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Chase City, White Island
2:16 PM
November 15, 2045

Four 2040 Numera Cruisers were outside an apartment in Chase City, White Island. They were painted white with the gold and black seal of CoSec (Coalition Security: the Coalition's police force that operated in every city all over the world). Inside the apartment, several policeman were examining the scene. They knew the cause of death from a body scan, the woman had been stabbed to death in her own home, but there were no fingerprints, no hair particles, and pretty much know evidence at all to get a suspect. The woman was also covered in bruises and was probably beaten before being killed. As they examined the scene, another car pulled up. It was a black 2043 Sercom Interceptor with tinted windows. Sercom had been founded in the year 2018 out of California by Richard Sercom. It was one of the first automakers to devote all of its resourced to developing Hydrogen vehicles, and it had paid off. When Sercom invented the Sercom Hydrogen Fuel Cell, they immediately became the worldwide leader in automotive production. A man stepped out of the vehicle and looked around, he was wearing a dark brown fedora and a brown business suit. He closed the door to his vehicle and looked up and down the street. He began walking up the set of concrete steps and pressed a button, the Interceptor let out a loud beep and the man opened the front door. Covering his hands were a pair of brown leather driving gloves. Waiting inside was a CoSec officer.
"Right this way, Detective Arkon," said the officer as he turned and began walking up a set of stairs. Arkon did not follow.
"Sir, this way," said the officer.
"Be quiet," said Arkon as he concentrated. He then opened his eyes. The area around him was glowing white, but the room looked the same. The officer was no longer there, but a man wearing a tank top and a pair of blue jeans was stepping into the apartment. His hands were covered by a pair of cheap gloves. He stepped up the stairs and through Arkon, and Arkon mentally followed him, leaving his body behind. The man walked through the door into the woman's house and the woman walked out to see him; she looked terrified and the man looked enraged. Arkon concentrated a bit harder and the man gave off a red aura while the woman gave off a blue one. The auras were a manifestation of what they were feeling, and it was the reason he could see them. Utter terror or extreme rage left imprints in the room that allowed him to look at what had happened. The bald man began beating the woman in a psychotic rage, and after a few seconds she kicked him and made a break for the kitchen. He stumbled back and laughed, giving off a greenish red aura before following her into the kitchen. The woman was holding a knife at the ready.
"What? You going to stab me? Huh? Huh!?" asked the man as he walked over to her. She made a stab at him, but he grabbed her wrist, punched her in the face, and grabbed the knife from her before stabbing her several times in the chest. He then turned and ran out of the kitchen, still holding the knife, and ran to his car, a blue 2023 Defield Marim with a dent in the front bumper. After unlocking the door, he got in and drove off, his license plate was 234-AFR-113-BSP. Arkon exited the projection and looked up at the officer.
"Run a check on license plate number 234-AFR-113-BSP, call me when you get a name," said Arkon as he walked down the stairs. The officer was clueless as he had not heard of Arkon's reputation, but he followed his orders. Arkon unlocked the Interceptor and got in. He started up the ignition and drove off in the direction that the murderer had drove off in before activating the sirens on the car. That made the vehicles in front of him move, which allowed him to use projection for a moment. The Marim had turned right at 23rd street and Zalm street. Arkon turned right and kept following the trail that the murderer had left two and a half hours ago and soon saw the Marim turn into a parking garage. Arkon pulled in as well and his phone rang. He reached into his pocket, grabbed the phone, and answered it.
"Detective, ran the check. The plates belong to a Sam Olson," said the officer, "Ex-army, likes to keep his head shaved."
"Thanks, might need back-up at...246 Zalm street," said Arkon.
"Alright," said the officer.
Arkon pressed "END" and pulled into a parking space next to the Marim. He looked inside and saw that the bald man was not inside. He entered the projection and saw Sam leave the car, his aura now blue and the knife still in his possesion, and walk off towards the staircase that led to the street level. Then he walked into an apartment and up a set of stairs. Arkon followed and saw that he walked through a door that had "24" on it. Arkon walked up to the door and reached his hand into his coat, pulling out his CoTec SA-3. The pistol had served him well during the Sericco incident, and the government had forgotten to take it back. He flicked the safety off and used telekinesis to pick the door lock rather than kicking the door down. He then silently entered the house. He heard a TV going and was glad, that meant more background noise which would make him quieter. In the chair was Sam Olson, he looked to be asleep. As Arkon approached, however, the man jumped out of his chair and grabbed a Fairfield-15 from the table next to his chair. He twisted around, but Arkon fired his already aimed pistol, blowing Olson's head apart due to the power of the pistol. Olson's corpse fell to the floor and Arkon sighed. He probably could have stopped the bullets, but he didn't feel like taking a chance to save a murderer's life. Arkon did a final projection, seeing the murderer enter his home and toss the knife in the sink, before cancelling it and walking over to the sink himself. Inside was a knife, it was not yet cleaned and a test could easily be done showing it to be the blood of victim.
"I love probable cause..." muttered Arkon.

