Contains slight spoilers for characters from chapter 19 onwards.

The Eye of Eden

Prologue: The Snake from the Garden

My name is Strauss. This is a lie. In fact, my name is of little importance. Strauss is the name I have adopted for my latest clandestine operation on behalf of Eden. But, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. For the sake of brevity, I will keep it short. I am just a man with a particular talent for infiltration and espionage, with the right tools and connections to be in exactly the right place at the wrong time. My employers know only what I allow them, and in exchange for my services, they ask nothing else.

I awake on a surgical table, the anaesthetic haze fogging my thoughts. Yet I remember why I am here. You see, I have just undergone my final set of augmentations. As the machine arms above me retract, equipped with sophisticated medical tools, I take a tally of the alterations I have undergone at my request. My eyes have been replaced, along with my inner-ears, olfactory system and tongue. I am immune to poison. Minor cybernetic enhancements to my limbs multiply my strength and endurance, while a complete spine replacement grants me super-conductive nerves. My heart and pulmonary system have been overhauled for greater efficiency. Neural implants allow me to receive and send data back to Eden at will. My arms from the elbows down are mechanical replacements, encased with perfectly natural-looking synthetic skin.

To be perfectly frank, I hadn't needed these things to do my job before, but the opportunity to increase my effectiveness as an agent is too good to pass up. 'Why?' you may ask. Why would I endure the destruction and replacement of my flesh? It is simple. For my home, I will do anything I can, weather any suffering or indignity if it means I can keep it safe. What is my suffering compared to the prosperity of Eden? What is the suffering of others? I will and have killed and performed cruelties to keep Eden's peace, for you see, peace is fragile. Peace is not kept by good people. It is kept by those able, and more importantly, willing to apply surgical and infrequent cruelty whenever and wherever it is needed. But do not think me gratuitous or a madman. There is always a purpose to my actions. I am just a man who loves his home, and will do what he must to ensure its continued existence.

I recover quickly from my surgeries, a few days with regular check-ups, and Cecil has been remarkably helpful in assisting me to regain proper control of my enhanced physiology. Johan, as dour and hard as usual, also provided his aid. He has far more extensive alterations than I, being more machine than man at this point. While I am confident I could combat a Rapture or a few myself, the Commander of Inherit is the greater combatant of the two of us. That is fine. Our skills are complimentary, and while he is Eden's fist, I have the unique distinction of being its all-seeing Eye.

The Eye of Eden. Quite the moniker, isn't it? A bit lofty for my tastes, but apropos, I suppose. Where there are shadows, I can, or more appropriately, can't be found. The only person who knows the workings of Eden better than I is Cecil, and that is by virtue of having built many of its systems. But what I know better is the goings on within this secret haven on the surface of our benighted world. People and systems are easy for me to understand, and Eden so loves its people and systems. I know who does what, where, how and when. I see the flaws and cracks everywhere. Exploiting them would be easy, and I could do so whenever I wished. But I will not. Eden has been good to me. However, while I do not leverage Eden's weaknesses for my own gain, I do tend to test them, hoping Cecil or whoever else will learn from the experience. I dare say things have improved thanks to my diligent work. That isn't to say I work alone. I have many informants both within and without Eden, though Dorothy takes particular umbrage with the former.

You may wonder how I came to be here. Eden is a secret paradise on the surface, not easily found despite its grandeur thanks to Cecil's crowning achievement, a city-wide cloaking field. It alone stands as a peaceful bastion in an otherwise anti-human world. No Raptures can find it, and the Ark's central government has yet to come sniffing around. You see, I was once a wandering vagrant. Being a part of a roving band of killers and wastrels wore thin after some time, and so I struck out on my own. Though, it had been rather foolish of me to leave without so much as a weapon in a world crawling with bio-mechanical monsters hell-bent on driving humanity to extinction. I ran into a spot of trouble and was nearly killed, but I was saved. Harran, the Witch of Inherit came as a winged shadow, swooping down and destroying the Raptures with utmost ease. I convinced her to allow me to travel with her, and along the way, I demonstrated my aptitude for skills Eden had been lacking. But, I should inform you, this is just one version of the story I like to tell.

