The neon signs of sector 7 where perpetual acid rain slicked the streets and the air was thick with metallic tank of decay, the face of Silas vane was everywhere. it started from cracking screens and flickered in the puddles, a grotesque mask of notoriety.

WANTED: SILAS VANE. DEAD OR ALIVE. 10,000,000 CREDITS.

The bounty was plastered on every surface, a silent scream in the city that no longer heard them. Silas pulled his jacket right. the high tech fabric, once a symbol of prestige, now merely masked his heat signature for all seeing scanners that constantly swept the airspace. He wasn't a hero. He was a Ghost-Scrapper, a living parasite who made a living wiping data that corporations wanted forgotten. He'd messed up. He'd scrapped a file detailing the systematic failure and planned obsolescence of the city's vital oxygen scrubbers, the very things keeping the populace from suffocating on the toxic atmosphere. Now, he was the target.

He needed to get out. The mag-lev station was his only hope. He blended in the stream of tired, defeated citizens, each faced a mirror of the city's grim reality.

"Hey, you."

The voice was flat, sterile monotone. A peacekeeper, sleek in black armor, stood by the entrance. The officer's visor whirred as it scanned Silas, comparing his future to the millions of data points uploaded just hours ago. The holographic wanted poster seemed to leer.

"ID chip. Now" The officer commanded, his hand hovering over the pulse-pistol holstered at his hip. The doors of the mad-lev train hissed open, an invitation to safety that felt out of reach.

Silas swallowed, forcing a casual shrug. " I think you've got the wrong guy, officer. Happens all the time."

The officer didn't smile. The visors green light turned ominous, sickly red. "Step aside, citizen. I repeat: ID chip verification required."

The air grew colder. The doors of the train began to slide shut, the final boarding warning a hallow chime. Silas knew this was it. He reached into his pockets, his fingers finding the smooth plastic of a small discreet EMP detonator. Outside the glass barrier of the mag-lev train, the station lights hummed with a sterile, predatory glow.

"Identification chip, now" The officer repeated, the man's eyes were a flat mechanical silver- a clear sign of a 'Sensory' power. He was scanning the pulse on Sila's neck waiting for a lie.

Silas felt the train's engine thrum. The doors were hissing shut. He was wanted, a squad of 'Heavy-Hitters'- guard with the strength to crush still-was closing in. Silas had a weak power, a mere 'Static-Touch,' but he knew how to use it.

"I'm looking for it," Silas muttered, thumb hovering over the button.

"Heart rate's climbing," The officer warned, reaching for his pistol.

"you're hot, kid".

"You're right," Silas whispered

He clicked the button, surging his own spark into the device. A wave of distortion rippled out. The over head light shattered, and the officer's Cybernetic eyes went dark.

SILAS lunged, sliding through the narrow gap of the closing doors just as the station blacked out. He was on the train, but power was dead. In the distance, the rhythmic toss of the 'Heavy-Heater' echoed as the sprinted towards the darkened carriage. He was moving, but he wasn't safe.