After Douglas left, Erich and Greg pondered their next steps.
"I have a few questions for you, Giovanni," Erich said.
"Shoot," Giovanni replied, intrigued.
"I was approached by a strange guy today. He looked like a drug dealer, offered me a deal for 'Cinnamon' – probably some kind of drug, right?"
"Indeed," Giovanni replied. "'Cinnamon' is one of many drugs available on the black market."
"So there are more?" Greg asked. "The only one I knew was 'Cinnamon'."
"Yes, there are rumors of other drugs like 'Camembert', 'Gorgonzola', 'Bleu', or 'Munster'."
"Interesting names," Erich replied. "Moldy cheeses, how I fucking hate them."
"It's possible that this is just a handful of what's available in Interpolis. Here, everything can become a commodity, even drugs with such strange names. It's like someone wants to make it a form of art... or a mockery of the system."
"So someone up there has a sense of humor," Greg said with a hint of humor. "Or is trying to convey something."
"But why do they sell so much powder?" Erich asked, intrigued.
"Some, if not most, of the gangs work with Void," Giovanni replied. "However, not everyone goes into cooperation."
"Indeed," Erich replied. "Greg told me about a certain 'Warlord'."
"About that motorcycle gang that worked against Void," Greg added. "It's not entirely clear what happened to them."
"During the pogrom, the Warlord seemed to vanish into thin air. It's possible that some of their members are still active, but it's hard to say."
Then, outside, the roar of a motorcycle engine echoed, passing by with force. Erich and Greg, surprised, turned and looked outside with astonishment.
"Could it be one of them?" Erich asked.
"Very possible," Greg replied.
"It's not possible," Giovanni interjected. "It's certain."
"Alright, we'll be going," Erich said.
"Do you know any place where we can sleep?" Greg asked, embarrassed.
"Actually, no," Erich replied.
"You can sleep at my place," Giovanni replied, handing them a key to room "S".
"I didn't know you opened a hotel..." Erich said, embarrassed but relieved.
"In Interpolis, they are one of the few things that are not taxed," Greg replied.
"It's my... investment in the future," Giovanni replied, then they both went to the room.
The room was located at the very top of the hotel. Next to it were other special rooms for other guests and hotel staff. The room was small but sufficient for two people to stay overnight – it had a living room and a small bathroom. In the living room, on the right side, there was a bed for two people, on the left side there was a small table and a TV hanging on the wall.
"This room is nice," Greg said, jumping onto the bed.
"Take a shower first," Erich advised him, entering the room.
After settling in and washing up, they fell asleep. The next morning, they went downstairs to Giovanni to have him make them breakfast.
"Greetings, what does the chef recommend today?" Greg asked.
"Why are you up so early?" Giovanni asked, surprised.
"We have some business related to Vectron," Erich replied.
"Vectron?" Giovanni asked, surprised. "I thought they disbanded."
"Yesterday, besides us, there was also Douglas McKeen. He invited us to cooperate. It seems Vectron is more alive than everyone thought."
"McKeen always liked to surprise," Giovanni replied with a smile, handing them breakfast. "Void would most likely lock such people in the Citadel."
"Possible."
Shortly after nine and after a short conversation about the bar, they headed towards the exit.
"We're going," Greg shouted to Giovanni. "See you next time."
"Good luck," Giovanni replied.
After these words, they headed towards the Stock Exchange.
"You know we're taking a risk," Erich said seriously.
"You're not the only one who thinks so," Greg replied. "And by the way, why haven't you smiled yet?"
"It's complicated..." Erich said after a moment of silence. "You won't understand, it's a difficult topic for me to talk about."
"I understand, if that's the case, keep it to yourself. But if you want to talk about it, come to me."
"Why do you naively think I'll tell you everything after one day of knowing you?"
"Well, you know... True friends are known in need."
"That's a fact, but it takes time. It's not like we're friends after the first day, it takes time."
"I wouldn't have expected that from you."
"You know... When I was in the army, I commanded a unit of young soldiers. At first, they were distrustful of me, but over time, through the course of the war, we gained mutual trust. The war changed not only me, but also them."
"So it's not that simple?"
"Indeed... But there was also the other side of the coin."
"What do you mean?"
"Some young people joining the army during the war think it's the 'adventure of a lifetime', 'their patriotic duty', or an escape from financial problems, and the only things they leave with after the war are wounds, a messed up psyche, and PTSD."
