains, the rolling hills, the vast openness that was Kumgang national park. He sighed heavily, there were billions of people in Neo-Seoul and the vast majority of them would never understand Korea like the people who lived in Kumgang. They understood Neo-Seoul, they even understood the Korea that existed leading up to the third war, maybe they knew about the history of that Korea, but they didn't understand it. The people of Kumgang understood old Korea because the lives they lived were closer to old Korea than Neo-Seoul.

James had taken this trip hundreds of times, the majority of his life had been lived in Kumgang. It was a stark contrast to the life he lived out of his micro apartment downtown. Here he was just Mr. Kyo, the man who's farm served as the cornerstone for a small community of a couple hundred people. Most of them had never been on the Kumgang Special. Mr. Kyo held a special place in his heart for these people and this place.

The train slowed as it approached Kumgang Station. Attendants made their final rounds of the sparsely populated cars as the final station announcement was made over intercom. It only took a handful of minutes for the train to come to a stop, the end of the line. Kumgang Station was like Kumgang, as far from the rest of Neo-Seoul as a place could be while still technically being a part of it. A visitor once commented that pulling into Kumgang Station gave him the distinct impression that he had somehow been placed on the wrong train in the wrong city in the wrong era. Where other stations had hint so far traditional Korean architecture, Kumgang had only hints of modern architecture, if one could even call it modern. Some of this was intentional of course, the national park was a fairly popular tourist attraction, with millions visiting every year as an escape from the city, and the district was happy to oblige them their escape. The fact was Kumgang Station, like the district it served, was older than most of Neo-Seoul and there was no great demand to update it.

James stepped out of the train with his single bag and made his way through a small crowd of vacationers. Approaching the service counter he bowed slightly to the clerk who nodded back and waved for James to continue on. Walking past a number of visitor counters and vacation brokers that had popped up around the station to accommodate the tourism market he finally arrived at the main street where a car was waiting on him.

"Good afternoon Won. I trust the drive over was uneventful?" he asked as the driver, a younger man in his mid twenties, came around to open his door. "Yes sir, the road was clear for the most part." James sat and let the man close his door. "Very well, lets get on the road while the weather is nice then."

12:05PM
15 November, 2117
Kyo Estate, District 13

"Hello, Mr. Kyo. Nice day so far?" the question was more of a statement as a young girl, no more than 23 years old, greeted James as he stepped out of the car and into the driveway of the ever-peaceful Kyo Estate. Linh Hà Phan was of Vietnamese decent, her grandparents immigrating from Vietnam to Korea nearing the end of the Long Winter and finding work as humble farmhands. The Phan family had lived in Kumgang ever since, working under the Kyo Estate for several years. Linh had taken over the duties of the Kyo household when the old housekeeper, Ms. Kim, had retired a few years earlier. Unlike Ms. Kim, however, Linh had a tendency of chatting, "I hear winter hasn't hit the city yet. Can't say the same for out here, though."

The short girl took his bags from him, stumbling slightly at the weight. She flicked a brown hair away from her eyes and smiled up at him, "I'm afraid that's all the news I have from here in lonely Kumgang. All anyone talks about here is the weather," her obvious frustration at this fact was masked by her light tone of voice, "How was your trip? Do you need me to make any calls? Oh! Mr. Yoon came over a few days before. I told him you were in the city for work. He said you're always in the city for work," she sheepishly stifled a laugh, "Anyway, he was talking about some problems with his crops. Wanted to see if your farms were having the same issues."

Linh shrugged as they reached the entrance to the house. It was a beautiful, traditional Korean-style farm house, kept in pristine condition and modernized. She skillfully opened the door for him with both hands full, refusing to allow him to help and smacking his hand away any time he tried, "We took care of it of course. Just thought you'd might like to know. If you ask me he's..." her voice turned to a hush, "Losing his touch a bit. Don't tell him I said that. How are you, Mr. Kyo? Exhausted, I'm sure."

The car pulled up to the house slowly, easing around a few cars parked on the estate line. The Kyo Estate had become something of an attraction in and of itself, and while the grounds were generally off limits to visitors it didn't stop them from driving by to have a look.

James didn't mind, it showed an appreciation for the old. His father had even made a number of their private fields open to the public, allowing the younger generations from the city to experience this type of life a little closer, it also helped bolster the economy of their small community.

As Won pulled the car to the front of the house he saw a young woman coming out to greet them. As he opened the door her pleasant voice waited for him.

"Fine day." he smiled, "Winter has come to the tops of the city, it may never find its way to the bottom. A shame." He took a turn around the property, there hadn't been a heavy snow but powder could still he seen in patches all around. Winter in Kumgang was cold and long, but something about it he enjoyed.

He ignored her comment about talking about the weather, knowing that if she decided to stay in Kumgang long enough the girl would find talking about the weather had become a favorite pastime. He allowed her to continue in her chatting, letting the questions go unanswered. Linh had managed the house for a few short years and had come along pretty quickly, she was no Ms. Kim, but she also lacked decades of experience on the elder house keeper. James enjoyed her chatting though, it brought a sense youth to the house. It was one of the reasons Linh had been chosen to the position, that and the fact that her family had worked around the estate longer than James, having come to Korea while his great uncle still managed the property.

"Don't be fooled, Mr. Yoon could yield a crop from a field of stones. He just enjoys his old age a little too much." James also knew that Mr. Yoon had found more excuses to visit the house while he was in the city since Linh had taken over for Ms. Kim, the elder having not been a young, attractive woman of foreign decent. "I could use a cup of tea." he paused for a moment, "Perhaps a game of Baduk, if I can find a worthy opponent." it was something of a challenge, Linh had been progressing nicely in the game.

"You could always ask Mr. Yoon," Linh grinned, wiping her hands on her apron in habit, "I wont be a moment, Mr. Kyo."

A few short minutes and Linh was out of the kitchen, carefully carrying a tray of tea and an assortment of small snacks. She placed the tray down gently as James set up the game. When he had first shown her how to play she was really quite terrible. Every time he asked her to play she would feel the impending dread wash over her, gracefully accepting another defeat. Slowly but surely she had gotten better, but was still yet to defeat the more experienced man before her. Despite being a competitive sort Linh didn't mind losing so much anymore, simply enjoying the company and conversation that came along with it. She settled down on the opposite side of the table.

"How was work? Safer than last time, I hope." If it were anyone else asking that question it would be perhaps suspicious, but Linh was simply making conversation, never her intention to pry into his work or anything of the sort.

James set the lined board out. Two bags of polished stones, one black one white, were set at each side of the table. The game had few rules, the most difficult part to learn was scoring, but the simplicity belied a deep complexity that few other games could rival.

They had played quite a few times since Linh had first learned the game, she hadn't learned enough to beat him yet, but she had become competent enough to be competitive in her losses. She came in and set the tea tray down on the edge of the table then took her seat opposite him.

"As safe as possible." he smiled, which meant not safe at all, outside of the office his job was never safe. But here, in his own home, a kettle of tea and a game of Baduk set before him, he could enjoy safety and forget the stresses of his G.H.S.T. work. He took a long slow sip of tea, closing his eyes as the hot liquid warmed his insides. Winter had come to Kumgang.

"You take the first turn."

As the afternoon approached and the sun began to set early as it often did in the Winter, Linh sighed heavily and leaned back, accepting yet another defeat. She watched the older man carefully as he took his turn, not particularly because she knew she would win - they both knew that the game was too far gone for that - but out of force of habit. They finished every game they started, even if it was a complete loss on her end. She enjoyed the company quite genuinely. It was different here, in this house, compared to her family home. Linh loved her family of course, but she felt no judgement from James as she often did from her parents, no pressure or responsibility aside from her general work duties, which were simple, really.

Which was part of the reason why she hesitated for so long, trying to find words while she watched Mr. Kyo take his turn in Baduk carefully, "So..." Linh twisted her mouth in thought, "So Dad wants me to go to university. You know, in the city."

