“It’s nothing I can’t handle,”

  Case File #6

  January 4th, 2044

  04:20 PM

  Central Ward

  Heights District

  There was a storm outside. A hurricane swept up by the Sea of Japan that, even now, was pelting seawater down on Yo?gai-shima, hurling thunderbolts at buildings, attempting to rip apart the city’s infrastructure with gale force winds. It all sounded suitably dramatic and terrifying, but to Fubuki Kamui, it was a world away.

  All morning, she’d been inside, sheltered away behind the finest protections modern science could provide. For all she knew, she’d slept peacefully this morning when the storm hit and not even the loudest thunderclaps served to rouse her. All the pouring rain and howling wind could do nothing to harm her in the twenty-first century fortress she now lived in. She was nothing less than a single citizen of a private city that sat nestled inside a solitary building, as good as being a world away from the ugliness of Yo?gai-shima.

  It was only now, well into the afternoon with evening fast approaching, that Kamui actually laid her eyes on the storm that vainly tried to engulf the city outside her precious walls. On her way out from her residential block, she’d been so absorbed in preparation and catching up on the news of the day that she hadn’t bothered to so much as look out a window. She hadn’t even intended to see it, lost in her own world as she was, but the scenic view of the Heavenly Heights’ skybridges made looking at the typhoon unavoidable. All around her, the silver towers of the Heights rose up, breathtaking in their enormity and their design. Their smooth, mirror-like exteriors had the sense almost of an organic creature, folding and undulating in ways that conventional skyscrapers would not and could not.

  Each singular building had a footprint large enough to engulf an entire city block, crowding out any hopes for smaller buildings to find purchase in the district. The Heights was made up of two dozen such spires, each one a condensed metropolis unto itself. Like a metal net suspended in the air, skybridges formed an above ground highway, allowing residents of one tower to quickly visit another.

  It was in one such skybridge that Kamui found herself when she witnessed the storm outside. The skybridge itself was a shatter-proof plexiglass tunnel that ran between two towers with a metal rail inside it. Kamui sat in the car of a twenty seated capsule that ran through the tunnel, its translucent roof allowing her to view Yo?gai-shima in all its glory from her lofty perch. The capsule was empty, save for Kamui and the bag of groceries placed on the seat beside her. Tower 5, her place of residence, had stores aplenty up and down its hundred odd floors, but Tower 3 had the quaintest little bakery on Floor 18, not to mention its superior produce up on 78. Normally, she wouldn’t go out of her way to buy more food when she already had a pantry full of provided rations, but today was special. It needed to be perfect.

  Fubuki Kamui was a woman of average height with shoulder length dark hair and blue eyes. She’d chosen to wear a thick scarlet turtleneck sweater and a long, white skirt in order to combat the foul weather she was only dimly aware of. Of course, the temperature-controlled interior of the Heights meant that Kamui’s precautions were meaningless. Looking at her own reflection in the plexiglass, Kamui decided that she cut an attractive figure nonetheless, and that was still worth something.

  There was a flash somewhere in the sky and Kamui looked up just in time to see lightning strike Tower 12. The blinding flash of heaven’s arrow vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving only a lasting mirage in Kamui’s vision. Kamui’s eyes scoured the surface of Tower 12, confirming to herself that the bolt of lightning had utterly failed to leave the smallest stain on Yo?gai-shima’s architecture. Her gaze fell on one of the exterior gardens built on said tower, where even now, residents could enjoy the scenery while being sheltered from the storm by a bubble-like dome. Every tower had one or two exterior spaces that were raised high over the city streets below to give its occupants the chance to breathe fresh air and feel the natural sun when the artificial lighting of the tower wasn’t enough.

  Kamui reached down to her left wrist, taking hold of her Augur which disguised itself as a bracelet of pearl-white rectangular pieces of nanometal. At her touch, the shape-shifting material changed itself into a compact device in imitation of a smartphone. With the latest of Yo?gai-shima’s communication technology in her hands, Kamui tried to get herself lost in the digital world again as the ride continued, once more tuning out the impotent hurricane outside.

  Despite her desire to tune out the world and her assorted anxieties, countless little worries nibbled at the back of her mind. She didn’t have much time before her husband came home, but she wanted his dinner to be hot and fresh when they ate together. If he got home early, then they could always spend a few moments talking before the meal was served. But should she give him the news before or after they ate?

  The anticipation was becoming nearly overwhelming, and the adrenaline was making Kamui anxious. As soon as the car docked itself at Tower 5’s thirtieth floor, Kamui wasted no time in gathering up her groceries and climbing out. She strode across the landing platform connected to the tower and followed the passages inside. Soft, classical music played from unseen speakers, contrasted by the holographic projections of the walls and ceiling that mimicked an arboreal forest, as though Kamui was outside and currently enjoying better weather.

  Floor 30 wasn’t a residential level, instead used as both a travel hub and shopping center for visitors. It had all the amenities a visitor could ask for: restaurants, bars, salons, tailors. But by now, Kamui was numb to the luxuries of the Heights, having been a resident for years. The glitz and the glamor had lost their charm, not simply because of acclimatization, but because she’d closed her mind off to the outside world. All that was on her mind was the impending dinner date with her husband. It had to be perfect. It just had to.

  Reaching the bank of elevators made to ferry the enormous populace up and down the tower’s length, Kamui hit the up button and waited for the lift to arrive. She stood indignantly, tapping her right foot expectantly as she glared at the sealed metal doors, daring the elevator car to be late even a second longer. The slow-moving machine won the contest of wills and Kamui turned back to her Augur to distract herself from the wait.

