Chapter 4 - Shadows from the Sub-Level
The amber light from the stairwell flickered, casting long, fractured shadows across the lobby floor. Two figures emerged from the subterranean concourse, dressed in heavy tactical gear that bore no insignia, their faces obscured by matte-black riot visors. They moved with an unnatural synchronization, their heavy boots making barely a sound against the marble.
Miller instinctively dropped his hand to his holster, his training overriding his panic. “Identify yourselves! Transit security jurisdiction, step back!”
The leading operative raised a gloved hand, holding a small, wedge-shaped device that emitted a high-pitched whine. The moment the device activated, the digital badges on Miller’s and Arthur’s uniforms flickered and died, the glowing identification numbers dissolving into meaningless streaks of red static.
“Officer Marcus Miller,” a synthesized voice echoed from the operative’s helmet speakers, flat and devoid of human warmth. “You are currently outside your assigned sector. Stand down.”
Miller bristled, stepping protectively in front of Arthur despite the terror that had gripped him moments before. “I’m on active patrol. This man is a suspect in a security breach. You have no authority to—"
“Authority is a construct of the upper tiers, Officer,” the operative interrupted, taking another slow step into the lobby. “Sector Four has been quarantined. All transit logs are currently being scrubbed. You are harboring an unauthorized anomaly.”
Arthur let out a dry, wheezing chuckle that cut through the tension in the room. “Hear that, Miller? You’re harboring an anomaly. And here you thought you were just shaking down a harmless old pickpocket.”
Miller glanced sideways at Arthur, his jaw tight. “Shut up. I’m still an officer of the law, and I don't answer to corporate mercenaries.”
“You answer to whoever signs your paycheck, Miller, and right now, your account is being closed,” the operative said, raising the wedge-shaped device higher.
The green eyes on Arthur’s silver lapel pin suddenly flared with blinding intensity, casting an emerald glare across the entire lobby. The high-pitched whine from the operative’s device spiked into a deafening shriek before shattering with a loud pop, sending a cascade of tiny sparks raining down onto the stone floor.
The leading operative stumbled back, his visor flickering wildly before going completely dark.
“That lapel pin,” the operative rasped, his synthesized voice cracking into a raw, human gasp of disbelief. “It’s impossible. That unit was decommissioned twenty years ago.”
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“Nothing is ever truly decommissioned,” Arthur said, stepping forward into the emerald light. “It simply waits for the right hands to pick it up again.”
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