What is the truth, is that I was allowed to stay. Dorothy permitted my entrance once I'd proven myself as an asset to herself and Eden as a whole. In exchange for my skills, I gained a home. A good deal, if I say so myself.

A beeping sound alerts me to an inbound communique. I open the link and see a portrait view of Dorothy appear in my vision. She is, as ever, a lovely sight to behold. Long, pink hair like that of a summer sunset, sparkling blue eyes, and a countenance befitting the title of Goddess of Victory. Some say that the most beautiful things tend to be the most dangerous, and that is certainly true in Dorothy's case. She thinks she can hide her true nature from me, but it is as I said, I know systems and people very well.

''Ah, my dear Dorothy. To what do I owe the pleasure?'' I greet her amicably. She had once been frustrated with my casual terms of endearment, but once she realised that is just part of who I am, she quickly got used to it.

''I have a request to make of you... ah, what name are you going by today? It was Richter the last time we spoke,'' she says. That is another one of my quirks she's had to adjust to. Though, to be honest, I did have some fun with it at her expense early in our working relationship.

''Strauss, this time. But speak your mind, my dear. What would you have of the Eye of Eden?''

''This is a rather personal request. I need you to infiltrate the Ark,'' there is a pause that neither of us fill. Now that is an unexpected turn. I have done scouting work for her before, usually gathering information on Nikke Squads that got close to Eden and direct them away, or look for members of the Goddess Squad in her stead. When my own network would turn up no information, I would be personally dispatched to track them down on the condition I did not make contact. All she wanted was confirmation they were alive and nothing more.

However, despite the unusual nature of her request, I can't help but smile. ''Quite the daring task, Dorothy. Might I ask why?''

''For a very long time, I've been curious about the state of things there. As you know, just as no information leaves Eden, no information comes in either. I want you to get into the Ark and gather as much information as you can on the Central Government, the Big Three, and the state of society in general,'' Dorothy says. Ah, I see now.

''Looking for chinks in their armour, are you? Tell me, could it be you're hatching some plan to exact your revenge? I'll help you, of course, but surely this isn't some mere act of whimsy on your part,'' I say. That was the nature I was referring to. I have come to learn a great deal about the Goddess Squad's final operation, though a lot of it came from Dorothy's personal logs that I... commandeered for a brief spell. To say Dorothy despises the Ark is quite the understatement.

''Like I need to tell you,'' she says in a clipped tone, ''will you do it?''

While I have no personal enmity towards the Ark, I also have no love for it. Rise or fall, none of it matters to me. But I agree to go, simply because that is what is asked of me.

''It should please you to know I already have active agents within the Outer Rim with their own networks. Getting there and blending in will be no issue. However, there are some dangers I will need to be careful of,'' I tell her. Dorothy's eyes narrow.

''Funny that you never shared that bit of information with me,'' she says with a scowl, ''but continue. Who should you watch out for?''

''You never asked, my dear,'' I chuckle before continuing, ''there are currently several Nikkes who frequent the Outer Rim, each with their own ties to powerful criminal and terrorist organisations. But worry not, they have already been infiltrated and I am fully aware of who and where they are. The most notable are the heads of the three crime families that have overarching authority over the Outer Rim. Sakura, Rosanna and Moran. They hide their natures as Nikkes, of course, something that I can leverage, if needs be. There is also the presence of the terrorist group, Heavenly Ascension and the Nikkes working in conjunction. There are three, essentially a penal Squad known as Exotic consisting of their leader, Crow and her lackeys, Viper and Jackal. They will be my ticket to the Ark.''

Dorothy eyes me curiously, the gears churning within her mind. Trust has always been a fickle thing between us, and rightly so, so I don't really mind. Were I her, I wouldn't trust me either. And as much as I appreciate her acceptance of me within Eden, I cannot in good sense trust her in regards to... well, rational decision-making. Her grudge has blinded her on several occasions, more often than I am comfortable with. So it makes sense to me, knowing how she thinks, to have already set the groundwork for such an operation when she was bound to suggest it. There is also a nagging sense that I have had for several years now. Beyond Dorothy's bitter anger towards the Ark, I cannot help but think there is something deeply wrong with the former leader of the Goddess Squad.

