Unfamiliars are easy to spot if you know what to look for.
For example, you could easily confuse the hobo rifling through a dumpster at the mouth of the semi-lit alley I was approaching as a regular soul waiting for transportation.
Thankfully, the first thing taught in the Rose Garden is how to spot the many threats that are found in the Light.
In fact, the number one rule of Walking was; Everything inside the Light is out to get you. And I wasn’t trying to die on my first major retrieval since graduating as a Walker, some 3 to 4 weeks ago.
Some theorists long ago hypothesized that the Light was a metaphysical plane to which souls went after they died. What they didn’t realize is that it is a mirror image of our world, built by the memories of those who have died since humans became aware of our mortality.
And now, thanks to a fusion of Metaphysics, Mysticism and Paranormal science we call Par-Tech, we now know exactly how to access the afterlife– inadvertently creating a way to cheat death. The catch? Retrievals are only for those who can afford it. Pretty messed up right?
Unfamiliars are light creatures, I call them NPC’s because they basically act normal till you make a mistake and then, they fuck you up. For the most part, they look human. They walk, talk, and act like us; but they’re strong, they move a bit stiffly and they bleed light.
I whistle a David Guetta tune as I enter the alley. The hobo stops rummaging and peers at me. I know what he sees: a 6-foot-1 Adonis with olive skin, golden brown eyes, and an annoyingly tousled curly mop of hair I’ve been meaning to cut—along with dashingly handsome features and a small scar on my chiseled chin, all while wearing a beat-up racer jacket with a high collar to fend off the night chill. What he doesn’t see is the Tanto blade hanging from a sheath at the small of my back, and the fact that my hand never strays too far away from its hilt.
As I walk past, the hobo shifts nervously, staring at me strangely like a mantis. But thanks to the obscuration sigil tingling at the back of my right ear, unless I do something really stupid, he can’t tell I’m not really dead. As far as he’s concerned, I’m just another Shade taking a stroll in this quiet uptown Manhattan neighborhood.
Wait, I know what you’re thinking. If I’m in the Light, the place where people supposedly transition when they die, doesn’t that also make me one of the dead? Well, yes and no. I’m dead, but not dead in the way you think. My body is suspended in a near-death simulation—just close enough to the edge for my soul to access the Light using Par-Tech. And yes, you have a soul. Yes, “the Light” is that light everyone sees when their time is up.
My projected consciousness is basically me, but with special perks thanks to specific runic codes we get tatted with during our training. This makes me stronger, faster, and more durable. Additionally, my consciousness remains tethered to my body thanks to a sleek tac-suit attached to every walker that spawns in the light. It serves as both protection and connection; a damaged tether can mean death in the real world.
Fortunately, while Unfamiliars are unnaturally strong, it would take more than one to deal out that much damage, unless of course, I was incapacitated for some reason.
Oh, I know I said Unfamiliars are strong— well, I am stronger, better armed, and better trained. But since one dead Unfamiliar tends to attract more, Cato wants this mission to be as uneventful as possible.
I emerge from the alleyway and head for the fire escape of the apartment building that towers over the surrounding complexes. I chose this route because it leads straight to the building’s back door and fire escape. THENA, our mission AI back at HQ, has triangulated the asset’s light location to this particular high-rise in uptown Manhattan.
As far as extractions go, apartment buildings are usually crawling with Unfamiliars, so knocking on the front door isn’t the best idea if the mission is supposed to be stealthy.
I made it to the back door without any hassle. Most of the lights in the windows are off. Unfamiliars don’t sleep, but they simulate human behavior as much as possible, which works to my advantage. I keep my movements smooth and calm as I grab the door handle and push. It doesn’t budge at first, but then the Breach sigil on my palm tingles, and suddenly the door swings open. I step inside, shutting the door behind me. “I’m in,” I say into my comm-link as I hurry down the long, dim hallway.