"I'm surprised that young people push themselves into the army. Especially during the war."
"That's because, due to all the factors I mentioned, young people tend to make decisions they later regret. The army seems like a salvation, a chance for something more, but reality is always more brutal than imagination. Youth is a time when you're full of energy, idealism, maybe even naivety. War shows the true face of life, which is neither beautiful nor glorifying. They see it as a chance to do something great, to leave a mark, but few realize that this mark is often bloody and painful. They regret when they realize they have lost not only their youth, but also a part of themselves."
"So in their youth, they only saw the lights, not the shadow they cast."
"Exactly. The lights attract, but the truth about war lies in the shadows. And do you know what else is that light?"
"No..."
"It's rather obvious that it's propaganda. It had a huge impact on young people. It shaped their perception, motivated them to join the army, to fight for something that often turned out to be an illusion."
"What exactly do you mean?"
"They were told about glory, about heroism, but never about the price. Propaganda is not just posters or radio broadcasts; it's a way of thinking that is instilled in young minds, convincing them that war is the only way to prove their worth."
"So it's blinding young people..."
"Exactly."
"Oh, we're approaching," Greg replied. "It's here."
When they arrived, they saw a huge skyscraper combining cyberpunk architecture with the classic style of American skyscrapers from the 1920s – it resembled a combination of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel and the Empire State Building. After a moment of staring at the building, they went inside and headed towards the reception.
"Greetings, how can I help you?" the receptionist asked, looking at the two.
"We're looking for Mr. McKeen," Greg said.
"Robert McKeen?" she asked.
"No, Douglas," Erich replied.
"Alright," she replied.
A moment later, she picked up the phone and called Douglas.
"Mr. McKeen is in office number 7," she replied, putting down the phone. "Please go to the right."
"Alright," Erich replied. "Thank you."
After these words, they headed to the indicated office.
"This must be it," Greg said.
"Let'аньше check," Erich replied, knocking on the door.
"Come in," a familiar voice said.
"It's him," Greg replied with relief, then they both entered.
"Good afternoon, Mr. McKeen," Erich replied, entering the office.
"Oh, gentlemen," Douglas replied, surprised. "Well, I could have expected you."
"We decided to join you," Erich said, looking at Greg.
"Alright," Douglas replied, getting up from the chair.
After he got up, he hung a "Office Closed" sign on the door, then headed towards the bookcase behind him and, moving one of the books, opened a passage to the elevator.
"A classic," Erich said.
"Come on," Douglas replied, pointing to the elevator.
The elevator went down, opening the way to a mysterious part of the Stock Exchange, the existence of which was known to few. Shortly after leaving the elevator, they headed towards the command room.
"How long have you been working at the Stock Exchange?" Greg asked, curious.
"Before our previous facility was infiltrated, I got a job here. I wanted to use the underground hideouts for documents, unused for years, to rebuild into a base."
"Forewarned is forearmed," Erich said. "And what do you know about the Corporation?"
"About Void?" Douglas asked. "I know everything about them."
"For example?"
"It used to be a completely different company before the 'dark times' came."
"Dark times?" Greg asked.
"People who wanted to control the city came to power."
"Why?"
"Some of them are corrupt politicians, they sought influence in corporations and gained high positions and took over governments in corporations."
"How did that happen?" Erich asked, intrigued.
"After the coup, that is, the assassination of our city president Benjamin Woodslow, the 'corrupt' ones with the 'Architect' at the head took over power in the city."
"Architect?" Greg asked. "First time I hear that name."
"They say he came one day and created a group of fanatics who helped him gain power and they have been ruling the city ever since. The group consists mainly of the 'corrupt'."
"Interesting... and where are they from?" he asked, intrigued. "I mean, from which parties?"
"It's a mix," Douglas replied. "Left-wing, right-wing, radical and extreme parties. Many of them, as I mentioned."
"What does it look like?" Erich asked.
"From the 'Right' we have two kicked out for possessing child pornography, four for tax frauds whose scale is mind-boggling, and six who thought public money was their private source of income. From the 'Left' three for false accusations that destroyed the lives of innocent people, four for tax frauds, and two for defamation that was their political weapon. 'United Radicals' had six for intimidating others, five for propaganda that incited rebellion, and three who used their position to harass. From the 'Extremists' there are four who spread hate ideologies, six who organized marches in honor of dictators from Dimension 1 and seven who called for acts of violence against minorities."