''I'm impressed you've planned so far ahead already. What spurred that, I wonder,'' Dorothy asks pointedly. Like she doesn't already know. ''On another note, your enhancements. Cecil and Johan tell me you've adjusted to them quite well.''

''Indeed I have,'' I say lightly, ''they have been a great help. Johan helped me regain my coordination and control my reflexes and strength. It was a simple matter in the end, just a matter of adaptation. Cecil, bless her, ran me through the functions of my improved senses. The new visual spectra I can use were especially fun to play with.''

''I'm glad to hear that. But I have to say I'm surprised. I've never known anyone else to volunteer for augmentation,'' she says.

''My dear, I have a very important role here in Eden. Whatever edge I can gain, I will take. I want my home to be as stable as possible, and I believe we are in agreement on that, no?'' Of course, I already know the answer. Eden is everything to her.

''You're right, of course. Still, I appreciate what you've put yourself through for Eden. And I also appreciate you taking this assignment. It is a selfish thing I ask of you, and I don't know how long you'll be there.'' Dorothy is sincere when she says this. However, I dismiss it, as I am not solely doing this because she asked. The Ark is a topic of interest to me as well, and there are things I would like to find out for myself. It also provides a fantastic opportunity to deepen the roots of my network and become a new, yet unseen player in the Outer Rim.

''Think nothing of it,'' I smile, ''now, was there anything else? Perhaps you would like a souvenir or an Ark postcard?''

Dorothy is at least in good enough humour to smirk. ''No, but thanks. If it were from somewhere else, but I won't have anything like that in Eden. Make your final preparations,'' then she asked, ''but before that, when can I expect communiques from you?''

A good question. Eden is quite far from the Ark, and the infrastructure for regular long-distance communication doesn't exist on the surface anymore. I would need to have a rotation of my agents going between here and the Ark on a semi-regular basis. I'm not worried about them. My agents are capable and equipped with the necessities to make such perilous journeys.

''Every fortnight or so, should the conditions be optimal. I will have others take care of the particulars,'' I tell her.

''Very well then. This is likely the last we will see of each other for quite some time, so I wish you good luck,'' she smiles beatifically, ''farewell, Strauss.''

''Farewell, Goddess of Victory.'' The signal cuts off.

I make my way to Cecil's lab. There, the certifiable genius of Eden sits with a data pad in one hand, and a mug of coffee in the other. Her lab is in a perpetual state of organised chaos. Papers, reports, folders and technical drawings encompass every surface, while half-finished prototypes and tools are strewn about near machines only she really understands. However, it is a mistake to assume she cannot find exactly what she might look for. Though messy, everything is exactly where she left it, ready to be found and used immediately.

I can tell by the dark rings under her eyes that she has been hard at work again. This is my fault, I'm afraid. I had requested that she engineer my personal optical camouflage unit to directly interface with my neural hardware, as well as devise some other tools for field use. I dislike putting her out as much as I do. Cecil has enough to do even during quiet periods, and adding to her workload is an imposition I wish I could help her with. But alas, her gifts for technology and engineering far outstrip my own, and I would only get in her way.

Privately, I think the tired look suits her. Her white hair has bits sticking out every which way, suggestive of a lot of head scratching. She has clearly ran her hands through her locks many times in the last few hours as she puzzled out various technological problems. Honestly, I think Cecil is a very impressive individual, and she has my respect. Though, I suspect it is not reciprocated as of this moment, as she looks at me like I am her worst enemy.

''Oh. It's you,'' she huffs tiredly. I walk towards her desk and sit on the edge of it, crossing my arms across my chest.

''You look wonderful,'' I say cheerily, though my attempt at flattery goes unappreciated.

''I really could have done without the extra work... whatever your name is,'' she says with narrowed eyes before sipping her drink.

''Strauss, on this occasion. Trust me when I say it pains me to do this to you, but you said yourself that I was in dire need of some upgrades. My recent additions would be grossly underused were I to go without them,'' I say matter-of-factly.