Arkon stepped out of the olive drab painted 2038 Bolrick Model-MS (MS meaning Military Sedan); a rather large sedan that was typically used as a staff car. Arkon was followed by Derum and they walked into the large building that worked as the Headquarters for the Coalition High Command. The building was named the Resdon building after General Tom Wheaton, the Coalition's Supreme Commander during World War IV. Arkon had never been inside the building, so he let Derum lead the way. After a few minutes of walking, they reached an elevator that took them up to the 16th story. They stepped out and walked down the hallway to a set of double-doors that had "General Paul Monroe" in bold letters. Arkon walked through the door, Derum stayed outside.
"Welcome Arkon," said Monroe.
"Hello General...I thought I was done with this crap when I was discharged," said Arkon.
"We'd get somebody else if we could, the last thing I want to do is send you to kill your friend, but you're the only one capable of tracking him down and killing him," said Monroe.
"Killing him? Why not just take him in?" asked Arkon.
"If we did, it would be the death sentence for him," said Monroe, "He killed a Coalition Scientist, that makes it a hell of a lot worse. You know that, you're a Detective!"
"And why should I do this?" asked Arkon, "What do I gain from killing my former companion?"
"I don't know...do you want a score of rogue psychics roaming around?" asked Monroe.
"A score!?" asked Arkon.
"When he went rogue, his team went with him," said Monroe.
"Jesus! How the hell am I supposed to fight all of them?" asked Arkon, "They can block any bullets I shoot at them!"
"Not these," said Monroe as he opened his drawer and pulled out a pistol, "This is the CoTec Psikiller-1. It's bullets go too fast for psychics to stop. We knew that one of you guys would go rogue eventually."
"That's all well and good, but what if that falls into the wrong hands?" asked Arkon.
"This is the prototype and the only one in existence," said Monroe, "Do you accept the mission?"
Arkon sat back and the chair and looked around the room. He thought back on the Sericco Incident, how Keller and him had fought beside each other.
"If a rogue psychic is out there, and he is one of my old men...I should be the one to kill him," said Arkon.
"So you accept?" asked Monroe.
"I accept," said Arkon.
"Excellent," said Monroe.
"What resources do I have?" asked Arkon.
"We will give you three million Coalition dollars to buy intel, lodgings, whatever you need," said Monroe, "We'll also give you a no limitations ID card, meaning that you are authorized to use whatever force necessary for this mission. You'll also be given this pistol."
"Fine," said Arkon.
"Here," said Monroe, handing Arkon the pistol and the ID card, along with a credit card.
Arkon collected the cards and the gun and got up. Without a word he left Monroe's office. Derum got up and followed Arkon into the elevator. When the elevator reached the buttom floor, Arkon got out. He knew his way through the twisting corridors just from walking through them the first time, and he reached the exit a few seconds later. The staff car was waiting.
"That car will take you home, Arkon," said Derum.
"I need to go to work," said Arkon, "At least to tell them that I'm leaving for a while."
"No need. CoSec has been contacted and you are on indefinite paid leave."
Arkon nodded and got into the staff car. The Bolrick pulled off and Arkon sighed.