She looked up at him, trying to gage his reaction but continued when she got none, "What do you think?" A hesitated pause, "I mean, I love my life here, I love my job. I don't - I don't really feel the need to study or go to the city or anything. But I...I don't know. I ask you because, well, you live and work there most of the time. You know what it's like," she stared at him, "What it's truly like. The last time I visited inner Seoul was when I was fourteen, I don't think I'd survive there, honestly," a nervous laugh, "So I'm really not sure."

James' hand lingered on the stone for a moment. It was no doubt the proper move, there was no question, one hundred out of one hundred players would make the move. This wasn't a questioning linger, it was the only reaction to Linh's news.

She continued on, clearly unsure of the situation.

"Study is good. Your father wants more than Kumgang for his daughter." James said, but there was little conviction in his voice. He had seen enough of the city to know how quickly it could crush a person who wasn't ready for that transition. Someone who didn't want to make that transition. Life in Kumgang wasn't easy, James wasn't naive, he was among the richest men in the province.

"Billions of people live comfortabe lives in the city, more so than anyone in Kumgang. My humble wealth would barely be noticed in Gangnam." he placed another stone, countering a rather well played move by his young opponent, "That was a fine move." he commented before returning his attention to her question. "This is old Korea. Neo-Seoul is not a better place, its mountains are taller, but it's chasms are many, and deep." a hand wrapped around the cup of tea, having been refilled a number of times already. "I can not council you to defy your father's wishes." His tone said quite the opposite.

"Though I would not enjoy finding a new Baduk apprentice. You've made remarkable progress." James let the slightest play across his lips. "A new house keeper might not be so bad."

"Hmm, so you're saying I could go to the city and become fabulously wealthy or stay in Kumgang and annoy you with my bad housekeeping," Linh smirked, "I think I'll stay here, then."

Leaning her chin on her hand and scrutinizing the playing board with a careful gaze, Linh thought about what he said. She understood what his honest opinion was, even if he hadn't admitted it. Her life was good here, in Kumgang, she didn't want to ruin that. So with an air of finality she placed a stone - a decision made, both in the game and in her life.

"I'll tell Dad you said there's a ongoing crisis of young, Vietnamese girls becoming homeless in the city," she laughed to herself, "He'll listen to that. Maybe in a few years if I finally tire of losing to you in Baduk I'll think about it. You know, move to the city, join the police, annoy you there."

Linh sat back with a grin, "Seems like a good life plan."

"You may not be lying." James replied to her suggestion of what she would tell her father. "My father often told me a man should never lie, but he did not tell me a man should always tell the truth."

He looked over the board, it had been a good game. There were a handful of moves that may have swayed the game in her favor, moves that even an advanced player such as himself may have missed. She really was becoming a fine player.

Her final move was a defiant territory grab, well placed but too little too late. An approving nod from James signaled that the game was done, there were only a few arbitrary moves to be made considering the number of stones each of them had remaining.

"I think in a few years you will find you grow less tired of losing to me because you will be losing to me much less often. Now, I believe I will retire to my room. Thank you, Linh, you played a fine game." with that James made his way to the solitude of his room.

The white lights shimmered off the glass dome, between the blue and white components and wires the human brain inside staring back at Dikshil. There was no sound in the white-room, no noise, not a word spoken, but if there was it would be a scream.

Dikshil rose before the android, NIA, and turned around- her coat tails flailing in the still air as she marched toward the entrance. A wall of the white room rose, revealing Doctor Snefuti on the other side. "It can't talk," Dikshil frowned to the doctor. Snefuti rose an eyebrow. "Orders, ma'am?"

Dikshil cracked her knuckles. "Get her talking, doctor," She replied before marching passed the man, placing a hand on his arm. Snefuti swallowed. "I'll try- it's, it's... highly unorthodox."

Dikshil turned her head profile to the man. "We're dealing with a serious crime, Doctor. And as long as I am commissioner I will solve them. However unorthodox the means." And off she marched, a new method in her mind. The meeting of the D.U.S.K. was growing closer. Neo-Seoul was about to change.

Nov. 14, 2117
West Slums, Neo-Seoul

Cammie was not in the mood for this. Her target ran down ridiculous amount of alleys, hoping to avoid her but instead what he got was an elbow to the nose as he burst out of the alley and into the street where Cammie was waiting for him the entire time. He crashed on to his back, clutching his nose. "You stupid bitch!" He wheezed. "You broke my nose." he cried, blood gushing from nostrils. Camilla rolled her eyes. "Yes," She said, her Neo-Narobi accent still strong, after all this time. "I did." She told him as she stepped on other side of him. She brandished her whip before crouching down. "That's not all I'm going to do to you either." She said, almost as if she were flirting with him. He should know better then that.

Camilla Janye was a bounty hunter, and this sad sap was her bounty, Rick Park-Un a con man that had a taste for downtrodden women. He would come in like a shining knight, pretend to love them, make them forget about their exes, or dead husbands, boyfriends what have you, and then promptly rob them blind. "Now, we can do this the easy way, or my favorite," She paused, gesturing to her chest which he was stupid enough to look right down. "The hard way." She said with a grin that promised many things. He looked up at her, unsure what to make of her. She stood up and stretched her long body, which was draped in black and red leather that hugged her form in ways that ought to be illegal, not that much was in Neo-Seoul, and allowed him a long look of her, elongated further by the boots she wore, with a hidden wedge.

God, men were stupid. She turned slowly, as if waiting for his response and all he did was look at her ass, which was precisely what she wanted. She gripped the hilt of her whip and cracked it, wrapping it around his throat. " The hard way it is." She said and proceeded to drag him along with her, like a toy dog on a leash, down the streets of the West Slums. It was a short walk to where they'd originally started, and a woman, a round but young Korean stood near a bank. She was shivering but not from the cold, but instead having watched as Camilla grabbed Rick and tossed him bodily into the alley nearest them. The woman, whose name Camilla didn't bother to ask for or remember if she told her, just gaped. "He's wanted for--" Camilla paused and couldn't quite remember all of his charges but she didn't care much. He was a pretty penny and he was close enough that it didn't take her too far out of her way to catch him. "He's wanted for a lot, a bounty's one his head." She said and tightened her grip on her whip causing him to groan miserably behind her. The woman looked sick. "You're were almost a victim, You're Welcome, By-e" She called out and turned, her volocycle sat waiting for her, a little ways up, where a group of teen aged boys at admiring it. She grinned, and dragged Rick along about a foot or so before she grabbed a set of cuffs from her hips and and secured them around his wrists and a utility pole. She grabbed her whip but not before tightening it just a bit before hooking it back onto her hip.

She approached the boys and smiled. "Is there yours?" She asked, faking her best stupid girl voice. The boys turned to her, and gaped. One of them, a thin, lanky Japanese boy who looked as if his balls just dropped, grinned. "It's mine." He said with a nod. "Oh?" She said, inwardly rolling her eyes. "Big man huh?" She said and his friends all chuckled and nudged each other. "Do it, Kamui." one of them said with a whistle. "Yea, Real big." He said and she chuckled. "Give me a ride?" She asked and he blanched. "Ah, It uh-needs charged, but how about you come hang with us?" He countered and Camilla chuckled. "I can't, I have somewhere to be." She said and walked over to the bike an d pressed her hand against the ignition pad, making it roar to life, lighting up the otherwise dimmly lit street. The boys, all but Kamui, laughed. "She got you, bro!" one of them said and Kamui looked defeated. "Man, Whatever," He said and Camilla chuckled. "Do me a favor, lover boy," She said and leaned in. "Keep an eye on the pervert for me." She said sweetly, nodding in Rick's direction and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Kamui melted and chuckled goofy. "Sure thing," He said and she took off.


A few hours later, Camilla sat in the N.S.P.A's office, her leg crossed over the other while she waited, seemingly forever for her check. Kamui and his friends held to their word and kept watch over Rick while she had a car sent back to fetch him. "Camilla Janye," the receptionist's voice called out. "finally," Camilla said before getting to her feet and approaching the desk. "Fifth collar this, Month." the receptionist said handing her an envelope with her check in it ."Indeed, Christmas is coming up." She said, and shoved the envelope into of of the many pouches that hung around her shapely waist. She turned to leave but the receptionist called her back . "Oh, This came for you." She said and Camilla arched an eyebrow. "Christmas bonus?" She asked and the receptionist chuckled. "I don't know." She said and handed her another slightly larger envelope. Camilla shrugged and put it into a slightly larger pouch before heading out.

