Subvert

Political Realities in City 17, Kiev.

The Ukraine wind blows softly against my skin like a cool breeze on a good day. I step off the train and see what the world has come to. Civil Protection officers are beating up some girl for having too much luggage. It enrages me, it makes me furious. I would want to do something against it, but I simply can't. You see, after the Seven Hour War, Earth got occupied. People got put in camps and prisons as cities were transformed into dystopian metropolitans. Dark days followed soon afterwards, 67 percent of Earth's population either got killed or tranhumanized.

Transhumanisation is capturing ex-military personnel and turning them into supersoldiers who fight relentlessly. They do not feel any remorse, like machines. Best not to mess around when they're around, because with the flick of a wrist, you will perish.

I'm not one of them, I behaved. I was subdued, dragged through mud and filth and had my power stripped off of me. I was a no one. The Union identifies us by numbers. My CID is #68927, if you don't have a CID, you're considered a refugee. You will die if you get caught up without identification.

Tyrone walks out of the station, feeling the cold breeze blast into his face with dust and dirt flying into his eyes as an APC speeds by. An APC is a big truck-like thing made by the Combine. It has a turret, and can hold around five to six men. As the brown skinned man passes the street, a flying scanner flies by and sees him. The scanner get closer and hovers infront of Tyrone. After a brief moment of silence, the device flashes a bright white light into his face, blinding him and taking a photo. Tyrone rubs his eyes and curses at the scanner. "Motherf- hmpf.. what's the point...?"

After some walking, Tyrone reaches his designated apartment. Diordna Hotel, room six. Right next to a band of skinheads, great... Tyrone enters his room to be greeted by mold on the walls. As he passes through the corridors, he reaches the living room- but wait, there are people in here. Tyrone didn't have any roommates assigned yet. Guy one, Asian. Guy two, Caucasian. Girl, African-British. Who are these people?

"What the Hell is this shit? Who are you people..? Actually, save it. Get outta here!" I yelled, whilst gripping a nearby lamp. "Calm down, Tyrone. We know who you are. We know your past." Said the Asian man, getting up from the sofa and walking towards me. "Put down the lamp, we don't want to hurt you, we need you alive."
I lowered the lamp and placed it back on it's place, clearly pleasing the people. "Come, have a seat." Said the delicate woman, pointing at the chair infront of the coffeetable. I take a seat, inspecting the three figures.

"Alright, what is this? What do you know?" I said, getting cut off by the white guy. "Does Shelly Helom ring a bell? Do you remember her?" He said, looking at me. "I don't.. Actually, wait.." I said, thinking about the past.

My past, is darker than this, or on the same level at least. I used to be a hired killer, running with a drug trafficking gang. The Bloodz Set on Long Beach. This might seem a bit stereotypical because I'm black, but I rolled in there because of my eviroment. Living in the Hood is tough, and losing your dad and having a crackwhore for a mother isn't exactly easy. The only people I trusted and held dear were my siblings and my crew..

"Yeah.. I killed her for two grand because she ratted one of my guys. How do you know?"
"Don't ask, we just do."
"Go to the Rations District, get some food and money."
"Here, a small sum of 800 T to start you up. You need to pursue your past, we need you to do certain things."
"Alright.. I'll be on my way."