It had been years since the Ghost of Ottawa had been silenced, gunned down by Rothschild himself. The world had drastically changed, everything had been thrust into the future. Technology controlled the people, babysat their kids, it was the new age, the age of human-to-technology. People had been getting implants, making themselves less and less human, and most people had forgotten that there was a fight to free them five years ago.
People when about their day woking to just keep themselves out of boredom and poverty. Drug use skyrocketed as the normal "happy pills" handed out by the NWO had lost their effectiveness.
20-year-old, Clarity had been one of these people, getting high to escape this bullshit reality. She sat atop her building's roof smoking, looking out over the city, disgusted with the reality of things. There wasn't any hope here. Her mother died of an overdose two years ago and her father had run off, left them to find a new whore to sleep with, one without baggage, better known as a child.
Her phone buzzed, pulling it out a few symbols showed up, code for the gig was on, time to hit the NWO where it hurt.
She meet up with them outside an abandoned warehouse, it was usually under heavy guard during the day and a skeleton crew at night. They took out the guards working their way deeper and deeper into the warehouse. They stumbled upon an elevator, thinking it was where the money was stored, the took it down, only to find something priceless, someone the NWO claimed wasn't a threat anymore.