She drove to an old parking unit and dropped off her bike with the half dead security guard. He was useless but everyone knew that Camilla Janye lived across the street and if you touched her bike, she would find and emasculate you so she didn't really care.

She made the short trek to the apartment, hit up the convenient store on the same side of the street and even longer trek up the stairs to the tenth floor where her apartment was. She didn't mind the walk, it give her a bit of a work out before chilling out at home. She got to the door, and unlocked it with an ancient method of pulling out a phone, and having it unlock it but before she stepped in something attached itself to her waist "Su-Yeoung," Camilla sighed. "Welcome back!" said the little creature, which was actually a little Korean girl, with a cute but dirty round face. "Here," Camilla said and dropped the bag of food she was carrying into Su-Yeoung's hand. "Bought too much" She lied, and Su-Yeoung beamed. "You always buy too much, you're gonna go broke." Said the girl, and Camilla chuckled and opened the door, letting her and the girl inside.

Su-Yeoung's mother was a drug addict and could barely keep herself up right when she was high and wasn't home when she was sober, Su-Yeoung worked scrap yards and repaired bikes just to keep them in the apartment,where her mother got money for drugs, Su-Yeoung never told her but Camilla guessed. Prostitution wasn't illegal, but it was heavily monitored, what likely Su-Yeoung's mother did, wasn't monitored at all. Camilla would know, she'd been raised for the latter. The Home as it was called, had been built for tutoring orphaned and abandoned girls for such a career, they were cleaned and high priced, but there were cheaper ways to get girls, from women and girls who didn't grow up in one of the Home's, it was a fast and cheap fuck, for quick cash. It was what made Camilla look after the girl, she pitied the mother, mostly, for what she had to do to get by, had she'd been doing it to look after Su-Yeoung, Camilla would have sent her to the Madame at the Home for proper training but it wasn't, it was for drugs and other bullshit. So Camilla took it upon herself to look after Su-Yeoung.

Su-Yeoung plopped on the couch that sat parallel to the wall of her rather cheap apartment. The walls were thin, so thin, they could hear people yelling, fighting, fucking, without even trying. "The Parks are back together," Su-Yeoung said as she dug into the bag for her favorite treats, as if to emphasis this. Mrs, Park screamed out her pleasure. Camilla rolled her eyes. "That'll last about fifteen seconds, after that." She said and sat down beside the girl and they tore into food she'd bought.

Su-Yeoung sat watching hypernet videos while Camilla showered, changed into a loose tee and a pair of underway, and counted her checks. She had enough for her and Su-Yeoung to get by for a month or two as things were but she needed something steady. She was thinking of maybe adopting the girl in truth, but she wasn't sure she could do that until she found Axel Kwanabe, and his ilk. Once that was over she could chill out, properly look after the girl, but none of that was possible at this rate. His collar never came up and that was likely because he wasn't in Neo-Seoul, which if it hadn't been for Su-Yeoung, she would have left ages ago, but this left her with no other options. She needed a job. Sighing softly, she logged into the hypernet and paid her bills before deciding she needed to sleep. She stood up and then remembered the envelope from behind and grabbed it, wondering what this was about.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." She said to herself. So there might be a God after all.

District 7

1742 Doo-San Lane

November, 15, 2117 9:00 pm

"You got the shit, did you bring it with you?" Zheng, a man of Chinese descent, who appeared far older than he actually was, asked. Zheng looked like a cab driver. Bundled up in clothes way too warm even in the breezy night air, sporting sunglasses at night. If he was trying to look inconspicuous, he failed from the second he stepped out of his front door.

Furthermore, what a stupid fuckin question.

"You really think I'm that sloppy?" Amen laughed in disbelief. He stood among a group of about ten other people, leaning against his Hyundai, which was sat in the middle of a row of about ten other cars. "Yeah, I brought the damn thing, I got it right here," he stated, lifting up his hand to reveal a small phone sized device in his palm. "I know how to cover my tracks."

"Oh we know, but you also go to worry about my tracks," began another, older voice. Baek. Graying hair and a long goatee, with a dusty brown jacket covering a wife beater and a pair of jeans. If Zheng was overdressed, Baek was under dressed for the chilly weather. "His tracks..." he stated pointing towards Zheng. "Her tracks, her tracks, his tracks, her tracks..." he went on causing Amen and eight of the nine others assembled with him to bellow with laughter. All except Zheng.

"You all think this is a fucking game?!" Zheng whispered harshly, adjusting the buttons on his sweatbox of a coat.

"I mean...it's a race so kinda, yeah," Amen shrugged. "What the fuck's bugging you anyway. I heard you souped up your ride. Who knows you may damn well win..."

"I'm more concerned with getting caught!" Zheng shivering, despite all odds. "I wanna see...I wanna see the feed."

"Calm the fuck down, how many times have we done this?" A woman's voice spoke up, around the same age as Baek. Chun-ja, a long dark haired woman sporting a muddied blue leather jacket and khakis. "We had one screw up last April, but that's cause we let Tandy bring her faulty model..."

"Oh nah nah nah, let him look at the feed. Show him he's bitchin' for nothin'," Amen stated, drownong out a cry of annoyance from the aforementioned Tandy and holding up the device which displayed the police camera feed of the very spot they now stood at. However, what should display and street lined with eleven cars and eleven people standing in front of them, now displayed a still image of an empty street with the occasional car passing by. "You don't even wanna know how I got this. Just believe that it'll work exactly like it's supposed to."

"I'll believe it if we all make it through this out of prison..." Zheng murmured. Amen glared at the younger racer with suspicion for a moment but said nothing. Zheng had no job, no family to speak of, no significant other, no other hobbies aside from racing, which he rarely succeeded at.

 Strange how someone with seemingly nothing to do was always in a rush. Still, he made the effort to be the first to arrive whenever a race was "scheduled" and was often the first to leave...

"Can we get this underway?" Tandy spoke up, an immigrant from Neo-Tunis. Moved here completely legally, of course. "I wanna hurry up and win this thing, I'm gonna buy my kids a big meal tonight." Among all the drivers, Amen saw Tandy the most. A Neo-Punan immigrant who dwelled in the Knut Sack and had a day job selling imported goods. Only 'goods' was the last word you'd used to describe the shit she peddled. And yet she miraculously had stayed in business for what she claims has been six years. The only reason the NSPA haven't doubled down on her contraband is because they likely didn't care.

Still she didn't come across as disengenuous at all. Bizarre but a rare quality in Neo-Seoul

"You best have enough for some pizza by the slice, 'cause all ya'll are about to taste...THE DUST! ZEEDUST!!" Amen shouted out, his voice not at all picked up on the cameras littered throughout the area where they had planned to race. Soon enough the drivers had quickly decided to hop into their respective vehicles. "Chun, I see you with the custom Toyota. You do that yourself?" He asked one of his long time rivals who's car sat directly to his right. "You got my respect, that looks like it might beat...at least Zheng over there" he laughed, checking the monitor in his dashboard, the police tracker having been temporarily replaced by a custom data processor. His car was outfitted to do so by Chun-ja herself some time ago.

"I heard this might be your last race..." Chun-Ja changed the subject ignoring Amen's trash talk as a holographic emitter displayed a countdown, starting from twenty in front of the racers.

"For a while yeah," Amen stated, briefly tipping his cap over and scratching the back of his head. "I got some...some stuff comin' up soon. It'll keep me busy," Amen noted. "Not too worried, though. I got to her ways to make money. With something I'm much better at than racing..." he stated revving up his car. He turned to look at Chun-Ja who now displayed a threatening smile. Thats when he realized...

Hidden in that genuine small talk was the set up.

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd want to sacrifice your house every time you went out to drive," Chun-Ja grinned at her own joke. Beautiful smile. It was afact that Amen probably wouldn't have gotten away with half his shit if not for her. Maybe there could be been something here or there, but both here and there were way too far away. And there was a commitment that was always much closer to his heart.

There's the punchline. It didn't stung as much as it would a week ago.

