-000.3 Hours Since Quartz's Disappearance

I'm not a rebel or some high official. The only person who might think I'm brave is my little sister, and that's only because my older brother doesn't come around anymore. He would be her favorite if he would bother to visit. I let out a muffled sigh as I hear a jarring 'ding' from the door speakers. I would've jumped if I wasn't so used to it. A friendly, fake smile graces my face as the customer walks in.

"Good evening, and welcome to Chain's Tech. What can I do for you?", I greet them with my rehearsed lines. It's an effort to keep the exhaustion off my face. There wasn't much time for sleep last night. My mom can't do much for herself these days.

"Umm, yeah. I think my news watch is broken", a small women answers. She's a brunette, with big green eyes. I haven't seen her come into the shop before.

"Alright. I can take a look at it", I grab a box of tools from under the counter while I talk. A news watch tells much more than just the time. They have a compass and a map if you just swipe to the right. The left swipe shows a live news feed from all around the city. It's full of government propaganda, of course. I'm actually looking forward to taking a look at it. People usually just throw them away.

The woman sets her watch on the table, revealing the cracked screen. The surface flickers in static every few seconds. I get right to work. The screen would be easy enough to replace, but it shouldn't be flickering like that. The lady's eyebrows shoot up when I dismantle the watch into multiple pieces. The screen slides out easily enough, and I put in a replacement without any difficulty. My hands are steady and sure while handling the delicate pieces. I've been doing this same type of stuff for years.

"Looks like one of the chips was knocked a little loose", I explain, wiggling around the piece in demonstration, "I just have to tighten it, and that should fix the flickering". All I had to replace in the screen, so that's all I'll charge her for. It would have been four times as much if she went to buy a new one. I'm just starting to piece it together when the door behind me slams open. I jump, nearly dropping the half assembled watch.

"Simon! I told you to tell me when customers come in!", my boss yells. He's a foot taller than me, and perhaps in the other direction, as well. I've worked for him for all this time, yet his trust is still elusive and fleeting.

"Sorry, sir. It's just a news watch. All I did was replace the screen", I tell him, not mentioning the crooked chip. He would charge her more.

"Well why'd you break it up into so many pieces? Honestly I can't leave you to do anything", he grumbles at me. I back away from the desk and watch him finish my work. I cringe a little when Chain uses a bit to much force clicking the pieces back together. I'm surprised that he hasn't broken more stuff. The woman is a little startled with his imposing frame and how he scolded me. I know just how she feels. My boss charges her for the screen and she quickly goes on her way.

"I really thought that it was ok to just fix a screen. I'll call you to watch me next time", I try to appease my boss. I really do need this job. There's not many honest jobs as stable as this one here on the city's west side. I just wasted a few of my brownie points.

"People can get pretty mad if a repair doesn't last, Simon", Chain rubs the bridge of his nose, "But you do have a sharp mind for these types of things. Tell you what: there's an electric billboard that needs fixing a few blocks away from here. Go get a head start, and I'll be there before you're done". My eyes widen in surprise. I wait a moment, just to make sure he's serious, before running to the back and throwing together a tool kit. I grab almost anything that I can think of, the bag becoming almost too heavy for me to carry. I lug it back out into the main room and pass my boss. He's already looking like he regrets letting me go. I can't let him down!

It's already dark outside, making me anxious, but I push on. The streets are dangerous right now. If I can get up the billboard, I'll be safe from any muggings. The address only takes a few minutes to get to. The road is thin, tall buildings arching up on either side. My flashlight is constantly flicking into the shadows hidden by the street lights.

The electronic billboard is dark when I arrive. The screen isn't damaged, and if it was, they probably would have called someone else. The maintenance ladder is even narrower than I am. I secure the heavy bag to my back and start the long climb. I grip the bars as tight as I can, barely breathing and scared to fall. There's a narrow ledge behind the board that I carefully haul myself up to. I set down the bag, practically hugging the wall for balance. My tools are just coming out to open up the back panel when I hear voices.

I immediately go quiet and still to listen, trembling in slight fear, but still curious enough to peek out to see what's going on. I can barely make out figures standing at the edge of the light cast by the streetlights. They surrounding another who's been backed up right beneath the pole. I can clearly see the sunglasses that he wears, which I find strange since the sun has set. Why would they wear sunglasses? The rest of the people are wearing dark clothing, and I can't make out any individual features. A flash of light makes me look more closely. When one of the fighters shift, a metallic logo flashes on their chests. I don't really recognize it.

The man wearing sunglasses smiles at the strangers crowding him, even though he is almost certainly about to get mugged. His body is strangely loose limbed, as if he isn't too concerned. I can see his hand drifting towards his pocket. I'm too far away to hear what anyone says, but it seems the conversation quickly goes south. One of the men lunges at the one wearing sunglasses from behind. He easily leans to dodge the blow, a small knife unsheathing from his pocket and burying itself into the other's arm. They shriek in pain and lurch away.

All the other men reveal weapons of their own, the street lights shining off of the barrels of the guns. Guns? No one's supposed to have those in the city anymore. Just who are these men? This wasn't any ordinary mugging. The man with Sunglasses remains calm at the sight of the lethal, and illegal, weapons, even though many would be panicking in his situation. This fight will quickly go downhill for him. Even though I've never been in a fight in my life, I know that much. A little knife, barely a switchblade, won't do much against eight guns. Still, none of them fire their guns.

Even though he's outnumbered, the man widens his stance slightly and waits for the others to make the first move. They close in, stopping his retreat and forcing him into a fight he would surely lose. The faint smile doesn't leave his face. The first to move is one of them in uniform. I cringed for him when they swiftly bring the stock swinging towards the other's head. His hand flashes out and stops the blow midair, his grin turning into something apologetic. The uniformed man tries to wrench his gun back unsuccessfully.

The cornered man pivots on his left foot and his uses right hand, the one still holding the knife, to stab under his arm and into their heart. He yanked the gun from the corpse's hand and chucked it to the side, out of the way. The rest of the uniformed men look at each other, then at the body on the ground. How could this guy not be cowed by a gun? Why is nobody firing? By some silent agreement, the men sling their guns across their back and unholster their batons. Much more warily, considering how easily he had dispatched one of them, they advance. It all happens so quickly after that I don't realize what's happened until the logos are dragging the poor man back into the shadows. A few come back for the three bodies he left in his wake. A kidnapping? This is no ordinary crime.

I'm frozen for another few minutes, just replaying the events that had occurred moments before, but movement catches my eyes. I almost had a heart attack, thinking that they've come back for me, but then my boss turns the corner. A different kind of panic spurs me on to tear out the last screw out of the panel. There's no time to think about what just happened. Besides, it's none of my business. When people stick their noses into other's business, they don't usually come back. I need to focus on my job; my life and survival. My sister and mother need me more than some stranger in an alley.