***

Arkon stepped through the apartment door and looked around. His girlfriend was gone, she was probably off at work. Arkon sat down on his comfortable leather chair and turned on the television. He turned it off a few minutes later and walked over to the kitchen to make something. After eating a sandwich and some chips he sat down at his desk and began thinking. He had no idea how he would find Keller, all intelligence had been sent to him. As he read it, he found out several things about Keller that he hadn't known before. David Keller had been born in New York City on October 19th, 2019 to Robert and Sarah Keller. Robert had died in 2034 during the Coalition Wars, though Sarah was still alive. David was not very close to his mother; after Robert's death, Sarah was very cruel to everybody around her. When Keller came to age at eighteen years of age, he joined the Coalition Marines and fought against rebellions all over the world. In 2042, Keller became an STF operative and was stationed at Olympus. In January 2043 he was transferred to Asgard. The Top Secret debriefing of the Sericco Incident was included (useless to hide that from Arkon). After the incident, he was put in charge of the PSU (Psychic Soldiers Unit) with Tyson Bennet as his second in command. After the training of the first unit, a second unit was made and Bennet was transferred to command that unit. Then, Keller and his unit disappeared having last been seen on an urban mission in what used to be Egypt. A few days later, Braun was found dead in his home and Keller was pinned as the prime suspect. Arkon sat back and rubbed his eyes before getting up and walking out to his kitchen to grab a glass of water. After drinking it, he poured another and sat down in his comfortable leather chair. He had no idea how to find Keller. The projection method would never work, Keller masked himself in psychic energy which also hid any emotions he had at that point in time; Keller knew that. There was only one man who could know, and that man had no name. He had been called the Elusive Man, Mr. X, John Doe, and Silhouette and he was the leader of the most powerful organized crime ring in history; the Syndicate. The Syndicate controlled drug rings, prostitution, illegal gambling rackets, and pretty much everything else. There presence is the strongest, however, in Nexim City on Freedom Island, one of the few large cities not under the control of the Coalition, and the only reason it wasn't was because the Coalition didn't want that cesspitt. Nobody ever went to Nexim City of their own free will, going there without friends was pretty much wishing for death. Everybody who was anybody in that city had to pay the Syndicate not to be shut down; living there was like living in hell. Arkon sighed and got up from the chair. He made several phonecalls which resulted in transportation being arranged for him to Freedom Island. Arkon then began familiarizing himself with the Psikiller pistol, learning everything about it so that no suprises would be in order for him while in a combat situation. As he finished putting it back together, his girlfriend walked through the door. Arkon walked out, somewhat surprising her.
"John, when did you get home?" asked Alice as she took off her coat.
"Probably an hour after you left," said Arkon before kissing her.
After the kiss, he backed away and looked down, sighing.
"Alice, I will be going away for a while. I have no idea how long, but I have been contacted by the government. I am the best candidate for a mission," said Arkon.
"A mission? Is it dangerous?" asked Alice, somewhat alarmed.
"I don't want to lie...it's very dangerous, but if there is anybody who can handle it, it's me," said Arkon, smiling.
"I never asked what you did during the rebellions," said Alice, "I didn't want to know..."
"Then I will not tell you, but my chances of succeeding at this mission are marginally higher than those of many people...probably everybody as a matter of fact."
"I will not argue," said Alice, "Just come back alive, okay?"
"That is fine," said Arkon, "I am not leaving until tomorrow."
"Then enjoy tonight as much as possible," said Alice with a flirty smile.

***

***

Arkon stepped out of Alice's car and walked around it before walking to the back and pulling his suitcase out of the back. He then looked up and saw that she was standing outside her car. She had a sad smile on her face, and her eyes showed the same. Arkon walked up to her and looked into her eyes, trying to find the right words.
"Alice, I love you," said Arkon; he had never been good at finding the right words, but those four were more than enough for Alice. She gave no words back, but responded with something that spoke louder: a passionate kiss.
"That should keep you going," said Alice as a tear came from her eye.
"That...that will probably allow me to take on an army," said Arkon with a grin.
"Good," said Alice.
Arkon gave her a final hug and walked off to the docks. Alice got back inside her car and noticed that her vision was blurred due to the tears. After wiping them away she drove off, not looking at Arkon.
"That was touching," said the seaplane pilot, "You ready to go now?"
"Of course," said Arkon as he stepped onto the wooden dock. The two walked down the dock until reaching a wooden board. He walked across it and into the seaplane before the pilot got in and started it up. The seaplane was old, probably from the late twentieth century, but that didn't matter as long as it could get him close to the island. Arkon strapped himself into the co-pilot's seat. He knew how to fly, probably better than the pilot himself, and he wanted to be read in case of any mishaps.

***

"We're about thirty miles from Freedom Island," said the pilot.
"Get me within five before landing," said Arkon as he got up and walked to the back of the plane. He took off his leather jacket and cargo pants and put on a civilian grade wetsuit. The Coalition didn't want to look involved in this mission, and thus he would have to look like a mercenary or a bounty hunter, not a professional soldier. After getting the wetsuit on he transferred everything in his suitcase to a waterproof container. Once ready, he walked to the *beep*pit.
"We're seven miles away," said the pilot.
"Good, begin descent," said Arkon.
"I know how to do my job," said the pilot.
Suddenly, the alarms began buzzing.
"We've got company, and this thing ain't no fighter!" said the pilot.
"Don't worry about those fighters," said Arkon as he began concentrated.
"They have enough firepower t-"
"Be quiet!" yelled Arkon as he concentrated.
He felt the inside of the seaplane and went out further, feeling the outside. He then reached out some more, and felt the same. Finally, he felt the enemy fighters and smiled before reaching their pilots. He used telekinesis to press the eject buttons on their planes and began laughing.
"Looks like they ejected!" said Arkon.
"There'll be more coming," said the pilot.
"You'd better land quick then," said Arkon.
The plane zoomed down, though the landing was somewhat choppy. Fifty years ago the landing wouldn't have been possible with the same plane, but the upgrades to it were extensive and somewhat modern. Arkon stepped to the side door and dived out of it and into the water. He then began swimming away; there was four miles in between the seaplane and Freedom Island. The pilot closed the side door and the plane took off. The pilot was nervous and he had a good reason. The air force of Freedom Island didn't much care for private aircrafts flying in their airspace without permission.