"Yeah, how is good 'ol Mister Gorge?" Baek spoke up, his car in front of Amen's. "You lay him back for that window yet?" He asked. "If you win, you can pay him back and maybe you can afford a small apartment over here...for about one month!" He chuckled.

"Ya'll stay talkin' shit but...remember how much respect I have for the both of you," Amen spoke, nodding at each of them respecrfully.  "Baek, you showed me the ropes around the streets of this district, you let me know how shit works around here, let me into the crew, I thank you for that. Chun, you're my number one mechanic, no one can build shit and take it apart like you do. You've pulledy ass out of trouble more than the NSPA ever has, and I owe you for it. I just hope that...when I'm gone, neither of you two will forget to PAY MOTHERFUCKIN' ATTENTION!" Amen laughed, having distracted them both as the countdown reached zero, his car bumping past Baek's as he sped ahead of them both, right behind Zheng's.

"Amen, you disrespectful motherfucker, this paint job is brand fuckin' new!" Baek growled as he and Chun-Ja began to catch up.

Amen continued to laugh as everything around him began to blur. The race lasted for whay seemed like hours. Neo-Seoul wasn't the only city tha lacked ginga. Far from it. But you could always find it in pockets. Races. Dancing. Fighting. Here it was in the race. There was a rhythm to each turn. Truth was Amen didn't much like the flow of it at all, despite how good he seemed to be. It was the people he always came back for. Most of them anyway.

There was one clear disruption to the flow. Zheng was far, far ahead of everyone else. And driving like he was constantly trying to avoid hitting an animal wandering along the street. Anytime another car caught up to his, hed give them the bump. If Amen wasn't sure anything was up before, he was now. He had to be quick. Hang back just enough to do what he had to do, but he couldn't let the others catch up.

His right arm never moved from the wheel, his left hand, reached for his glove compartment...

Nine dots back in the distance. One snake spiraling through the grass ahead. And Amen in the midst of it all, in second place. Nine engines roaring behind him, growing louder as they drew closer. Before they could, Amen sped up, his engine clearly not belonging to a standard issue NSPA Hyundai.

Timing was key. And when Amen's car crashed into Zheng's, in the hopes of causing causing the jittery racer's car to spin out, he timed it well. Zheng shot forward, his car spiraling arpund as it swept past the 'finish line'.

Nine other cars soon followed. Chun-Ja in a distant third after Amen's second and Zheng's first. Baek showed up last, clearly more concerned with the scratched up paint job than winning the race.

Waiting for them all was a man who had not been there when they started, but he had certainly been watching. A bald Korean man in a long coat and a surgeon mask. Rubber gloves in his hands. This man was a suspect somewhere, that much was clear from looking at him. The Goalkeeper is what he went by and while he was a known player here, there wasn't much known about him other than being a Native of Neo Seoul.
 
The other drivers seemed to take more notice of his presence than Amen who was still messing around with his glove compartment.

Goalkeeper walked over to Zheng and raised his watch. After a wordless exchange, the bald man left. Sheets had been exchanged. Zheng had won the race and the prize money that came with that victory.

Amen never had too much interaction with the Goalkeeper, especially not after being fully integrated into the NSPA. He tended to make sure he was never the winner when the Goalkeeper had his hand in the race proceedings. Just as well.

"Fuck, Zheng won?" Tandy questioned. "First time in a long time..."

"Hey, Tandy, do me a favor and tell everyone to sit tight for a bit," Amen said, stepping out of his car.

"Why, you gonna swindle him out of his cash?" Tandy questioned, with a suspicious eyebrow.

"Fuck yeah, but I'm gonna need you to have everyone stay back...for real,"  he stated raising his jacket to show his badge...a rare sight among this group of friends of his. 

"Zheng! Yo, Zheng!" Amen shouted as he turned around, clapping mockingly. "Congratulstions, man! I didn't think you could fly through these streets like that!"

"Amen, why the fuck did you bump into my car like that?! I'm lucky I won and even luckier that I can still drive," Zheng shook his head, shivering still despite the fact that he was looked as of he was nearly smothered in his coat. "Speaking of which, I should g-"

"You gotta make it to your next sale, right?" Amen stated. "I have to say takin' your own product is a stupid move, but you had to give yourself that edge, right? ...Is it synthetic?"

"Is...is what, what?! What are you talking about?!" Zheng glanced around nervously. 

"Whatever the fuck its is you're tryin' to sell Probably the same shit you took. Most likely hidden in that big fuckin' microwave you got on," Amen stated, stepping forward threateningly with each new accusation."What you're probably gonna buy more of using your prize money and sell as your own shit. That's what I meant."

"So what, you're just gonna arrest me? ...Please you don't care, you just want my prize money! I'll talk, you know! I'll tell them your involvement in the races!,"

"Sounds like a bunch of bullshit you made up to save yourself," Amen shrugged. "I think evidence will clear things up," he stated, raising the feedback looper he had used to manipulate the camera placed around this sector of the city and replayed footage that played out minutes ago. It showed the empty street save for the rushing blur of Zheng's Impala speeding through aND getting tackled by the car registered as Amen's.

"Couldn't catch whoever jammed the cameras but that shit happens from time to time in Guri..." Amen shrugged. "Good thing I saw somethin' was up and caught you just in time as the cameras were rollin' again," he shrugged as a baffled Zheng through his hands up in disgust. By the time gravity had dropped them back down they were caught in a pair of cuffs.

Amen dragged Zheng to the back of his car and and briefly radioed HQ to tell them of the new arrival to grace their doors. As he turned around towards the other drivers, they stood, not quite knowing what to say until Baek spoke up.

"You're really gonna Arrest him, Amen? For winning? On drug charges?" He asked.

Amen didn't even pretend to think about it before answering, "Yeah," completely nonchalantly.

"Amen....my cousins sell 'em too!" Baek noted. "And you don't do shit about them!"

"Yeah, but they didn't use 'em to cheat," Amen replied. "Motherfucker was hopped up on whatever. Gave him that edge he needed to win. He was probably gonna crash after the race before he goes and sells this shit to the next stupid fuckin' kid who thinks they got something to prove."

"He's right,"  a gruff voice spoke from the drivers. "Fuck cheating!"

Amen shrugged, "Fuck cheating," he repeated. "I suggest y'all get out of here, because they might do a sweep to see what's wrong with the cameras. "I'll hold 'em off for what should be long enough for y'all to get away."

As Amen approached his car, the other drivers still stood there, lookin' skeptical. "Fuck, c'mon..." he shook his head before opening the backdoor and ripping Zheng's watch, the device in which his money was just transferred, off his wrist, shutting the door before Zheng could protest. "I'll split it with the rest of y'all!"

"Should've said so from the beginning," Chun-Ja stated as she began to walk off to her car. The murmurs among the other drivers were numerous and soon drowned out by their engines as they took off.

Amen shook his head and headed for his own car. Opening the door, he was prepared for more angry words from Zheng. To his surprise however, Zheng now spoke rather calmly.

"You screwing with the Goalkeeper's business by doing this you know....you won't get away from this without him hearing about it, you know..." Zheng insinuted.

"Let him hear about it, then," Amen shrugged as he began to turn a corner. I've got a feeling I'll be seein' a lot more of him sometime soon..."

N.S.P.A. Headquarters, District 1 - Downtown
December 1st, 2117
11:46 A.M.

Meon Jong squinted up, bright blue korean signage and skyways upon walkways upon roads stretching above his humble vehicle as it approached. Bright lit holographic lights stopped the civilians as he drove by, out the bustling lane and into the large driving entrance to the N.S.P.A. building. Outside the sounds were muted, well, as best as downtown could be muted. It was as loud as any other place in Neo-Seoul, but there was an unsettling crispness to the district that few other areas in the city had. The ads were new, crystal clear audio drowning out the rest of the downtown commotion, each louder than the other. And the other distinct image of downtown were the skylanes, the fleets of drones, the verticality of it all. In most of Neo-Seoul the sky was drowned out by light- here, there was no sky at all.