  She’d scarcely began thumbing through the luminescent display when it happened: the lights in the atrium flashed. For a brief moment, Kamui stood in the dark. The tinkling of piano keys playing over the Tower’s speakers cut off abruptly, leaving Kamui alone in blackness. A lightning bolt had struck the tower, the booming of thunder echoing through the building informing Kamui of what had happened.

  Within three seconds, the lights came back on. The digital band struck up its tune as though they hadn’t missed a beat, while the artificial scenery sprung back to life. The vents exhaled a cool wind in time with the rustling leaves of the holographic forest. Yet, despite that, the brief lapse in Kamui’s environs was enough to prompt a response in her. A feeling that had been foreign to her for the past few years of her sheltered existence made its unwanted return in the dark: fear.

  She stood paralyzed in front of the elevator doors as they finally opened, ominously sliding apart to reveal a windowed car that offered her a front seat viewing of the storm swirling overhead as she rode up the tower. A profound sense of vulnerability made her unable to step forward and she simply waited, as if expecting something else to happen. It was only when the elevator chimed and began to close that Kamui was spurred into action, and she hastily slapped the elevator button again, coercing the doors into opening back up so she could hustle inside with her groceries.

  She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for Floor 35. The doors slid shut smoothly, acting as though nothing in the world could be wrong, though Kamui clutched her groceries in silence. She stood facing the doors, not wanting to even glance out the window behind her. Even so, the storm chased her into the car. Every drop of rain striking the glass, every wail of the wind, every peal of thunder; Kamui heard it all. Whatever barrier kept the sound of the storm out minutes ago had failed. Had some part of the Tower been damaged by the lightning strike? Or was it her own illusory bubble of ignorance that the lightning bolt had pierced?

  Every time light flashed through the window behind her, Kamui flinched, holding the bag of groceries tighter to her body. She wasn’t entirely certain whether she was protecting the food, or she somehow believed the produce would protect her, but either way, it felt good to have something to hold onto. Seconds ticked by, achingly slow, as the car made the short ascent up a mere five floors. With every moment that passed by, Kamui was overcome by the fear of another lightning bolt cutting the power, this time leaving her stranded in the elevator, trapped between floors on the edge of the building and fully exposed to the typhoon outside.

  As soon as the elevator came to a stop, Kamui wasted no time in getting out, squeezing herself out through the doors before they even fully opened. She scurried down the luxurious halls with their hardwood floors and rich cream wallpaper. The familiarity of her surroundings did nothing to dampen the growing fear she felt at the sound of the looming thunder.

  The front door of her apartment clicked open, the electronic lock activating at the proximity of her ID. Almost as soon as the door closed behind her, Kamui allowed herself a deep sigh of relief, as though the storm was trapped outside in the hall and couldn’t reach her in her domicile. After a few moments of steadying herself, Kamui tucked her Augur into an invisible pocket inside her nano-laminate blouse made her way to the kitchen.

  She unpacked and organized the assortment of food items, laying them out on the countertop. Next, she searched the cabinets for each and every pot, pan, and cooking utensil she might need, trying to get everything put just right before she so much as turned the stove on. She gave the entire assortment of tools and ingredients one last look over, checking each one off a mental list, and then, she took hold of the rice cooker’s power cord and plugged it into the wall.

  The lights in the apartment flashed. Kamui felt every hair on her body stand on end as static ran up her arm. Electricity buzzed in her ears, drowning out everything. Pain surged through her hand and Kamui fell backward, dropping the plug before it got into the socket halfway. The lights came back on as she found herself laying on the kitchen floor, cradling her right hand.

  She crawled to her feet and stared at the smoking electric outlet and the scorched plug lying near it. It must be a fault in the electrical wiring, she decided. Or maybe it was something to do with the storm. She’d have to use another electrical socket for the rice cooker. Looking down at her hand, she saw that the right sleeve of her sweater was blackened and scorched. Doing her best to stomach her fright, she left the kitchen and went into the spacious bedroom.

  She quickly undressed, tossing her clothes into a hamper. Opening her wardrobe, she shifted through the numerous outfits her husband had bought for her. She wanted to wear something serious and direct, but romantic. But maybe something sexy would work, too? She wasn’t entirely certain what kind of image she needed to project for a day like this. How was she supposed to tell Kamiya what she needed to say? Her Augur rang somewhere in the bedroom and Kamui turned about, still in her underwear. Following the sound to her hamper where she left her phone in the pocket of her blouse, she fetched it out and answered it automatically.

  “Hello?” she asked.

  “Kamui?” the voice on the other end was one she was intimately familiar with.

  “Kamiya,” Kamui felt herself smile. “How’s your day been?”

  “It’s been good,” he told her, though he sounded nervous.

  “I’ve missed you,” she felt a little needy saying that aloud, but it was true.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” Kamiya agreed.

  “I’m making dinner tonight,” she told him, shifting her feet as she talked. “It’s your favorite.”

  “That sounds great,” something in Kamiya’s voice was strained.

  “What is it?” Kamui prompted him, the sweetness fading from her voice.

  “My boss wants me to go out drinking tonight,” Kamiya explained, clearly feeling awkward.

  “Tonight!?” Kamui lowered the phone, clutching it in both hands as she tried to suppress her frustration. She crossed over to the bedroom window, peering out through the blinds at the rain pelting the entire city.

