<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 26px">Chapter 1: Nightfall</span><br/>
<img alt="[​IMG]" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" data-url="http://image.xygames.com/image/d/webgame-dark-city/screenshot-2.jpg" src="http://image.xygames.com/image/d/webgame-dark-city/screenshot-2.jpg" style=""/>​</div><b>Sol System-Mars<br/>
Tyrend City<br/>
September 12th, 2950<br/>
03:35 Hours Local Time</b><br/><br/>It was late...or early. William wasn't quite sure, it was dark outside, the shifting lights of cars and the metro slowly painted their faces upon the glass as the rain pattered gently against the panes.<br/>"The city that never sleeps" many had called it, although to William it seemed more like the city that never waked. Always in a state of perpetual dreams, shrouded in mist and slowly stirring darkness. Dark figures plodding along it streets and alleys, going about their routines, never looking up, never looking you in the eye.<br/><br/>For what could you see, really? What can you see behind the mask? That dark visage which everyone wore, like a second skin, keeping them alive...keeping them..hidden from the world....<br/><br/>They were, safe. They were, familiar. They were home. Even when the rebreathers came off...there was always another mask beneath.<br/><br/>The scientist, the smart one, the happy one, the popular one. All masks...<br/>So much so, that they didn't even realize they wore them anymore. They became that mask...and perhaps that's why they wore them.<br/><br/>Yet even now, they seemed so far away, the cold and familiar always did these days.<br/>For here he was again, in yet another hotel room registered under a name that was no his own, alone in the darkness without even so much as a mouse to speak to.<br/>There was much to be had in his line of work, women, wine, food, all the finest of the fine. But when  the midnight hour had passed and all had gone home to their families, their pets, their lives. William stood alone.<br/><br/>Yet the night rumbled on, the freezing raid still crashing against the metal and the glass, forming  little white rings of razors that spread across the transparent surface.<br/><br/>William turned his head slowly, his hand reaching into his dressing robe, into the right breast pocket for that familiar feel of hickory. He wrapped his fingers around it taking great care to be tender with it as he removed it from its cotton house. His great great grandfather had fashioned it, long ago from one of the last Black Hickory trees. The wood was smooth and well polished, nearly two centuries of tender care had gone into preserving that little piece of wood.<br/><br/>He clasped it between his teeth gently, the enamal finding that little groove where generations of his forebearer's teeth had always fell, gingerly placing a pinch of pipeweed into the cup's worn down mouth.  With a quick flick of his thumb across a match's head, he lit the concoction with practiced gesture.<br/><br/>The sweet smell of tobacco filled the air as William inhaled deeply its pungent healing scent.<br/>A stolen taste of home, all too brief in its call, for even as he inhaled his last, William felt his life's returning pall.<br/><br/>The soft vibration of his communicator, as it shrugged across the table. An incoming call, from his handler.<br/><br/>William opened the device, harsh white light slapping up at his face, as the shadowy visage of Gable came into view.<br/><span style="color: purple">"Agent 2047, it's been awhile." </span>The dulcet voice murmured.<br/><br/>"Indeed it has, Gable. You're looking splendid as always." William noted, with a soft, confident tone.<br/><span style="color: purple">"Flatterer."</span>a slight grin forming on the right side of her lips. "You know this isn't a social call, 47."<br/>William smiled coldly, "It never is. What are the Empire needs?"<br/><br/><span style="color: purple">"We are sending you to Terra, 47."</span><br/>"Interesting...what for?"<br/><br/>"We have gotten wind of a rogue AI programmer that is sheltering a C-3. We want you to retrieve it."<br/><br/>William frowned slightly insulted at this paltry request, "Hardly interesting, sounds like job for local law enforcement, not the SS."<br/><br/><span style="color: purple">"This A.I. is special, 47. We believe it may contain data that will give us a strategic advantage over the Alliance. Retrieve it's database, the A.I. and any additional information you can acquire."<br/>
</span><br/>"Very well, understood." William replied in a slightly acerbic tone.<br/><br/>Gable's brows furrowed, she leaned forward, the sinister beauty of her features becoming plain even in the darkness,<span style="color: purple">"Under no circumstances are you to leave without the databases, 47. This is of paramount importance. If you become compromised, destroy them. We cannot risk such valuable information falling into the hands of the Alliance." </span><br/><br/>William's raised an eyebrow, softening his tone a bit. "Yes, sir. Understood."<br/><br/>Gable nodded,<span style="color: purple">"Good. Your credentials are the folder under the sofa.You leave at 06:00 Good hunting, 2047."<br/>
</span><br/><br/>And with that, the screen went to black, and William was alone in the dark once again.<br/>He sat there for several minutes, pondering...before he reached under his seat, his hand falling on a leather bound folder, opening gently to find all the usual forged papers within. Passport, motor vehicle license, bank cards, and photo I.D. under the name "James Hawthorne Wolfe."<br/><br/>"Well, Mr. Wolfe..." William chortled. "Looks like you aren't getting any sleep tonight."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>