***

Arkon stuck his head out of the water and surveyed the beach. There was a large concrete sea wall in between him and the island; he would have to climb over it and get around two alert guards, or he could charm the alert guards into thinking he wasn't there and climb over without trouble; he liked the second option. Arkon reached out and invaded the two minds, he then altered their perception so that they would not see him. He could have made himself invisible by wrapping himself in psychic energy, but that took time and a good spot to meditate; he had neither. Arkon walked up to the wall slowly (if he moved too fast the charm would be broken and the guards would spot him) and shot his grappling hook before climbing up and over the wall. Afterwards he ran off into the forest, he had fought in this environment before and had been very good at it without telekinetic powers...if the guards were lucky, they would stay away.

***

Arkon surveyed Nexim City from a vantage point behind a tree. There was a large concrete wall around it, and around that was a large swamp that would probably have enough diseases to infect an army. In the center of the city was the infamous Paradise Tower, a skyscraper named after the Syndicate's name for the city; Paradise City. Surrounding it were four smaller buildings, two parking garages, and two large buildings that made up the barracks. Between those buildings was a large elevated traintrack that connected them all and allowed fast transportation between the buildings. Those made up the Citadel, and around it was a large wall. In the outer section of the city was where the poor to mid-level people lived, and that was what really made the city. Rape, murder, and fighting was not uncommon, actually, it was uncommon not to see it. If somebody shoots somebody else, all that is asked is that his clean-up is paid for. The Nexim City guard force never let anybody out of the city without a pass, and those who tried were shot on sight. It was brutal, but if it was not that way there would be few left in the massive city. As he scouted out the city, however, he saw a man roll a rope ladder down from a drain pipe. The man then waved for more people to come and a couple walked into Arkon's view. The woman was pregnate and Arkon gave a lamenting sigh, either they didn't know about the outer wall or they thought there would be away around it. They climbed down the rope ladder and Arkon saw that they had assault rifles.
So they think that they can fight their way out...well...I hope they can...
With that thought, Arkon looked at the drainage pipe. It was a convenient opportunity that he would surely take advantage of. Arkon sprayed himself in waterproof insect repellent (he had looked up Freedom Island's climate before heading there and had guessed the many things that he would need) and began crawling towards the swamp. He was now wearing woodland patterned fatigues but that wouldn't stop the guards on the walls from seeing him. He charmed as many as he could and crawled down towards the swamp as slowly as possible. Upon reaching the swamp, he began to make his way through it. It was easier moving through the swamp, not physically of course, but he was now harder to spot as he was the same color as the mud. He made it to the rope ladder without problems and climbed up. Halfway up the guards began shooting, when he got to the top he looked out and saw that the party of three, including the pregnant woman, had been shot to death. Arkon had seen far worse during the rebellions, but he was not heartless, and he paid his respects to the party with a hand symbol that meant "Rest in Peace" in the army. He then turned and walked off down the large tube that made up the drain pipe.

Arkon woke up to yelling in the next room. He grabbed his SA-3 and looked through an already made bullethole in the wall. He saw two men, one was a man wearing a hooded sweatshirt, a pair of dark sunglasses, and a pair of navy cargo pants. The hood of the sweatshirt was over the baseball cap. All that Arkon could see of his face was that he was hispanic with a five o'clock shadow. The other man's back was turned, but Arkon could make out that he was of medium build with a green mohawk.
"-t's cool man! I have yo money 'morrow!" yelled the man with the green mohawk.
"Not good enough," said the hispanic man, "I'll just take it from your flesh!"
The hispanic man pulled a Fairfield-15 from his hoodie pocket and aimed it at the mohawked man. He fired a shot, hitting the man in the neck. The man fell to the bed and began bleeding heavily while the hispanic man laughed sadistically. Arkon didn't feel like it was his responsibility to get involved, especially since it would draw attention. Suddenly, the clerk from downstairs ran into the room with a Dertrot Ersigo pump action shotgun and fired, striking the hispanic man as he turned. The hispanic man fell to the floor and the clerk ran up to his still alive body and fired again, blowing the man's head off. The clerk then took whatever money and drugs the hispanic man had on his person before dragging the bodies outside.
"Jesus," said Arkon, "Barbarians..."
Without a second thought, Arkon turned back to his bed and went to sleep. It was still dark and he wanted to get as much sleep as possible.

