A Day in the Life of a SHD Agent
Part 1
7:45am: I woke up to the sound of distant gunfire, as is usual on most days since the outbreak began. My first instinct was to check if I still had my gear: the go-bag that every Agent has, the Px4 Storm pistol in its associated holster and an Mk16 assault rifle. I did not need to check if I still had my body armour. I could feel its familiar weight around my chest and on my shoulders. At first it was weird sleeping while wearing it, but with time, people can get used to almost anything.
Sometimes it still feels unreal that four months back, I sat in a cramped office from 9 to 5, ticking away on my keyboard in the process of writing complicated software for a wide clientele. Now, I'm being woken up by gunshots in the city I've called home for as long as I can remember. Shaking off the sleep, I went and looked around for something to eat in the safehouse. I found some energy bars in one of the kitchen's cupboards and ate one of them in silence.
8:20am: I went out to scavenge some water from one of the old reservoirs still atop the buildings all throughout the neighbourhood. Just as I was about to boil the water to disinfect it, ISAC chirped at me that I had a radio call from Faye Lau. She informed me that a gang of Rikers was about to assault a local community. Having seen the handiwork of Rikers scattered across the city, I quickly moved out. Those civilians don't deserve whatever gruesome fate those sick bastards have cooking for them.
8:30am: I arrived in the heat of battle. The locals had taken up defensive positions all around the street while the Rikers rained down gunfire in their direction. A quick analysis from ISAC showed that it was a relatively small group, consisting of eight run-of-the-mill goons, one sniper perched quite far in the back of their line and one Riker that was dressed in what appeared to be their leadership uniform.
Assessing the situation, I slipped into an alley with the intention to flank their position. I moved up to a garbage container that was placed in such a way that most of the alley was blocked by it. I took cover and prepared to engage the Rikers and then the smell hit me.
New York has always smelled quite bad on account of all the people in it, but post-outbreak, it has gotten even worse. The stench of thrown out garbage mixes with the smell of decaying bodies everywhere. Pair that with spring temperature and it makes for one hell of an assault on your nostrils. But that's not all. The Cleaners burn everything that they think is infected. So it's not just the smell of decay; it's the smell of burning decay. I've grown a bit used to the smell of corpses and garbage. After all, it has been four months since the outbreak. However, I will never get used to the rancid smell of it all burning up. And the fact that I'm smelling that now only means one thing: Cleaners in the area.
Well, shit. This is making my mission a lot more complicated. The Cleaners haven't seen me yet, so there is still hope to resolve this the smart way. I give whispered instructions to ISAC and thirty seconds later, I have a lure that should get them off my back for a bit.
8:40am: I threw the lure and slinked back into the alley. Twenty seconds later, the sounds of combat filled the air again. I carefully peeked my head around the corner to see the band of Cleaners take cover across the street and that the Rikers were engaging them. At least they aren't assaulting the civilians now. One Cleaner rushed the line of Rikers holding a riot shield and an axe. As soon as he got noticed, three Rikers turned on him and filled his shield with bullets; when that gave way, his chest was next. The Cleaner fell dead on the floor, blood pooling under his body. Then I heard a blood-curdling scream that could only mean one thing: two Cleaners had their flamethrowers on full blast and a Riker was caught in the path of the flames.
8:42am: Both groups have lost a couple of their men, but they are still fighting. I'm keeping quiet because if one of them sees me, they're going to stop killing each other and band together to kill me instead. However, if any of them are going to attack the civilians again, I will step in. Can't exactly put my own skin over the safety of civilians. Not stooping down to the same level as those who disavowed us.
8:44am: The civilians tried to make use of the pandemonium and started firing on the fighting factions. While I do not agree with their course of action, the cat is out of the bag now and there is no turning back. I steady my assault rifle as I peek around the corner. Across the street, both the Cleaners and Rikers seem to have formed a temporary armistice in order to kill the civilians. I take aim at the nearest of the bunch and fire. He drops to the floor, bleeding profusely. The others have noticed me and are laying down fire on my position. I can't peek out now without my body becoming a lead pancake. Got to be smart here. I roll towards new cover on the right-hand side, straighten out and fire another burst down the street. A muffled scream tells me that I hit at least one of them. I quickly peek out and fire a couple of rounds towards the sniper overlooking the street. The crack of his rifle echoes between the buildings and I hear a heavy impact sound on my left. Fuck, that was too close. I peek out again for a successive burst towards her, then dive back into cover. The thud I hear tells me that I hit and her body fell off the balcony she was perched on.
8:45am: A quick pulse from ISAC tells me that there are two hostiles left. I move in on their position, rifle at the ready. I see one of the remaining Rikers' legs poke out from behind a car. I round the car before he has the chance to fire at me and put a short burst into his head. The last Riker makes an effort to flee, but another burst made an end to that attempt. Time to check in on the civilians. They seem quite tattered, but thankfully most of them are standing. As far as I can tell, none of them are dead. A few of them are slumped over, trying to stop themselves from bleeding out. I grab a couple of bandages out of my go-bag and get to work on their wounds. While this may not seem very effective, a bandage might mean all the difference in the world between reaching adequate medical assistance and becoming yet another corpse in the streets of New York.