Very AU, co written/created with Mirai M. Mieux warning for mild violence.
Shoulders hunched forward, with strength evident in his stance he watched the stretch of alley ahead of him. Wet with rain but painfully uniformed like the rest of the city. Cobblestone ground, cement walls never higher than three stories tall in the Leisure District of the city, the roofs held sleek black lens next to a speaker box tucked away into corners to conceal, blue card scanners could be found every few hundred feet and at door entrances. It was as controlled and overbearing as it last had been when he was in the city. Nothing had changed. The sky groaned with thunder and soon the angry dark clouds started to spit out rain hard enough to sting and whip at his shoulders and back despite the fact he wore a thick jacket the rain soaked him, making the clothes like a dark glistening second skin. Flattening his mohawk down to his head, the tips of his dark hair coming down to his eyebrows and clinging to his strong forehead, obscuring a pale scar that ran across a clear blue eye, both of which were eyeing his prey with deadly intent. His footsteps were timed only to step when the man stepped, both booted feet making a simultaneous splash on the cobblestone, the stalked making much more noise than the stalker. It only made the task at hand that much easier. He knew the man's patrol route by heart, he'd follow him to the end of the alley, branch off left instead of the right turn the man would take. Then it would be a matter of beating the man to a rather deserted alley a block away. The cameras there were angled so only the mouth of the alley was visible; the rest of it was the perfect layout, one of the few blind spots in a city of eyes. As it turned out he had beaten the man to the alleyway, choosing to tuck himself hidden behind a corner jutting out of the cement wall and wait for his target.
City guards were collective abusers of the "Law", not showing much compassion for civilians. The target happened to be one of high rank, known to be merciless to his victims whom most of which were young girls. The continuation of his life was unacceptable; if it drew out any longer he'd become more of a danger. Ruin more lives. With silent steps, he approached the target methodically drawing closer and extracting a blade from its cloth enclosure around his waist which muffled any sound a scabbard would have made and also served as concealment.
With cold calculated eyes he stalked the man, ebbing ever so closer, knowing within the next few moments the surveillance camera above them would pan too far right to catch the deed. Waiting a few seconds he closed the gap between them, covering the mans mouth with one hand, the other quickly driving the knife to the hilt into his throat. Blood flowing over his knuckles as the man gagged weakly, his eyes wide with terror as he was drug down the alley back out of view of the cameras.
He held on to the dying Keeper a moment more as the other's life finally drained from his eyes, he slid the blade out wiggling it a bit as it's tip had embedded itself into the man's vertebrae.
He replaced the blade back into its place in the cloth, wiping his palms against his pants before activating the ear piece he wore. It was made to look like a hearing implant, something common amongst the Equists due to most of them occupying factory jobs.
"Trevor Mills is down," he confirmed to the open radio.
"Good job Soap, the extraction zone is still clear. The city is calm; no word of murder yet," Jay informed him.
"I'll see you there mate, any word on Ghost?"
"Yah the guy's sitting right next to me, stayed undetected also."
"Good," Soap's tone was final before he shut of his earpiece once more pulling his hood up and tucking bloody hands into his pockets and walking back into view then out of the alley entrance.
The street was littered with Pennies, the poorest of them all, but luckily for them not the lowest ranking 'Citizen'; that spot was reserved for people like him. The Seditious, or Sedi's as they were known by more often than not, were rebels of the Syndicate for Peace and "a corrupting force of peaceful living." If caught, they were the only ones within the society to be stripped of all rights. To be enslaved, experimented on, or killed; whatever the Syndicate deemed fit for them. No people like him were less than human.
Few took the time even to cast him a second glance as he walked the street; the smell of disinfectant permeated everything in the city, a drastic contrast to some of the refugee camps or his order for instance, and it was this smell of the cities he hated most of all.
The first of the three checkpoints he had to pass through to return loomed over him, few people, if any, looking his way.
Approaching the scanner he waited as a Penny passed through before him, wrist extended as his bar-code, tattooed to the inside of his wrist was scanned the machine announcing loudly with a green light "Proceed level two citizen". Motioned forward by a dreary looking Keeper Soap walked up with his wrist extended, the graft that lay on top of his otherwise bare wrist classified him as a level three citizen, with baited breath he held it there until the light flashed green and the machine announced for him to proceed. He'd always hated scanners ever since he was a rookie; his graft had been copied wrong for the situation which called for him to be a level two but instead he turned out to be a ragged looking Pern. The Keepers had been all over him, wondering how a level four got into the Low District and why he looked and smelled just as bad as the Pennies did. It was not a situation he planned to repeat anytime soon.
He passed the remaining checkpoints without much hassle, keeping his gaze downwards as the Keepers let him pass. After this he was almost home free - he just had to avoid the camera that could catch him as he snuck into the underground.