Cecil waves her hand nonchalantly. ''Yeah, yeah, use my words against me. As usual.''

''The benefits of paying attention to another's words, my dear,'' I say with a smile before getting down to business, ''so, what do you have for me?''

At my prompting, Cecil retrieves a compact, circular device with a dome of dark plastic in the centre. ''Your cloaking unit. Plug it into the port at the top of your spine and it'll directly link with your neural interface. You'll be able to cloak and de-cloak at will, but you'll only have two minutes of use with a five minute recharge time. I'd have liked to perfect it more, but its limited size made further optimisation difficult. Unlike Eden's cloaking system, this doesn't have a continual power supply, so watch how much you use it.''

I take it and study it, admiring how she'd managed to produce such a thing in so little time. Behind her, a tall capsule opens and lights within it illuminate a dark, form-fitting bodysuit. Hung next to it is a shimmering cloak that distorts the grey metal behind it. Above the suit is a mask with the contours of a human face, but the eyes are two polarised, dark-green lenses. On the bottom of the capsule are a pair of knee-length boots, while pouches for the thighs and arms hang on pegs lining the sides of the capsule.

''Those are the Shadow Suit and camo-cloak you wanted. The cloak and stealth unit are best used together, but in the event you have one but not the other, you'll still have some cloaking capabilities. The suit will keep you safe in a multitude of environments, is hydrophobic, heat resistant, and while thin enough to be concealed under clothing, it can mitigate some of the impact from small arms fire. Its slim profile and dark colour are best for your line of work, along with its heat-reflective coating, so infrared systems will have a hard time seeing you. But if you're planning to get shot, I'd stick to handguns. Anything bigger is still going to hurt a lot. The area around the vitals has been injected with a non-Newtonian fluid that hardens on sudden impacts. As for the mask, well, aesthetics,'' she finishes with a shrug.

''You impress me more and more every time I visit, Cecil. With out you, both I and Eden would be lost, truly,'' I say, laying it on a little thick, but the way her pallid cheeks colour is always worth it. Compliments are most definitely this woman's weakness, especially when she's so quick to brush them off.

''Moving on,'' she swigs the rest of her coffee in one gulp before standing and moving to one of her work stations. She beckons me over and I follow, seeing a pair of items that she is looking at.

One of the tools is a small, rectangular multi-input device that can fit comfortably in my hand. ''This is an injection cypher decryptor. It'll use data generated from you brain which is funnelled through your neural implants, then uses that to generate trillions of adaptive decryption keys per minute to crack your way through any security measures you might find. It's designed to be able to interface with all input types Ark tech uses. If there's anything I'm sure of, it's their 'if it isn't broken, don't fix it' mindset. I doubt they'll have changed the locks, so to speak. ''

Now that is interesting. I have used such tools before, though they had been simply loaded with decryption programs. The tend to be rather hit-or-miss affairs, so their reliability can be questionable. But by using my own brain and its ability to learn and adapt, the decryption keys generated by the injection cypher decryptor would actively evolve to fit the system it interacts with to find the code necessary to crack it. Rather ingenious on Cecil's part, it must be said.

She holds up another item. I recognise this one as it is an upgrade to one of the tools already in my employ. ''I see you made the adjustments to the jammer I asked for.''

''Yes. Johan informed me that Ark frequencies are a little different to our own, and by equipment from fallen Nikkes out in the field, it didn't take much time to figure them out. Now your jammer will be able to stop their comms should you need to escape a Squad or the authorities,'' Cecil tells me.

''I thank you for your efforts, Cecil. I understand that I will be away for quite some time, but when I return, I will be happy to oblige should you require something of me. You have my word,'' I say with a smile. As expected, she scoffs.

''Take the word of a spy? I'll believe you when surprise me, how about that?'' though her face remains unmoved, I can hear to subtle humour in her voice.

''Clever girl. I'll think of something while I'm away,'' I collect my equipment and leave Cecil's lab after a short goodbye.

