Deus Ex: Enigma

ONE

He tilted the glass to his lip and watched as the whiskey slowly made its way to his mouth. Sunlight from the windows flooded the room with a fluorescent orange glow, and cast odd shadows against the wall behind him. He finished his drink and set it on the table.

Just a year ago, Adam Jensen had been working with Task Force 29 and the Juggernaut Collective to bring justice to the terrorists that had bombed the Ruzicka station in Prague, taking the lives of hundreds of innocent men, women, and children. Over the course of 2029, evidence linked to the bombings had taken them on a wild goose chase throughout the entirety of the Czech Republic, one that he wished had all been a bad dream. But it wasn't. It was all real; the terrorist attack, Talos Rucker's murder, the Orchid... He pushed the thought into the back of his head and poured another glass of whiskey.

He watched through the window as a woman struggled to make her way across the street, where a police officer was standing. He scowled, and folded his arms in disappointment. Ever since he'd returned from Facility 451, Detroit's law enforcement had become a much less prominent part of everyday life; because of the consistent gang activity in the Derelict Row district following the Aug Incident, the DPD had halted any and all involvement with that part of town, ultimately leaving anyone living down there to fend for themselves. Jensen didn't like it one bit, but as much as he hated to admit it, he knew he had no jurisdiction over the police department's actions; he was no longer a part of their SWAT unit. He sighed, and put on his overcoat to go outside.

As he stepped out into the rain, Jensen brought his infolink online and proceeded to contact David Sarif, his ex-employer from Sarif Industries. SI had recently been bought out by Tai Yong Medical, the world's largest bio-tech corporation, and Jensen figured Sarif would get used to not owning a company anymore. To his dismay, the call failed, and his lips thinned. He knew Sarif wasn't one to take failure very well, but considering the events of the past three years, he was beginning to think that maybe it was harder on the poor man than he had originally thought. He shook it off, and stepped into the street. Tall, unlit pillars that were once familiar buildings to Jensen were now little more than hollow shells that stood as reminders of the incident. The Rialto, for example, had been a major go-to for him when he was a teenager. But when the incident hit, the Motor City Bangers - who had won a gang war against the Derelict Row Ballers and were now the only gang in Detroit - took control of it. Now any and all DRB territory belonged to them - the Rialto included - and there were still locations they wanted control over. As he approached the derelict building, Jensen frowned and adjusted his collar as the wind began to pick up speed. Feeling a sense of uncertainty about his safety, he switched on the SmartVision module of his cyberoptics, and his surroundings quickly transformed into an infinite data grid, each surface a distinct color so he could easily navigate while looking for threats, which would appear red. Thankfully, the area was clear, so he switched the mod off and walked inside.

Like the last time he had been there, the Rialto was a crumbling heap of makeshift platforms and trash, and Francis Pritchard's defense mechanism - a cluster of Pulsar electromag mines - remained untouched and inactive. Jensen had to wonder why Pritchard hadn't reset the mines after such a long time, but he decided that he may no longer have a reason for them. Nobody - rarely even MCB thugs - really ever visited the Rialto, given its very unstable and unsafe foundation, so having the EMP mines inside was rather unnecessary. Although, he noted, Pritchard was paying the MCB rent to live here, and all of his property from his time working at Sarif was here as well, so he couldn't blame him.

"You're late, Jensen. Very late." The voice echoed out from a dark corner, and he immediately recognized who it belonged to.

"Hello, Francis." He put extra emphasis on the other man's name.