He held out a hand. Electricity flashed, and a handheld device appeared from thin air. Some people cheered and applauded as if they thought it was all a show. He sneered at them.
"What I have in my hand is a cloak disruptor, created to break down invisible barriers, or light manipulation camouflage." He glanced upward. "Like the veneer that coats the shielding of this Haven. You were led to believe that the outside world is a barren wasteland. Obviously, you were lied to. Now see where your imprisoners hold you captive. This is step one of your liberation."
He clicked a button on the device. The sky rippled in response, barrier fading away like frost against heated vents. The crowds pointed, shouting in fear and astonishment as the truth revealed itself. The world beyond was dark as a starless night, but the blazing light from the Haven brightened enough of the surrounding area for everyone to see the shocking and unmistakable truth.
The entire Haven was underwater.
Ripples created a light show across the entire city, casting light and shadow back and forth in colorful patterns. Shadowy shapes flitted around the domed surface — marine creature startled by the sudden burst of luminosity. Faint shadows were barely visible: gigantic spouts and cables running from the Haven to the surface, crusted by coral and barnacles. Beyond the blue-green light was darkness, gloomy depths that inexplicably made the Haven feel claustrophobic despite its immense size.
An angry roar rose from the crowd as they milled around, shouting and raising fists in outrage. The lines of police units exercised the better part of valor, falling back to avoid the inevitable explosion of ugly violence about to unfold.
Kilgore soaked in the furious cries of the crowd before continuing. "And that's not even the most devious part of your violation. What's even worse are the synthetic humanoids that move in your midst, indistinguishable from yourselves, constructed for the sole purpose of manipulating you into a sense of false security and stability. Some of these vulgar constructs are your friends, your employers, your lovers, yes — even your family. More than fifty percent of New Haven's population aren't even human. They are machines: prison guards without a uniform, created for one purpose: to keep you content in your shackles."
He held up his other hand, and light flickered across his palm, summoning a cylindrical device. "I'll show you the truth, and as the ancient saying goes: it will set you free." With a savage grin, he clicked a button.
For a few tension-building seconds, nothing happened. Then the screams erupted, followed by ripples through the crowd as hundreds, then thousands of bodies toppled like dominoes. Whatever signal Kilgore activated resulted in shutting down the core system of any synoid in range. As the synthetic bodies crashed to the ground, his voice swelled like booming thunder.
"Now you know the truth. And who is responsible for your imprisonment? Every lie and deception can be placed at the feet of one man: Michael Trudo, otherwise known as Mick Trubble, the so-called Troubleshooter. But that alias is just a lie, like everything else in this Haven. Michael Trudo is an HSSC agent, sent to infiltrate, assassinate, and undermine. It was his plan to flood the city and force the hand of the Haven Council to surrender to the HSSC. He's responsible for deaths and drownings, responsible for the total collapse of this city."
My face flashed on every screen and holographic display: a mugshot from one of the times I'd had my elbows checked in the meat locker. The profile stared from the digital projections with icy eyes and an arrogant smirk, gazing at the furious assembly as if mocking their outrage.
Kilgore gazed impassively from the holo-screen. "There is your enemy, your betrayer. Find him, and you can stop the destruction of everything you love. Tear this city apart and bring him here for judgment. But beware: there are more blue-blooded automatons beyond the reach of my signal. Trust no one outside of this Square, because they will be on his side. Destroy the synoids, retake your city from the traitors in police uniforms, and take down the bureaucrats that willingly enslaved your minds. But above alclass="underline" bring Michael Trudo to me. It is the only way to win your freedom. It is the only way to save your lives."
It was at that point that Flask must have decided to roll the dice and gamble large, because police drones and floaters dropped from the sky: blinding searchlights sweeping the crowd, loud instructions blaring from megaphones. Android riot units spilled into the crowd with electric batons in hand and protective plasma shields activated. The mob did the only thing that cornered, angry masses do when boxed in by overbearing law enforcement: they fought back. And since nobody in New Haven walked out their door without a piece of iron on their person, things went south quickly. The booming and crackling sounds could have been mistaken for festive fireworks on any other occasion. Instead, it was open warfare, blood spilling on the streets of a city that long embraced anarchy and violence. The mob broke the ranks of police and spilled into the streets of Uptown, burning buildings, firing weapons, pulling wealthy occupants from their plush apartments, and beating them down on the sidewalks. Everything descended into mindless chaos.
But opportunity could always be had in the middle of chaos, if a body had the nerve. I had plenty.
I didn't make it five steps outside the exit of the parking garage before a group of hooligans spotted me. They approached with bullying swagger, taking their time to form a semicircle while hefting sawed-offs, pistols, and bludgeoning weapons already stained with blue blood.
"Lookee here, boys: fresh meat. You ain't wearing a tag, mister. Too bad for you. What's in the case? Money? Drugs?"
I squinted at the dog tags around their necks, glimmering blue in the dim light. "You get those at your little party in the Square?"
The lead thug grinned. "That's right. Anyone not wearing one might be a blueblood. Or working for that traitor Mike Trudo. And since you got your face covered, my guess is you're probably one of his agents."
I shifted my stance, teeth clenched. "That's where you're wrong, Slick. I'm wearing a mask because I am Mike Trudo. So take a good look, 'cause this is the last face you're gonna see in your short, miserable life."
I pulled the Mean Ol' Broad and fired, dropping him with a headshot. His buddies panicked, cursing and scattering while firing increasingly erratic shots. I didn't even have to move as I took all the time in the world to aim and drop six more bodies before I clicked empty. The remaining bangers thought better and hit the corner while I reloaded. I kept moving, clearing the alley and stepping out into the main avenue.
The city burned.
Vehicles were bonfires, and small crowds celebrated around them, cheering as sparks clashed with the rain. Fire bloomed in the windows of the towering buildings as welclass="underline" choking the air with smoke, creating a misty haze in the streets, and practically shrouding the domed shielding so that the watery deep was barely visible. The massive crowd at the Square had splintered off into hundreds of smaller groups marked by the glowing tags around their necks. Most didn't hesitate to attack anyone not wearing one, and true to Kilgore's word, blue blood spattered on the streets from some of their victims. Most of the blood was red, but the attackers didn't care at that point. They rode on the high of bloodlust, a thrill that could only be satisfied by the next assault.
They weren't the only hunters on the prowl. Selene's people mixed in with the crowds, standing out in their combat leathers, eyes searching, scanning for any sign of me. There were probably hundreds of them, combing every part of the city that wasn't underwater. At one point, I saw a squad of Wildcats engaged in a violent throwdown with a group of street thugs. It was over quickly, leaving a lot of bangers littering the streets. I kept my head low and my finger on the trigger, hoping things didn't come to a face-to-face encounter. I had a soft spot for dames, but nothing was going to stop me from what I had to do.