I stop by my room briefly. It is, as I prefer, a very nondescript space, almost as if nobody inhabits it. I have very few personal effects, such as my logbook, written in code only myself and my agents can understand. It would look like awful poetry to anyone else, as the words form nonsense metaphors, but each word meant to convey complex concepts, such as instructions, names, locations and protocols to be enacted under specific circumstances. Another item is my pistol, yet another gift from Cecil. It is adapted from Rapture technology, using the photon projector of a Servant-class drone. Low power, but easily concealable and deadly enough to kill a human or wound a Nikke should the need arise. Though, you may ask why I failed to mention Raptures. It is simple. I'm not interested in them, and fighting them is not my job. I leave that to Johan, Inherit and other Nikkes within Eden.

I don my new Shadow Suit, feeling it enwrap my form like a second skin. It's so light that I suspect I would forget I am wearing it at times, and even in the environmentally controlled confines of my room, my temperature remains optimal. Doing as Cecil instructed, I take the small stealth unit and jack it into the neural port at the top of my spine. My vision distorts for a fraction of a second as I start receiving feedback from the device, and a pop-up window tells me that it is has successfully integrated with my mind.

Looking into the mirror above my sink, I can see that... oh my, this suit really leaves nothing to the imagination, does it? Every part of my musculature had been perfectly conformed to, each peak and valley standing out against the tight material. In fact, everything is on show. Good thing I'm not a prude.

The cloak, now visible, is a dark blue material resembling tarpaulin, though smoother and much quieter when moved. It has a hood and is fastened around the neck with a small plastic clip. I put it on, then strap the various pouches to my arms and legs, then put the boots on. They hardly make a sound when I test them, so I assume Cecil went to some extra lengths to cater to my needs. Maybe I should take her out to dinner as a thank you. She deserves something nice, I think.

I hear a knock at the door. There are only a handful of people at any given time who know this is my room, and most of them are outside of Eden on business. That leaves only three people as the most likely to be at my door. The first is Dorothy, though she had never deigned to visit me in the past. Cecil is the other, though she could just call me. That leaves Johan. He has most likely heard what I am to do and wants to give me some parting words. Everything I would not want seen is already out of sight, so I grant him permission to enter.

''As barren as ever, Strauss,'' Johan says as the door closes behind him, pale blue eyes sweeping across my abode. There he is. Eden's fearsome Commander. The man who leads Squad Inherit and whose heart burns with his hatred of the Ark. Yet, when comparing him and Dorothy, it is clear that only one of them is truly monstrous. Johan is a hard man, he has that in common with myself, just as Dorothy has her duplicitous nature in likeness of mine. But Johan, in opposition to me, is honest. He does not hide his intentions or his thoughts because he doesn't need to. I find it refreshing.

''No more spartan than your own dwelling, Commander,'' I reply, fastening my pistol into its holster on my right thigh, ''but you have not come to banter. You're too boring for that. I take it you've heard about the latest misadventure Dorothy has me undertaking?''

''I have. You're infiltrating the Ark. Even I have to admit Dorothy's request is abrupt,'' he says thoughtfully, ''she must have been chewing on this for some time.''

''It was bound to happen,'' I shrug, ''naturally, with a hatred like hers, it was only a matter of time until I was sent to lay the groundwork of the next step.''

''Destroy the Ark,'' Johan intones.

''Precisely. Though I do not believe that's her motivation for a second, no matter what she might say,'' that piques Johan's interest.

''Oh? And why exactly is that?''

''She's a Nikke. That's really all there is to it. And more than that, she was once of the Goddess Squad,'' I fold my hands behind my back and continue, ''see how she dotes on the residents of Eden. See how she laps up their love like a thirsting dog. That is all she wants. To love and be loved, in her own twisted way. She will falter at the last moment, I am sure of that. The love of Eden is like a drug to her, and she will chase that high once the Ark is so tantalisingly close. She will not destroy it.''

Johan looks unconvinced, but I can tell that he is thinking about it. If only he'd seen the ramblings I have. He'd believe me then. But I'm not here to convince him of anything, and besides, I could be completely wrong in my assessment. But my instincts and keen mind for people have seldom steered me wrong.

''Was there something you wanted, Johan?'' I ask after a brief silence, ''I don't mean to be curt, but I do need to leave soon.''

