He summoned the artificial intelligence search agent. “Xandra.”
“Yes, Mr. Knowone.”
“Please run a search for the username of KingSleaze11. What was the most recent Net Code address he was operating with?”
“I’m sorry, source unknown,” Xandra replied
“Shit, looks like I’m gonna have to find another way.”
He made a hand motion toward the base of the desk and a holographic keyboard manifested. He began typing a number of sequences at lightning fast pace. After about a minute, he stopped. “There you are, Mr. Slavo.”
Caiden appeared to have found what he was looking for. “Nice try. Masking your real Net Code address was smart, but you can’t hide that from a hacker like me,” he said triumphantly. “Net Code address Ab.43.ZZ! This matches the one I found earlier from 2ofTheSame!”
The riddle, the username, the police report, and the Net Code address confirmed Caiden’s theory. All he needed was visual proof; something that would prove that 2ofTheSame was related to the twin girls who went missing a year ago. His gut feeling linked them somehow to the brothel and Slavo. Executing the plan was dependent on the success of the Prime-1 bank job.
“If everything goes according to my plan, Slavo will be in dire need of funds soon enough. He’ll use his resources at the brothel to ensure he regains at least some of the money he will end up losing. That’s where I come in.”
The darkness of night began to loom. One o’clock was soon approaching. Standing, Caiden took a deep breath and shook off his nervous energy.
“Time to go.”
He put on his helmet, went to the garage, hopped on his beloved jet black hypercycle and rode off into the moonlit night toward the borough of Nova Central, where Prime-1 Bank was located. It felt like the ride took longer than twenty minutes. Maybe it’s the nerves? Maybe because my life is on the line? But this is nothing new, he thought to himself, distressed.
Driving further into the city meant driving further into an inexplicable madness characterized by neon lights, violence, sex, poverty and luxury. A whirlwind of vices had a stranglehold on the massive city he called home. I would be the guy to get caught up in something as crazy as this, he thought. The fluorescent dazzle of the holographic billboards reflected off the fiberglass of Caiden’s smooth aerodynamic motorcycle helmet. Inside the helmet, the navigation display indicated that the bank was near.
CHAPTER 3
---usr/systems/server-x/INFILTRATE PRIME-1---
Nova Central, the busiest of the five boroughs in the city and home to most of government buildings spread throughout its landscape. The tallest of the skyscrapers also resided in Nova. Zonos and Neon Tower stood at a lengthy one thousand eight hundred and seventy-five feet and one thousand nine hundred and fifty feet, respectively. Naturally, the spectacle of these monstrous structures attracted the attention of tourists, worldwide. Moving through Nova Central at any time was difficult, as it was always lively and bustling with activity.
Wisely, Caiden parked his hypercycle four blocks away from the bank and up against a brick wall in the alley. He pulled a fabric cover from one of the small utility containers intelligently and sleekly designed within the curvature of the bike. It appeared to be a cover of some sort. As soon he placed the cover over the bike, it disappeared. This cloth was no ordinary cloth; it was a chameleo-ware fabric he purchased on the black market. Only the military-police were authorized to have such a piece of equipment.
The alleyway was dimly lit, grungy, and run down. There were old broken neon signs from abandoned stores flashing on and off. Voices could be heard off in the distance and they echoed between the hollow walls of the dully lit alleyway. It was hardly the kind of location any sensible pedestrian would think to venture down late at night. Making his way toward the main road ahead, he seamlessly blended in with the busy moving crowd. Nimbly shifting through people, he made his way to the bank. The streets were electric with energy. Hordes of partygoers were heading to the bars, clubs, and small-time sex chambers on the strip. The street was littered with empty liquor bottles, confetti, and other types of paraphernalia. To say the strip encouraged people to party hard would be an understatement. Many were already high from heavy recreational drug use, screaming, fighting, and laughing wildly at anything and everything. By sound alone, they seemed less human and more hyena in comparison.
Further down the street was a police blockade. It appeared that they were conducting a haphazard raid on an apartment building nearby. The majority of people on the streets were completely unfazed by the shady police activity; too wasted to care for anything other than their own high.
There was a small mob of protesters closer to the blockade causing a ruckus and lambasting the perceived over-aggressive actions of the Psi-Corp military-police; the abhorrent ‘bloodhounds’ of Zonos Inc. In response, a few officers that were equipped with anti-riot shields blocked their path and asserted their position with the aid of an armed AI assisted crowd control hover pod. There was even a minor scuffle, resulting in the arrest of a few protesters, which turned into an all-out brawl.
Dumbasses, Caiden thought as he shook his head in disappointment. The night air was soft blowing, caressing his cheekbones as his face was tense. His eyes were intense, his brow curled and folded. He was nervous, yet focused.
Across the road was the Prime-1 Bank, guarded by four large security guards, each armed with oversized pistols and body armor. Their helmets covered all but the lower half of their faces. They were assisted by a large Psi-Corp military grade surveillance drones called a Hover Surveillance Drones, or HSDs. These HSDs were two by two meters in size. It utilized four rotor blades safely encased in an aerodynamic design. HSDs come
