The year is 2060. The world has transformed beyond recognition. Technology, modules, and prosthetics have seeped into every corner of life, reshaping humanity itself. It's increasingly rare to meet someone without bodily enhancements. Augmented limbs, sensory implants—these are no longer luxuries for the elite but the standard for most. People walk the streets with artificial eyes, mechanical arms, and neural modules that connect their minds directly to the network. Dreams of biological perfection have become reality, but they've brought new dangers in their wake.
The city pulses with its own rhythm. Neon lights cut through the evening fog, keeping the metropolis from drowning in darkness. Skyscrapers tower into the heavens, while residents, like ants, navigate desolate streets, shielding themselves from cold rain under umbrellas.
But beneath the surface gloss lies a darker truth. In the shadows, far from the hum of city life, live those who can't afford even basic enhancements. They turn to the black market, where crude, handmade modules are sold for pennies. These makeshift devices often maim their owners, crafted in clandestine workshops with little regard for safety.
Night falls. Dark alleys come alive. A silhouette hurries through the labyrinth of backstreets, unaware of the group of shadows trailing close behind, their implants faintly glowing. The figure slips into an old high-rise, and the silence is shattered by a monotonous male voice.
"Doc, we've found another test subject. Completely clean, no enhancements."
A soft but steely female voice crackles through an earpiece.
"Excellent. Dig up everything you can on him. The other teams are making progress too—we need to move fast with the plan. We've only got a few days before the government shuts us down."
Silence hangs in the air. The group exchanges glances before the same monotonous voice resumes.
"We'll execute the plan no matter the cost. We've come too far to hesitate now. Tomorrow, we start prepping the subjects. For now—information gathering. Over."
"Copy that. Good hunting, Dylan."
In an instant, the group melts into the dark alleys.
Meanwhile, in a restricted zone of the city…
The city quiets at night, but in one of its central buildings, a heated discussion rages on.
"General! Why can't we shut this company down right now? We have all the evidence! Even the higher-ups gave their approval!" A heavy fist slams the table. All eyes turn to the general. Silence. Then his voice, heavy as lead, cuts through.
"We can't move on them yet. You said it yourself, Dave—the higher-ups approved. Well, twenty minutes ago, a new order came through: the operation is delayed for a few days for an absurd reason. I'll read it verbatim: 'Operation postponed by the commander-in-chief due to insufficient information on Case #359.' Got it? Someone's buying them time. And we can't disobey orders."
A wave of frustration ripples through the room. Years of preparation for this operation weigh heavily, and tensions are high. The general continues.
"But we won't sit idle. We'll prepare the city, secure the perimeter—no one slips through, not even a fly. No more risks. Too many innocents have already suffered. Meeting adjourned."
The room empties as people rise and leave in silence, their faces etched with discontent. Defying the general—or those above him—was not an option.
Alone now, the general furrows his brow and mutters under his breath, "What are you playing at? Are there traitors in the highest ranks?"
A deafening silence envelops the room. What comes next?