''No reason in particular. I wanted to speak for Inherit and wish you luck.'' That throws me a little. Johan, Inherit and I have never been particularly close. My interactions with Inherit's Nikkes, barring Dorothy, are few and far between. I cannot stand to be in Noah's presence for more than a few minutes every month or so, the vexatious little imp. Isabel causes me general unease, and makes me feel the need to be armed at all times. Harran and I have a tacit agreement to be civil, but otherwise stay out of each other's way. So why would any of them wish me luck?

The look I give Johan is perfectly clear. I do not believe him.

''Hmph, fine. I found it a little pathetic that nobody would see you off, so I offered that. Frankly, nobody besides myself, Dorothy and Cecil know you're going,'' he admits. I cannot hide my amusement and laugh.

''And why, exactly? You've never been chummy with me, Johan. What's this about?''

''You're going to the heart of where all this started. You'll be deep behind enemy lines, with only your wits and your own spies for backup. You understand how dangerous this is, don't you? Whether you know it or not, you've been a big help to Eden these last few years.''

''Hmm, yes, touching. Anything else?'' I say, not caring for his concern. Is Johan getting soft?

''Chances are you'll need to become a Commander to get close to the Central Government. That means commanding Nikkes. Should you take that approach, then I'll offer you some advice,'' he says this with that usual look in his eyes, the Johan I've come to know, ''Nikkes are weapons. But they're individual people, too, no matter what the propaganda says. Treat them well. Give them the care they'll need, and you'll have invaluable allies. In my time at the Ark, I found out that the Nikkes under my command grew stronger the care they received.''

''My dear Johan, do you think so ill of me? Have you seen Inherit or the White Knights? How could groups so lively be anything but human?'' I ask, genuinely confused. What is the difference between a human and a Nikke? If you ask me, not a whole lot. In my own philosophy, a human is a set of behaviours and values. Am I less human for having undergone cybernetic augmentation? Is Johan? I would argue we are not. Us and the Nikkes are born of and are the products of humans. No Nikke can deny her human origin, and the brains within are certainly human. All that changes is the vessel. Flesh or metal, the human element remains. A Nikke can laugh, can cry, feel joy or sorrow. They can enjoy things, have preferences and favourites. They can love. And most importantly, they can feel fear. For themselves and others. Only the inhuman feels naught for itself and those around it. That is the way of monsters. Conveniently, it is what allows me to deal with both humans and Nikkes in very similar ways. Their ability to feel all human sensation is a strength, but also a crippling weakness, completely counter to their purpose. That makes them relatively easy for me to navigate, should they become a problem.

''I'm serious, Strauss,'' he replies with narrowed eyes, ''I know your job is a dirty one. Sentiment has no place in it. I'm not asking you to get attached, but I am asking that you don't merely discard them. Even Nikkes from the Ark deserve better than that.''

''I make no promises. I understand where you are coming from, but you must understand that my work requires practicality. I have had to dispose of my own agents to see my plans through. Innocents have had to die to maintain my cover. I don't enjoy those outcomes, but that is the reality of my work...''

There is a tense silence. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. So insufferably pushy.

''...But I will try. I'm a professional with professional standards. However, as I said, I promise nothing.''

Johan nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer. ''I'll take my leave. Good luck, Strauss.'' Without awaiting a response, he turns and leaves. I should be on my way as well.

At the entrance to Eden, I am greeted with one more person. One I've already seen today. Pleasantly surprised, I approach them as they lean against a wall, a rucksack in her hands.

''Cecil? I'd have thought you would have taken the chance to get some sleep,'' I say. Poor dear needs it.

''I will, believe me. But I wanted to give you this first,'' she holds the bag out to me and I take it, ''you left it in my lab the other day. I knew you'd forgotten it, so I filled it with some supplies for the road. Food, water and a medical kit,'' she says, her eyes off to one side. She can be adorable at times. Always so focused and straight forward, yet she uses that to hide how considerate she is. I reach out and place my hand on her head, gently mussing her hair. She becomes rigid but doesn't pull away, her cheeks colouring again. It seems to become too much for her and she knocks my hand away.

