I glanced at Natalie, who appeared as unimpressed as I felt. She shrugged as if the information was of no import.
"What do you want us to do?"
Deacon smiled. "Simultaneous duo-op. Your boy Mike infiltrates a youth center sponsored by King and will get further orders once he's inside. I have something else for you. Whack-a-perv. You know the drill."
Her lips twisted. "So long as he gets his in the end."
"You get the coup-de-grace as always."
I didn't know what they were talking about, so I let it go over my head. I picked up a halo from the table and placed across my brow like a visor. A screen winked into view, detailing my assignment. I focused on the specifics while Deacon and Natalie broke down her mission.
The next day we went our separate ways. Natalie squeezed my shoulders and leaned over to whisper in my ear.
"This is going to work out, Mike. You'll do great. I know it."
That was all I needed to hear.
It took little time to work my way into the good graces of the youth center's leadership. I knew all the ways to gain sympathy and applied myself as a hard worker with an honest streak that set me apart from many of the other troubled youths the workers dealt with. I volunteered for the worst tasks, from cleaning toilets to working in the outside gardens in the hot sun. The social workers let me be, confident I didn't need supervision.
Which made it a simple task to install the device that killed Daniel King.
It was a simple laser drill activated by sensors placed at opposite ends of the doorway of King's personal office. Only powerful enough to fire a single shot, it burned right through his temples as he passed through. While his panicked aides ran for help, I removed the sensors and left the facility before authorities arrived. The security cameras never recorded me because Frankie hacked the system, rendering me invisible.
The attack was pinned on the Radicals, a militant group that opposed King's approach, preferring more confrontational ways of dealing with the city's problems. While I had infiltrated the youth center, Natalie wormed her way into the heart of Gary Flynt, the chief of the Responders police force. Unknown to most, Chief Flynt had a thing for young girls, and at fifteen years old, Natalie was still in the target age group for Flynt's attention. She kept him interested while finding creative ways to avoid any intimate interaction.
Taking full advantage of his perverted attention, she filled his head with rumors of the Radicals threatening to assassinate King. Though skeptical at first, Flynt took the misinformation seriously after King's death. He activated the Android Military Forces, ordering a raid on the Radical's headquarters despite knowing the function of the AMF was search and destroy. As anyone could have guessed, the result was a bloodbath. The AMF systematically eliminated anyone who resisted.
After that, the city burned.
Chief Flynt tried to justify his methods, but enraged supporters of King forgot his message of peaceful resolution and battled it out on the streets with the AMF and Responder units. The remaining members of the Radicals planted bombs in strategic locations in the city, blowing up government facilities in response to the assassination. The chaos lasted for days, and the body count was catastrophic; mostly civilians caught in the middle of the explosions and shootings. The incumbent mayor was sequestered in his compound with dwindling prospects that dimmed further when EMP attacks crippled the city, disabling the majority of the android forces in the process.
A month later, the city waved a white flag. A distress signal was sent to the United Havens, requesting military aid in exchange for the assimilation of Chicago into the territory of the UH. Massive reinforcements moved in, ruthlessly eliminating any resistance. In the ensuing takeover, no one asked any questions or paid any attention when Chief Flynt was found naked and hog-tied in his basement with his throat slashed from ear to ear. I never asked Natalie if she did it.
In the end, it didn't matter. We were both murderers, oblivious to what the word really meant. I never questioned the morality of my actions. My world consisted of the HSSC's youth program and Natalie. Beyond that were hunger, pain, and death. I didn't want to return to the dark, lonely world I came from. If it came down to killing for the HSSC or going back to that life, the choice was easy.
We saw little of Deacon in the following months. He'd been promoted to some prestigious rank, overseeing the regime change and busying himself with his new bureaucratic duties. Me and Natalie returned to the YRP, where we presided as senior officers. We broke in new recruits and managed the program to produce results as we had. Life returned to the normal routine. The city may have changed, but our responsibilities didn't. Rebels and spies still infiltrated the city, and it was our job to listen, report, and follow orders.
We were finally summoned to report to Deacon some months later at the tallest building in the city, which was renamed Haven Tower. We were air-shuttled to the top, where Deacon's new office was stationed. He turned from the view of the skyline when we entered. He looked cleaner than I'd ever seen him, in a crisp white shirt and pleated black slacks. His hair gleamed, and the five o'clock shadow on his jaw was trimmed so close it looked airbrushed. He flashed a genuine smile, another rarity.
"The firecracker and the troubleshooter. Come in, have a seat."
We settled into the plush leather armchairs in front of his massive, gleaming desk. The entire floor had been fashioned into a penthouse office suite cunningly compromised to function as a state-of-the-art command hub without losing its elegant state of residential luxury.
I wasn't impressed. Extravagance meant little to me, as I had everything I needed and suffered for nothing. I'd seen enough proof that the more a person had, the more it could be leveraged against him or lost entirely. I was determined to need nothing and therefore suffer nothing. Natalie was the only person I cared for, and that was never a burden.
Deacon raised a glass of scotch. "I suppose you thought I forgot all about you. Turned my back on our humble little project." He shook his head. "No, I never forget the people that helped me get here. They didn't believe I could do it. Command told me I was wasting my time using raw youth recruits. Told me it was a career ender."
He barked a laugh. "Now they're all asking how I did it. Everyone's begging for the blueprint." He downed his drink and gazed over the rim at us with those glimmering, cybernetic eyes. "And you two were a major part of making it happen. I had a foundation in place, but your little core group was the linchpin that brought it all together. I'm proud of the work we did together."
We both nodded. "Thank you, sir."
"So, what is it I can do for you? Don't be shy or modest."
I needed nothing, so I glanced at Natalie. She spoke up immediately.
"Agent status."
Deacon raised an eyebrow, but there was no surprise on his face. "Can't say that's entirely unexpected. Ambition burns like a fire in you, doesn't it? But Agent… You're only sixteen, Natalie. Your quiet friend there just turned fourteen last week. You'll never pass the training. It's too intense."
"You passed at fifteen."
A smile tugged the corner of this mouth. "I was a special case."
"So are we. We've done work here that Agents couldn't get done. We'll be the best there is, I promise. You just have to give us a shot."
His fingers drummed against the tabletop. "So familiar. I recall saying something similar to my commanding officer, so many years ago. I suppose I can't fault you for being like me, even if I want to. You don’t know what it is you're asking. Not yet. But I can't stop you from finding out firsthand."