  “Why does it have to be tonight? The city’s halfway underwater.”

  “It’s a work thing, sweetie,” Kamiya tried to explain but his young wife would have none of it. Work could wait, at least for today. Today was too important. Today had to be perfect.

  “I need you here,” Kamui pleaded. “I’ve been planning this for a week!”

  “Is there something special about tonight?” Kamiya asked and Kamui paused, having nearly let the surprise out before her husband had even gotten home.

  “I just really need you home, tonight,” Kamui evaded the question. When she felt that wasn’t enough, she decided to lay it on thicker.

  “Please,” she said. “The lights are flickering, and the sockets are smoking. I don’t know what to do.”

  “If I refuse to go along, I may not get invited out next time,” Kamiya protested. “It’s not just about going out and getting hammered, sweetie, it’s about social networking. If I dip out on this, it’s going to look bad on my part.”

  Clearly, Kamiya was caught between a rock and a hard place, but whichever she was in her husband’s dilemma, Kamui was determined to win.

  “If you don’t come home tonight, what I’m going to do to you will make you look even worse,” Kamui warned.

  “I’ll be the first one out the door,” Kamiya assured her. “I’ll be out just long enough to be seen with the rest of the guys and then I’ll go, I promise. I’ll be home by eight.”

  “Seven,” Kamui insisted.

  “Sweetheart,” Kamiya tried to argue, but he was quickly shut down.

  “Seven!” she accentuated her demand with a stomp of her foot and her reward was a weary sigh on the other end.

  “Seven,” Kamiya agreed.

  “Don’t drink while you’re out,” she added. “And don’t eat anything, either.”

  “Kamui!” her husband tried to object but she hung up.

  That could have gone better, she chided herself. It needed to go better. Throwing her Augur down on the bed, she felt a tremor of pain flash through her right hand. Cradling it with her left hand, she refused to give up. Tonight could still be perfect. She went to the bathroom, digging through the cabinets as she looked for something to put on her hand. Welts were all over her fingers and her skin throbbed. She must have burned herself when she tried to plug in the rice cooker.

  Life was happening fast for twenty-two-year-old Fubuki Kamui. She never dreamed she’d be married already. She never dreamed she would find a husband that could afford all this luxury and still be young and romantic enough to treat her the way she wanted to be treated. Life was moving at a mile a minute in her eyes. It was all she could do to hang on, but hang on, she would.

  She found some burn ointment in one of the drawers and smeared it over her fingers before quickly setting about styling her hair. After that, she put on some makeup to hide the stress she was under. She couldn’t show Kamiya an unhappy face. Just before she stepped out, Kamui caught sight of a pregnancy test kit sitting on the edge of the counter and she quickly grabbed it and dropped it into the bathroom’s trash bin. Kamiya couldn’t see that. After that, she went back to her wardrobe and quickly threw on a white shirt and a long blue skirt. It was hardly what she wanted to wear at dinner, but she could always get changed before her husband got home.

  Soon, she told herself. Tonight. Everything was going to change. What was once a married couple would blossom into a family and what was simply a house would become a home. The future was so bright, Kamui could hardly bear to look at it. She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, setting about laying the foundation for tonight’s dinner.

  Without wasting a moment, she strode back to the kitchen, looking over the ingredients as she checked her pots and pans. She pulled out knives from the block and laid the carrots on the cutting board. She put the beef in a skillet, ready to get cooking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the rice cooker sitting on the counter, not plugged in, and automaticity took over. Without thinking, she picked up the power cord and pressed it toward the socket.

  Lightning danced up Kamui’s arm as the plug entered the smoking socket. She screamed, her voice sounding out as an inarticulate staccato shriek, and the electricity made her dance on the spot. The lights flashed and strobed, eventually bursting and casting the room into darkness. The power socket exploded, raining sparks and melted plastic onto Kamui’s face as she fell backward.

  She collapsed to the floor, pain flooding through every nerve, heat filling her body. Stars danced before her eyes in the pitch black. Her ears buzzed and popped. Her body writhed and seized on the kitchen’s linoleum floor, refusing to heed her brain’s commands. She was in the darkness again, helpless, as the rain pounded against the walls and the wind howled. Thunder rumbled somewhere outside and Kamui whimpered helplessly where she lay.

  A small orange light illuminated the interior of Kamui’s world, and she could just scarcely perceive the embers of flame racing over the countertop. Fire burned behind the walls of her apartment, opening blackened portals through which brimstone could pour through. In moments, the blaze had spread across the kitchen, the tongues of flame dancing above Kamui where she lay helpless on the floor.

  Fear consumed her every thought. Fear and pain such as she had never felt. The agony consumed everything, driving out all other thoughts and feelings.

  Tired of the spectacle, the merciless flames descended down the sides of the counters, and onto the kitchen floor. The embers took hold of her clothes, causing them to ignite. As agony tore through the terrified woman, the seizures became more intense.

  A different kind of energy surged through her. She rolled onto her stomach, her spine twisting and contorting with bone breaking pressure. A fire was kindled inside her brain, as though it was pressing against her skull. Her teeth clenched involuntarily, and a long, slow groan escaped her throat, the cry warping and twisting.

  How did this happen? Today was supposed to be perfect.

