The screen changed. It began to play a hidden security video. The video was clear. It showed the inside of a fancy, expensive office. Sitting behind a large desk was Director Smith. Standing in front of the desk was Commander Reed, the leader of the private mercenaries. The date on the bottom of the video showed it was recorded six months ago."Commander Reed," Director Smith’s voice echoed loudly from the giant speakers in Times Square. "The public is getting too comfortable. They are starting to trust the Halo. We need them to feel afraid. Fear is the only way they will accept our new control measures."In the video, Commander Reed crossed his arms. "What do you want me to do, Director?"Director Smith smiled a cold, evil smile. "I want you to take a squad into District 4. Dress your men in stolen Purist armor. Burn down the food distribution center. Shoot anyone who resists.""That will cause a riot," Commander Reed warned."Exactly," Director Smith nodded. "You start the fire. Yo

The wind blew hard off Lake Michigan. It carried sharp, freezing snow through the broken streets. The sky was always a dark, heavy grey. The tall skyscrapers in the distance looked like giant, frozen shadows.In Sector 4, a mid-tier district of the city, life was incredibly hard. The people here were not rich. They did not have thick, warm coats. They did not have magic. They were just normal, everyday humans trying to survive the end of the world.Marcus was one of these normal people. He was fifty years old. He had tired, brown eyes and grey hair. His hands were covered in rough calluses and old scars. Marcus owned a small supply shop on the corner of Elm Street.His shop was very dark. The heater had broken a long time ago. The windows were cracked, taped together with thick silver duct tape to keep the freezing wind out. Inside the shop, the wooden floor creaked when anyone walked on it. The shelves were mostly empty. Marcus sold cans of beans, old blankets, rusty nails, and heav

Marcus gripped the handle. His knuckles turned white. He did not feel weak anymore. He did not feel like a coward. He felt like a father who had finally woken up from a nightmare.Marcus turned and walked toward the front door of the shop. He did not look back at the secret room where Mia was sleeping. He knew that if he did not do this, she would starve anyway. If he lived like a sheep, the wolves would eventually eat them both.Marcus reached the heavy wooden door. He unlocked the deadbolt. Click. He pushed the door open.The freezing, snowy wind hit him in the face. The cold air felt refreshing. It felt clean.Marcus stepped out of his dark shop and onto the snowy sidewalk of Elm Street. He looked down the road.About fifty yards away, standing in front of the local bakery, was Commander Blake.Blake was holding a small brown paper bag filled with fresh bread. He was yelling at Sarah, the woman who owned the bakery. Blake was pointing his finger in her face, demanding more money.Th

The boy’s scream was cut short by the terrifying, loud, buzzing sound of a heavy medical saw cutting through solid bone.WHIRRRRRRR. CRUNCH."Scalpel," the doctor said casually. "We are removing the amygdala. We are deleting the fear center. Cut the empathetic nerve clusters. We need this one to be perfectly blank.""Yes, Doctor. Slicing the frontal lobe now," the assistant replied."Excellent," the doctor noted. "Subject 409’s emotional responses are flatlining. The brain wipe is complete. Bring in the grey helmet. We have a new Executor ready for deployment."The recording ended with a sharp click. KZZZT.Sarah froze. She stopped breathing. The heavy rifle almost slipped out of her hands.She turned her head slowly. She looked to her left. She stared at the tall, silent, featureless grey Executor standing right next to her in the snow.For months, she had thought this soldier was a brave volunteer. She thought there was a proud hero hiding inside that blank helmet. She looked at th

The basement under the old university in New York City was freezing cold.Before the world broke, this room was a library storage area. It was filled with tall metal shelves and thousands of dusty, forgotten books. Now, it was a hidden bunker. It was a secret place for normal humans to fight back.Leo sat at a heavy wooden desk in the dark. He was just a university student. A few days ago, he had been a magical soldier. He had painted his face yellow. He had created giant blue crystal shields. He had been addicted to the magic.But the Null-Bomb had erased his power. The silver missile had stripped the magic from his blood. The crazy, fanatical thoughts were gone from his mind. He was completely human again. He felt the freezing winter air. He felt the deep, terrible ache in his bones. He did not have a blue shield anymore. But he still had his brain.Leo was an underground data-runner. He was an architect of information. While Jayden fought the monsters with his fists, Leo fought th