Jong's car came to a stop. Ahead of him the N.S.P.A. building stretched up, the massive art-deco titans on it's corner edges disappearing in the maze of light and advertisement and holograph laden walkways above him. But, blocking him from the building were three metallic bars, stretching across the driveway- preventing any vehicle from entering. With a sigh Jong rolled down his window, the sounds of the city hitting him like a rock. "Jong, Meon," He called out to the booth- a black screen staring back at him with a single blue light in the centre. Jong stared at the screen for a moment. "I'm here for a meeting."

"There's a parking spot for you, go into lot B," A voice suddenly cut in from the booth. "Fortieth floor, Detective."

And suddenly the metal bars blocking the garage spread apart left and right.

"You too," Jong thanked no-one as he rolled his window up and drove into the concrete depths of the N.S.P.A. building...

---

White was the overwhelming colour, or lack there of, of the N.S.P.A. headquarters. Not a clean white, either. A used white. Lit up white walls and desks with case notes and holographs and coffee stains on them. Jong's eyes passed each floor as the glass elevator flew up them, except for the rooms blacked out by red visor screens of course. He'd been here of course, before- but the low levels, usually. Lockup, the patrol units, the garages. But going up, the manpower of the N.S.P.A. could truly be seen. Hundreds of people lined each floor, digital works, cubicles, weapons, outfitters, forensics, scientists, detectives, saviours, killers- all being passed in a blink of an eye as the elevator rose.

Suddenly the jetting box came to a stop, the glass doors sliding open to the reception of the fortieth floor. A young man with jet black hair, red mechanical augged out circles for eyes, sat behind the desk, a trio of holoscreens surrounding him. Jong stepped forward, coughing slightly as the man typed.

"Jong, Meon," The receptionist began shooting a hand out with a keycard attached. "Room Ten."

Jong took the card as the receptionist began typing again. With a grunt he moved passed the island reception, into the open space office proper. In the centre of the floor a large lounge and communal space was sanctioned off, along the walls several large, glass offices surrounding the space like walls. They were all full of coppers, of course- but a few less than the other floors, at least- as though the fortieth floor was still in the midst of reorganizing itself.

Jong's eyes looked over the sea of cops in the open area until he spotted a large number 10 printed on the glass of an office- empty, save for several chairs, a view out the city, and a few figures sitting inside. Jong swallowed at the scene. "Alright... let's do this shit," He mumbled before marching through the open-area as discretely as he could. A few officers looked his way but did not seem concerned. He was expected, after all.

---

Inside room 10 only one man sat: blonde haired, blue eyed, with police armour as white as his skin- and slumped in a leather swivel chair. G.H.S.T. Officer Laszlo Kardos sat bored out of his little mind- the coffee in his hands half empty. Thirty minutes, he'd been waiting. In case they came earlier, the Comissioner said.

"Senki sem korán," Kardos hissed under his breath before taking another sip. He glanced up before noticing a figure approach the office, keycard in hand. With a laugh Kardos pelted the still full coffee in the trash across the room and rose. "Velcome!" He called out in accented Korean as the first arrival stepped into the room. "First one here, are ve?"

"I work here," Su-min replied as she entered room 10, awkwardly standing there and staring at Kardos, "Down in - in forensics."

She looked tired - stressed - holding her holopad that was constantly lighting up with emails being sent to her inbox. Updates, records, appointments, meetings being made. Conversations between Patrol and Forensics shot through the hypernet. Her department was in a state of disarray at the moment and had been for a few days since the murders in Gasan had started up. Things were beginning to settle now since they had caught the gang responsible, but there was a number of legal issues making the case complicated and getting as many officers involved as possible. Including Su-min.

The G.H.S.T Officer sitting there surprised her. It wasn't often her department dealt with anyone above D.T.R, and if they did it was to clean up G.H.S.T's frequent messes. She was getting an uneasy feeling, but bowed curtly to Laszlo, "Investigator Park, Su Min. I'm here for a...a meeting?"

"Kardos, Laszlo," Kardos said, raising his eyebrows and giving her wide-eyes for emphasis. He gave a toothy smile, the tops of his gums showing over his small toothed mouth. "I am, uh G.H.S.T., Lieutenant but- uh," There was a glint in the man's eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "I am on special assignment." Kardos raised his eyebrows again and gave a slow nod to Park, as if that was supposed to mean something.

"Right," Su-min's expression was blank, professional, "This is your...special assignment? Are you filling in for the Commissioner?"

Laszlo gave an exaggerated shrug of a facial expression. There was something about him- a certain charisma, as if the man was more comfortable expressing himself through looks than words. "The Commissioner, she is on the way," Laszlo replied. "At some point, I hope. It's been thirty minutes of vaiting?" Laszlo shook his head, pointing to a fictional watch.

"As for me, I am not here for de same reason as you..."

Su-min frowned and looked at the clock on the corner screen of her augmented glasses. She was on time.

"If I may ask, why are you here?" Su moved a chair and sat, placing her bag on the floor beside her and her holopad on the table, "I don't even know why I'm here, to be honest with you."

"Let me ask, Su-min Park-" Laszlo leaned in, propping his elbows on his knees, and his head up on his palms. "Who polices de police?"

Laszlo smiled at her, for an overly long amount of time, before mouthing an almost silent: "Me." Laszlo suddenly shot up straight backed, giving a shrug. "Maybe. I mean I do not know. It is all an experiment, the entire ding right now. I am here to... help it. The last time it did not go so vell." Laszlo let out a fake laugh, glaring at Park as if she would understand...

Park did not understand. She stared at him blankly.

"It? You mean D.U.S.K?" Su-min frowned only slightly, "I don't know what that - this, is."

"It's not like a real big secret or nothin'," Amen replied, strolling through the door. "They don't really talk about it, but if you know where to look you can find out," he turned to glance at Su-min and introduced himself, "Amen Rodrigo da Silva," he stated with a nod, not waiting for Su-Min to introduce herself before he wandered around towards the table taking a seat in an empty swivel chair while kicking his feet up on another. "Why they restarted it, is anyone's guess..." he trailed off, pulling his cap down over his face, covering his eyes as he waited for this meeting to get underway.

Su-min cocked at eyebrow at Amen, meeting his rather rude introduction with no introduction of her own, "Ive been busy. All Ive been able to find is the basic summary - a department for 'special' cases. That doesn't really tell me anything."

"Anoder!" Laszlo began as the second entrant walked in, keycard in hand. "Exciting. Friends. Introductions. Look how many are here before the Commissioner, dat's fun."

"You didn't look far enough, those motherfuckers died," Amen replied to Su-Min casually, ignoring Lazlo's exclamation.

"They had a bad end," Laszlo winked in agreement.

"Right..." Su-min cleared her throat, waiting for some sort of further commentary. There was none. She quickly turned to her holopad and began answering the succession of emails as an excuse to escape this very awkward conversation.

"So," Laszlo began, his eyes tracing Amen's N.S.P.A. uniform. "You are a beat cop?" He smiled at the man. Laszlo cracked his neck before swerving it in Park's direction. "And you are a D.T.R. analyst?" Laszlo squinted at the two. "Be careful, you know. If der is a hierarchy here... you two are low on it."

Suddenly the door opened, a middle-aged korean man with a bent hat walking in, keycard in hand. "Jong, Meon," He introduced briskly, folding his arms as he stepped in. "I'm looking for Commissioner Dikshil?"

"Park, Su-min," Su offered, looking up to Meon Jong and feeling overwhelmingly grateful to him that he had entered at that very moment. He seemed normal enough, "The Commissioner isn't here yet."

"Don't really care about the hierarchy..." Amen told Lazlo. "We get called up for somethin' like this, I'm not too sure it matters who was where on the totem pole before."

As Meong Jong walked in Amen gave a half-hearted nod. "What's good? Amen Rodrigo da Silva."

Jong glared at Amen, before turning to Laszlo, who sat upright on his swivel chair like an eager dog. "Kardos, Laszlo- I am sorry, what department are you from?"

Meon Jong squinted at the trio before him, unimpressed, and reached into his coat. In a swift movement he pulled out a card and placed it on the table. "Meon Jong, private eye," He breathed, sliding the plastic card across the table. Laszlo stared the card down before shifting his blue gaze up at Jong. "Not wid the N.S.P.A.?"