"They've gathered nicely," Erich said sarcastically. "If they like each other more, they'll tear each other apart like wild dogs."
A moment later, they found themselves in the organization's headquarters. It was small, but sufficient for actions against the Corporation.
"Come in," Douglas said, opening the door to the command room.
When they entered, they saw a quite spacious room with a digital terminal where someone was working, a modern table, drawers with document files and data disk terminals, and something that resembled a kitchen – a few kitchen cabinets at the bottom and top, a coffee machine, a microwave and a sink.
"Oh, the boss is here," replied a stranger sitting in front of the digital terminal.
"You have quite a nice place here," Erich said.
"This is our command room, or as we call it, the 'Brain'," Douglas said, then looked at the one sitting in front of the terminal. "This is Robert Wilson, our hacker, who remained from the old team."
"Greetings, gentlemen," Robert replied, getting up from the chair and shaking hands with both of them.
"Let me, Robert, introduce our new members to their first mission."
"First mission?" Erich asked, surprised. "Aren't you throwing us into deep water?"
"No, it's just a dip," Douglas replied confidently. "Your first task will be to track the movements of the Robinson and Rat Gangs."
"From the data I managed to intercept, it appears they are to meet to discuss details in one of the bars in the 'Dark District'," Robert replied, showing several screenshots on the terminal screen.
"Dark District?"
"That's the so-called Southern District of Interpolis," Greg replied. "And as for the bar, it's definitely the 'Brighton Belle'."
"How do you know about this bar?" Douglas asked, surprised. "Did you work with one of them?"
"No, but I heard stories from my brother," Greg replied.
"Brother?" Erich asked. "Alright, never mind... What are we supposed to do?"
"Your task will be to track the movements of the Robinson Gang. Robert intercepted a conversation between one of the mercenaries and a member of another gang."
"Do you remember what they said?" Erich asked, looking at Robert.
"They said something about a transaction," Robert said. "But I don't know exactly what."
"Probably 'Cinnamon'," Greg replied. "Or weapons."
"Probably, but we'll have to act cautiously."
"Alright, end of briefing," Douglas replied. "And now give me your documents."
"Why?" Erich asked distrustfully.
"We have to enter you into the database," Robert replied.
At this moment, Erich became suspicious.
"What if it's a trap and he wants to hand us over to Void?" Erich thought, handing the documents to Douglas anyway.
After that, they went to the armory, where weapons, ammunition and equipment were kept.
"Take whatever you want," Douglas replied, opening the door.
A moment later, they both began to look for equipment.
"Alright, I'll take this," Greg replied, taking a revolver and ammunition.
"And are you sure you took the right ammunition?" Erich asked, looking.
"Does it matter?"
"Do you want to damage your weapon or block it? What caliber is it?"
"What, the revolver?"
"Show me," Erich said, taking the revolver into his hands.
While reviewing the markings, he noticed the caliber information.
"You took the wrong ammunition," Erich said, handing back the revolver. "It should be .40, not .35."
"Alright, I'll look for it," Greg replied.
"I didn't know you knew about weapons," Douglas said, looking at Erich. "How do you know so much?"
"From the army. Four years of service during the war taught me that an important element of the right strategy is armament."
"And you're not taking anything?"
"I already have my equipment," Erich replied, taking out his Browning. "But I'm looking for Parabellum ammunition."
"9 x 19mm?"
"Yes, 13-round magazines."
"They should be somewhere here," Douglas said, pointing to the ammunition containers.
After a moment, Erich and Greg found what they were looking for and left the armory. As they headed towards the next room, where the exit was, Erich remembered something.
"Listen, Douglas, there's a matter," Erich said, taking out the "Implant Application". "I received this at the inter-dimensional crossing."
"Don't fill it out," Douglas replied firmly, looking. "It's a 'Contract'."
"Contract?" Erich asked, surprised.
"It's an application for the implantation of a Class III Information Implant," McKeen explained. "If they implant it in you, you'll be spied on by Void."
"So it's a spy device?"
"Come with me, I'll show you something," Douglas said, leading him to the laboratory.
It was a small room full of modern laboratory equipment, and two scientists worked there.
"Hello boss," the scientists replied together.
"Erich, meet our scientists. Bill and Gill Atkinson."
