A Pact With The Devil.

On one of the transportation subways, a man was sitting and reading a newspaper. He was of medium height, with thinning gray hair framing a weathered, scarred face that was dominated by an eye-catching big gray mustache. Usually restless with a work, his hands now clutched the paper. Wearing a brown suit that contrasted with his rough features, he seemed uneasy, but the outfit was an essential disguise.

He didn't want to see who had put the note into his pocket. He grabbed the piece of paper from inside his coat as he got off the metro.

"My brother posed some questions. might have a suspicion. Ask for authorization before acting.

Under his breath, he swore. Nothing was meant to stick in the idiot's memory. Someone had made a mistake—something had gone wrong. He decided, "I'll have to set up his elimination."

With his objective in sight, the gray-haired guy climbed the station stairway. Although he detested the requirement, it was essential to the accomplishment of their purpose.

Gregory Rylance had brought together a group of bankrupt businessmen, all of whom harbored resentment toward the government and understood the danger of simply going. However, everyone thought the benefits outweighed the risk.

Rylance started off by saying, "I've brought you here today because we are up against a vicious threat that has already robbed us of our riches." This avaricious being will do everything it takes to further its own interests. Where does it stop, I ask? When we die? No. We have to do something to stop it. We have to rebel against this repressive government that has long oppressed us for being superior to it and would kill us without hesitation.

"I offer a strategy that will overthrow the government if it is carried out perfectly. I need your unique support and complete collaboration. You were selected because your cause needs justice and you have been harmed. By your actions, you can claim it.

"I will not force anyone to remain. I won't stop you from leaving if you want to. Does anyone decide to take that route? Rylance saw an old acquaintance, Arthur Gilford, get up. Although he would miss him, safety came before emotion. He designated Gilford for removal in his mind.

"Who else?" Nobody moved. Either they truly wanted this confrontation, or they were too cunning to leave. They had made a deal with the devil by staying, committing themselves to the cause or perish.

Excellent. We have to overthrow the current administration. We fight an unrelenting, just, and moral war against the current quo. Our deaths won't be in vain or for no apparent reason. We work for equality, justice, and restitution.

Their lifeline over the Canadia Shield is communications, so we start there. If that is broken, the government will fall apart from the inside out. Anarchy will rule, authority will become a hollow figurehead, and isolation will make coordination impossible.

"The next stage requires more: remove all inter-shield movement in a methodical manner. Take down the subway, one stop at a time. The regime will be destroyed as citizens create their own governments, upending centralized authority.

This is the only way we can exact revenge on our oppressors—a war of genuine bravery. May the world be a different place when we meet again.

The room sat in shock. The plan's creator, Brendan, started the cheering, and soon everyone was joining in, celebrating a radical upheaval ready to cause mayhem and bring about their just desserts.

In Bravo Shield II, the second shield of its wave, Margaret Lowenstein stood on a podium and spoke over the swell of people. Encouraged by the freshly restored communications, reporters documented the event for that evening's newscast. Some people stuck to what she said, but most people brushed her off as an idiot.

She declared, "People, I warn you of a vast conspiracy to keep you ignorant." "It's our path to enlightenment—the radiation the government says is deadly is a lie."

Many laughed, called her a crazy person, and left early. They viewed her as just another fanatic—and for the most part, they were right.

Margaret was a fervent yet convincing devotee. Her claims of tasted enlightenment were supported by her radiation burns. In the opinion of many, she was superior to humans because she had survived and enjoyed the forbidden fruit. As a result, she gained about two hundred supporters and started a campaign against the government by calling for the dismantling of the shields.

Georgia Philmore was the name of the woman who didn't appear to be one. She conferred with Theodore, the man with the gray hair. Government studies classmates from high school had started scheming back then—it was no small thing. They had been recruiting pawns for their endgame chess battle for years.

Theodore worried, "Georgia Philmore, if he finds out about our plan, he could ruin everything—years of effort wasted."

"Calm down. She promised, "Our man will take care of him—that's his job."

"I'm simply nervous. He is the only weakness in our almost perfect strategy. If we could identify the accident in the courthouse...

"I'm working on it. I believe his lunacy was a contributing factor.

That's a different concern. His mental state is unknown to us. What if he loses it and throws us off course?

"We cannot be certain. You hired the man in order to remove the risk.

"It had better work. The regime can only be overthrown if all the conditions are ideal.

The phrase "positronic regression," which refers to positrons' propensity to return to their anti-universe beginnings, was developed by Martin Wilkerson while he experimented with his positron machine. The foundation of anti-universe travel was this regression.

In order to evaluate the effects of positronic regression on numerous passengers, he now built a larger machine to transport groups. The only thing left to do was finish the machine after convincing Katherine Branson and Jonathan Aston to participate.

Martin Wilkerson completed it, paying close attention to every little detail. Once accomplished, group anti-universe travel was now attainable.

With extreme caution, the stranger who had previously attacked Katherine Branson's house and been stopped by Martin Wilkerson crept forward. Failure would solidify his incompetence, thus it was not an option. He followed Stealth to the house and carefully opened the door to the living room. No mistakes. Just outcomes.

Unfamiliar with Martin Wilkerson's technology and oblivious to what lay ahead, another man approached the house. Still, he persisted.

Katherine Branson, Jonathan Aston, and Martin Wilkerson took their seats in the machine. When Martin Wilkerson turned it on, the vessel was surrounded by the haze of the transportation field. Regression was started by mapping the structure of the center positronic mass using lasers that swirled around it.

Hearing the sound of machinery from the rear, the well-known stranger crept through the front entrance. After running toward it and stopping to get his balance, he turned the corner and entered with his gun raised.

Hearing the same drone, the second hitman went in through the back entrance. Unlike the previous, he was not afraid and entered without hesitation, not knowing where it came from.

Martin Wilkerson saw the invader from the rear door. He needed to take action before the man got his bearings and launched an attack. Prematurely accelerating the transit procedure, he prepared for the dangers.

The first man posed a larger threat because he was more experienced and knew the nature of the machine. Unaware, the second paused as he entered, allowing Martin Wilkerson to light the last stage.

The first man calmly aimed and fired as the machine lit and the haze covered its innards. As the craft disappeared into the anti-universe, the bullet hit a laser. Martin Wilkerson witnessed the strike, but it was too far along to stop. With one laser down, he hoped the trip wouldn't be interrupted.