I check my gear one more time. Olive green jump suit. Check. Bogus ID. Check. Maglite. Check. Earpiece. Check. Backpack full of plastic explosives. Check. Taking a deep breath I turn the handle of the door that had tormented me from the moment this dream started. And for the first time, the door opens without resistance, allowing me to leave the room that had been my prison and training ground.

I make my way down the featureless hallway and take the winding staircase down to the ground floor. The staircase terminates at what was a bar and lounge that was thankfully closed. I had a feeling that making my way through a crowd of drunks carrying a backpack full of explosives was not going to be a very safe or healthy experience, the Voice's assurances to the contrary.

Stepping out through the main door, I idly notice that the joint's name was "The Gallant's Rest", was my host the owner of this place?

Not that it matters now. A black cab slows to a stop in front of me. I open the passenger door and raise a quizzical eyebrow. There was no driver inside. There was not even a steering wheel.

"Self-driving." The Voice explains through the earpiece. "Are you ready?"

I climb into the cab and say, more to myself than anything else, "Mission Launch."

......

The cab cruises through the largely empty night streets as I take the opportunity to play tourist. This was the first time my dream had let me loose in this world and I at least wanted to know what my imagination was capable of. As the road took the cab up a small hill, I came to the conclusion that the answer was "depressingly little". Looking over The City, I realized that when The Voice said that The City was built using the remains of its devastated forbears, it was speaking literally.

The City was a slap dash of different architectural and planning styles from around the world with no attempt made at harmonizing them together. Each individual district appeared to be crudely bolted on to The City as a whole, causing the roads to have a schizophrenic quality to them. Narrow alleys would suddenly inflate into massive four lanes. Hard right angles would veer off into sweeping ring roads.

All this chaos was held together by a web of new, ultra modern construction. Elevated mag rail lines shuttled people between the districts. Broad, well maintained highways allowed cars to avoid much of the directional chaos. And inter spaced between the individual districts were shining high rises, titans made out of steel and glass.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

It was these modern titans that dominated The City's skyline. And holding court over them all was a massive structure that started with a broad base and climbed the sky until it tapered off to a needle point. Painted in the purest white, it was illuminated by a battery of lights that gave it a golden halo, casting a shadow across all the other skyscrapers. It was as if all the other buildings in The City were paying obeisance to their ruler.

"Ascension Tower. Or as the locals call it, The Tower That Pierces Heaven." The Voice rumbles in my ear. "Headquarters of all Host operations worldwide. You will not find an angel on this world that has not been inside there at least once."

"What about that little thing about pride then?" I ask.

"Angels have fallen to earth for more than a decade now. Nobody cares about those things anymore."

The cab veers onto the coastal highway, cutting a path through the darkness of the night.

....

Several fleets worth of cargo ships rest anchored across the artificial bay, lights blinking. Tugboats hauling barges loaded with containers make their way back to the massive port in the distance. At least as far as the logistics business was concerned, The City did not sleep. "So many ships." I murmur.

"The City has no local natural resources other than fish. It has to import almost all of its needs. The City also exports massive quantities of high end manufactured and luxury goods as well as magical products to feed itself. That makes Welder's Bay one of the busiest districts." The Voice says.

The cab finally comes to a stop before a moorish styled clock tower in the middle of a roundabout. The Voice continues, "The warehouse compound is just a 5 minute walk around the corner. You will disembark here and make your way to the target site. Once you have completed your mission, you will return here for extraction."

"Why can't you just drop me off at the compound?" I ask The Voice.

"I do not want this vehicle to be identified. After extracting you, I will still need to transport you back to the room before this mission can be regarded as complete. I wish to minimize the possible chance of interception." The Voice explains as I climb out of the cab.

As the cab drives off into the night, I remark, "Hey. Its accepted custom that before a transmigrator is sent off on his quest, a feast is provided to commemorate the occasion."

"I spawned you sandwich and a bottle of water before you left the room. Also, you are not being "sent off". I will be with you the entire time." The Voice replies.

Despite everything that I had experienced so far, that statement from The Voice somehow made me feel better. Perhaps I did not stand completely alone in this messed up dream.

And in no time at all, I was before the iron gate of warehouse compound A5.