The streets were relatively quiet, his target, an old storm drain, to which a frumpy old lady sat on. Dressed in bright oranges and purples like a Voodoo Priestess from one of Price's picture books. He made to pass her but with reflexes that seemed almost inhuman she jumped in front of him, doing more than startle. Had he not taken the moment to think before he reacted poorly he would have ended up driving his blade through her heart also.
Weakly she held onto his wrist with a liver spotted hand, her eyes seemed to be glazed over in pearly white cataracts that no doubt blinded her.
"It isn't wise to bother strangers," he warned lightly, prying his wrist from her boney fingers gently, but with just enough force in his grip to make it known he wasn't messing around. It didn't matter that she was an old woman, he'd seen kids younger than five turn to killing without batting a lash about it after.
"They're real you know," he started in a whisper, trying to find his wrist again to pull him closer. Intrigued he leaned down closer to her, a hand still on his blade.
"Who's real?"
"Them, they, the myths, the ones that hide away, the ones no one's seen in centuries."
"The Skulls are a folk tale woman, you know that, they hid away after the First Purge and that was more than three decades ago."
"Myths and folk tales just like the Lost Order, if the Skulls are a myth then so are you."
Soap felt a chill start in his stomach and he gripped the hilt in a vice hoping no one had heard her.
"How did you know woman, do not think about playing mind games and riddles with me because I will end you right here and now if you do and if your answer doesn't appease me, I will kill you where you stand."
Normally people pleaded and begged, some even pissed themselves in fear of his threats, and they had good reason to also, standing as one of the few assassins in the Northern branch of the Lost Order. But the woman just smiled at him.
"My husband was one of you once; he had the same 'X' scar on the back of his hand, just like yours."
"Why do you bother me with tales of the Skulls?"
"They aren't a tales boy; you of all people should know that. Think, how long could a society live underground, after three hundred years you'd think they'd need supplies or aid, or someone left. Say someone is going there in a months' time, say the said traveler works for the Syndicate. The Skulls didn't hide for a reason you know."
"You're talking crazy woman, you expect me to believe in tales of magic," he stared at her seriously.
"Not magic you loon, science, we're far from the basics of genealogy and physics now, the Skulls even more so. Now think, three hundred years of unhindered experimentation. What would happen if such things were learned by the Syndicate?"
"What is your point?" he tensed inwardly at the sudden static in his ear that was Jay trying to make contact with him through the earpiece.
"I have caught word that the mentioned traveler, Benji Howard, will be returning with something from the Skulls, part of some deal the Syndicate has made with them. I want you to bring me whatever he takes from that encampment, contact 98646 if you want to know more." With that she merely got up and walked away like their little talk never happened.
He made sure he wasn't seen slipping into the storm drain, all the while Jay bitched about time frames the entire walk to the LZ, having said he left his sorry as to rot. Soap just rolled his eyes at the young man when he made his way on board the stealth aircraft, walking up to Ghost as the engine purred smoothly to life.
"Took your time." The other assassin joked, knowing there was more to the day's events than a simple 'running late'.
"Indeed, something came up a mission offer really."
That seemed to catch the masked man's attention, "What'd they want?"
"Retrieval, I can't be sure without further contact on the details but its due in about a month, but that's not the crazy part."
"And what is then?"
"They mentioned that the Syndicate made a recent pact with the Skulls, whatever Benji Howard picks up, we need to take and deliver to the client,"
"You do know how crazy you sounded just now, and that's coming from me, and I'm most assuredly crazy," Ghost quipped.
"Yes I know, and I don't fully believe it yet, but if you want in were going to need to contact 98646 when we get back to Camp, and we'll go from there."
"I just smell a mess of trouble with the Syndicate from this, don't you?" Ghost leaned back in his seat, arms resting above his head.
"That's exactly why we need to do this job."
Well this is kind of a Prologue! Cant update Concentration cause ive had this on the brain for so long! Please note it's going to take another chapter or two for the exact order of the society to make sense, and its obviously a very futuristic AU, you'll see more so in the next chapter but uhm ill make it easy on you right now at the moment with the Syndicate of Peace's cast system as my co-author and I wrote it!
(level 5 citizen) Jingoist "Jingo"(High powered politician/military leader)
(level 4citizen) Pernicious "Pern" (wealthy civilian)
(level 3 citizen) Equidist "Equist" (middle class)
(level 2 citizen)Penurious "Penny"(poor class) "they're called pennies because that's all they have to their name"
(level 1 Note: Is to be arrested on site) Seditious "Sedi" (''rebels'')
Let us know what you think? Again it's a prologue but ill try another update tomorrow or the next day all depends on how busy I am with babysitting, so please leave a review, especially if anything was confusing and Ill do my best to clear it up!