***

Arkon woke up in the early morning and holstered his SA-3 before putting on his winter coat and his backpack. He took one last look through the bullethole in the wall to see that the next room had been cleaned somewhat well; the blood was less prominent on the floor and the blankets and sheets had been changed.
"I'll be glad when I get the hell out of this town," said Arkon before leaving the room. He had paid the clerk the night before and didn't have to worry about paying. He simply went off down the street and made his way to a local bar. He needed to find the leader of the Syndicate, if he found him, he would surely find Keller. As he entered the bar, a somewhat decent source of intelligence, he noticed an old caucasian man speaking with an African man in a booth and a few larger men at the bar. The old man looked like somebody to fear, he had a scar on his cheek and his eyes looked like those of a killer. Not only that, but the bartender was eyeing him nervously. Arkon sat at the bar and payed for a light beer. As the bartender poured the drink, Arkon noticed that the old man was beginning to laugh, he then saw that the African man had started to plead.
"Who is that?" asked Arkon as he pointed at the old man.
"Not now," said the bartender as he placed Arkon's drink in front of him.
After a minute, the old man got up and pulled a silenced pistol out from underneath his leather jacket. He fired one shot, silencing the African's pleas, before putting his pistol away and drawing a large knife. With one clean chop he took the African's index finger off and proceeded to put it into a plastic bag before approaching the bartender. He put several chips down on the bar before walking out the door with the plastic bag in his jacket pocket. The bartender collected the chips and turned to Arkon.
"Information isn't cheap here," said the bartender, "I'll tell you everything I know for one hundred blues."
Arkon calculated the currency system in his head, two reds were the equal of one hundred blues. He placed two red chips down on the bar and the bartender smiled.
"That man was one of the Syndicate'*beep*men, he is called Sage. He's the oldest and most experienced on the Syndicate's payroll, and I'd wager that he's the best at the moment," said the bartender.
"At the moment?" asked Arkon.
"Ace, one of the newest hitmen, is quickly gaining on old Sage, I'd say that he'd better retire," said the bartender, "Experience can only get you so far."
"That is true, tell me more about Ace," said Arkon.
"Not much to tell, he appeared a few years ago and ever since he's proved that he is a very capable killer. Damn near forty hits under his belt, each of them has been very successful. He's a pretty young kid, but don't underestimate him, he's a psychopath," said the bartender.
"Any others?" asked Arkon.
"Well yeah, there's Knight, Ghost, Colt, Winchester, and Archer," said the bartender.
With the mention of the name Archer, Arkon recollected the spikethrowing creatures back during the Sericco incident and dismissed it before pressing on.
"Colt and Winchester? Is there a Smith and Wesson as well!?" asked Arkon with a chuckle.
"Don't think so," said the bartender with a smile, "Colt's good with pistols, Winchester, well, she's a good sniper. They're married by the way."
"Married eh? Alright, what about Knight and Ghost?" asked Arkon.
"Knight is very good with a sword, tends to favor a longsword," said the bartender.
"A modern knight eh?" asked Arkon.
"Yeah, but he only uses his sword for his paid kills, he shoots the guards," said the bartender.
"Fine...Ghost and Archer?" asked Arkon.
"Ghost is a ghost, he has some high tech stealth suit to blend in and is very good at hand to hand combat. Archer uses a customized rapidfire crossbow," said the bartender.
"Does the Elusive Man only hire the exotic ones?" asked Arkon, laughing.
"Nah, he's got more, but those ones are his best," said the bartender, "I can't believe you hadn't heard of Sage before. Where have you been, under a rock?"
"Been keeping to myself most of my life, just felt that I'd learn what's going on," said Arkon.
"Alright," said the bartender.
"You know where I could find somebody from the Syndicate?" asked Arkon.
"Right here," said large man sitting at the bar, he was wearing a leather vest and his arms were covered in tattoos. He had a bushy gray beard and a bandana on.
"Jesus Phil, didn't see you," said the bartender.
"It's okay, I'm a hard guy to notice," said Phil with a laugh, "Come over here, interested in work? My old guy pussed out."
"I'm always interested," said Arkon as he got up and approached Big Phil.
"Got a piece?" asked Phil.
"No," lied Arkon, not wanting to show Phil his advanced SA-3.
"Alright, here, take this," said Phil as he handed Arkon a Fairfield-12 and two clips of ammunition.
"What am I going to do?" asked Arkon.
"Well, you and I are going to go collect some money from a guy who doesn't want to let it go," said Phil, "Got a car?"
"No," said Arkon.
"What are you? A bum!?" asked Phil.
"More like a man down on his luck," said Arkon.
"Fine, if you pull this off, I'll trust you," said Phil, "Doesn't take much for me to trust seeing as the cops're our guys, along with the mayor, and we're the only crime ring in town. I love this place, don't miss New York at all."
"Well, lets go," said Arkon.
"Small problem, I ride a chopper," said Phil, "Jim, can this guy borrow your car?"
"Sure," said the bartender nervously, he obviously didn't want Arkon to borrow his car, but didn't have a choice.
"Good," said Phil.
Jim the bartender gave Arkon a set of car keys and Arkon gave him a reassuring smile as Big Phil walked out the door, a few seconds later Phil walked back in.
"Jesus! Didn't even ask your name!" said Phil.
"Albert Liasam," said Arkon.
"Pleased to meet you, Al," said Phil with a smile before walking out the door. Arkon got up a few minutes later and began walking out, but turned around.
"Which car is yours?" asked Arkon.
"Blue 2019 Framington Rellton," said Jim, "Bring her back in one piece, will ya?"
"Of course, I'm an excellent driver," said Arkon with a chuckle before walking out the door.

