Thomas Finn was out on a walk in a city far from Neonight. He was far shorter as well, not even close to his traditional lanky stature, and was holding the hand of an older woman wearing a fancy dress. He had a backpack on, and the kid was chattering away with reckless abandon, telling the much taller woman about his day at school. They were the only ones walking down that particular street, with the sides lined with modern silvery houses and the atmosphere lit up with the heat of a place far deeper than Neonight City. The boy clutched the woman’s hand as the two approached one of the square houses—a house that, while homely, was far nicer than his current apartment, featuring a green lawn and everything. “I’m glad you had a good day at school, son,” the woman said. Her cadence was comforting to him. Reassuring.

“I love you, Mommy,” the boy responded.

“I love you too.”

The unnamed man was back in his bedroom, lying in a sprawled-out starfish position on his tiny mattress, his arms and legs drooping over the sides as he lay there precariously, looking ready to roll onto the cheap hardwood at any moment. In his right hand, he was clutching the bottle of the strange liquid. Only, now its colour had been drained with its contents. The man sat up, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger, eyeing the empty bottle once more. “I’m gonna need to get more Chorus. Unit, add that to my shopping list . . . or don’t. I don’t care,” he said standing up, stretching his long limbs with a faint pop.

User: Varies

Civ: Chorus

Chorus is a blue and pink liquid that, upon ingestion, allows the user to repeat memories as though they are reliving them for the first time. It is produced by a Civ, but this user’s identity is unknown to the general public.

“God, as much as I love this stuff, it’s hard to ignore how exploitative it is,” he said, still rubbing his temples as he walked out of his bedroom towards his kettle again, proceeding to make another cup. “Surely drug addiction can be counteracted with just a bit of tea, huh?” The man chuckled halfheartedly as he opened up his Unit again and began browsing through photos of himself and the woman from his memory. His mother.

* * *

Phantom Limb began firing his own heat gun out into the large open area of floor fifteen. It wasn’t a series of hallways like the other floors but rather a large open restaurant that looked to have been closed down for the night. Thomas stepped out into the main area, clutching his right ear as he slumped behind a table for cover. “God, I wish my apartment building had a fancy restaurant in it. All we have are rats. I didn’t even think rats could live under the surface of Mars, but there you go,” he said, gritting his teeth through the pain as blood soaked his left hand. His hands still burned from earlier, a dull throb pulsing through his tissue. The restaurant was dark and quiet, the new battlefield he found himself in taking the form of a series of silhouetted tables against a sea of silence. Lots of cover for himself, but just as much for his enemy. And he didn’t know where they were.

Roxanne could tell Phantom was injured and more importantly how she could injure him again. She was hiding behind a bar, clutching her heat gun in both hands, the warmth of its power calming her nerves. She knew Phantom was hiding behind a table near the elevator door. If she could keep the battle one of stealth, then she could win easily. But to succeed on that front, Phantom couldn’t determine the nature of her Civ, Breatheye. Roxanne poked her head slightly over the pitch-black bar. She could see Phantom’s breath, glowing orange, and she aimed her heat gun at where she guessed his head was. Phantom couldn’t guess when she was going to attack as long as she stayed quiet.

Phantom Limb suddenly turned from his hiding place and aimed his heat gun over the table as Roxanne fired a shot through the overturned table—one which would have torn right through Phantom’s head. Rather than have his brains cooked and splattered, Phantom returned counter fire, a beam of red-hot light and metal that tore through Officer Roxanne’s shoulder as she flew backwards. How the fuck did he know where I was? He was behind the table! Roxanne thought, before poking her eyes out from her hiding place once more and seeing a handful of small floating purple spheres scattered across the restaurant, hovering around the table.

Phantom eyes.

Phantom Limb returned the eyes to his own, strengthening his own vision and slightly relieving the horrible agony of boiling his eyes, even though it caused no real permanent damage. He had been biting down on one of his own pieces of tape to relieve the discomfort, and he vaulted over the table, now not only knowing where his enemy is but also being able to see in the dark in case she changed positions. “I’ve got your number now motherfucker!” Thomas shouted charging the bar, breathing heavier than ever as he sprinted. Then, his target did something he didn’t expect. Roxanne stood up over the table and began punching the air in front of her, flailing like a confused mime. What an idiot. What the fuck is she doing? Thomas thought.

“Breatheye.”

And then Phantom Limb felt his lungs erupt. As he drew in a sharp breath, a terrible feeling erupted inside of his chest, as though his lungs had become the punching bags for a championship boxer. As though they were filled with candy. His respiratory system was being strung up at a kid’s birthday. All the forward momentum he had made towards his target vanished, as Thomas was sent flying backwards with incredible force. He flew into the metal table he had been using as cover, hitting his spinal disks against its sharp edge. “What the fuck?” Thomas whimpered, struggling to push air through his dying lungs.

“I can see that your breathing has gotten a bit difficult, Phantom Limb. I bet you thought I was just punching the air for fun, maybe I was doing a sort of dance of surrender, or whatever. But no, I placed all of the force from those ‘missed’ attacks into the air itself and then filled your lungs with it. You’re lucky you didn’t kill any of the other officers, or else or I’d shoot you in the face right now and end your miserable career.” Roxanne gloated, stepping over the bar table and walking towards Thomas.