''Thank you, Cecil,'' I say. Things pertaining to a mission rarely slip my mind, but perhaps as a side-effect of my recent anaesthesia, I had completely forgotten handing my rucksack to the researcher.

''Just don't forget it next time,'' she grumbles, ''I could have been sleeping, but here I am looking after you.''

''And I am once again in your debt. I've decided I'll take you somewhere nice as thanks when I return. Is that to your liking?''

Her face grows redder, but she nods. ''Fine. But I choose where, understood?''

''Understood,'' I reply, laughing to myself, ''so long for now, Cecil.'' I turn and begin to make my way out.

''Stay safe, okay?'' she calls to me. I smile.

''We both know I can't do that,'' I call back. And those are the last words exchanged between us for a long time.

I travel for two weeks to find the nearest elevator down to the Ark. This one lies in a state of disrepair, the doors parted slightly. By the look of things, it came under attack some time ago. There is a mark I recognise on one of the doors as the Pilgrim's mark. So, depending on how long this has been here, there's a chance that I'm within the haunt of any one of Dorothy's old Squad. Snow White could have me in her sights right this moment. Rapunzel could offer me a place to rest. Scarlet might want a drink. But I do not wish to be discovered by any of them.

I send an encoded message back to Eden, telling them that I have located an entry point. Once I enter, my signal will disappear.

There is a panel beside the door that miraculously still functions, though the screen flickers and is so caked with dirt that it's hard to see. But it's not the screen I need. I withdraw the injection cipher decryptor and plug it into a slot on the side, then sync it with my own brain. I wait as the evolving code does its work, adapting and entering hundreds of thousands of codes per second, until finally, one of the doors opens. I slip inside, only to find that the shaft is empty. The lift is gone, still all the way at the bottom, thousands of meters down. Luckily, the shaft is quite wide, with an access ladder next to the lift mechanism. It isn't ideal, but at least there is a way down.

I begin my descent, rung by rung, passing by dim maintenance lights as I go. I look down, seeing the yawning abyss below, so deep that even the intermittent lights are swallowed by darkness. One misstep, one slip of my hands will still send me plummeting hundreds of feet before hitting something. And there is nobody here to help me. What a thrill.

Hours pass. My descent is slow, and occasionally there is a catwalk where I can stop and rest. As I do, I observe relics from the time of the Ark's construction. There are old plastic cups and mugs on the reinforcement beams. Tools lie forgotten. Magazines lie dusty and faded on the metal grating. Measurements are scrawled in chalk on the walls. What a colossal undertaking all of this must have been. This is only one of the many elevator shafts that lead to the surface, but this alone must have taken so much time and so many resources. I find it quite amazing what mankind is capable of when pushed into a corner. Building an underground city. Creating weapons once thought inconceivable. Surviving despite the overwhelming force determined to kill it. We truly are the cockroaches of the mammalian variety. I suppose, in the end, that's what makes us worthy. The surface is ours and ours alone. Everything that lives only does so because we allow it. That is what it means to be at the apex of evolution on your world. At least, that's how it used to be. We will reclaim the surface one day, mankind just needs to get out of its own way.

The food Cecil packed for me is delicious. Some bags of dried fruit, some bread and cured meats, along with nutrient bars are kept in small, light refrigerated boxes. Water is kept chilled by a tall metal flask that I have half-emptied by this point. As great as the food she gave me is, there are only enough provisions for a week, provided I eat small amounts every eight hours. The rest of my food had to be caught on the way here. Lizards and snakes are plentiful, and while I would prefer deer, I haven't the time to skin it or preserve the meat.

I continue my descent soon after eating. Down, down and down, my temperature reader tells me it's getting colder. But I know I'm getting close to the bottom. On my descent, I spot an access doorway off to my left, opening into a dark void. I change my vision to night mode, and I see the world washed in different hues, while every object has a distinct outline. I step through and my boots crunch onto gravel as I emerge onto a ridge, where the remnants of scaffolding have lay for at least half a century. This must be where the shaft can be accessed for maintenance, meaning this might area might be frequently used. But that thought takes a back seat for the moment, as I take in the sight of the Ark.

