Sector 10

Chapter One

Amidst fire and debris, a girl wept. A younger girl lay in her quivering arms, bruised and broken. The weeping girl, around fourteen years of age, held the girl closer to her, whispering words of desperate apology. Like a flag clinging to a pole in a storm, her black, platinum-streaked hair flew around as the toxins and smoke became more unbearable and the spread of fire larger. Finally standing, she coughed up smoke and ran out of the scene with the child in her arms.

The darkness enfolded her, welcomed her. The girl that she once held was gone and she frantically searched blindly for her. A woman's voice started talking, clouded by white noise and a distant ringing. The girl gave up her futile search and fell to her knees, clutching her temples.

"It's all your fault."

Tears streaked down her face, collecting soot and dirt as they slid down.

"Why weren't you quicker?"

She screamed.

"You abandoned her, Ai."

---

I woke up, out of breath. I brushed my cheeks with my hands, and they came back glazed with wiped tears. I rested my arm against my forehead and laid in silence, staring at the ceiling. It was a dull view. Just the dark, bluey-grey concrete. I twisted my head towards my bedside table, checking the clock. 5:48pm, it read in blue light. I reached out my hand, tapping around the desk until I felt my phone. As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I scrolled through my notifications until I found the name Sean. To: Silver. Sabre successfully recovered the data from M538 yesterday but there are some minorities I need you to handle. All are part of the night cycle. Attached was a file containing pictures and intel on the 'minorities.' Three this time. And not very far from my apartment block.

I grunted and sat upright, stretching. I peeled the sheets off me and slid out of bed. It was dark, but the city lights peeking through the blinds were enough for me to make out the dark shapes in my room. I changed in the dark and put on what I always wore. It was a black trench-style leather jacket which stopped at my knees and had a hood attached. I always paired it with black pants and knee-length boots. I attached a gun holster to my right thigh, filling the compartment with a Sanders CZ 85. Mǔqīn would've said I stand out too much, too much black, blah blah blah. But I don't normally go places I'd be visible in that often.

Walking to the window, I pulled the blinds back. It revealed soaring skyscrapers bathed in neon light. Everywhere you looked, there was a flashing screen or sign, promoting their company or product. A monorail fabricated from behind a building, then disappeared beyond another. And far below, bustling crowds of people. No one used cars anymore; the government of Sector 10 had them removed to help prevent the contamination of pollution in the air. They weren't used much in old Tokyo anyway. The main form of transport was either travelling by foot or taking the monorails. Regardless, we didn't need to get far that often because we're all couped up in our own districts. After a political dispute that took place many years ago, the entire world fell into chaos, splitting into Sectors with their own reserved supplies.

It looked like a metropolitan paradise. But there were too many noticeable areas that contrasted. Tucked away in alleyways were holes in brick walls and open drains leading underground to the slums. Where the unfortunate reside. Where you can only seek warmth through open fires and burn barrels. Where the amount of food you could eat varied based on your thievery skills. You could catch sight of some of the rust and decaying debris crawling through the drains. Metropolitan hell.

Strapping a sniper rifle around my back, I pulled my hood down until the shadow it created concealed my eyes. Here, it wasn't unusual to sleep through day and wake up in the night. During the night, citizens properly get the chance to enjoy the nature of our Sector.

Some are part of the night cycle simply for the sake of being in the night cycle. I'm part of it because my job is easier in the dark.

I opened a window on another wall and left through the fire escape. Having lacked reconstruction in many years, the steel was weakened and creaked under my feet. My destination wasn't far.

A building was situated on the left of me, the fire escape stairs protruding out. I leapt. My hands wrapped around the rail, and I heaved myself up, heading towards the roof before jumping to another one. This process continued until I reached the roof of a building that sat on a quiet street. I sauntered to the edge.

Syndicate members normally took jobs from magnates: the wealthy and the lucky. The Syndicate did the jobs that could not be revealed to the public, the groups consisting of mercenaries and other hired criminals. If they weren't currently hired for a magnate, the focus was on taking out other competition (members) in such a way, no one will ever know it was you. Almost like a game. That was the way of life as a syndicate. Unrelenting tension between other members and unrelenting greed for the magnate's dirty money; observing the interactions between members is really quite interesting, if you asked me. Yet I am simply a minion - Sean's sniper. If you wanted to live a quiet life, you can do so with low earnings. If you wanted to earn a better keep, you step out on the battlefield of the criminal underworld.

There were only a few people walking along this street. I watched as a boy, his clothing slightly tattered, nicked a leather purse from a woman's handbag before darting away, out of sight.

Averting my gaze, I spotted him. Just as the file said, he arrived at a ramen stand to receive his daily intake. His hair was dark with an undercut and he wore a white button-up shirt. I reached behind me and pulled out my rifle. It was sleek, dark, and silent. My pride and joy bought from a dealer underground.

The man that was supposedly called 'Nick Afton' bought a take-away bowl of ramen and started his walk to wherever he planned to go. My crosshair accompanied him. Then the bullet did.

The shot was soundless and quick. Nick fell to the ground without a sound. His plastic bowl fell to the ground and the broth poured out, mixing with the blood from Nick's mouth. The few witnesses nearby looked in his direction, confused and concerned. A strong gust of wind blew, making my hood slide off the top of my head. My silver hair danced in the wind as I disappeared back into the shadows.

This was life in New Tokyo. This was life in Sector 10.