"Apparently not," Jong replied, not sitting. Laszlo glanced at Amen and Park, as if letting them in on some funny joke, before clasping his hands together at Jong. "Well- hierarchy changed," Laszlo commented before leaning back in his chair again. "If the Commissioner is bringing in outsiders I am afraid it does not look good. Vhatever this meeting is it is an experiment. And if you are vhat she is choosing an expendable experiment." Laszlo shrugged. "I am a friend to all who serve the law... and I dink you should valk into this carefully."

Jong turned to the other two in the room. "Who is this asshole?" He asked after a moment.

"He's, ah..." Su-min looked at Laszlo, "He's a G.H.S.T officer. Here to oversee all of this...uh, D.U.S.K. That's all I know."

She glanced over to Laszlo, "You talk as if we have a choice in this. What we received was a summon - not a request. If we don't report to a summon we get penalized or..." a pause, Su looked over to Meon for a moment, "In Mr. Jong's case, in trouble with N.S.P.A. You didn't receive a summon, Officer Kardos?"

Laszlo stared at Su-min. "No," He replied. "I received a promotion."

With a swallow Jong sat, pulling out his phone to check the time. He was on point. To what, he wasn't quite sure. D.U.S.K. The division left to do what the rest of the police couldn't. The division that died. If Dikshil wanted to reform the guard, she needed more than this...

James leaned back in his chair, his gaze on a small paper crane that sat on his desk. He made one every year on his birthday. It wasn't very good, even if the design was easy enough. James had never taken up paper folding, except once a year.

He could still see the paper crane his son had given him on his birthday twenty four years ago. That one had been better than this one, Chung-Hee had spent his entire morning folding it, making it perfect. He had the biggest smile on his face when James had come home, proudly presenting his birthday gift with both hands out stretched. It was the last birthday gift James ever got from his son. He had made twenty three more since then, none of them were as perfect as the first one had been.

Looking at his watch he slid the crane into a small square box and tucked it away in his pocket, he would bring it to the apartment later. Filing away the last of his reports on the computer he turned the monitor off and slid the chair neatly under the desk.

This meeting had at least given him time to finish some outstanding office work he thought. He turned toward the elevator, passing Lee's desk on the way. "Off to meet with the commissioner Haraboji?" the man asked without looking up from his computer. "Yes, don't let the children get into trouble." James replied with a smile. Lee looked up, winked, and returned to his work. James knew the man had quite the backlog of reports to file, he'd be at that desk most of the shift.

The elevator whisked him upwards to the fortieth floor. James couldn't recall ever actually visiting this particular floor, not that it was a surprise, there were a number of floors he'd never been on. As the door opened to the reception area.

"Captain Kyo." the man at the desk acknowledged him, a key card slid across the desk, "room ten." James picked up the card curiously, wondering why they wouldn't simply update his existing credentials for access. "Thank you." he nodded slightly and continued toward the designated room.

Four people were already at the table, the commissioner not among them. He didn't recognize three of them, two of which were NSPA employees, he did recognize lieutenant Kardos however, who was saying something about a promotion as James entered the room.

"Lieutenant." he nodded towards the man, then looking at the others "Captain James Kyo." he introduced himself. "So this is the commissioners new D.U.S.K."

Laszlo's smile disappeared as into the room James Kyo entered, the strange but affable foreigner's face turning to steel. "You're here?" Laszlo called, Meon noticing the man's changed demeanor to the new arrival. "...Interesting, interesting choices," The man mumbled.

Meon raised an eyebrow at the two. A history. The police were a infected nest of traitors all wanting and waiting to stab each other in the heart, that was a statement he could make with zero hyperbole. "Jong, Meon- private eye," Meon introduced with a casual bow of his hatted head.

Another G.H.S.T officer and a Captain at that. The uneasiness increased.

"Investigator Park, Su-min," she offered with a polite nod to James, "So far. I think there are more on their way."

Taku rode the elevator up alone. His personal AI hummed in his pocket, but since it was on silent, the humming was more a constant buzzing.
"Enough," He sighed, pulling his glasses from the top of his head. They acted as his HUD and a direct link to the AI.
"Sorry, nerves." The AI replied, the text flashing across the lenses as the elevator doors opened. Taku shook his head and pocketed the glasses. He smoothed the fitted suit's lapels and stepped from the elevator. It didn't take him long to spot the room where he was expected, but he'd been told to wait for their host and so he took a position near the elevator, folding his arms across his chest.

"Agent," A voice called from the elevator a moment later. Form beside Taku's Commissioner DIkshil emerged, flowing black robes, almost trench-coat, almost fashion. In the N.S.P.A. it was hard to tell. Dikshil marched forward, handing Taku a keycard as she walked and talked. "Taku this is an experiment, a very dangerous experiment, and you know why it has to be," Dikshil muttered as she marched passed the reception, into the lounge of the fortieth floor. "I know you think of this as a demotion," Dikshil responded, turning to Taku as they approached the door. "But play your cards right... and D.U.S.K. may be something we've never before seen." Dikshil blinked at the Japanese man. He'd been a top agent when she was Director of S.I.L.O., and despite his heritage being a troubling subject, they'd grown close in their times with the department. "It could be justice. Real justice." Dikshil placed a brown hand on Taku's shoulder before turning to the room, ready to enter.

---

"Well, all present but one, better than I expected," A commanding voice called into the room. Jong glanced up to see Commissioner Dikshil enter, the rich but worn Indian face he'd seen on the news so many times. Behind her a japanese man, black outfitted. Maybe a lawyer?

"Commissioner," Laszlo stuttered, raising suddenly.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Dikshil dismissed as she moved to the end of the table. From her side she pulled out several holopads and lay them across the table. "Signatures," Dikshil commanded. "For the information you are about to receive will not leave this room."

Amen slowly slid his feet off of the other chair, scooting up to the table to grab one of the holopads. "Before I sign, can I ask what kinda information is so secretive that we need to keep our mouths shut about it?"

"Sign the N.D.A. and you'll find out," Dikshil replied, her gaze like stone. "It involves D.U.S.K. Past and future."

"Wasn't an answer..." Amen sighed, distrust oozing off his gaze, but he signed the damn thing anyway. Not like he could say no to a what amounted to a promotion out of nowhere.

James rose in the same fashion Laszlo did, neither of them getting fully upright before the Commissioner dismissed them to be at ease. He noted the lack of similar response from some of the others, not ones for formality, or unaware of the etiquette. It made him wonder just what kind of unit this was going to be.

The man behind her wore a fitted suit, not standard issue attire, but James had seen him in the building before, a S.I.L.O. agent of some sort. That was almost every department of the agency represented and a civilian. He recalled Laszlo's comment, interesting choices.

James picked up the holopad and scanned the agreement quickly before signing it. He had signed hundreds over the years, in the workings of G.H.S.T. there were more than a few projects that were classified to various levels. This agreement was standard fare, though it was certainly among the highest rated classifications he'd signed.

The patrol officer was clearly not comfortable with the situation. "I imagine we will have many more questions than answers before long." James said matter of factly.

"That's reassuring..." Amen replied sarcastically. He seemed to mentally debate adding something else, scratching his chin before deciding to speak his mind. "You and uh, fuckin' motor mouth over there.. " Amen pointed his thumb over at Lazlo. "Y'all are G.H.S.T, right? Matter of fact, you said you're a captain, right?" Amen asked, leaning back in his seat with an amused, slightly mocking grin in his face.

Amen had heard of G.H.S.T before he's ever stepped foot in Neo-Seoul. They had quite the...reputation. You fuck with the law and are stupid about itin most of Neo-Seoul, you take a risk of facing one of the harshest judicial systems in the world. You can manipulate it if you're rich or have the right friends in the right places...line the right amount of pockets with just the right amount of sheets. It's difficult to manage but if you do....you always have an escape.

You fuck with the law and get the attention of G.H.S.T? All you risk is your fuckin' life. Sure, other Neo-Cities had an equivalent, but....nothing like this. Amen wasn't particularly a fan.

"You gonna be able to adjust?" Amen asked. "I don't know what the full duties of D.U.S.K will be but I don't think we're doing some 'bust in the room, shoot motherfuckers immediately in the face type shit' like you're used to...."