Perching low on a rock, I magnify my vision several times. Far below, sparkling in the darkness with powerful lights, advertisement holograms and the great dome over the Ark proper, is the only other bastion of humanity besides Eden. I can see various transparent tubes reaching from far below, up to the dark stone ceiling at various points across the Ark. Those must be their quick-transit elevators, nothing like the more robust, utilitarian one I had used. Thinking about it, it must have been some kind of freight elevator, only meant to be used during the Ark's construction.

I send out an encrypted signal to my agents within the Peony Association. I pick them because of the profile I received about their leader, Moran, some months ago, and I believe gaining her trust will be the easiest path. You see, I cannot alert all of my agents to my presence, as the ones I have inside of the Peony Association, Seimeikai and Hedonia are not aware of each other, as was my intention when I first began operations here. There is a reason for this. This may seem distasteful, but I know that the best opportunities come at times of strife. With various cells being unaware of each other, I can send conflicting information and have the cells begin to fight, while keeping myself removed from the situation and creating openings.

The reply comes quickly. Now that they're aware I am here, I begin navigating my way down the slopes of the chasm. It proves a treacherous endeavour, as rocks crumble away, tumbling into the darkness below. My enhanced strength and reflexes make traversal much easier than if I were unaugmented. There are precious few footholds, but after careful effort, I make it down to the outer plateau of the Ark.

Someone then hails me on my comms and I answer. There is no image of the caller, just as I instructed.

''Quis custodiet,'' I begin.

''Ipsos custodes,'' comes the reply. This is a code phrase used when opening communications. Of course, the encrypted line has to be accessed first. I offer the first part of the phrase, and I know it is an agent of mine if they can finish it. As it happens, Latin is as dead as a language can be, so very, very few people know the phrase. Then, they must speak the phrase in English as a final confirmation.

''Who watches the watchers. Welcome to the Ark, Prime Oculus,'' my agent says, using my operational name only known by my operatives. The voice is light, high-pitched and young. Ah, I see. My agents have been quite busy, haven't they? They are well equipped, abundant with food and other necessities that the down-trodden people of the Outer Rim no doubt clamour for daily. When trying to establish a foothold, you first appeal to the people who would most benefit from working for you. Offer them rewards, things necessary to their survival. Provide them safety and a sense of purpose and belonging. Who benefits from such things the most? Children. Unassuming, non-threatening children. There are few better to act in a clandestine fashion and expect little in return. Adults can become demanding or have loyalties elsewhere, while children are easier to shape into the perfect spies with unshakeable loyalty.

''Thank you, dear girl. Where is my entry point?'' I ask in a kindly manner.

''Sending you the nearest entry point now, sir,'' she replies, though she cannot hide her awe. I wonder what stories she has been told about me to elicit such a reaction. I would be truly surprised if my agents took it upon themselves to drum up some hype for me, as it were. Well, no matter. What matters is that she does as she is supposed to.

In my vision, a marker appears that directs me to move another 300 meters on the left-most side. Once there, I see a fissure in the wall that had once been a sewerage gate. But it is dry, like it hasn't been used in quite some time. It is half my height, and only slightly wider than my shoulders, so it will be a tight crawl. On my hands and knees, I make my way through a thankfully clear pipe, then after several minutes, I emerge within a water treatment plant.

''Welcome, Prime Oculus,'' a man says and bows his head. With him are several others, each in the ragged clothing common in the Outer Rim. However, where the actual denizens are dirty and malnourished, my agents are lean and just grimy enough to move without suspicion. ''We greet you on behalf of the Peony cell.''

''At ease,'' I say as I look around, pleased that my agents had taken hold of a key piece of infrastructure. This grants them power in the Outer Rim. I look into the man's eyes and see he is eager to speak. I smile. ''So, how are things?''

Taking a crack at Nikke. Played since week 3 and still playing, so I'm pretty into it. This is kind of a 'what if' seeing what would happen if Eden sent a competent spy into the Ark, who then gets wrapped up in the events that go on. If anyone knows 40k, then the influence here should be obvious, cos this has Alpha Legion all over it. By all means, feel free to fav, follow and review if you enjoyed. Until next time.