Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil
Date: December 11th, 9 PM, the Year 2050
Location: Fate City (Capital)
Code: J.H.
The screen flickered as the broadcast cut through the haze of cigarette smoke that hung over the bar.
"This is Fate's Freedom Fighter News. We are the only source of news that provides unfiltered information to the public; please consider donating to our cause by visiting FFF.com." The announcer's voice carried a practiced urgency. "Now... back to the news."
I nursed my drink, watching the patrons around me—outcasts, drifters, people who lived in the shadows of Fate City's gleaming towers. My kind of people. Or at least, they used to be.
"Yesterday, the President addressed the 'Leak Incident,'" the announcer continued. "Earlier this week, classified documents were exposed to the public by someone calling themselves 'Phantom.' The document labeled 'Crime Report 2023' revealed a 40% increase in crime rates over the last decade—while official news networks conveniently reported on everything but: the latest campaign, the opening of a new sports hall."
The screen showed footage of the President, his expression stern. "The public shouldn't worry about crime rates; it will only cause chaos. We have already set up the required systems to tackle the problem."
I scoffed quietly. The required systems. Like me, I supposed—a newly minted Special Investigator with the Peace Walkers Unit. The contract I'd signed still felt like a betrayal of everything I once stood for. Power and clearance in exchange for freedom. The scales never quite balanced.
"You seem distant all of a sudden," said Grey.
I turned to face him. As always, he wore his impeccable grey suit, the only person in this den of iniquity who looked like he didn't belong—yet seemed utterly at ease. With his grey beard and the age spots dotting his face and hands, someone might mistake him for an easy target. But no one ever approached Grey. Not even in this place.
"Life has felt surreal lately," I admitted. "I'm starting to question if what I've been doing aligns with what I stand for. If what I've been doing is... me."
Grey's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'm surprised you think you know 'who you are.' When I was your age, I was very far from that." He leaned closer. "On some level, I feel like you're lying to yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"Jack," the bartender interrupted, wiping down the counter with a rag that had seen better days. "Sorry, but you asked me to keep track of time. It's almost midnight; I think you guys should go. It's been chaotic in this part, more than usual."
Grey nodded. "Yes, our friend is right. We can continue our conversation another time."
A sharp ringing pierced my thoughts—my newly issued receiver. I knew what that meant: my first assignment.
"Sorry," I said, standing. "I have to take this."
Outside, the night air was sharp with winter's approach. I tapped my ear to answer.
"Jack, right?" The voice was modulated, almost mechanical.
"Yes, sir. Who am I talking to?"
"Call me Oracle. Your new assignment has been decided. Location: York Building. All details have been sent to your receiver. To enter the building, you'll need to activate the newly issued Specter mode programmed into your Cyber Armor." The voice paused. "Good luck, Special Investigator Jack."
As the call disconnected, Grey emerged from the bar, his silhouette outlined by the neon lights behind him.
"Be careful out there, Jack," he said, extending his hand. "I'll see you some other time."
"You too," I replied, shaking it. "I need to go now."
As we parted ways, a familiar dread crept up my spine—that same lingering fear I'd felt in Hope City. The one I swore I wouldn't let consume me again. Not this time. This time, I would face whatever was coming.
York Building stood as one of three massive towers dominating Fate City's center, situated in what officials called the "better" part of the city. One of the most heavily guarded structures in Fate, it served as neutral ground—a meeting place where government officials and crime families alike conducted their business. A symbol of common ground, the last wall, the emblem of safety in a crumbling world.
And now it had been violated.
Rain fell in sheets as I approached, the cold wind cutting through my jacket and seeming to reach my bones. Behind me, a crowd had gathered despite the late hour and foul weather, their faces blank with shock and disbelief. The incident had occurred hours ago, evidence had been collected, and yet nothing had been found.
Assigning a new recruit as lead investigator on such a high-profile case was unusual, to say the least. But with the crime report leak and whatever else was happening in the shadows of Fate City, I supposed the more experienced investigators had their hands full.
"Such a mess," I muttered. "I joined at the absolute worst time."
As I crossed the threshold into York Building, my vision blurred then refocused, revealing a simulation of the crime scene. A soft female voice spoke directly into my ear.
"The latest technology from the science department. What you are seeing are snapshots of the crime scene. If you wish to learn more about any elements, announce 'Augmented Mode,' which will connect your lenses to the PW database. If you wish to simulate the smell of the scene or any other sensory input, announce 'Senses.' If you announce 'Senses' without specifying a particular sense, the system will activate all senses. For more information about available commands, announce 'Assistant: Command List.' Thank you, and good luck with your mission."