Now that the hard part's over, I move quickly. I embedded the layout for this memory-scape in my subconscious before I entered the light, so it only takes a few minutes to reach the lobby without any trouble. Easy peasy.
The lobby is spacious, with chairs placed against the walls for visitors to wait and potted plants arranged to cast shadows from muted ambient lighting. I pause for a second; something is off. The building is too quiet.
“Kid!” my comms crackle.
I open the door and step aside as the rest of my team comes in, guns raised and scanning for threats. Unlike me, they’re suited up in full combat gear and armed to the teeth — their tac-suits are loaded with light armor and equipped with utility pouches, strapped weapons, and reinforced boots— they look straight out of a futuristic call of duty poster. Unlike me, the rest of the team hadn’t bothered to spawn any additional clothing items like my racer jacket.
A skinny, bald guy approaches me. He’s pretty short, barely reaching my shoulder, and has a big, bushy mustache that he strokes when he gets excited, which seems like all the time since he’s always smiling- rumours says he smiles even in his sleep. This is Cato, the leader of Walker Team Psi and the only A-Class walker in our group. He gives me an approving nod and signals for my other teammates to secure the floor.
“Wasn’t so difficult, eh?” Cato asks, stroking his mustache, his hard eyes roaming every inch of the lobby.
I can’t help but grin; this is as close to a compliment as Cato usually gives. He’s tough and has been around longer than I’ve been alive. Being on his team is a big deal, and even if everyone at the Garden whispers that he picked me because of my sister Vania, he hasn’t given me any reason to believe it.
“The asset’s on the top floor, the door down the hall,” I say, pointing toward the waiting elevator.
Chani and Jonas, the other two team members, approached me and Cato. They are B-class operators, possessing more field experience in their pinky fingers than I had accumulated in my entire body. I was still a freshly minted T-class walker, which is just one level above the Z-class, or "Zeroes," the unofficial term for walkers-in-training. To advance to a B-class, I needed extensive field experience—lots of it.
“All clear,” Jonas says. He’s a big Hungarian with a strong jaw and a nasty red scar running across the bridge of his nose. He’s the team’s Gunner and is strapped with all sorts of heavy weapons.
“Okay, kids, let’s wrap this up quietly, shall we?” Cato says as he heads for the elevator.
I follow him, but I can’t shake that uneasy feeling gnawing at the back of my mind. Something’s off — really off. Chani presses the buttons, and when the elevator doors slide open, I step in with the rest of the crew.
I catch Cato looking at me, a small smile on his lips. “You think this is all too easy, don’t you?” he says with a wink.
I nod, feeling relieved. This isn’t my first extraction, but I’m still the least experienced walker on the team by a couple of years. If Cato feels the same tension, then maybe my gut feeling is right. Everything’s going way too smoothly. Something is definitely up, and it’s probably not good.
Chani squints, focusing. “I don’t sense any threats in the building,” she says, glancing at Cato with a frown. “There’s always some in buildings like this. My skin should be crawling.”
“I saw a bogey in the alley when I came in,” I chime in. “I haven’t seen anyone else since.”
Cato strokes his mustache and nods, like he’s confirming something in his head. He hefts his rifle.
“Okay… Looks like this isn’t going to be quiet afterall.” he says quietly. “We’re in and out in five minutes.”
Chani glances at Me, then at Cato “You think it’s a trap?”
Cato shrugs and shoots me a reassuring grin that doesn’t touch his eyes. “We’re in the light, boy. Better safe than sorry, eh?”
The elevator slows to a stop, and the doors swish open. Jonas steps out first, guns ready. A moment later, he waves the all-clear. Cato, Chani, and I step into the empty hallway. By this time, I feel a cold trickle of dread at the back of my neck, but the hallway is clear. I pick up the pace, eager to get out of this memory-scape. The door is exactly where it should be. All I have to do is make it across the hallway, breach the door, locate the asset, tether him, and hustle back to the extraction point—and voila! We’re home free! What could go wrong, right?
I’m halfway down the hallway when I get jumped.
