OutMan The Beginning (1)

The Way It Always Begins

The Future — Jace Tech, Year 2054

"Far from the past lies a great future."

But not the kind written in pulpy sci-fi novels with chrome jetpacks or floating cities shaped like glass petals. No, the future wasn't about flight—it was about foundation. West City in 2054 stood as a monument to what humanity could accomplish when it abandoned spectacle and embraced resolve. Steel and stone had given way to self-repairing smart materials; roads cleansed themselves of debris by pulse rhythm, trees were grown to filter the air and power streetlamps via bioluminescence. But the crown jewel of this meticulously ordered society stood in the heart of the city—Jace Tech. Not a tech company. Not just a conglomerate. A legacy. A networked nerve center where science, engineering, and innovation met at the apex of ethics—founded in honor of heroes who bled, so others wouldn't have to. Heroes who once wore masks. Now, the heroes wore lab coats and wielded keystrokes instead of capes. She walked with precision—no wasted movement, no fear. Her name was Donna Jace, and her heels clicked against the marble-tiled floors of the Innovation Core with the authority of a ticking clock counting down to someone's reckoning. She was not just the CEO of Jace Tech. She was its spine. Its soul. Her auburn hair was cut in a sharply styled bob—short in the back, longer at the chin—deliberate, efficient, commanding. Her black business suit was tailored like armor, every thread saying I see you, I hear you, but I do not bow. Her glasses reflected the cool glow of holograms dancing in the distance as she passed blinking panels and energy nodes. Two armed guards in obsidian nano-fiber uniforms flanked her. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. The moment Donna's tempo changed, they followed. She reached Sector C12, an isolated high-clearance lab that buzzed with suppressed tension. Her access chip unlocked the doors with a pulse and a hiss. Inside stood Dr. Maro Ufaro. Once a genius. Now a risk. He was a man aged by obsession—eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights, lab coat stained with unregulated accelerant gel, fingers twitching from overexposure to synthetic plasma fields. His latest creation—Project VORONOS—rested behind him in a containment sphere, silently glowing with swirling energy that looked... angry. Donna stepped forward. She didn't hesitate. "Mr. Ufaro," she said, her voice cold and smooth as a monorail rail. He turned. His face, once proud, crumbled like a castle under the tide. "The act is over," she continued, her voice firm with authority but laced with a thread of sorrow. "Please," he whispered. "Please, don't do this. I've come too far. This... this weapon will save West City. No more loss. No more death. This—this is my legacy!" He stepped toward her, hands shaking, falling to his knees as if in prayer. His eyes were manic—wild, but genuine. "You don't understand, Donna. We're running out of time. You've seen the projections—climate decay, off-world threats, the fractures in the eastern districts. Think about it! How many more will die before we stop playing it safe?" Donna faltered. Not visibly—but deep inside, her heart pulled. She remembered the names of every casualty she couldn't stop. Every hero lost. Every innocent life snuffed by chaos. But she also remembered the promise Jace Tech was built on: To protect life. Not control it. "You've crossed the line, Maro," she said. "This isn't science. This is fear wearing a lab coat." He looked up, eyes full of betrayal. "You'd choose them over us?" Ufaro Said. "I choose humanity," she replied. "Not gods, not tyrants. Not madmen hiding behind good intentions. I choose families. Children. Citizens. The real world—not the one we can bend to our will." A long silence hung between them. The hum of VORONOS pulsed louder. Then Donna raised her hand. "Escort Mr. Ufaro off the premises. Effective immediately." The guards moved in. He shouted. He begged. He screamed. "You can't do this to me! I gave this company everything! I gave you everything!" Donna didn't flinch. "And now you've taken too much." As they dragged him out, he looked back at her one last time. And in that look was not hatred... but heartbreak. The kind that warned: This isn't over. When the doors closed, Donna turned to the containment unit. She stared at the swirling mass—chaotic, volatile, whispering. "Initiate Protocol Vanta," she said quietly. A hidden panel unfolded. A robotic arm extended with a controlled pulse of annihilation plasma. With a thunderous hiss and a flash of light, Project VORONOS was atomized—erased from existence. No celebration. No applause. Just silence. She stood there, alone, as the last echo of its destruction faded. This was the future. Clean. Controlled. Polished. But not safe. Never safe. Because even in a world that had seemingly moved beyond masks... Shadows always returned. In the stillness of twilight, West City shimmered like a glass crown beneath the deep violet sky. Neon billboards pulsed silently across the skyline, their light reflecting off towers of steel and glass like slow-dancing spirits. From the uppermost floor of Jace Tech's diamond-spired headquarters, Lily Jace stood alone behind her towering office window—hands clasped behind her back, her silhouette framed in amber hues as the sun dipped behind the mountains. Her short, layered hair was immaculately styled, her lips tight with a pensive tension. She watched the city as if measuring its pulse. No hovercars. No jetpacks. Just real people living through an age of innovation that promised peace but whispered paranoia.