Emergence: Chapter 25

Even the air tasted funny on Prauw.

Shortly after Foton's escape pod was intercepted by a Prauwn aerospace squad, he was back on home-turf under the pseudonym Lyss Fown; just one of a number of aliases he had used in the past on his various “missions”. Despite it being his homeworld, Foton had never missed Prauw. Due to the industrialisation of the world, and its prolonged inability to work with enviro-friendly materials and sources, everything was sepia-tinged due to the brown smoked which lined every street. Alleys were a no-go to any well-doing citizen; anyone going down an alley was almost certainly up to something; they were the only places to do crime. Even now, Foton could see finger-like cameras swivelling around to observe the anonymous masses. One lingered on him as he stared at it, before moving on. Foton grimaced; it wasn't just the police watching the cameras, and he wanted to be on Prauw just a bit longer before they noticed him.

The face-recognition AI that the Assassins used was possibly the most accurate of its kind; the Assassins knew the tricks people used to hide from the standard FR software and programmed countermeasures into this AI. However, the AI was not only used for FR; it was also used by the Assassin's leader to hack into the Empire Network to locate targets and give the Assassins an advantage in the field.

After seeing the camera, Foton knew that they would be on him soon. He wasn't sure how he would be welcomed back; the Assassins were not known for their forgiveness. Looking around, he noticed no-one watching. After one last check, he ducked into the next alley and waited. There was only a dull light, but Foton decided to check his weapons. One of his hidden diamond blades was still intact, but the other was shattered, leaving only a jagged edge behind. Foton shuddered at the thought of encountering Otor again; that Adjeti gave him a run for his money. He hoped that Otor was delusional and really was the last of his kind; he would hate to take on more than one. Thinking of Otor only reminded Foton of Devilclash; he was almost certain she would be fine. Pyrkagia were immortal, after all.

A small flurry of movement caught his eye and he turned to see a man, clad head to toe in black, stand up. “Foton.” He bowed his head; a sign of respect, which Foton copied; obviously they weren't too hostile towards him. “It's been a while.”

Foton recognised the voice. “B'yon? Is that you?”

The man peeled his hood back to reveal the tan-skinned B'yon beneath; hailing from K'hrak, his skin was naturally thicker and eyes larger than other humans'. “Glad you didn't forget me, friend.” He extended a hand towards Foton, who looked at it suspiciously. B'yon withdrew the hand while saying, “We don't want you dead, y'know? The leader just wants to talk, and find a way for you to redeem yourself.”

Foton tutted quietly; it was his mission to Buun that had screwed him over. He had just killed his target when three Pyrkagia rushed at him. He managed to lose them and escape Buun, before leaving the Assassins behind, leaving naught but a message for the leader. “That sounds fair,” Foton agreed, “but I came here to recruit your efforts in the war.”

“Maybe he'll consider it,” B'yon led Foton out of the alley, “But you'll probably have to do something major before he even considers helping the war effort.” He pulled a cylinder out of his pocket, which shone a bright red beam of light into the sky; a cab-hailer.

“I hoped that he may see the seriousness of the situation.” A cab landed near to them, descending from the smog-filled skies. As they climbed in, B'yon passed a card with an address written on to the driver, who nodded, and input it into the cab's nav-screen; the driver was only really there as a mediator between the nav-screen and the passengers, as the cab drove itself. It lifted off into the brown sky.

“Unlikely,” B'yon took the address card back, before leaning back in the seat, “we're not called a secret society for nothing; most of the Empire do not even know we exist. By helping the fight, the secret will be blown right open.”

Foton cursed under his breath; he had forgotten how stubborn the leader was. The cab continued its silent quest until it vanished into a thicker, darker wave of brown; the industrial district. Prauw was known for its manufacturing of vehicles and small devices, in the same way that Xaos is known for its production of military engineering. All factories should be fully manned and operational as huge machines, controlled and maintained by a small fleet of people, build the wonders of aerospace travel from scratch. The cab began to descend again, and the ground became visible once more. B'yon paid the driver, leaving a tip in exchange for his silence, before following Foton out.

Both ground and air were different here. The ground was harder and the air thicker than it was in the city. B'yon went to the nearest factory and placed his palm on a small panel. A laser ran over it, scanning DNA, shape and heartbeat to ensure that it truly was B'yon. A small door opened to the left of him as the laser vanished. “Come on.” B'yon beckoned Foton over.

“What happened to the house?” Foton asked, looking around the empty factory.

“Raided.” Before the factory, the Assassins headquarters was just an old house in the slums of Munau, the capital city.

“B'yon.” A hooded man approached them. “You bring Foton back with you. Interesting.”

The leader of the Assassins stood before them, hunched over like an old man. But looks were deceiving, as were titles; he was known as the Blind Assassin, and rightly so. But he made up for his lack of eyes with both his combat and computing skills; he developed the Assassin's AI for himself, so that he could hack any electronic equipment around him, and use them to “see” his surroundings through a machine, which sat where his eyes should be, wired directly into his brain.

“My lord.” Foton knelt before his leader. “I have come to rejoin the order. On one condition: we help the war effort against the Xaosians.”

“Get up.” The Blind Assassin gestured with his chin for Foton to stand. “And what can we do in a war? Kill Xaos? The generals? Perhaps that would help. Perhaps.” He moved towards Foton, his movements seeming oddly mechanical. “We can help. You can rejoin. On one condition. One mission.”

Foton sighed; he knew it would come down to this. “What's the mission?”

“Just a simple death.” From under his cloak, the Blind Assassin pulled out a small cube, no bigger than the palm of Foton's hand. “And to plant this at the scene.”

“Why?” Foton took the cube and examined it briefly.

“We do not ask questions.” B'yon intervened. “We don't need to. We get the job done.”

“Do you accept?” The Blind Assassin's voice rang with an ominous tone.

Foton thought about it for a second. “Yes. I do.”