  January 4th, 2044

  04:45 PM

  Central Ward

  Heights District

  Senior Inspector Asahi Takeyoshi

  “I need this street closed!” Takeyoshi heard Shin shouting at the funeral procession, trying to be heard above the sound of the pouring rain and the ringing claxons of the fire engine. The young man stood in the rain, motioning with his arms to direct the Bureau vehicles as they began to form a barricade around the City Tower that loomed over them.

  The Bureau’s funeral procession joined with a number of white and red Civil emergency vehicles that were already present when they had arrived. Takeyoshi watched the goings on from the passenger seat of the Survivalist, seeing Shin framed by the alternating lights of the emergency sirens through the glass of the driver side window.

  Above them loomed the sprawling City Towers of the Heights District. Silver, flowing, organic testaments to the excesses of the wealthy and the powerful. Even at the end of the world, the human elite still found it necessary to carve out an exclusive demesne for themselves when living space had never been at a higher premium. Truly, human beings never could change.

  Those fortunate to live in the lofty heights of the ivory towers must have thought their private retreat was beautiful and, perhaps, from their vantage point, it was. But looking upward from the ground, Takeyoshi could only find it hostile and hideous. The streets themselves were cramped and over-policed, with private security guards stationed across the District in checkpoints, which made it difficult even for Bureau vehicles to push through.

  The ground level was almost entirely barren with not even a blade of grass or decorum to be seen. There were no businesses down at the street level. No signs. Nothing to welcome the traveler or catch the eye. Instead, there were bland, steel walls with signs that promised prosecution to anyone trespassing on private property. Automated cameras followed every movement in their field of vision as they dangled from the sides of the Towers. The mechanical eyes spoke in a buzzing intonation, and they were quick to accuse strangers of trespassing, loitering, and jaywalking in an attempt to coerce them to leave.

  That being said, Takeyoshi paid only a modicum of attention to the world outside the car. Instead, his attention was fixated on his Omen, clutched tightly in his hand. He thumbed through several photos on the device, each one more grisly than the last. A man lying on an operating table with his face removed. Then, a human body, scorched beyond recognition, laying on a tile floor blackened from intense heat. A long black tongue, several times the length of the deceased host, studded with teeth and metal blades protruded from the mouth of the incinerated corpse. Finally, there was the image of a bloody smear across the floor with finely filleted chunks of human meat and bone littered here and there.

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  “Inspector Sumitomo isn’t the soft touch I expected,” Takeyoshi thumbed through the report submitted to the Bureau Database within the last hour, distilling the information and engraving the facts into his memory. The Spider had figured out how to create Petitioners. Troubling, but inevitable. It was impossible to pin down precisely when the killer learned he could do that, but the Envoy inside him meant that he could be taught to create more Human Calamities at any point. Still, the Bureau couldn’t deny his conclusions on the nature of their enemy any longer.

  The faceless corpse confirmed all of his suspicions from this morning. The Spider was definitely hoping to trade faces with someone else. He was on the run and looking to hide. He squeezed the Omen in his grip, balling his fist around it in silent rage. If the Bureau had just took him seriously this morning and let him do what he needed to do, this all might be over by now. But anger wouldn’t change anything. Action needed to be taken.

  “Takeyoshi, we need to go,” Shin pried open the driver side door and peered inside, bent nearly double.

  “Keep your pants on,” Takeyoshi snapped, still thumbing through the Omen.

  “Kodera says they’ve got a lock on a Casualty in the building,” Shin insisted, wiping a hand through his wet hair. “We have our marching orders.”

  Takeyoshi let out an exhausted sigh and unclipped his seatbelt. He reached for the Negativity inside him, forming a barrier that told causality that he was exceedingly unlikely to be struck by a raindrop and reluctantly climbed out of the car. He walked around the front of the vehicle, bracing his right hand against the hood as he went, while still holding the Omen at stomach level.

  “Kodera says that the fire started up on floor thirty-five,” Shin reported, walking at Takeyoshi’s right elbow.

  He was dimly aware of Shin staring, likely wondering how the rain was falling away from him.

  “Seems like there was some kind of electrical malfunction. The floors above and below still have power, but the Civil Police can’t get any response from the emergency systems on thirty-five. HQ thinks that the power to the floor has been cut off by whatever happened.”

  Takeyoshi only partly listened to what Shin was saying, instead focusing his attention on the rest of Inspector Sumitomo’s report, still displayed on his Omen. He fixated on the post card found with the dead body. Tokyo Bay.

  “You know I always loved the view of the harbor.”

  What did that mean? Was it circumstantial? Did the postcard belong to the man that had been killed? Why would the killer have left that behind? No. It was a clear message. But what was it about Tokyo Bay?

  “The guys working for the city?” Shin went on. “The Civil Fire Brigade? Yeah, they said they sent a group into the building when the alarms first started. Apparently, some of the private security went in, too. They didn’t come back out before the lockdown.”

  “Mhm,’ Takeyoshi grunted, his eyes still on the Omen.

  Tokyo Bay.

  I always loved the view of the harbor. Someone had said that. It was a quote. Not something profound or well-known. Yet, it stirred Takeyoshi’s memory, regardless.

  “There are people in there, Takeyoshi,” the Inspector felt his Deputy plant a hand on his right shoulder.

  “I heard you the first time, kid,” he shrugged off the younger man’s grip and turned to face him.

  “Are we going in?” Shin gestured toward Tower 5; the silver monolith erected high above them.