"Greetings," they replied together.
"Greetings," he replied, shaking hands with both of them. "Erich von Stein."
"A new recruit, right?" Bill asked.
"Show him the Implants," Douglas said.
A moment later, they both took out three capsules with strange organisms in a strange liquid.
"And here are the Implants," Bill said, placing the stands with the capsules. "Or rather, their second generation. In practice, they are bio-implants surrounded by a layer of artificial cells that reduce the risk of brain and nervous system damage, and at the same time do not restrict head or other body part movements where it was implanted."
"And what if it's implanted in another part of the body?" Erich asked, intrigued.
"Then it connects with the nerves, and at the same time improves your features."
"For example, what?"
"For example, it increases your agility, regenerates damaged tissues, or connects with your visual system, adding an analytical interface to it."
"Tell me more..."
"Each of them belongs to a separate class," Gill said.
"The one on the right is a Class I Information Implant. They are only available to people from the highest social strata. It's also the largest compared to its brothers due to the offered possibilities."
"The second is an unidentified Class II Implant. It's available to the average person. It has some capabilities, but there are fewer of them compared to Class I."
"The last one is the Class III Information Implant, which you are certainly familiar with. It's available to every person from the lower social classes, and it has an surveillance effect."
"So if you have Class III, you're controlled by Void?" Erich asked.
"You could say that," Bill replied. "Their implantation is only available to people who have signed the 'Contract'."
"I got a similar document, but I haven't filled it out yet."
"It's best to throw it into trash," Gill replied. "When needed, we'll implant another Implant in you"
"Alright, but looking at these class divisions, it feels like I've gone back to the Middle Ages," Erich muttered, his voice echoing in the sterile silence of the laboratory.
"That's how it is, unfortunately," Bill replied, but his tone was distant, as if something was distracting him.
After a moment, Erich looked at Douglas.
"Will you wait in the corridor? I have something to take care of."
"Alright," Douglas replied, then left the laboratory.
After that, he turned his head back to the Atkinson brothers.
"Alright, thanks for the explanation," Erich said, rubbing his neck, where he still felt a chill after the conversation about the implant. He paused for a moment, then pulled out the crystal. "But there's something... something you should see."
Silence thickened as he pulled out the purple crystal – a small, jagged fragment that seemed to absorb the light from the lamps instead of reflecting it. Inside, something pulsed – faintly, barely visible, like a distant heartbeat. A strange aura filled the laboratory; the quiet hum of the machines seemed to fade, and the shadows on the walls seemed to lengthen. Bill and Gill froze, their eyes staring at the crystal with a mixture of fascination and unease.
"A crystal?" Gill asked, surprised.
After a moment, Erich handed the fragment to Gill, and the fragment passed from hand to hand with caution, as if it were a relic. Bill turned it slowly, and the purple glow cast eerie shadows on his face.
"We've seen many like these..." Bill said. "They used to appear often in Interpolis."
"And do you know where they might come from?" Erich asked.
"No one has ever unraveled the mystery of their origin," Gill replied. "But some of them circulated on the black market."
After these words, Gill went to the table and turned on the scanner – the device emitted a low, prolonged hiss, and a grid of pale lines fell on the crystal. The screen flickered, but the data was chaotic, as if the machine couldn't catch the signal.
"This energy," Gill muttered, frowning. "It's there, but... It seems to be dormant."
"From what I know, some of them were found in my dimension," Erich replied.
"And where did you find it?" Bill asked.
"I found this specimen in a forest near one of the cities in Dimension 2," Erich replied. "Besides, there are rumors that there may be more of them in various places around the world."
Then a voice came from the terminal, which had finished analyzing the mysterious crystal.
"Analysis complete. Object: Unknown mineral, temporary name – Fazorite or [data corrupted]. Composition: 73% silicon, 12% unknown elements, 15% energy anomaly. Origin: Data incomplete. Traces of radiation consistent with the Tunguska event, year 1908, Earth, Dimension 2, detected. Hypothesis: Fragment of a celestial body of undetermined mass, potentially inter-dimensional. History: Internal energy indicates contact with technology older than known human civilization. Records indicate the presence of Fazorites at 17 points on Earth scattered in various places – the object that was just analyzed fell near the city of Fulda in the Federal Republic of Germany. Warning: Dormant energy potential of unidentified purpose detected. Possible connection to inter-dimensional technology. Self-activation occurs after detecting a stress reaction (after contact with a living body). Further research recommended."
