Zhao blinked as the message finished it's playback. Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.

All the words this man Sait had said made sense individually, but put together … Zhao just couldn't wrap his head around it. Things like this simply didn't happen. One of the Sponsors betraying the rest of the cabal - the possibility had never even crossed Zhao's mind.

Behind him, Chael laughed incredulously. He was sitting at his desk - they'd gone to his office to discuss matters - nursing a bottle of some foul-smelling liquid as he rewatched the announcement.

Zhao cleared his throat as he turned back towards the President. "Sir," he said, as calmly as he could. "If I may, this is a serious situation. Security has confirmed that the Anna Sait Memorial Hospital is locked down - security drones are firing on anyone who goes near. This is … as I said, it's extremely serious."

Chael took another gulp of his drink, chuckling darkly. "Looks it," he slurred. "Surprised they haven't got in touch to chew us out yet."

Irritation burned within Zhao. The President was sitting there now, talking about the Sponsors as if they had no influence over him - but Zhao had seen the fear in him when they were actually present. He knew how Chael had sold the dream he represented away to them, sold his very soul. And now he acted like they were nothing?

He gave off an image as if he were unconcerned - hell, his bodyguard wasn't even here - but Zhao knew that the very moment that script beeped, the cowardly rat would return.

"Perhaps," Zhao forced out through gritted teeth. "You should take this more seriously."

Chael raised an eyebrow, smirked as he spun the bottle around in his fingers. "I take this all very seriously, Mr. Zhao," he said. "Believe you me, nothing but."

He took another sip.

Zhao pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as the sound of slurping echoed throughout the office. Something inside him snapped, just slightly.

"Do you have no shame, sir?" he spat the word as a curse.

Chael looked up from his drink. "Sorry?" he said, cocking his head.

Zhao opened his eyes and was surprised to feel the wetness of tears as he took a step forward. "It wasn't meant to be like this," he hissed, years of frustration packed into his words. "You were meant to make things better. You were meant to understand - you were one of us."

A sigh escaped Chael's lips, and he put his drink down on the desk with a clink.

"And who exactly's us in there, Zhao?" he said, voice cold.

Zhao took another step forward, planted his hands on the desk in front of him. His mind screamed out at him that this was stupid, that he was ripping apart the position he'd fought so hard for, but his body wouldn't listen. There was only so much a man could take.

"One of us," Zhao repeated. "People - a person. An actual fucking human being, not just one of their puppets."

Again, Chael sighed - and leaned across the table, looking at Zhao with such icy eyes that the Secretary was forced to take a step back.

"D'you know my second name, Zhao?" he said, not breaking eye contact.

Zhao bit his lip. "No, I don't."

"And d'you know why that is?" When Zhao didn't reply immediately, Chael went on all the same. "It's cause nobody ever gave me one. Not a first one, neither. I got the name chael from a can of frozen meat."

Zhao furrowed his brow. What was he … what did he mean? "Sir?"

"I grew up down there," Chael snapped, pointing downwards. "Another thing thrown away like trash. I stole to get enough food so I could be starving and not starved. I ate rotten fish like it was caviar, cause it pretty much was down there. I did things I - it wasn't great. I understand, Zhao. I promise you I do. Everything I have now I've walked miles for."

Zhao balled his hands into fists. "Then why-"

"Then why am I like this now?" Chael cut him off. He leaned back in his chair, took his bottle and took a big swig. "I've worked hard, man. Damn hard. Now I can smoke whatever I want, drink whatever I want, get as high as I want. The good life - and all I gotta do is what I'm told. I've got mine. Why the hell would I risk it?"

For a moment, the disgust rose so fiercely in Zhao that he almost shouted something else - some threat, perhaps, or something worse - but sanity quickly reclaimed it's lost territory, and a disappointed calm returned to Zhao's heart.

"I see, sir," he said, forcing the words out. "Thank you for your perspective."

"No problemo." Chael's script beeped, and he took a glance at it. "Message from the Sponsors. They're sending Skipper and his crew to the hospital - they're looking to bring Sait in before he can blab. Should be interesting."

