June 6, 2507

  Current location: Neu York - Noir Aussicht

  8:35 am

  The shackles clinked with each step as I made my way down the prison corridor, a guard leading the way. He glanced back at me thoughtfully.

  "Sie sind seit elf Jahren eingesperrt," he said. The German words meant nothing to me.

  "You've been locked up for 5 years," he translated.

  "Yeah, what about it?" I replied flatly.

  "What did you do?" Curiosity tinged his voice.

  "I was being experimented on by Noir, then I escaped and killed my father."

  "Who was your father?"

  "Ron King."

  The guard scoffed as we approached a security checkpoint. The station appeared empty.

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  "Hey! Jemand da!?" my escort called out.

  A figure emerged behind the checkpoint - Hans Wolfgang, a higher-ranking Werewolf than the typical guards.

  "Hans," my escort acknowledged.

  "Franz," Hans returned, his eyes settling on me. "Hundefleisch." Dogmeat. That's what they called me.

  Hans turned to Franz. "Wohin bringst du es?"

  "Den Hof mit den anderen," Franz replied.

  "Bu?geld," Hans grumbled.

  Franz led me to the courtyard, an enclosed space beneath a massive dome. Prisoners were scattered across the yard - some playing ball, others fighting or hunched over card games. I found an empty bench and looked up through the thick plastic dome that replaced the open sky. Beyond it, dense green smoke blotted out the sun.

  The yard sat at the prison's heart, protected from the toxic air by the dome and air filtration systems. Maybe if they shut down the air exchange, we could finally breathe normally again.

  ---

  Miles away, Rellik regained consciousness on the road, his ears ringing and head throbbing. He pushed himself to his feet, taking in the scene. The bus lay a hundred feet distant, consumed by flames.

  The landscape around him was a forest of concrete and steel, buildings pressed against buildings for as far as the eye could see. This wasn't the New York he remembered - every familiar structure had been replaced by towering gray monoliths. Two buildings dominated the skyline: to the north, the Hauptquartiers, Noir's headquarters - a windowless triangular spire piercing the toxic clouds. To the south loomed the air exchange, a massive factory complex belching green smoke into the atmosphere, making the very act of breathing a death sentence without a gas mask.

  Rellik adjusted his own mask, the memory of that first day still fresh - the day they released the gas. The day everything changed. Some memories never fade, no matter how much you wish they would.