Su-min raised an eyebrow at Amen but said nothing, instead signing the holopad promptly and leaning back in her seat.

"It seems to be Officer De Silva you're not quite aware of what D.U.S.K. is. Indeed, I will assume none of you do," Dikshil responded as the pads were signed across the table. The woman rose tall, a commanding face of stone over the six in the room. She snapped her fingers and suddenly shaders moved down across the glass walls of the office, engulfing them in black and cutting off the prying eyes of the others occupying the fortieth floor.

Dikshil reached forward, pressing down on the table, where a warm orange light began to glow, illuminating the faces of those present. "I've lived in Neo-Seoul all my life. It's a marvel that out of such ruin... such majesty can be birthed. And it's all due to systems. Systems regulating everything, including us. Including the N.S.P.A. Crime is low where it needs to be, our detectives at desk and out patrol officers doing their job, SILO and GHST filling in when they don't."

Dikshil leaned in, the orange hue illuminating her face from below.. "All of you have worked with the underside of this city to some extent, so you realize that, in general, criminals are not very smart. Passion, poor planning, instability, overconfidence all lead to their misguided actions- and by and large our system is so perfected we see them all, every single pick-pocketing to stabbing in this city, and decide which are and which are not worth perusing." An orange glint on her brown eyes Dikshil paused. The faces lining the table still listening intently. "But what happens when we have a real mystery on our hands? A crime the system cannot solve, yet is too big to be ignored?"

Suddenly an orange hologram raised from the table, a-middle aged man, slightly puffy face, unassuming but sinister looking. "Neuk Dae," Dikshil said, introducing the floating 3D head to the assembled team. "The Wolfman of Guri. Would kill his victims, eat their livers, and leave them disfigured for the police to find. Never any witnesses. Never any sight of him on camera." Dikshil swallowed. "He was like a ghost... nothing about him existed until a new body was found. He avoided everything, every system in place. That is why D.U.S.K. was created. To work outside the system, to do what the machine could not."

"That was one hell of a case," Jong frowned, remembering the headlines. The Wolfman of Guri had terrorized the city for weeks. It seemed every other day a new corpse had been found. Fifteen, twenty years ago maybe.

"That is how they began, capturing the wolfman when all others failed, by going around the systems we had in place," Dikshil swallowed. "And also how they met their end. D.U.S.K. was small, had the resources of the N.S.P.A., but did not adhere to any of the systems in place. To any of the rules the N.S.P.A. abides by. They became more and more daring, more and more self-regulating... until they got themselves killed."

As Neuk Dae's holographic image disappeared the light in the room began to return, the window shaders raising again. "That is why I, Police Commissioner DIkshil, have handpicked you all... for a new D.U.S.K., a responsible D.U.S.K., a regulated D.U.S.K. G.H.S.T. Captain Kardos will be here to both aid and regulate you if you cannot regulate yourselves," She added, putting a hand toward Laszlo who sat beside her, arms folded. Dikshil turned her gaze back towards the assembled group. "I have been watching you all very carefully... over the past few months. I believe you can succeed where the old D.U.S.K. failed. I believe you can fix the cracks in the system without breaking the system entirely."

Dikshil gave a stern smile. "I want you to be my D.U.S.K. Inspectors. You can refuse if you'd like, go back to your lives, knowing that the information in this room stays in this room." She paused. "Or you can accept."

Camilla sighed as she parked her volocycle in the N.S.P.A's car port and strentched at the sight of the massive building. She chewed on her inner cheek. She was late, obnoxiously late, but she wasn't sure about this, at all. She decided though, finally that this would serve two purposes, give her access to terabytes of data on Axel as well as provide a steady enough income to truly care for Su-Yeoung.

She cracked her neck, her hair left down in wild spirls, bouncing around her shoulders as she did so and made her way into the building and the elevator.

As she travelled to the fortieth floor, she examined herself in the polished metal. She was dressed in her typical attire, a skin tight black body armor, that looked like a designer cat suit. She wore a white designer half hoodie over her chest with short sleeves, that gave her a street fashion look as opposed to a bounty hunter, she wore thigh high athletic shoes, and a loose black belt that Su-Yeoung liked to call her 'Utility Belt,' with all the pouches that hung around her shapely waist. She told the little girl she was never letting her read another comic again, but that was a lie and they both knew it.


The elevator door opened and she approached another desk, the receptionist was male, so she smiled her almost signature kiss you, kill you grin as she leaned against the large desk. Before she could speak, he handed her a keycard. "Room 10," And that was it. Camilla sat up, took the card with a pout and made her way to he room.

Suddenly, nerves hit her like an automatruck. She was about to go legit, no more bounties, no more free reign. Would she have to wear a uniform? By the Maker she hoped not, her outfits were distracting but that was the point, it worked, it allowed her to break almost any guard. It was what the whipmistress at the Home taught her. Distract, Pretend to sumbit, only to dominate. She shook her nerves.
"Fear cuts deeper" She told herself as she had been telling her for years. Fear makes everything worse then it actually is. She approached the door.

She swiped the keycard through the keypad and stepped through the door.
It turns out, she was late and clearly noot the only one. She scanned the occupants. Two women, who looked to need a serious fashion overhaul, one was Korean with glasses, she held holopad and the other, she guessed Korean and something that gave her a darker shade. She seemed to be in charge but her aura. Speaking of a darker shade, there was a dark skinned man, handsome enough, as well as a two other men, one Japanese if she had to guess with a serious aura about him and the other, Korean maybe, the complete opposite. She then noticed a Japanese man that didn't seem quite right. She ingored all of this and walked into the room like it belonged to her. She smiled dangerously. "So," She pulled the enevlope, no wrinkled to all hell, from her pouch and held it up. "Which of you, stalkers sent this to me, and offered me a job?"

Meon Jong rose an eyebrow at Dikshil's offer, biting his lip. He was small, but small on the outside. Being small in the inside meant crawling into a web he could not again easily escape. Neo-Seoul, the NSPA, the systems Dikshil so proudly flaunted- they were prisons. They were your life. He opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the door flew open, a young woman entering. The elderly dick's eyes wandered down her outfit for a moment before glancing up to her face again. She wasn't from here, that was for sure.

"That would be me, dear," Dikshil called to Camilla as she entered. "Meet Camilla Janye, she's done contract work for the N.S.P.A. before. She has a history with apprehending criminals." Casually from his chair Laszlo swung over a holopad for Camilla to sign. "And the job, if you choose to accept it, would be to work in a new department of the N.S.P.A. One designed to solve the crimes our other systems cannot." Dikshil stared at the woman. "I brought you all here to offer you a position in D.U.S.K."

"So we would move to D.U.S.K permanently?" Su-min asked with a slight frown, blatantly ignoring Camilla and her entrance, "Not still working in our own departments alongside? I'm not sure if I can balance the work load, if that's the case."

"No, whatever positions you previously had, as well as your salaries and benefits, would be wiped and replaced with those more fitting to your new ranks," Dikshil responded, trying to give her toothy equivalent of a smile. "You'd be the only officers of an all new police department. That's a full time job if I've ever heard of one."

Investigator Park nodded curtly and crossed her legs. It would seem she had made a decision, and one in favor of the promotion offered. For Su-min it wasn't a hard offer to take. She was particularly disliked by her coworkers in Forensics and often felt like her job was stale - boring. Any excuse to get out was welcome.

"Hey, we get bigger salaries? Better benefits? Fuck it, I'm in," Amen shrugged, seeming without a seconds hesitation, though in his mind a flurry of thoughts flew by. This gig would be useful, but dangerous. A descriptor Amen had grown accustomed too, working here.

Amen glanced over at new arrival. Neo-Nairobian, maybe? Don't see a lot of them in Neo-Seoul outside immigration heavy sectors. "Really pullin' 'em from all over the place, ain't you Dikshil?" He asked.

