<Transmission from solar scouting group C>

<25:36 cc 13 orbital time stamp>

(Heavy Con-) <static> (There inside! Feasting on-) <unintelligible > (Eyes Bleeding!)

<Communication terminates>

<Transmission from Domino>

<26:01 cc 13 orbital time stamp>

(Say again Scouting Group C, we're unable to fix your coordinates)

<Transmission sent>

<Transmission from Scouting Group C>

<26:45 cc 13 orbital time stamp>

(...He's coming...)

<Transmission terminated>

 - Final transmission from naval scouting groups at peripheral solar system edge.

      On the world of Urs the common people were shackled to live in giant concrete spires, each able to house tens of thousands. Their foundations were hard to see through the near constant thick fog that seemed to grow from the misery of the earth. In the major cities, surrounded by brick and steel, there existed dozens of them. Each spire within the giant city was a separate city or a nation onto its self. They were far from comfortable and often controlled by spire gangs or worse. It was here during his travels that Alexander had visited the world only briefly and wasn't impressed with what he saw.

      It seemed like a lifetime ago, and perhaps it was. The world had a bitter taste of asphalt in the air and the overhanging clouds always casted a grey hue to the surroundings. It was a bleak world, one he would be glad to be rid of once the army had achieved its objective. For weeks he and his regiment had tried to secure spire 43. At first it was easy going, but the higher and deeper they went the darker things got.

      Something was hunting them. Already three of his squad had gone missing. There was a nagging sound of something scratching coming from the walls. But the concrete wasn't hallow, it was solid slabs of cement that was cold to the touch. Yet still somehow the noise was constant.

      It started once they got to the thirteenth floor. It seemed like every floor above it (which seemed to be endless) had something new and strange to offer them. Music that had no source, smells that grew in intensity seemingly at will, and sometimes shadows would haunt the hallways only to vanish without a trace. Command came to the conclusion that the separatists had created separate passageways in the walls and were harassing them as best they could. But Alex had his doubts, never once did they identify a single hidden passage or tunnel.

      It became unnerving sitting with his squad mates around the space heater each night. Everyone was clinging onto their rifles and studied every shadow with harkened suspicion. For seventeen days they had scouted ahead of the main regiment. The people they met hated them, and it had become dangerous forcing them from their homes. He wondered why they wanted to stay there in the first place. Meanwhile the strangeness of the spire continued to eat away at their psyche.

      As another night passed two more would go missing...himself included.

      Alexander awoke from slumber. A warm body laid next to him, half naked and her face covered in long dark hair. It took him a moment to grasp that he wasn't on Urs, or the cold damp hallways of spire 43. How long had it been since his mind went back to those days, he wondered? He turned to his opposite side, his shoulders were sore. A large bottle of whiskey sat half empty on the counter. A small thin stream of light leaked into the small room. The memory of the night before slowly came back to him. The hangover was intense but he pushed against it to rationalize just what had happened and where he had been. The memories started to come back, the streets of Morning were nearly empty and strange announcements were being broadcasted. He was glad to find the bar on the corner nearly empty and he was the only man inside. There were several women, mothers and daughters were crying over something?

      At some point he found the comfort of being the sole man with strange foreign currency, many of which were gold pieces. He didn't remember when he abandoned his search for Kristen and found some other stranger to sleep with. At some point he assumed he would have to stop this behavior. He lifted himself from the covers and put on his clothes. He thought he was nearly silent. He used every ounce of training he had to stealthily approach the door. Its solid machinations would prove even harder open without causing a disturbance. As the door protested against its metal frame the woman stirred. He swore to himself upon realizing he had failed.

      "Donuts..." The woman voice would have sounded pleasant had it not been for the tongue tied hangover she was enduring. It came off as slurred and thick. She was probably still half way asleep.

      "Sorry?" Alexander responded confused.

      "Need donuts, bring me would you?" She was nodding off back to sleep. A woman after his own heart, he decided he liked her.

      "Of course, I'll be right back." He lied as he stepped one foot outside.

      "With sprinkles" a yawn trailed her voice and she pushed her head against the pillow to hide from the light.

      "Sure thing," he closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. He felt kind of bad just leaving her there as he walked down the hall and down the stairs. It pained him to realize he didn't even remember who she was, or what she looked like. Gods the human part of his brain was so annoying when it came to staying analytical during his drunken escapades.

      There seemed to be a lot of noise coming from the outside, he could hear the sounds of engines and muffled voices as he got closer to the door to the streets beyond. The moment he stepped outside the apartment he could tell something wasn't right. There were heavy military grade transports carrying men and materials, and the sidewalks were bustling with activity. A Raechen soldier in brown drab fatigues spotted him and demanded to see his identification. Alex knew the Raechens from reputation only, hardened veterans from the Great War who largely hired themselves out as mercenaries. The streets seemed to be full of them, they could easily be picked out among the local inhabitants. It wasn't just their copper complexion or sturdy bulk, but their thick mustaches that did not fit in with the clean shaven primary soldiers he had seen.

      He wondered what was going on and why he was being ordered to present his ID. One quick side glance told him the answer. A small squad of Raechens were dragging a pair of men roughly his age out of a home across the street. They were pressing them into one of the large military vehicles driving by. He had done something quite similar many years back when he was in service on a forgotten world in a forgotten war. They were conscripting, by the looks of it they were gathering anyone they could find.

      He lifted his hands to the guard in mid approach and smiled sarcastically before running. The guard called to him demanding he ceased, and Alex heard the unmistakable sound of his firearm being primed. It didn't matter, Alex weaved through the side passages between the buildings. His body was modified and faster than the guard, it wasn't hard to evade capture.

      Once safely at a distance he patrolled the narrow corridors, spying the main roads whenever he got a glimpse. It was evident that a lockdown was in place, that a large scale mobilization was currently underway. There was clearly something wrong for such a large scale operation to be in effect.

      "He's coming!" The voice scratched at his mind and made him plant his knees to the ground. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't hacked, that it was all in his mind...but that voice was louder and more refined each time he heard it. He felt a migraine growing, a small trickle of blood warmed his nose.

      "Great another nose bleed," he muttered to himself silently.

      He slowly got up and studied the contents of his pockets. He had evidently spend most of the money he had brought with him...that or it was stolen. He was glad to still find the signet coded key to his own personal Malbec storm fighter still intact. At least that wasn't lost yet. He chewed his lip as the sounds of passing boot steps and wheels echoed in the distance. Their was a new smell of promethium and ethanol mixing with the foul air.

      A leaflet danced in the wind, followed by another and another. A small pile of them were peacefully gliding in the air above to land on the ground around him. These leaflets were being air dropped from above, small and maple colored they appeared to all be saying the same thing.

      "Stay Calm and stand for the Kaizer."

      There was other information about ration handling, mandatory service report stations, and details of a new curfew in affect.

      "Just what in the stars did I sleep through?" he dropped the leaflet and rubbed his forehead. He needed answers, and very likely needed a plan to leave the world. He supposed he knew where to start looking.