Cyberpunk 3147: into the Future with a Magic System?

ch 1: Ghost

Tap tap!

A series of foot steps echoed through the silent passage, the hard boot clicking against the concrete floor with a deadly rhythm. The figure.....in black pants covering his legs to his red inner wear and brown jacket bottomed up.

He wore a black face cap coupled with a purple nose mask....a ghost symbol stitched on the mask....a logo.

He was clunching a long dark red wooden case over a meter long, thick with a military backpack slung over his shoulder.

Splat splat! He trudged on stepping into the wet puddles soiling his boot. Cold seeping in....uncaring, his cold eyes focused as he walked, the dimly lit corridor gave his vistage an eerie feel to it.

He continued, climbing a flight of stairs.....

Walk- stairs

Walk- stairs. Like he was going from floor to floor ascending to the rooftop, indeed he was.

He reached the top as he came face to face with the double metal door locks...made up of thick chains and heavy duty padlock giving off durability. A bit rusted on the surface but it stood firm.

He placed the wooden box on the floor softly and he searched his backpack for the safety case bearing the devil axe.

A black axe.....sharp that could cut through wood like paper. His Japanese bladesmith of a grandfather, has passed it to him on his death bed.

A bit of emotion flashed through his eyes and disappeared as quickly as it came his gaze reinforced with even more coldness, the Wind rattling the metal gates held together by the thick chains

bang! bang!

sending sounds of clanking metals down the stairs

Unlocking the box, the blade came in view: a silver blade, about a finger thick at the head and thinner then a strand of hair at the tip mounted on an S shaped dragon styled handle. Plucking it out, he left the box.....falling to the ground with a bam! Followed by a swift

Shing!

The blade struck the thick chains with precision.... ruthlessly, his gout muscles tout with strength

Shing! Bang! He struck again....harder This time, chains banging again the doors giving of a dim metallic bang echoing down the dim stairs behind him. A deep notch about two-thirds deep appears on the metal chains. Lips forming a dark smile, he struck again...for the last time.

Bang! Cling-clang! As the chains broke loose...clanging falling to the ground with a heavy thud.

Ha! Exhaling, he spared the axe a glance before trowing it aimlessly to the side.....bam!

Grabbing the box and shoulder then back pack he struck the gate open with a kick a dull metallic ring tromming out. The gates flung open, the rooftop coming in view!

The wind hallowed and boomed loudly like roaring thunder his cloths fluttering wildly in the wind. He moved forward his steps echoes drowned out by the angry mighty wind. He reached the edge, his foot a few inches from the tippy top.

Gazing down, he was at least 60 stories off the ground.....the visual effect from such a height would scare an average person or worse give birth to nightmares and trauma.....but to our man right here, a hint of emotion appeared again a bit firmer this time. He appeared to be struggling with emotion.

His mind a battlefield of choice.....eyes taking a redder shade to it, but eventually it appeared the black side won....the white side..... innocence- snuffed out.

Taking two steps back he dropped the box and his bag. Unlocking the bolt on the box

Squeak! It opened with a squeaky wooden sound as the content came into view-a sniper!.....dismantled. Removing the main part, he professionally assembled the whole body with systemic accuracy that can only be gained from experience....seems our man had a story to tell

(Chuckle, everyone has a story to tell. Even you....yes you!)

Pulling out various items as they thud firmly against the concrete roof top: various attachments for his sniper, his googles, pen and a note. He layed down on the cold hard roof, lining up his head with the scope... adjusting the lens to preference....

Scribble scribble!

With his right hand, he jottted down a series of number on a table drawn before hand, he appeared to be calculating the wind speed and direction.

(It appears our ice man has an aim...and for what that is, let's find out!)

-----------------------

A couple of hundred meters...maybe a thousand, far way from our iceman position, a huge tall building stood...it's giant silver metallic frame gleamed from the setting sun....taking a reddish yellow hue.

Below on the ground floor, people shuffled and scrambled about a podium a bit off the ground.

Various dignitaries sat on the chair below talking in hushed whispers and the journalist, or what I call "wild rats!" Lingered a bit farther behind the seat.....limited to a yellow tap. Their cameras flashing with blinding light that could make an average person faint from dizzyness.

Seconds turned into minutes into tens of minutes about reaching the hourly mark. The brightness of the sun disappearing gradually being replaced by the cool evening. The suited dignitaries already irritated and anxious from the long wait. The wild rat were visible impatient eye trained to the tinted entrance of the very building they were against

(It appeared something was about to go down..... what's it?(⁠^⁠^⁠))

Finally, the entrance swung opened as a stream of suited personnel's who appeared to be company executive and management flanked by guards at all sides. A old balm man in white suit, stood out from the rest at the front protected by two huge fleshy giants wearing glasses

They ascended the podium with the balm man probably the head or CEO taking the lead while the rest arranged themselves behind him

Approaching the mic on the stand bearing a logo at the front, the seated dignitaries stood up in unition and jammed their hand together.

Their clapping resounding before it dead down after some seconds

Smiling, out balm man here opened his mouth to speak, when.....

Bang!