Arkon pulled into the alleyway at the side of the bar and got out of his car. He didn’t really feel bad for Mike’s death; Mike had been a bad man, but he did feel back for Yurloviski. The man was only trying to get by, and had shot a wicked man to do so. The man he had shot had lived, so Arkon had seen no reason for Yurloviski to die. His death had been required for him to gain more of Phil’s trust, however, and as such his death had been required. He locked the car and walked into the bar to see Phil talking with Jim.
"Hey, how’d the hit go?" asked Phil as Arkon walked in.
"Mike got blown halfway to hell by a rigged shotgun," said Arkon.
"Jesus! Did you get Yurloviski?" asked Phil.
"His brain and skull fragments are all across his floor, courtesy of my sawed off shotgun," said Arkon.
"Alright, good," said Phil, "You can keep his car I guess, he won’t be needing it much anymore."
"Thanks," said Arkon.
Phil threw a small sack at Arkon and Arkon caught it.
"Your take," said Phil before slamming his shot of whiskey.
"Thanks," said Arkon.
"It’s fine, well, I must admit, you’ve done good. I might just introduce you to Greg Paulson if you pull off this next job," said Phil.
"What’s that?" asked Arkon.
"We’re going to guard Mr. Gray as he rolls into town," said Phil before handing Arkon a transparent card with a picture of Arkon on it. Arkon guessed that the picture must have been taken by one of the city’s cameras, "Here, take this pass, it’ll let you out of the city. Then you need to drive to the airstrip, there’s lots of signs, you can’t miss it."
"Alright, how many of us will there be?" asked Arkon.
"There’ll be about four trucks guarding his APC on the way to the city. Once we get to the city there’ll be more," said Phil.
"Alright," said Arkon, "Gotta get going."
"Have a drink with me, Al," said Phil.
"I got some stuff to do," said Arkon, "Sorry Phil."
"Alright, just leave me here to drink alone," said Phil.
"You’re not alone," said Jim.
"Shut up," said Phil.
Arkon sighed and walked out the door. He turned the corner, walked down the alleyway, and got into his new car. He then drove down a few blocks to a gun shop. He sold Yurloviski’s snub nose revolver, along with the bullets, to the owner. He also sold the sawed off shotgun, as he really didn’t care for the inaccurate weapon no matter how concealable it was. Afterwards, he received an inappropriate amount of chips. He really didn’t complain, he had more than enough to get by. Afterwards, he walked outside and got back to his car. He started it up and drove off towards his motel.

***

Arkon woke up with a start as he heard gunshots outside. He grabbed his SA-3 from under his pillow and ran to the front window, making sure to stay out of view. Outside were two small gangs, one wearing yellow, the other wearing green. Both groups were armed with rather outdated weapons such as the Fairfield-11 and Reckson-3. After a few minutes of firing (with very bad accuracy), the yellow gang forced the green gang to retreat and Arkon sat down against the wall. He couldn’t wait to get the hell off the island. Three days on it and he had already killed a man in cold blood, he didn’t know if he would have to kill again. He didn’t want to think about it.

***

Arkon woke up at around four o’clock in the morning and began his day with a somewhat harsh workout. He hadn’t exercised in days and felt the need to. Afterwards, he put on his backpack and walked out to his car. He drove to a local diner and ate a breakfast that tasted worse than the crap that was made back at Fort Jorlen. After eating, he began asking some more questions, trying to learn all he could of the Syndicate. Yurloviski’s death had become common knowledge, and Arkon shuddered when he heard of the Syndicate’s most recent murder. Eventually, he returned to his car to find several men trying to break into it. Arkon walked up to them, pulling out his SA-3 as he did so.
"Back away from my car," said Arkon.
"You had better back off," said the leader of the group as he pulled a Fairfield-15 from his waistline. The others in the gang did the same, and Arkon smiled. He had needed some psychic exercise. Arkon delved deep into the leader’s brain and altered some of his thoughts.
"Hold up," said the leader, "We need to get the hell out of here."
"Why?" asked one of his men.
"Oh *beep*! We gotta go! Now!" yelled the leader before running off, his men followed, not knowing what was happening, and Arkon smiled before walking up to his car and unlocking it. He threw his backpack inside and backed out of his parking space. He then drove off towards the city’s north exit.