  Like the rest of its siblings, the Tower had next to nothing to mark its exterior entrance beyond a pair of tinted sliding glass doors set into its massive base that led into the lobby. Like a tomb, it almost seemed as though the structure was designed to keep people in, without any expectations of them coming back out again. No, Takeyoshi decided; a tomb was far more welcoming.

  “We will,” Takeyoshi assured, trying to hide his frustration beneath a veneer of patience. “Just hold on a minute, alright?”

  “Every minute we waste down here, someone up there could be hurt,” Shin insisted, confusion playing across his features. “We have to go in.”

  “We will!” Takeyoshi repeated, the veneer quickly peeling away. “Those men that went ahead of us will have been called and informed about the Casualty and the building is full of shelters for just this kind of situation. No one will get hurt, except us, if we run in there half-cocked.”

  “How are the shelters supposed to function if the power is out?” Shin demanded, tapping his right hand against his left palm to reinforce his point, clearly not going to be deterred. “Why aren’t the men who went in ahead responding if they’re alright?”

  “And how will the two of us rushing in without a plan change any of that?” Takeyoshi challenged him, using his right hand to tap Shin on the chest.

  “The men who went ahead of us are doing their jobs, so we can do ours. You don’t take a job in security or as a first responder in Yo?gai-shima, of all places, and think your work isn’t going to come with a certain amount of risk. The firefighters and security that went up to floor thirty-five are going to do what they can to evacuate the residents and stop the fire from spreading.

  “Our job, Shin, is containment. We need to make sure that whatever’s in that building doesn’t get out. That means we wait until the power’s back on and ensure the Tower’s emergency system is working. The last thing we want is a Casualty getting outside and deciding to hop a bus across town. Understand?”

  Shin didn’t respond and instead looked away toward the building, indignation written on his face. It was a low blow to remind the young man of his failure this morning, but Takeyoshi needed the Shin to take a breath. Even so, the remark came with a certain sense of guilt on the Senior Inspector’s part: throwing Shin’s failures back in his face would only set back whatever rapport they’d built in the last few hours, and it wasn’t as though Takeyoshi was blind to his own role in Shin’s disastrous first encounter with a Human Calamity. Still, he needed time, and the kid wasn’t giving it to him.

  “Go check with the city’s firemen,” Takeyoshi gestured to the white and red vehicles that had circled the block, and the men dressed in white flame-retardant suits that were milling about uselessly on Tower 5’s concrete lawn. “See if they heard anything back from the first party. I’m going to run something by HQ real quick and then I’ll decide if we go in or not.”

  “Understood,” Shin acknowledged, still not looking at him. Takeyoshi clapped the young man on the arm, trying to soften whatever blow he’d landed with his words, though he wasn’t certain Shin appreciated it. He stepped around his Deputy, heading for one of the two patrol cars parked behind the Survivalist.

  Takeyoshi stepped up to the driver side window and rapped on it with his knuckles, and the driver rolled the window down. Sitting inside the car were two patrol men, both of whom Takeyoshi had come to know by name. They looked back at him, having the alertness necessary for the situation with the poise and bearing of veterans.

  “What’s the plan?” asked the driver, Officer Fujiki, a man with dark eyes and a long, acne-scarred face beneath his uniform hat. The passenger, Officer Nohara, leaned forward to get a look at Takeyoshi as the Inspector leaned against the side of the vehicle. Nohara was short but also stout, with a wide chest and thick arms. Nohara held his hat in his lap, exposing a head of sandy-brown hair.

  “I need you two to do something for me,” Takeyoshi explained, lowering his voice even as he smiled.

  There was a brief moment of silence as the two officers ingested Takeyoshi’s words.

  “Is this on or off the record?” Officer Nohara asked, exchanging a look with his partner.

  “Off the record,” Takeyoshi glanced around. “No radio. No calls. I just need you to take a trip to the south side of town and then come right back here again.”

  “Alright,” Fujiki shrugged. Although he and his partner were clearly nervous, it was hardly the first time Takeyoshi had asked them to do something like this.

  “All you’ll be doing is a wellness check,” Takeyoshi assured them, digging into his pockets for his notepad and pen. He hastily scribbled down the address from memory, and tore off the piece of paper, handing it to Fujiki.

  “You won’t be in trouble. I’m going to give you an address, and I want you two to drive over there, knock on the door, and report back to me.”

  “Should we be expecting anything?” Nohara asked.

  “It’s just an old apartment,” Takeyoshi answered. “I don’t think anyone would even be living there. If there is somebody there, well. . . just report back to me, ASAP.”

  “Understood,” Fujiki nodded and started up the engine.

  “No sirens, no lights,” Takeyoshi ordered as the window began to roll up. “Keep it below the radar.”

  The officers inside nodded as Takeyoshi backed away. The squad car roared to life and pulled away from the lineup of emergency vehicles, soon to disappear in the shadow of one of the many towers clustered on either side of the road.

  Takeyoshi shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched the patrol leave, feeling a certain amount of anxiety as he did. Just sitting still and letting someone else take the initiative felt wrong. He should be the one running the show, not handing off responsibility to someone else. Even so, appearances needed to be kept up. He told himself he’d play along with the Director and the Chief’s games and pretend to let someone else lead the case. The next time that his quarry made the mistake of popping his head out, though. . . Takeyoshi knew that he wouldn’t be content to sit on the sidelines.