Chael was recklessly calm about this, the drink and drugs dulling the common human sense of danger. If things didn't go well for them, questions would be asked. Dangerous, judgemental questions.

And this cosy position the President so loved wouldn't be quite as stable.

-

Bruno took in a deep breath, focused purple Aether into his fist, and struck the sealed metal door with a punch.

The metal dented outwards - impressively so, given the fact that it had been struck by nothing more than a human hand - but the door itself didn't budge.

He clicked his tongue. "What the hell…" he mumbled.

Why couldn't he just have a normal day? He'd finally managed to wrestle control over the body from Serena so he could get some rest and relaxation of his own - and the next second, the entire hospital had been plunged into some kind of lockdown. All the doors sealed shut, locking Bruno in the hospital room, and all the pleasant lights snapping off - replaced by an eerie blue illumination.

He'd heard gunshots, too, outside the room. Security drones, judging by the regularity of the shots. But who were they shooting at?

What's going on? Serena said, curiosity emanating from her.

"Don't know," Bruno muttered. He thumped his fist against the door twice more, but it still didn't budge.

Can you find out?

"What's it look like I'm doing?"

Punching a door. You don't look like you're doing very good at it, either. Want me to try?

Bruno shook his head. "No." The last thing he needed was Serena rampaging through this already unclear situation.

He'd cracked security systems like this before. In civilian facilities like this, security was often designed to yield after sustaining a certain amount of damage - the owners usually preferred to repair than replace, after all.

One more good hit would do it. He was certain.

Breathing in deep, Bruno took a step back, planted his foot on the ground. Purple Aether sparked around him as both it - and a glove-like forcefield - formed around his fist. He bit his lip.

He was getting out of here.

His fist lunged forward like a striking cobra, with more force than Bruno had expected, and the door partially flew off its hinges, flapping against the wall outside pathetically. All that was visible beyond was the inky darkness of the hallway.

Bruno entered cautiously, fist still poised to strike again. He wasn't sure who was out here, after all. Even with the lockdown, he found it hard to believe that there wasn't anyone still moving around the hallways.

What's happening? asked Serena. Where are all the doctors and everyone? I don't like this, Bruno.

"Me neither," Bruno muttered, coming to a stop. There was something just ahead of him, in the hallway. A nearly inaudible buzzing coming out of the darkness.

Taking another deep breath, Bruno focused his Aether into his palm - and from there, formed the tiniest glowing orb. Aether was a shit projectile all by itself, of course, but it wasn't half bad as a light source. He tossed the sphere down the hallway like a farball.

His eyes widened as the hallway was illuminated in purple light - eight security drones were floating there, positioned at regular intervals, spent plasma dripping from their shotgun barrels. In the moment before the sphere passed them by and they returned to the darkness, Bruno spotted the tiniest spark of cyan Aether running along the one in front.

The Citizen's crew.

Bruno dropped down just as the shooting started.

-

Dragan glanced around the troop transport. Officially, it was just a 'police tanker', but it was easy to tell at just a glance that it was a troop transport. Nearly fifty officers - all clad in bulky riot gear - were packed into the vehicle, and there was still enough room left for a couple of police cruisers.

Dir strode into the middle of the vehicle, a tiny clearing in the crowd, and cleared his throat. Near-instantly, the murmur of the crowd faded into silence.

"I just got off call with the President," he said, face serious. "I assure you, this situation is our highest priority as of now. We believe there to be a substantial risk that the Anna Sait Memorial Hospital will be the Citizen's next target - if it hasn't been hit already."

Dragan gulped, glanced left and right at Skipper and Ruth - they were sitting on either side of him, faces just as somber.

"Our job," Dir went on, pacing back and forth as he spoke. "Is to secure the perimeter around the hospital - and make sure nobody gets in and out. If we get there fast enough, we'll make damn sure the Citizen can't get in…"

He stopped, turned to the crowd with the slightest smirk.

"...and if he's already there, we'll make damn sure the bastard can't get out."