***

Arkon reached the gate and showed his pass to the guard, the guard waved him through and Arkon drove off towards the airstrip, following the signs as he went. After a thirty minute drive, he reached his destination. Waiting at the airstrip was a private transport craft owned by Bruce Gray along with four trucks and a large well-armored APC. The transport reminded Arkon of the ones that the military used, and was probably the same model. Phil was already at the airstrip with a LanCo K-50 assault rifle in his hands. He was also wearing combat armor similar to the armor that Arkon had seen the soldiers in the sewers wearing. When Arkon got out of his car, Phil smiled and waved to a tall man in a brown suit.
"Greg! This is that guy I told you about!" yelled Phil.
Greg stopped talking to the soldier he had been talking with and approached Arkon. Arkon could tell from the man’s eyes that he was intelligent.
"Hello, I am Gregory Paulson," said Greg.
"Albert Liasam," said Arkon.
"Pleased to meet you, Albert," said Greg, "You and Phil will be riding in the second car in front of the APC. By the way, we aren’t too worried about the ride to the city. It would be difficult for the resistance to move enough men to ambush a convoy out here. What I’m worried about is the city."
Arkon nodded and looked back at his car.
"Don’t worry about your car, Albert, it will be waiting for you outside of Jim’s bar," said Gregory before walking away. Arkon and Phil turned and walked to the second car where Phil reached into the back seat and threw him a duffel bag.
"There’s security armor in there," said Phil, "Put it on, we aren’t us on this."
"Right," said Arkon before putting it on, it was similar to the army’s combat armor and was very easy for Arkon to put on due to his familiarity with armor. After he had it and the helmet on, Phil threw him a LanCo K-50 assault rifle. After he was suited up, Arkon got into the second vehicle’s passenger seat while Phil got up behind the turret. After five minutes of waiting, a man walked out of the transport. He was around fifty years old with graying black hair. He was wearing a gray suit, which was ironic due to his name. He quietly walked to the APC and walked up the back ramp before it closed. After he was in, the convoy began moving. Arkon kept focused on the brush, looking for any signs of movement. The entire ride back to the city was uneventful as Paulson had anticipated, however, and they were soon riding under the arches of Nexim City. Several other trucks joined them, along with two tanks. As the convoy drove through the narrow streets, people began looking through their windows.
Perfect place for an ambush…narrow streets. All they’d have to do is shoot the front car and the back car and we’d be boxed in.
As they rode through the streets, however, they saw no activity. It was actually pretty quiet.
BOOM!
The front car erupted in an intense inferno and Phil began firing at the rooftops with his turret. Arkon turned to see the back car explode and quickly got out.
"Phil! Get the hell out!" roared Arkon.
Phil saw that the men on the rooftops were aiming at him and quickly did what he was told. Phil, Arkon, and the three other soldiers that had been in the front car jumped behind a stone wall as the car was enveloped in a ball of flames. The soldiers in the last car got out intelligently just before it exploded, they quickly ran into a small shop. One of the tanks in the convoy took aim on the rooftops and fired, causing the building to collapse. The distraction proved enough for Arkon as he got up and sprinted towards the APC. The camera feed showed that it was Albert Liasam running up, which convinced Gray to open the APC.
"Follow me, sir!" yelled Arkon when the doors opened.
"Why!?" asked Gray before one of the trucks exploded.
"That’s why! Now c’mon!" yelled Arkon.
Gray got out and Arkon led him into a small hotel lobby. Arkon quickly led Gray up several sets of stairs before kicking in a hotel door and running inside. The inside was uninhabited to Arkon’s relief. Gray sat down on the bed while Arkon looked out the window. The firefight was still going on.

After a three minute long firefight between the remaining soldiers and the resistance members, air support arrived and helped wipe out the remaining freedom fighters. After the last one was dead, Arkon led Gray outside to the arriving reinforcements.

***

The Citadel was the name for the inner circle of Nexim City. It consisted of two parking garages, three skyscrapers, one larger skyscraper (the infamous Paradise Tower), and two high-rise apartments. The apartments served as the homes of Nexim City’s wealthier citizens and the three smaller skyscrapers served as their offices. Paradise Tower served as the offices for the Syndicate’s highest ranking officers, with Bruce Gray occupying the largest office. All of the buildings were connected by an elevated train system. The sedan pulled into a parking garage and up several stories. It parked near the entrance to the train station and Paulson led Arkon to the train.
"What is your destination?" asked a female voice.