After a moment of silence, Erich spoke.
"In my world, they said that in 1908 something fell from the sky. Not just iron and nickel... but something else. Something that left these crystals. But no one knew what they really were."
"Tunguska..." Gill muttered, his voice trembling slightly. "If it's true, these... things may be older than anything we know. We'll take it for research."
"You better analyze it," Erich replied. "I won't bother you anymore."
"Alright," Bill replied. "Good luck..."
"You too."
After leaving the laboratory, he noticed Douglas, who was looking for Greg.
"Damn, where is he?" Douglas asked.
"I don't know," Erich replied, then turned his gaze to the door at the end of the corridor. "Maybe he went there."
"That's where our garage with the underground passage is, which I wanted to show you."
"Garage? So you have some cars."
"You'll be leaving for missions from there."
"Wouldn't it be better to take the elevator upstairs?"
"The elevator activates the door lock when the passage to it is activated. It's a security measure – once down, there's no easy way back up."
"And haven't you thought about modifying the mechanism?"
"I have, but modifying it is difficult and I'm afraid the elevator will be damaged."
"And why don't you ask Robert to do it?"
"Robert is a computer scientist, not an electrician."
"Then hire one..."
"In these times, an electrician is hard to find... Alright, let's go."
They both headed towards the garage, which was connected to the underground passage. Greg was waiting for them there, leaning against the wall.
"Where have you been?" he asked, curious.
"In the laboratory," Erich replied. "We were at a lecture about Implants."
"And how was it?"
"You could have come with us, then you'd know."
"I know a bit about them."
Douglas, ignoring their exchange, proceeded to introduce the garage.
"So here's our garage connected to the underground passage."
"How long is this tunnel?"
"About three kilometers."
"That long?" Greg asked, surprised.
After a moment, Douglas took out the keys from his pocket and flashed a red laser dot on the floor. After that, a levitating vehicle resembling a car drove out of one of the hangars.
"Here's your 'Hover-tec'."
"'Hover-tec'?" Erich asked, surprised.
"It's a vehicle that uses anti-gravity technology – in simpler terms, it levitates above the ground."
"Is that a second-generation Chevrolet Chevelle?" Erich asked curiously.
"Some older cars have been converted into this type of construction, mainly to improve their performance."
"And can it fly?" Greg asked, intrigued.
"You want to fly now," Erich said sarcastically.
"Some 'Hover-tecs' have the ability to fly," Douglas replied, handing the keys to Erich. "However, this one, due to its design, couldn't fit this function."
When Erich opened the door, he was surprised by the fact that the door opened, and when it was fully open, it was angled outwards.
"What the..." Erich said, seeing the car door.
"It's a patent," Greg replied.
"Strange patent," Erich replied, getting in.
Its interior, although inspired by the classic second-generation Chevrolet Chevelle, had been thoroughly modernized, combining retro aesthetics with futuristic functionality. The cabin retained the classic lines of the Chevelle – wide seats covered with black synthetic leather, a stylized dashboard with analog gauges, which were actually holographic displays showing speed, anti-gravity drive status, and other data. The steering wheel was slimmer than the original, with built-in touch control panels. The pedals were in place, and the center console was equipped with a touchscreen for controlling the vehicle's systems – from air conditioning to optical camouflage. The seats had built-in shock-absorbing systems, adjusting to the vehicle's movements, which increased comfort during maneuvers in the air.
Erich noticed that in place of the manual lever there was a device resembling a transmission.
"What kind of transmission is this?" Erich asked. "It looks like a throttle in 'Pacers'."
"It's an automatic transmission, but adapted to anti-gravity technology," Douglas explained. "You don't shift gears like in classic cars. Here you control the lift level and acceleration."
When they both got in, Erich put the keys in the ignition and started the engine. When it started, there was a roar that resembled the one known from the original – deep and powerful, but slightly quieter, muffled by modern anti-gravity technology.
"It sounds almost like the good old Chevy," Erich said, "just a bit more... civilized."
Douglas, standing next to them, looked at them with an expression of confidence on his face.
"Good luck and come back with something concrete."
"Don't worry, 'old man'," Erich replied.
At that moment, Erich moved the clutch slightly, pressed the gas, and they both headed towards the Southern District.