  When the taillights of the patrol car disappeared around a corner, Takeyoshi exhaled, releasing the tension building up in him. It took effort, but eventually, Takeyoshi was able to force the Black Envoy to the back of his mind and turn his attention to the here and now. He looked over the grey, concrete grounds of Tower 5, and into the harsh, flashing lights of the parked ambulances, fire trucks, and squad cars.

  Holographic barriers were being set up around the building as a perimeter was formed. Like a pair of angry roommates, the Civil Emergency Services and the Bureau’s personnel had separated themselves into groups standing vigilantly over either side of the entrance way into the Tower. The red and white Civil Police stood on the left side of the door while the Bureau in the black and white waited on the right. The firefighters, police officers, and EMTs all stood in a line, facing their opposing counterparts as if they were gearing up for a fight, rather than the go ahead to storm into the building. As Takeyoshi looked up and down the line of men, he felt as though something was missing.

  “Where’s the kid?” Takeyoshi stood between the two sides, but he looked to his right, his eyes falling on Takamoto, the senior firefighter on his patrol. The large man, almost hidden behind his protective equipment, straightened up in response to being questioned.

  “He said he was going on ahead, sir,” Takamoto answered and Takeyoshi blew out a sigh.

  “That idiot.”

  January 4th, 2044

  04:50 PM

  Central Ward

  Heights District

  Deputy Inspector Atarashi Shin

  “You know you’re a real idiot for doing this?” the AI within Shin’s Omen piped up.

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Shin assured the device as he raced up the steps. “Once I’m sure the security team made it out alright, I’ll head back down and reconnoiter with Inspector Asahi, alright?”

  With the Tower’s elevators locked down due to the emergency, Shin had no choice but to climb the stairs that led up the side of the building. Despite how difficult racing up thirty-five flights of stairs seemed at a first glance, Shin made the ascent in record time. The adrenaline that provided his Exigency made him move with speed and agility far beyond anything a human could do. Each flight of stairs passed beneath Shin’s feet in the smallest fraction of a second.

  He didn’t feel tired. He didn’t sweat. His legs and feet didn’t feel the least bit sore. He didn’t even need to breathe. The Exigency made him feel invincible, as though he had become something more than human. The power was intoxicating, but he tried to keep himself grounded. If he lost his head, literally, he could still die.

  “Can you detect if anyone is still up on thirty-five?” Shin asked, breaking off a piece of his Omen to form a customary earpiece.

  “Most of the residents have had their IDs ping across town,” the Omen informed him. “It’s likely they work outside the building.”

  The AI responded by projecting a holographic map through the slender arm that extended from the earpiece and into Shin’s left eye. The map showed the twisting, sloping structure of Tower 5 and the AI highlighted floor thirty-five, which had four bulbous, ovoid structures extending out of the reflective, silver construction of the building. Each of those protrusions was part of one of the four largest suites, the apartments themselves halfway in and halfway out of the building. At the four corners of the building, there was a small space for the banks of elevators that ferried the population up and down the tower. In the center of floor thirty-five were the many relatively cheaper domiciles that lacked a view of the outside world. Clustered around them was an interior communal space with storage facilities, a gym, and even a pool.

  “And I thought my digs at the Bureau dorms were fancy.”

  “Welcome to the world through the looking glass. Try and look a little more presentable, would ya? Places like this cater to a higher class of people.”

  “Any response from the first team that went up?” Shin mounted another flight of stairs, his goal painfully close.

  “No luck,” the Omen reported. “Haven’t gotten a single word out of them. Their IDs stopped responding, too.”

  “Are they dead?” Shin demanded, his mouth tightening into a grimace.

  “Not as far as I can tell,” the Omen seemed lackadaisical about the situation. “The IDs just stopped communicating. The Tower’s computer system is registering a series of electrical signals coming from this floor. I can’t get through to the security system or the emergency lockdown.”

  “What about the fire? How far has it gotten?”

  “Fire started in Suite #354,” the Omen highlighted the suite on the east side of the building. “The damage has spread into Suite #353 and its spreading with every second.”

  “Great,” Shin growled. “What about the Casualty?”

  “Fubuki Kamui, one of the residents of number 354,” the Omen flashed a snapshot of a woman with pale features, large dark eyes and chin length hair, likely taken from the Civil Database or the Tower’s residential records.

  “The fire started in her residence around 430 PM, just after a power surge was detected in the building. Her ID registered a health emergency and a signal got sent out to the local security and the Civil Fire Brigade. Her ID stopped sending signals a few seconds later, but all signs point to her being our lucky contestant.”

  “You could be a little tactful about this, you know?” Shin reprimanded his cavalier assistant, for all the good it did him.

  “I’m a ma-. Go-. Ick. -rself,” the Omen tried to answer, its voice cutting in and out before falling quiet, save for a mechanical buzzing.

  “What’s that?” Shin stopped two floors beneath his destination as he tapped the earpiece. The lights in the stairwell began to suddenly swell in brightness, becoming near blinding. A sound Shin couldn’t place echoed from somewhere above him. It was a shrill, staccato shriek that echoed off the walls. The lights strobed in response, as though in sync with the raw, animal cry. As the sound fell silent, the bulbs began to burst in their sockets, filling the stairwell with pockets of darkness and the sound of shattering glass. Galvanized into even faster motion, Shin rushed up the stairs again amidst a rain of falling glass.

  He exploded onto the thirty-fifth floor, knocking the stairwell door off its hinges. He was on the southwestern corner of the floor, in the pocket between the west and southern suites. A bank of three elevators stood to his left and right, all locked and sealed. A display taller than Shin stood at the far side of the elevator doors, a piece of glass with the map of the Tower projected onto it from a machine at its base, though the glowing map also flashed and strobed.

