Haven Core.
The Haven was assembled in what used to be lower Manhattan back when New York existed. Most of the island was demolished, the rest overrun by the wild foliage of what used to be Central Park. The sprawling, ramshackle buildings of Neo York surrounded the Haven like debris from a massive explosion. Haven Core was a massive globe of corrugated alloy plating, three times taller than the tallest building in Neo York. Impenetrable and inaccessible, it loomed over the surrounding buildings, cloaking them in deep shadow like a planet rising over the surface of a moon.
No one in Neo York could say what secrets lay behind the tightly sealed doors of the Haven. Residents were chosen on a weekly basis through the lottery. Once selected, the lucky recipient would say their goodbyes before being escorted by a company of robotic Peacekeepers and shuttled into the Haven through the Gateway, a long tunnel protected by motion-activated drone guns, electric and laser wires, and remotely activated mines. The tunnel could also be sealed off and flooded, engulfed in fire, or deprived of oxygen. There had been no successful illegal entrance, despite innumerable attempts by the desperate or daring.
An old man stepped beside Jett; eyes fixed on the Haven. "Sight to see, ain't it? I never get tired of looking at it."
"Yeah. This place used to be called the Big Apple. Now all that's left is the Core."
The old man chuckled. "That's a good one. Ever wonder what it's like? What's inside that shell?"
Jett frowned, remembering his experience so long ago. He once walked the broad avenues, gaped in wonder at the streamlined architecture and advanced technology. He saw the stasis chambers that would preserve humanity, ushering them into a bold, glorious new era. He recalled the sensation of dumbstruck amazement, the staggering notion of what was to come. That was before he knew better. Before he realized it didn't matter how awe-inspiring a construction was if it was filled with corruption and greed.
"I know exactly what's inside."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Disappointment."
He turned away, ignoring the old man's stare before taking his place in line to board the airship. Passengers were packed tightly inside until there was standing room only. Jett gave his seat up to an elderly woman, who smiled in gratitude.
The ship lurched off the ground like a whale leaving shallow waters, propelling to flight across the city from one drop point to the next. The neighborhoods were blasted remnants of the New York he remembered; shattered husks of once-imposing structures, mean housing tenements and rusty shipping container tenements like his own. They left the Warrens, sailing over the renamed Five Districts: Manhaven, The Breaks, Kings, Brickland, and Freshkills Island, where Jett made his exit.
Leaving the station, he was struck by the sheer stupidity of his plan. What the hell are you thinking? You have to be at work in five hours. Go home, go to sleep, laugh it off in the morning.
The voice was so rational that for a tremulous second, he almost listened. But another thought surfaced, one far more aggressive than the first.
Raise hell, die well.
Jett's jaw clenched. He straightened, slung the bag over his shoulder, and took the lift down to the suffocating depths of the Grindbox streets.
Flakes of snash drifted down, turning the sidewalks and streets into slush. Jet walked casually as he dared, darting furtive glances to make sure no one was tailing him. He was in foreign territory, outside his comfort zone in the Warrens. He knew little about the Grindbox; only it was a vast network of industrial buildings where anything from vehicle parts to black market contraband was manufactured and sold. The buildings were squat and ugly, dusted in soot and dirt, marked by graffiti from competing gangs.
The remains of a massive bridge loomed overhead like the broken vertebrae of a rusty dinosaur, overlain with vines and housing an ecosystem of wildlife. Jett paused underneath to activate the coordinates he received from LeBlanc. A five-minute walk took him to at a large, unmarked factory building in the thick of the district. It was built like a fortress, complete with armed guards at the main entrance. Jett stuck to the other side of the street and took a slow stroll around the building, trying to see if there were alternative entry points. Whatever the building was, it was locked tighter than a bank vault.
His holoband buzzed on his wrist. He frowned. Who in the world is calling? The only one with his number was Harry at work. And Agent Banks. Did I give my number to LeBlanc? He couldn't remember. His holoband continued to buzz, but no contact info showed up on the display. He finally took the call.
A scrambled voice crackled over the line. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut to the chase, Jett. You've already aroused the suspicions of the guards by your little conspicuous stroll. If you really want to get to your target, I suggest you move before they decide to pull you aside for a painful little chat."
Jett placed a finger on the datcom in his ear. "Who is this?"
"Someone who knew Wayne Thomas very well. Someone who knows you have the helmet and g-spans, and what you plan to use them for."
Jett's heart went into overdrive. He instinctively ducked down, searching the vicinity. Cold streets and buildings stared back with mocking emptiness. "How can I trust you?"
"How can you not? Two guards are headed your way. Duck into the alley, then enter the adjacent building."
Jett had little choice but to obey, dashing down the narrow backstreet until he found a door. He tried the handle.
"It's locked."
"Hold on." A series of keyboard taps were audible over the line. "Okay, now."
The locks clicked as they were disengaged. Jett opened the door and darted inside, gently shutting it just as voices became audible around the corner. The locks bolted into place.
Jett heard the guards as they approached.
"Thought I saw him go this way."
"Check the door."
Jett held his breath when they tugged on the handle.
"The door's locked. Must have gone around the corner."
"Move your ass; maybe we can catch him."
Their footsteps receded down the alley. Jett exhaled a sigh of relief, tapping the earpiece.
"Okay, I trust you. Whoever you are."
"Call me Incognito."
"Really? Now I really feel reassured."
"You should. I've been protecting you since before you got on the airship. Cloned your holoband so your movements won't be traced. We can talk about it when you wrap this up. For now, I'll guide you from here. First, you'll want to dress the part if you want to play the part."
"Oh, yeah. Right." Setting the bag down, he opened it and removed the headgear and g-spans. The fully enclosed helmet slid into place over his head and the interior illuminated, data screens visible but not obstructing his view. The gauntlets lit up, pulsing with harnessed energy.
"Put the trench on too," Incognito said.
"The coat? It'll just get in the way."
"It's lined with anti-Newtonian liquid armor, capable of stopping rounds from average firearms. Won't do much against a biogun or other energy weapons, but it's better protection than what you're wearing now, which is nothing."
"Point taken." Jett pulled the trench coat on. It didn't feel much different than regular heavy fabric, but it was slightly stiffer. He didn't think it would hinder his movements.
"All right, Jett. The warehouse you're in is abandoned. Take the stairs up to the roof."
Jett followed the instructions, ascending several flights of rickety stairs. Water dripped down the walls from the damaged ceiling. The stairwell was swathed in gloom, but his night vision sensors automatically clicked on, allowing him to climb without breaking his neck.