I sighed. "Great, now I'm one step closer to insanity. Another voice in my head. I should really start thinking carefully about my life choices." I paused. "At least it sounds soothing with all this shit going on."
"Thank you, Jack. That's considerate of you."
I blinked. "How do I turn off the interactive mode?"
"It's quite simple. Just announce 'Solitude with functionality setting turned on.'"
"Alright, no hard feelings."
"Yes, Jack. I understand."
"Solitude with functionality setting turned on," I said. "Augmented Mode activated."
I hesitated, considering whether to simulate the full sensory experience. "This is it for now."
The banquet hall materialized before me, labels floating above objects of interest. The space was massive—as large as the parking lot adjacent to the building, which had been built to accommodate hundreds of vehicles. The room resembled a dining hall from some ancient aristocratic estate, complete with a chandelier suspended overhead that looked heavy enough to create a crater if it fell.
"Fucking hell, this place is massive," I whispered.
As I took in more details, the full horror of what had happened here began to register. This wasn't just a crime scene—it was a massacre. Bodies lay everywhere, some piled atop others.
"So many..." My stomach lurched.
Three years in the force, and this was my first time seeing so many casualties in one place. The taste of bile rose in my throat.
"Shut your eyes," I commanded myself.
Despite all the footage and protocols I'd studied during my three months of training, nothing had prepared me for this. Images flashed unbidden through my mind—my brain recreating how it must have played out. Gunshots. Slashing blades. Screams. My heart rate accelerated with each new image.
Then other memories surfaced: empty halls, an abandoned building, people running for their lives, explosions. Hope City. The shock response was immediate and overwhelming.
"Enter 'Peace Simulation,'" I gasped.
I opened my eyes to find the world around me transformed. I stood beside a fireplace with two benches in a field of grass under a starry night. Warm breeze caressed my skin.
"Turn on Lullaby."
Soft humming filled my consciousness as I struggled to regain control.
"Calm the fuck down," I told myself. "This is your first serious mission, and you're acting like a weakling. Calm down."
After several minutes of measured breathing, I felt steady enough to continue.
"Turn off Peace Simulation and Augmented Mode. Visualize the crime scene without the victims, with 100% accuracy."
The scenery shifted again. This time I stood in an empty hall. The walls were adorned with paintings, untouched by the violence that had occurred here—like they existed in a different dimension altogether. One painting occupied an entire wall, immediately drawing my attention. Like the hall itself, it depicted a scene of destruction, though on a much larger scale: a city in ruins.
"Hope City," I whispered.
"Give me more information about all the paintings in this room," I instructed the system.
"There are a total of three paintings," the assistant's voice replied.
"The Cycle, 1999, by G.F.; meaning of the initials unknown and not present in existing databases. The painter left a small note: 'There is no black and white, only grey. The cycle of mankind keeps going forever. The cycle of destruction and creation. Whoever gains knowledge and mastery over these two fields will become equal to god.' Valued at 200 million."
"The Saviours, 2005, by Isabella F.; last name unknown and not present in existing databases. The painting depicts two babies facing each other. According to J.J. of the Fate City Art Society: 'The painting beams with life; it gives you the feeling of comfort; it gives you faith in everything good.' Valued at 400 million."
"The Fall of Hope City, 2010, painter unknown. Depicts the destruction of the city caused by a massive explosion. J.J. of the Fate City Art Society writes: 'A snapshot of the moment when what used to be the science and technology hub of Destiny, The Hope of Destiny, died.' Valued at 200 million."
I frowned. "Is there any noticeable damage on any of them?"
"Running diagnostic..." The system paused. "There is no damage on any paintings due to the protective frequency field set to prevent physical and Cyber Armor attacks."
According to the files, other members of the Peace Walkers Unit had already examined the crime scene and found no usable evidence. Any place I thought to look would have already been analyzed.
"Was the frequency field on any object in the room altered in any way?" I asked.
"There is a slight change in the frequency of the field on the painting titled 'The Fall of Hope City.'"
My pulse quickened. "This can't be a coincidence."
I approached the painting to examine the field. As I stepped closer, something shifted—in the air, in my perception, in reality itself. The world around me began to warp and fade, and I felt myself being pulled backward through time and space.
Back to Hope City.
Before its destruction.