In the polluted haze of the Endless City Gondo walked purposefully down the thoroughfare, his head shrouded in a bright blue radiation hood. Through his visor he could see the mutated hordes of workers heading between nightmare shifts in overgrown factory-towns, sprinkled with the occasional bright spot of color signaling another traveler lucky enough to have protective gear.  

What was life expectancy today? Best not to think about it.  

Any who dared gaze up would see the towering forms of the sky-blocks connected by countless highways and airways stretching onward into the dizzying atmosphere. When humanity’s ability to expand into the cosmos dried up, they resigned to fill every square inch of the space they were able to access with metal, concrete and plastic until the term “continent” lost any meaning. Now all was the Endless City.  

He noticed the same non-descript figure had followed him over the last few turns. Of course he was being tailed. Gondo was a Caster, a highly trained astral operative capable of traveling through the cosmos using only his mind and a heavy cocktail of space drugs. He slipped into a version of the focus state he used in his experiments and time began to shift. He could sense the movements of the crowd in 4-dimensional space. Where they had been, where they were now, and where they were going.  

As he weaved in and out of the crowds and traffic, he could feel his tail flowing after him in a similar fashion. Another Caster then. This should be fun.  

He started to thread the needle more closely, shifting like a wraith amidst the throng. The distracted masses barely noticed his ethereal passing, buried in their cheap holos, most trundling along on auto pilot.  

Gondo continued until he reached a large overpass bustled with smoking hovering machinery and headed right into an alleyway. He burst quickly down a set of stairs and turned one-eighty, then jumped a barricade on his left and continued down a steep ramp, tucking between a crew of hulking cyborgs stomping through the muck. Then back to a main road.  

Dammit. The tail was gaining on him.  

He started to cede ground, letting the follower catch up in small increments, giving him hope. He dodged into one of the monstrous highway stacks and made his jagged way across. This was certain death for anyone without specialized training, and even then, the odds of survival were slim. Gondo’s mission today was too important, he couldn’t jeopardize his plans. He had to take the risk.  

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As expected, the shadowy form followed him out into the maddening traffic. Vehicles careened by at speeds so high they wouldn’t even realize if they hit something. Utilizing his heightened senses, he made his way across in a game of high stakes hopscotch. His tail was growing cocky, closing distance amongst the traffic. Gondo pushed the envelope further, at each moment a fraction of a second from certain death.  

As he reached the edge he probed deeply into his focus and let out a psychic blast. The wave made his pursuer’s path falter for just an instant.  

“You’re DUST!” pulsed through the man’s mind the instant a passing hauler turned him into a meat cloud.  

Oh well. He picked the wrong team.  

Gondo relinquished his focus and began a swift run back through the final stages of his trek, periodically scanning for pursuit, until he finally arrived at his destination. He navigated past the first set of blast doors and entered a long code into the keypad against the inner door. The blast doors closed, and he let out a sigh. 

“Took you long enough,” a voice chuckled through the crackling intercom. Steam hissed from the grating below and washed his form in grey heat to remove any contaminants. When it was finished the inner door hissed open and Gondo walked inside.  

A squad of beefy mercs in high end armor waited for him, armed to the teeth. A large scanning unit descended from above and bathed him in bright beams as he removed his radiation cloak and tossed it in the corner.  

The closest merc continued scanning and frisking him with a handheld device. Gondo was tall and skinny, even by today’s standards. His midnight black hair was starting to grey from age and exposure. His cunning eyes assessed the sellgun as he was waved through, making sure he was getting what he paid for. The mercs may not know it, but they were on his dime.  

Finally, he entered the laboratory. The smartest person in the system sat casually in front of a bank of monitors, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Thier bright white lab coat contrasted with their dark skin and short dark hair as they peeked over a pair of green plastic spectacles. Lowell could have had their eyes adapted long ago but preferred a touch of the old school. 

“I was starting to think you’d chickened out. Glad to see you didn’t forget about us...” they joked as they set their mug down and stood, “I trust you didn’t have any tag-alongs?” 

Gondo collapsed into a swivel chair, “I ghosted one. Surprisingly good too, not your average A.E.C. goon. Shame.”  

“Those geeked out slave-Casters couldn’t track their way out of a paper bag,” Lowell said, “Must’ve been independent.”   

A large metal frame coasted silently into the room. It was Lowell’s assistant Ignasius. Long ago he had been a bouncer bot at one of the seedy gambling dens in the lower levels. When he was replaced by newer tech, 

 Lowell bought him at auction. Now he was brimming with top-of-the-line custom parts, working on innovative projects. His gratitude to Lowell formed a special bond between the two.  

A dim orange light pulsed in the center of his body as he spoke in a deep baritone, “Hello Mr. Gondo. Ready for a pleasant afternoon of amicable conversation and voyages beyond the speed of light?”