“A war?” Michael asked. He took a quick glance around. He was so distracted by the plan of escape that he failed to acknowledge the reason of darkness around him. A war broke out. The darkness was either from the destruction or the blackout.

“Look, we have information for you,” Jay advance forward a step and all the guns began pointing towards him, “We were also harmed by ArtTech. We literally just escaped their facilities, and we can give you information about them. All you need to do is just lower the gun.”

The leader of the mobs hesitated for a while. Michael could see the tip of the gun lowered by a few centimeters. However, he raised up the gun again. “That is simply illogical. Why would anyone possibly want to leave an ArtTech facility in a moment like this.”

Now Jay is confused as well, “What do you mean? A massacre happened there a few days ago, and they imprisoned us. Of course we would want to leave.”

It is perhaps Jay’s genuine confusion that convinced the mob leader that Michael’s group was not dangerous.

“Alright, follow me,” the mob leader motioned as the group began a hurried walk.

The mob leader led the group into a dark building. When they pushed open the door, they realized that the inside of the building was brightly lit with artificial lights, though all the windows were covered with reflective materials. People hurried up and down.

“Alright, I will fill you in on what is going on. My name is Derek…”

A loudspeaker’s booming voice tore apart the conversation, “Residents of the Central Circle, ArtTech is looking for four missing individuals, comprised of three males and one female. ArtTech will offer high rewards for those who could report the location of the missing individuals.”

Michael took a glance out of the window. There is a line of tanks — at least five or six of them — traveling down the dark remains of the road. Beams of white searchlights pierced open the veil of unknown surrounding the Central Circle. Within the fifty meter radius of the tanks, everything was illuminated as if with sunlight.

The tanks were a group of archangels descending down the depths of hell, Michael thought. The tank formation moved steadily towards them, using energy fields to levitate a few centimeters from the dirty, mundane ground with an air of superiority. Wherever they go, there was brightness.

“Quick, turn on thermal-insulation shields around this building, and send our best soldiers to hold the second perimeter. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Remember, they are ArtTech soldiers, we don’t stand a chance.”

Michael still shivered at the memory of the ArtTech phalanx that broke into the massacre and rescued his group. They lethally gunned down the charging crowds with clinical precision, and they took Michael’s group away without a single break in their formation. They were highly trained mercenaries and veterans.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The woman next to Derek the mob leader seemed to display similar concern as Michael. She flashed a look questioning if it is really worth their lives to guard some strangers.

Derek ignored her and she carried out her orders.

“Right after the footages of the massacre were aired, I felt that something was off. Everybody began to have this hostile look in their eyes. Everybody realized why this massacre happened,” Derek whispered to the team.

“Did the police do anything?” Alexandra spoke for the first time since they exited the building. Michael could still see distrust and fear upon her face. She intentionally kept some distance from Jay. Jay could sense that too but did not respond.

“Oh, yes. They tried.” The door creaked opened.

At the door Michael could see the silhouette of Marcus Johnson — the one and only CEO of ArtTech, the one who pulled the team out of the massacre but imprisoned them — standing alone with a casual posture.

“What the…” Derek raised up his shot gun.

It was too late. Marcus Johnson dashed forward when Derek was just gripping onto the gun. He ducked from the muzzle and moved gracefully beneath the shotgun barrel. Using his shoulder as a fulcrum and a kick towards Derek’s thigh, Marcus Johnson wrenched the gun from Derek. However, Johnson threw the gun at the floor.

“I came here to negotiate,” Marcus Johnson said.

**********

Five days ago, right before the massacre, Agent Amelia Adrianna was pacing anxiously in her office.

She recruited the four young geniuses — three to be precise, because Jay is neither a genius nor “recruited” the same way as others — and she felt responsibility towards them.

The superiors designed this mission to just be a simple surveillance mission. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. But the moment the team went into the ArtTech facility, Agent Amelia lost all visuals and communications with the team. There was some kind of signal blocking device that outdid the government’s communication system.

And now, the massacre in the auditorium. Agent Amelia watched it over and over, despite the traumas and horrors. She didn’t know how to react.

Now, the team will no longer trust her. They will think that Amelia set them up for some suicide mission. They will think that the government had manipulated them, just like how they forcibly abducted Michael or ransomed Alexandra’s family.

She would explain for them. She would be genuine and sincere to regain their trust, but her priority would be to find them.

She watched the footage of the massacre over and over again. It was obvious that the footage was taken by ArtTech’s own surveillance cameras in the room, but she couldn’t figure why any ArtTech employee would have the intention to publish such footages. It must be some cyber criminal organizations that hacked into ArtTech’s database, though Amelia couldn’t think of any known hacker organizations who have the capability to brake into ArtTech’s defense.

The hour after the massacre footages were aired, riots broke out on the streets. It started from protests, which soon turned violent.

When such a violent and inhumane footage was published, people would have a wide variety of responses. Most people turned towards panic and anxiety at the fear of further unemployment. Many also began to harass and attack ArtTech personnels for what their company allowed to happen in the auditorium. Many more subconsciously learned from the massacre and began to carry out vigilante justice and terrorism themselves.

The same night was the Night of Seventy Riots. The police department of New York City — Agent Amelia and Michael’s city — alone had received 70 reports of robbery, shootings, and terrorism.

It began with a group of unemployed people setting fire to the cars of a few ArtTech employees. The ArtTech employees tried to run away were cornered by the crowds. They tried to defend themselves, and a crossfire happened. The police force was dispatched and managed to escort the ArtTech employees safely to the hospital.

However, the police resources were soon drained. As soon as the SWAT team dealt with one riot, another five took place in different parts of the city.

Fear would lead people to do irrational things. Here, the fear of getting completely replaced by Ai, the fear of being the next victim of a massacre, the fear of any and all uncertainties of the future all summed up.

Fear let the civilians pick up arms against each other, and fear also led them to attack the SWAT force. The government’s SWAT team never suffered such a cruel hit.

The next morning, the global president declared martial law, which had never been declared since the Great Unification of nation states. However, a martial law is completely futile under this situation.

The city was divided into different dominions. The city’s living quarters were arranged according to wealth, and people of the same financial level and profession naturally lived closer to each other. The dominions were thus divided by geographic boundaries. Numerous pioneers had attempted, and failed at the cost of their lives, to cross from one dominion to another.

The martial law could not defend a nation that would rip itself apart from the inside.