"That would be me, dear," The dark woman called. "Meet Camilla Janye, she's done contract work for the N.S.P.A. before. She has a history with apprehending criminals." She explained and Camilla gave a cutsy finger wave at the lot as a man who Camilla barely noticed moved, handing her a holopad for her to -according to the screen- sign. She hesistated. "And the job, if you choose to accept it, would be to work in a new department of the N.S.P.A. One designed to solve the crimes our other systems cannot." The Darker woman explained and Camilla's brow shot up. "I brought you all here to offer you a position in D.U.S.K."

With that, Camilla signed.

She handed the man back the pad and found herself a seat on the table by the woman who seemed to actively ignore her as she inquired about work balance.
"So we would move to D.U.S.K permanently?" She asked. "Not still working in our own departments alongside? I'm not sure if I can balance the work load, if that's the case."
"No, whatever positions you previously had, as well as your salaries and benefits, would be wiped and replaced with those more fitting to your new ranks," The Darker Woman replied smiling some twisted verison of a smile. She didn't smile often did she?
"You'd be the only officers of an all new police department. That's a full time job if I've ever heard of one."
Really pullin' 'em in from all over, ain't you, Dishiki"
"Well, I'm in," Camilla interjected ignoring the darker man's comments. She wasn't exactly common around these parts. "Though, I'm curious, I thought D.U.S.K was blown into NextLife, What's to stop that from happening to the rest of us?" She asked folding her arms. She reallt couldn't afford to die. She had people to take care of, well, one little person. "I like my parts were they are,"

"I intend to make D.U.S.K. work, Officer De Silva. For it to work where it previously failed," Dikshil responded, a glint in her eyes. "You were all chosen for a reason. Any who join you in future will join you for a reason."

Dikshil then turned to Camilla, who voiced her concerns. "D.U.S.K. perished from their own actions, by their own blade. Not mine." She responded. "Don't break the system, Camilla."

"I intend to make D.U.S.K. work, Officer De Silva. For it to work where it previously failed," Dikshil, the name of the darker woman. "You were all chosen for a reason. Any who join you in future will join you for a reason." She said before turning to her.
"D.U.S.K. perished from their own actions, by their own blade. Not mine." She repiled and then sent her a glare. "Don't break the system, Camilla." She reprimanded and Cammie grinned sheepishly and removed herself from the table to a chair. "So, Fair enough, they screwed themselves but did you catch the people that blew them to hell?" She asked. "I mean, Criminals tend to hold grudges, I would know, I hunt them for a living." She said leaning agaisnt the table top with an elbow, her head resting in her hand. "I mean, I'd like to know, D.U.S.K clearly had enemies."

James had been quite for the majority of the meeting. He remembered the Wolfman case, though he didn't work on it directly. He didn't need much motivation or reason though, he had enough motivation, this was just another request from Neo-Seoul of him.

Questions were asked and, for the most part, answered. The last arrival walked in late, but she did it with confidence at least, and more questions were asked. James cast a knowing look toward Laszlo when Camilla noted criminals holding grudges. He hadn't replied to Amen's comment, but he couldn't help but recall it. It was hard to hold grudges after G.H.S.T. visited.

"As I said," Dikshil responded. "D.U.S.K.'s demise, tragic as it may have been, was their own doing. You are officers of the N.S.P.A. Captain Laszlo is here to both watch and protect you."

Laszlo gave a slow smile to the ground as he leaned back in his chair. "The D.U.S.K. members died once they... broke away from us, and started interfering with forces we could not control." Dikshil glared at Camilla and Jong. "You two are not in the N.S.P.A., but if you accept you will be... things inside are different than they are on the streets."

"Heh," Jong murmured, glancing over the contract. "I know..."

"And I assume you have a first case in mind, Commissioner?" Su-min gave her a small, knowing smile. Dikshil wouldn't have just reformed D.U.S.K without there being a reason.

Dikshil stared down at Park. "Yes, we have a case for you." She looked up at the group, the assembled men and women of the law sitting across the desolate boardroom, the cold white December sun shining in on them. Half their faces were illuminated by the bright of the window. "But first, I have something to say. This is the new Department of Unusual & Specialized Knowledge. There are only a handful of you, but trust that all of you have been chosen for a reason."

Dikshil swallowed, her palms touching the table as she stood at it's end. "Your budget will be minuscule, your equipment loaned from the other departments. I do not yet know if you are valuable... but if agree, and you prove to be." Dikshil bit her lip and nodded slowly. "We'll see where this goes."

Jong leaned back in his chair with folded arms, scanning the room. This did not feel like a celebration. Not yet. Not even close. This felt like a test.

"So," Dikshil spoke. "Are you in?"

Jong frowned. "Commissioner, with all do respect, I got out of being a cop a long time ago... why would I want back in?"

"Imagine the worst of this city, Meon Jong. Imagine the worst you've seen. The darkest corners, the blackest depths, the truths you know but cannot bear to imagine," Dikshil began, her voice growing low. "If you are in the world you wish to live, if you have the life you wish to have, go back to it." Dikshil stepped away from the table. "But if not... I offer you a chance... to change everything."

There was something frightening about Dikshil's words, something unsettling. In Neo-Seoul companies offered you the world, individualistic change, but it was all bullshit. One person couldn't change anything, and everyone knew it. And that's what sent a shiver down Jong's spine. Dikshil seemed to mean it.

"So do I!" Laszlo added, reminding everyone he existed.

Jong let out a long sigh. "Okay... you have my attention."

CASE 01: THE WOLFMAN OF GURI

"There's been a murder," Dikshil continued. "Downtown. Over a month ago. What we believed to be a copycat of Neuk Dae, the wolfman of Guri. Eaten alive. Only one witness. No camera footage." Dikshil folded her arms. "Of course Neuk Dae has been in prison for ten years. A trio of S.I.L.O. agents, including Agent Saito here," The woman indicated to the Japanese man she'd entered with. "They found a culprit and made an arrest in record time. Two weeks later we have another death, this time in Guri. No witnesses. No footage." Dikshil swallowed. "Last night we had a third. No witnesses, shots registered but to a person that doesn't exist."

Dikshil glared over the group. "I need you all on this as soon as you can. You have twenty three hours to accept my offer. If you do I expect you all here first thing in the morning, ready to hunt down this copycat. In work appropriate attire." The last line was added with a sharp glance at Camilla. "You will all be Inspectors with the D.U.S.K. And James," Dikshil looked up at Kyo. "I would offer you the position of department head. Chief Inspector."

Laszlo suddenly shot to attention. "James Kyo? Chief inspector?"

"Captain Kardos, you will still watch and assist with the full power of G.H.S.T. behind you," Dikshil dismissed the blonde man quickly. Jong looked across the table, at the Japanese SILO. Agent Saito, he'd been called. This was a demotion for him. SILO were the top branch of the N.S.P.A. and he wasn't even going to head it.

Suddenly a smooth chime came from Dikshil, a small holograph appearing on her arm. "I'm afraid another department calls, inspectors. Leave when you want."

Dikshil grabbed her pad and walked toward the exit of the room. "Remember," She said as she left. "You have twenty three hours to accept." And with that the Commissioner left, the noise of the lounge flooding in as the glass door swung open, her coat tails following her as she marched.

"And remember," Laszlo added, catching the door as it swung shut. "I'll be watching." He gave them all a smile before sliding a doorstopper on the glass and exiting. The silence was broken. The daylight outside had faded, the bright city lights flooding in from the early sunset. They were back in the noise of the fortieth floor, their exit clear.

Meon Jong swallowed before glaring at Saito. "Who the fuck did you piss off to get here?" He began, laughter from the lounge bar seeping into the office at his words.

"Yeah, uh...you got kicked down from SILO, bruh?" Amen asked, bemused. "Or did you quit? I heard there aren't a lot of foreigners in SILO so y'know," he shrugged. "Well that's what people say anyway..."

Amen looked back briefly at each member of the group assembled before him. He'd already accepted on this job, because of what would benefit him and hadn't quite thought of how this outfit would run itself. Former GHST captain now heading the DUSK squad. If that didn't rub anyone the wrong way, there was something seriously wrong. He wouldn't raise any objections now....Kyo was in charge after all. Might as well see how he leads first before jumping to conclusions.

"You in, kid?" Jong suddenly asked, looking at Amen from across the table. "You signing up for this thing?"