A muted cheer went through the troops - say what you will about Dir, but the man knew how to work a crowd.

The smirk faded. "Once the location is secure," he concluded. "We'll send in a specialist squad to eliminate any hostiles and resolve the situation. We arrive in two minutes. Make sure you're prepared."

So Dragan, Ruth and Skipper were a specialist squad now? That was some pretty diplomatic wording. Security might raise an eyebrow at some outsiders being brought in for this, but so long as they seemed to fit somewhere in the hierarchy, they'd let it slide.

He looked down at his hand, felt a rush of energy as bright-blue Aether ran across his palm. If nothing else, he was eager to put the technique he'd made a start on to work.

"You two stick with me," Skipper said quietly, cracking the joints of his fingers. "We take it slow, clear out any drones one at a time and be back in time for supper. Sound good?"

Ruth glanced at him. "What if the Citizen is there?"

Skipper shrugged. "Then we beat him. No problemo."

Dragan raised an eyebrow. "The Sponsor of War said we have to kill him."

"I decide who I kill, kiddo," Skipper chuckled, shaking his head. "Noone else."

Again, Dragan glanced around the troop transport - and when he saw nobody was watching, he leaned forward conspiratorially. "Listen," he whispered. "Why don't we just grab Bruno and Serena and make a run for it? That way they'd have nothing on us. Problem solved, right?"

"Nah, kiddo," Skipper shook his head. "They'd find something else to threaten us with. These people don't play by the rules."

"Whereas we're paragons of sportsmanship," Dragan muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Exactly."

The transport began to rumble as it descended - and through that sound, Dragan could hear the barking of distant gunshots. Some kind of conflict had already begun, clearly. Had this Sait maniac started firing on the people in the hospital, or was another security team already fighting the Citizen's forces? Was Bruno - and Serena, of course - okay?

Dragan shook his head as if to pry the unwelcome thoughts loose. He couldn't waste time worrying right now. He had to focus on the task at hand.

"The moment those doors open," yelled Dir over the rumbling. "You get to your tasks! Understand?!"

A cry of affirmation went out through the crowd, the more keen officers pumping their fists into the air. Dragan rested his hands on his holstered stun-pistols, ready to move at a moment's notice.

Besides him, Skipper licked his lips nervously. "Let's all make it out of this in one piece, yeah?"

Ruth quietly nodded, not quite meeting Skipper's gaze. Dragan didn't respond.

There was a quiet thunk as the transport made landfall.

"Go, go, go!" shouted Dir as the doors opened. "Move, move, move!"

-

Sait quietly wondered if he'd finally gone mad.

It certainly seemed that way. Driven by the impulse of a single moment, he'd destroyed everything he'd worked for - and asked the most dangerous man on the planet to murder him for the service. Anyone observing these actions would certainly think him insane.

And yet … his mind was untroubled. It felt as if he had a clarity, an inner clarity, that he hadn't had in years. Perhaps ever. It was as if, finally, everything made sense.

The security drones were shooting down any vehicles that came too close, but Sait could see more than a few transports amassing just outside their effective range. Before long, they'd secure the perimeter, and send in a team to secure him.

That is, if the Citizen didn't get to him first.

Sait didn't much care either way - he was a dead man in both scenarios. Either the Citizen would kill him as per his request, or the other Sponsors would kill him in retaliation. He'd prefer the former - that way, he could fuck them over one last time before he checked out - but either outcome was perfectly acceptable.

He took a sip of whiskey as he watched the night's festivities through the window of his office. Haynes' corpse lay strewn in an undignified pile on the ground, flies already taking notice.

Sait lifted a toast to him, poured it on his idiotic face.

"Cheers," he giggled - surprised at his own giddiness. The world was so clear, and he had more energy than he'd felt in years.

The glass slipped from his fingers - shattering to the floor - and Sait leaned back in his seat, hands clasped on his lap. The lights of the security vehicles continued to zip past the window, blending in with the fetid glow of the city. A mosaic of the life he'd lived.

If nothing else, the night promised to be quite a show.