  Smoke rose up against the spacious roof of the Tower, creating a curtain of darkness that flowed from fire unseen. The floor was hardwood, and the walls a rich cream, decorated with elaborate and twisting glass sconces. Music played from some unknown source, though the sound warped and distorted, mixing unintentionally with the chirping of an alarm from somewhere in the building. From where he stood, all Shin could see were two passages directly ahead of him, one heading north to his left and one heading east, to his right.

  The sound, the wail, the stuttering disjointed scream came again, and the lights burned in their sockets, becoming momentarily blinding before exploding into flame. Dark patches formed in the white walls as the wires behind them combusted, the ashen patches breaking away into portraits of flame as the fire spread outward. When the scream washed over him, Shin felt a fire flow through his body. His brain burned against his skull and fire raced down his nerves, giving him an agony that seared through the border of his Exigency. Dropping to one knee, Shin broke out into a hot sweat. He groped for his earpiece with his left hand, the device scalding him as though a hot coal had been pressed against his head, and he ripped it away even as the Omen held in his right burned his fingers.

  The cry cut off, echoing through the hall on Shin’s left hand side, and the Inspector forced himself to his feet. As fires spread across the walls like burning serpents, Shin slapped the separate pieces of his Omen back together, letting them meld into one slate of nanometal. Responding to his grip, the memetic alloy shifted itself, transforming into a slender claymore once again.

  “At least that still works,” Shin observed. He took off running, chasing the fading sound of the scream down the passage on his left. Beyond the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, passed the buzzing of exposed electrical wires and the crackling of flame, Shin heard other noises: the screaming and grunting of human voices, melding with short, barking yowls all followed by the muffled sound of metal bending and objects crashing together.

  Shin followed the din into a private gym, the many machines and devices bent and broken while ribbons of orange flame crept down all four walls. Four men occupied the room. One of them, dressed in the white suit of the Civil Fire Brigade, stood tall and gripped a fire axe in his hand like a baseball bat. A second fireman lay limply on the floor next to him, crimson blood pooling over the outside of his suit, even as a third fire fighter was attempting to drag the injured man out through a door across from them. The fourth man, dressed in the black uniform of a security guard, crouched against the far wall as he coughed into his right hand.

  Standing between Shin and the four men was a twisted figure, appearing almost a burnt corpse standing erect with its back to Shin. Blackened flesh cloaked it head to toe, the tattered remnants of clothing fused to its body. Thin strands of burnt hair clung to the seared scalp, clinging to small patches of intact skin. Cracks in the burnt flesh revealed oozing, raw red wounds that bled fluids. Out from the creature’s back, beneath the shoulder blades, was a pair of arms, with pale untouched skin and three joints. Nearly as long as the rest of the body was tall, the limbs terminated into three toed talons, the right limb coated with blood up to its wrist.

  Shin stood in momentary disbelief at what he was seeing, watching as the burn victim walked on its grotesque appendages toward the fireman holding the axe. The creature moved erratically, twitching and stumbling, though its twisted new arms waved through the air with menace. As the walking corpse approached, the fireman struck out with his axe, swinging it into the left side of the monster’s ribcage. The blow flaked off a chunk of burnt skin, but the creature didn’t seem to care. It lunged, wrapping its lengthy arms around the torso of the fireman in a bear hug, and the man screamed as all the air in his lungs was squeezed out.

  The sound snapped Shin out of his temporary shock, and he lunged forward, hefting his claymore. The attack was hasty, and the cut was shallow, but it was sufficient to get the Casualty’s attention. Dropping the fireman to the floor, the Human Calamity whipped around to face Shin. The Casualty’s face had nearly been burned down to the bone, leaving little more than a blackened skull with a veneer of melted flesh. The upper left half of the head, though, still had some intact skin. Enough for Shin to see what remained of a woman’s face still clinging to the bone. She had one dark eye in her left socket and pale skin, with a lock of dark hair dangling from her temple. For a moment, Shin recognized the woman from the picture his Omen had shown him.

  A moment later, and the brief glimpse into the Casualty’s humanity had passed, as the creature’s maw opened up, nearly unhinging itself. It screamed, sounding eerily like a woman being electrocuted: shrill, agonizing, and uneven. Once more, fire seemed to flow through Shin’s nerves, and he felt as though he were about to burst into flames. The sword in his hand grew hot and the pain made Shin lash out.

  He swung his sword, intent on decapitating the creature before he burned up, but the Casualty ducked backward at the last second. The blade sheared through whatever tissue connected the jaw to the rest of the skull, sending the mandible skittering across the floor of the gym. The Casualty reared back a few steps, colliding with a rack of weights as it tried to steady itself. With its new set of arms, the Casualty caught itself, planting them on the ground to prevent falling to the floor.

  The Casualty stalked around Shin like a predator confronted by a new threat, now blind to the handful of men scrambling to escape the other side of the room. The Human Calamity walked around on the knuckles of its lengthy new arms like a primate, her original hands nothing more than burnt stubs that were clutched to her chest in imitation of prayer. Shin didn’t dare take his eyes off the monster in front of him, but he watched and waited until the firemen escaped the room until he decided to make a move. When the boot of the injured fireman disappeared behind the doorway as he was dragged away by his comrades, Shin lunged forward, sweeping his sword once more at the neck of the Casualty.

