The city was tearing itself apart.

Riots had started in several of the districts, this was followed by mass looting and other criminal activity. Elpída was by no means a crimeless city, there was no way to have this many people in an enclosed area and expect them to all respect each other’s boundaries. But it was not as bad as say new Detroit, which had for the fifth time in recent history devolved into block to block gang warfare that was so bad the police and national guard had to work together to evacuate the population. Elpida was not New Detroit, but it was also not a utopia, it had its shares of bad apples. The mass amount of people clogging the streets, however, like some arterial plaque that had built up to choke out the life out of the still beating heart of the city, there was no way they were all bad seeds.

A.I.D.E.N was responsible for this, she could not control the thoughts of the people she had infected, she could, however, influence them through the use of chemicals the caser secreted directly into the brain, and she also had the power of subliminal messaging, if used effectively it could practically be mind control, seeing as you plant the idea and allow the one you planted it in to think that they themselves had come up with the idea.

Right now it would seem that she was flooding all lines with epinephrine right about now. The neurochemical was also called adrenaline, it was the same chemical for both fear and anger, causing what was known as the fight or flight behavior. And while the human body has a relatively predictable reaction to adrenaline, namely an increase in blood pressure, heart rate increase, sweating, and pupil dilation there were others who would undoubtedly be adversely affected by this sudden flood of neurochemicals in their brain.

For the first time in his life, as he crouched in a dark alley, with Monica in his arms and Christa to the side of him as they watched the angry hordes of Elpida residents tear up the very city they lived in, running on an adrenaline high, Matt wondered if the caser was such a great piece of technology.

It had been integrated into the society well before he had been born, back when his dad was a young kid, so wondering if it was a benefit to society or simply a way to control them was something he and most other people left the conspiracy nuts.

But it would seem that those same conspiracy nuts were correct this time. They were indeed in deep shit seeing as another entity was controlling them, playing puppet master from the shadows. If this went on any longer than the entire place would wide up looking like its mirror version in N.E.O. and for all Matt knew that was exactly what Aiden was planning. This seemed like much more than the simple need to expand one’s own knowledge, though he supposed that part of it was simply because she had gotten used to being the one in control, seeing as she ran the entire world of N.E.O.

“Now,” Christa growled and the both of them sprinted across the street, Matt still holding the now unconscious Monica in his arms, desperately trying not to jostle the injured woman too much. They had been moving from alleyway to alleyway, thinking them safer than the roads. What they found in the alley, however, had him and Christa questioning that decision. “Oh, god.” Christa breathed out the words before vomiting all over the alley wall to her right.

There staked to a wall was a police officer, his hardened nano armor dented from whatever relentless beating they had given him with whatever implements they had on hand, the front of his helm was open and there was not much left of his face. He was held up in a partial stand by two stakes driven through the upper arms and into the wall, the worst part, however, was the intestines that were hanging out of his stomach where they had gutted him.

The word ‘pig’ was written in his own blood on the wall above his head like some trophy placard. They were about to turn when what they thought was a corpse let out a wet gurgle.

“Uuuuuguuuguuhpppllucccggsss,” the man’s ruined mouth attempted to make words, much too much blood leaking out of his mouth as he attempted to form the words. “Pllllleeeeeeeee” Matt closed his eyes, looking away from the corpse, when he opened them he realized he had handed off Monica to Christa and had gone to stand in front of the man.

“Ok,” Matt nodded, barely able to speak around the lump in his throat, he gently reached around behind the man, feeling for the firearm the man surely kept. He felt the cold metal grip, sticky with blood as the studs in the grip built in dug into his hand. The damn pistol felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as he pulled it from the holster behind the man, he pushed it, hands shaking into the man's chest, right where his heart would be, and looked at the one good eye that was pleading with him. “Ready?” he asked, his voice shook, he could feel the sting of tears in his eyes.

This was nothing like a game.

The man nodded his head, only capable of weakly moving his head, “Thaaaaa-” the man never finished his word, as Matt pulled the trigger. The gun went off, a thunderous sound that echoed like a vengeful god in the narrow confines of the alleyway.

He didn't even hear it.

He looked at the gun, covered in blood, unable to look at the man’s face, blood covered the grip, and his hand, in turn, a sticky brown red, half dry. It would have normally been impossible for him to have even fired the gun, seeing as it was a linked pistol, characterized by the blue data lines that ran down the barrel. Only those authorized to use would be able to, anyone else that tried would have found it to be nothing more than a paperweight. In times of need, the owner of the gun could authorize anyone they needed to to be able to use the pistol, it was activated by thought switch in the caser.

He pulled the caser cord out of the back of his pocket, hands shaking, and plugged himself into the port at the side of the gun.

“Access granted, full rights, transfer to new user as per police code EFK401, all functions unlocked, welcome new user.”

A female voice spoke in his head, a simple VI that was built into the gun. Matt blinked, a blue targeting reticule appeared in his eyes, superimposed over the world via his caser. Across the top corner ran a flurry of police reports, he was just about to read them when he heard Willow speaking to him.

“Matt, Matt!” he blinked, wondering why he suddenly felt so detached.

“Willow?” he said, looking around, but she was not to be seen.

“I know I said I would not mess with your neurochemistry again, but I had to, you were going into shock, I suppressed that by flooding adrenaline and several other chemicals into your brain, I have also dampened the signals you receive from your left frontal lobe and temporal lobes, those are the areas of your brain that you use for moral judgment. ”

“Why would you do that?” he asked, still feeling like he should care more, but not really being able to.

“If you need to pull the trigger again, you cannot hesitate,” she spoke softly, “I know when I unblock them you will hate me for this, the blame for anyone’s death who you kill will be one me, I will accept any punishment when we are through with this.” Matt looked up to the sky and breathed in a breath of fresh air.

“I won't hate you.” he said softly, “You won't be pulling the trigger.”

“But I-”

“Remove the dampeners, I won't hesitate,” he said, closing his eyes, knowing that this decision needed to be his own, each and every time, if he was going to kill they needed to be on him.

“But Matt-”

“Willow, do it. Now.”

“It is done,” he could almost instantly feel the difference, a sick feeling coming over him as the reality of the situation hit him again.

“Really though,” he growled, “I am not going to repeat myself again willow, no more messing with my neurochemistry, I mean it.” he lowered the bloody smart pistol and turned to look at Monica, she had opened her eyes when the gun had gone off. It would also seem that she was not the only one that had heard it. A few stragglers were trying to see into the dark alley, they would be the forerunners of the larger horde, they needed to get moving.

He looked into Monica’s blue eyes, pupils dilated in the darkness and pain, there was something there, not fear, no, something more personal, and in that moment he felt a weight lift off of him that he had no idea he had before, because in those eyes were her love of him, even if he had to do something unspeakable to make sure they survived.

She would still love him.

“It won't come to that,” Matt said, looking down at the gun in his hand.

“I know,” Monica nodded, standing on her own two feet, only leaning on Christa for light support, determination lighting a fire in her sparkling blue eyes. “And if it does, nothing changes.”

“Monica-”

“Nothing,” she growled and took several shaky steps towards him, before grabbing him by the face and pulling him down to her and pressing her lips against his. The taste of her mouth was mixed with the coppery taste of blood, his, hers, he didn't know whos, and he didn't care. She pulled away from him, running her thumb over his bottom lip,“After all, I am in love with a raider, a little thing like someone dying won't change that...” he closed his eyes, resting his sweat-streaked head against her own, and in that moment there was nothing and no one but the two of them...