"Paradise Tower," said Paulson.
"Confirmed," said the female voice before the train pulled off.
The train pulled into Paradise Tower’s bay a few minutes later and Arkon stepped out of the train only to be rifle butted in the chest by one of the guards. He was quickly smashed over the head by something hard before falling unconscious.

"Wake up, Mr. Liasam, or should I say…Mr. Arkon," said a dull voice. Arkon looked up at the source, everything was a blur.
"You know me, yes?" asked the voice.
Arkon could not muster any words, his head felt like it had split in half.

"My name is Bruce Gray, your vision will return to normal shortly. It is a side effect of the drug," said Gray, "Please don’t try to use your psychic abilities, they won’t work."
Arkon couldn’t think, where was he?

"What I want to know, is why John Arkon, a psychic soldier, Sericco survivor, and one of CoSec’s best detectives, is doing in my city," said Gray.
"My city," said calm voice.
"His city," said Gray.
"I…Keller," said Arkon.
"Keller?" asked the calm voice, "David Keller, former EROD and STF and now the Commanding Officer of the 1^st PSU?"
Arkon couldn’t respond, his voice wasn’t working properly. Wait a minute…how Gray know of Sericco and Psychic abilities. And who was that man in the corner, how did he know so much about Keller?

"Keller," managed Arkon.
"Speak dammit!" yelled Gray.
"Let him rest for a few minutes," said the calm voice.
"Bu-" Gray was cut off.
"If you wish to disobey my orders, then please do so," said the calm voice, "I implore you."
Gray said nothing, and after a few minutes, the calm man in the corner got up and stepped out of the shadows. He was a very pale Caucasian man and completely bald. His eyebrows were black, and a pair of blood red sunglasses blocked his eye color. He was wearing a white business suit with a red tie, covering his hands were a pair of white leather gloves.
"Now, Mr. Arkon, what are you doing in this city?" asked the calm man.
Arkon could find the ability to speak now, and he looked up at the man.
"Who are you?" asked Arkon.
"You know the answer to that," said the Elusive Man.
"I was looking for you," said Arkon.
"Well, here I am," said the Elusive Man.
"What do you know of David Keller?" asked Arkon.
"I know how to find him," said the Elusive Man before assuming a surprised face, "Why? He didn’t murder anybody of importance did he?"
"You know about Braun," said Arkon.
"Yes, but if I didn’t I would now," said the Elusive Man, "I, unfortunately, cannot let you go to hunt him. Mr. Gray, let me see your pistol."
Gray took the pistol from inside his coat and handed it to the Elusive Man. The Elusive Man walked to the corner of the room and looked at the pistol.
"A Fairfield-18?" asked the Elusive Man, "A nice pistol."
"Thank you, sir," said Gray.
The Elusive Man turned around and walked back to the center of the room, handing the pistol to Gray.
"Now, Mr. Arkon. As I was saying, I cannot let you go to hunt him as I don’t know his current location. I do, however, know the location of a man who knows Keller’s location," said the Elusive Man, "Sergeant Major Carlos Ramirez is currently living in Chicago, he is one of Keller’s defectors. If you find him, you find Keller."
"Wait, why are you helping him?" asked Gray.
"Because I am feeling generous," said the Elusive Man.
"You know what? I am tired of listening to you, I should be running the Syndicate!" yelled Gray before pulling his pistol from his coat and aiming it at the Elusive Man. In response, the Elusive Man held up his hands.
"Don’t shoot!" said the Elusive Man, smiling, before Gray pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, but nothing came out.
"Now, Mr. Gray, you should know the weight difference between a loaded gun and an unloaded gun," said the Elusive Man before pulling out his own pistol, a customized Vertel Terzom-4, he aimed it at Mr. Gray with a smile. He then held up the clip that had formerly been in Gray’s pistol and shot Gray between the eyes.
"Now, as I was saying," said the Elusive Man as he put his pistol away, "I’m letting you go with that juicy bit of intelligence. Sergeant Ramirez’s favorite bar is Lucky’s on 4^th and Baxter. Goodbye, Mr. Arkon."
With that, the Elusive Man walked out of the room. A few minutes later, two soldiers entered the room and cut Arkon’s bonds. They led him to the rooftop where a helicopter was waiting for him. Arkon walked across the landing pad and got in to find his SA-3 pistol and a note waiting for him.

Mr. Arkon,

I thought you would want this back.

Signed,
Your friend

Arkon put the pistol in its holster. He had no idea why the Elusive Man was helping him, but it really didn’t matter. His mission was one step closer to success.