  The beast threw itself backward, evading the black sword intent on removing its head. It tumbled over more weights as it scampered away, its body being dragged around by its powerful new arms while the original human body was left to drag across the carpet of the gym, leaving a sickening black trail of burnt skin behind it. Shin sought to gave chase, but he had to climb over treadmills, exercise bikes, and dumbbells as the Casualty toppled them over in its flight. Advancing slowly and steadily, Shin was careful to not sacrifice his footing even as he pushed the Casualty back toward the wall of the gym, cutting off all hope of escape.

  The Casualty crouched back against the wall, pressing its ashen form into the corner as Shin advanced. Once again, he felt a twinge of remorse, feeling almost as though he were the aggressor. He was careful not to let the sentiment overwhelm him. No matter how wretched or pitiful the creature appeared, a Human Calamity was never to be underestimated.

  A soft, whimpering noise escaped the throat of the Casualty and Shin halted his advance, still holding his sword aloft. Though the creature was only a half-step from the reach of Shin’s blade, he hesitated. His stomach twisted and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as his body reacted to some threat his conscious mind was unaware of. The mewling of the Casualty became a revolting retching noise and fluids dripped out from its jawless throat, blood and pus pooling on the floor. The sense of unease in Shin’s body reached a fever pitch and a jolt of pain, as though he’d been stabbed by a blade, shot through his chest. Shin leapt to the side, operating on animal instinct as the Casualty lunged.

  Out from the Casualty’s throat, a nest of nerves and veins spewed out, attempting to lash at Shin. The writhing tendrils wrapped around the arm of a treadmill a step behind where Shin had been standing before. Electricity danced across the machine, causing the plastic exterior to melt and the built-in electronics to burst into flame. The Casualty whipped its head back, pulling the grasping nerves free.

  The Casualty pressed the attack, now, crawling across the floor with frightening speed. The nerves and wire-like veins that dangled from its throat snapped and danced, sending out showers of sparks as they pressed against each other. Shin darted backward, evading the wires as they sought to entangle and electrocute him. He was hesitant to strike back with his sword, fearing that the nanometal would conduct a dangerous surge of electricity if they touched the charged nerve endings. As he gave ground, the grasping nerves chased him, setting fire to the carpet when they touched the floor, or melting and warping plastic and metal through the heat of the energy surge.

  Shin thought to the pistol holstered on his hip: if he couldn’t strike with his sword, then a gun might have more success. However, it would take time to draw and fire the weapon with the Casualty hounding him across the room. Torn by indecision, and quickly, running out of space, Shin’s eye landed on the set of weights that the Casualty had stumbled over and knocked to the floor.

  Rolling backward to avoid the snapping, hissing, vein-wires that sought to engulf his face, Shin wrapped his fingers around a twenty-pound weight as he flipped over it. Coming up in a crouch, Shin flung the round weight like a heavy-metal discus, sending it flying toward the Casualty as it charged him. Thanks to his Exigency, Shin had hurled the weight with enough force to splatter a human skull. The Casualty’s head whipped backward from the force, sending a handful of its top teeth skittering across the floor, but the brunt of the impact was softened by the wires protruding from its throat, which had reflexively entangled the weight.

  Before the Casualty could resume its attack, Shin leapt forward. He swept his longsword low, careful to avoid the wires near the creature’s throat, instead using his sword to sever the Casualty’s two new arms. The soft, pale flesh gave way beneath the impossibly sharp blade, severing the three toed talons from the wrists of both limbs. The Casualty’s response was immediate.

  With a sweep of its head, the creature whipped the heavy weight across the room, forcing Shin to duck as it arced toward his head. The metal disc slammed through the burning walls, sending up a cloud of smoke and embers. The Casualty screamed and hurled itself around on its bleeding stumps, sending blood spewing in every direction. The scream sent waves of pain through Shin’s body, once more exciting the electricity that passed through his nerves and brain.

  The fresh agony sent Shin to his knees as the Casualty hurled itself around in mirroring blinding pain. It began smashing through gym equipment, turning machines into piles of rent metal and shattering plastic in a desperate attempt to escape its hurt. It ended up sitting in the middle of the floor, precariously crouched on its severed limbs, bashing its head repeatedly against the floor.

  Though its cries had ceased, Shin found himself unable to fully stand. Half of his skin felt blisteringly hot, as though he were on fire, though this sensation was juxtaposed with a frightening cold feeling that ran through the rest of his body. It was beyond being numb. He simply couldn’t feel parts of his body at all. Attempting to grip his sword saw his fingers twitch without coordination and he was forced to wait and watch as the Casualty flailed about, wondering if it would bring its sinister attentions back to him.

  Eventually, the Casualty’s repeated collisions with the floor saw the building start to give way. A final desperate, and insane headbutt saw the Casualty smash its face through the floor, appearing to momentarily get stuck. Then, lubricated through its weeping burns and bloody limbs, the monster slithered through the opening, its ashen feet disappearing down the hole in moments.

  Ignoring his self-preservation instincts, Shin attempted to stand and follow, only to flop forward onto his face. He military crawled forward, intent on reaching the lip of the new opening. Bracing his hand against the side, Shin peered downward into the floor below. Beneath him, was an empty room, the only trace of the Casualty being a smear of ash and blood where it had landed moments before. Its cries echoed distantly, a whimpering, staccato sound.

  “Well,” Shin grimaced. “So much for containment.”