Personal teleportation units were supposed to be the next wave of the transportation future but the automotive industry piled millions of dollars into research that revealed the potential cancer risks of atomic fission. So the government had to ban the sale of the units, putting everyone back into planes, trains, and automobiles.
This thief doesn't seem to care about potential carcinogens, however, since he is already inside the unit and programming the machine's teleportation course.
Without hesitation, Travis points his hands at the console and lets an energy burst rip into the controls.
The thief screams and jumps from the smoking unit. Furious, he looks up at Travis and snarls, "that was a very big mistake, rookie."
Travis can barely hear him over the alarm blaring in his ears—he knows it's only going to be minutes before the police show up, so he needs to act fast. The thief seems to be thinking the same thing as he jumps to his feet and pulls something out of his belt.
Not wasting a second, Travis fires a controlled energy beam directly at the thief. A very smart move.
Or at least he thinks it is smart, until the thief unsheathes an oversized, red-hot sword that slices through the blast with ease. Looks like he has a high-tech energy disruptor blade.
The thief launches at Travis and takes a swipe with the blade, an attack he narrowly dodges.
Knowing the thief's blade can block the energy attacks, Travis shifts to a physical attack—smart move. He held out his fists and hovered a few feet off the ground, beginning to spin quickly (a move he liked to call the fists of fury).
He immediately barrages the thief with a series of spinning punches, knocking the sword out of his hand and sending him reeling across the room.
Just as he has the thief disabled, he hears the wail of police sirens from the streets below.
"Crap!" Travis cursed, knowing his almost out of time. He still isn't sure if The Gravitas is even here in the apartment….
He considers his options. He could wait for the police, then work with them to locate The Gravitas. This would garner some good will with the MCPD, but it also might compromise his access to Rexford's reward.
Or he could interrogate the thief before the police arrive and try to find The Gravitas on his own, taking all the reward and credit for himself. But if he does this, he'd definitely be pissing off the MCPD.
"Tell me where The Gravitas is." He stands over the now-defenseless thief, allowing black energy to crackle across his fingertips.
"All right, all right," the thief starts. "The Gravitas is in the safe in the—YEARRRGHHH!!"
The thief knows that Travis doesn't have time to check the apartment before the police arrive, so he need to make sure he's telling the truth. Which is why he fired a thin energy beam directly through his thigh.
"Do not lie to me," Travis growl.
"Sh*t! OK!" the thief shouts, writhing on the floor. "I was hired to steal The Gravitas—I'm Trackr. I have the Power to discover the location of anything on the planet, so finding and stealing things is—"
"Stop stalling! Who hired you?" Travis cut him off, hearing the police already banging on the front door.
"Oh no, no way. That is one bad dude, he will kill me for sure if I-"
But another energy crackle from Travis is enough to convince Trackr that he'd be able to give his employer a run for his money.
"All right, it was Smyther!" he screams. "I forked The Gravitas over to him right away. But that's all I know, I swear!"
Travis freezes because he know exactly who Smyther is. And hearing that he's involved is not good news.
As the front door comes crashing down, he knock Trackr out with one swift punch.
He then pull out a small card that reads "Gravitate". Even though he doesn't want to work with the police, they should still know the name of the hero who helped them in this case.
He drops the card on Trackr and runs for the window, bursting outside just as the police come swarming into the bedroom.
Pulling up into the sky, he shudders as he think about Smyther. He owns four "legitimate" businesses in the Static Lane section of the Eastern Fringes, but everyone knows these are fronts used to launder money from his prostitution, drug, and illegal firearms operations.
Even worse, Smyther fancies himself the Boss of an elite Powered mob. All of his "business" Generals form an exclusive club called The Splice Circle. Aside from possessing dangerous Powered abilities, The Splice Circle Generals all indulge in their splicing poison of choice, whether it be animal-human hybridization, hypersteroid usage, or gene-deep cosmetic alteration.
Not having time to fiddle with his H-Chip for a search while flying, he decide to test the new thought-command function. The first wave of thought-command technology has just been released but it hasn't replaced voice-commands entirely yet, since the software is rumored to still be rather buggy.
Clearing his mind and focusing on his H-Chip, he thinks. "Aphrodite, search Current Splice Circle Roster."
Within seconds, he got a response from H-Chip Aphrodite:
"Sorry boo, but you need to upgrade your Internet package for that search."
There used to be a time when the Internet was available for one base price, but ever since the government allowed Internet providers to bundle packages for speed and website access during The Greater Depression, Travis has been operating out of the lowest-cost bundle.
Actually, his entire H-Chip is operating at similarly low-level. The potential functions of the H-Chip are endless—if he have the money to pay for the services. H-Chips can do everything from multiple perspective surveillance to acquisition of downloadable skills, but that all requires high-level processing chips and additional fees.
Poor Aphrodite could also have dozens of different outfits and personality dimensions if he had more money for upgrades…. Welcome to the twenty-second century, where class status is determined primarily by tablet functionality.
And unfortunately for him, it looks like it's time for an Internet upgrade, which is going to cost him a lot of money.
"Authorize Upgrade and Execute Search," he thinks, trying to focus the command through the cloud of frustration in his head—it won't be long before they start charging for air-per-breath, he thinks.
Immediately, several holographic web-images flash before his eyes. One is a chart listing The Splice Circle's current roster, another is a review of air humidifiers, and the last is a list of services for anger management. Understanding why many reviewers have bashed the H-Chip thought-command function for acting glitchy, he try to focus on the roster listing.
THE SPLICE CIRCLE (RUMORED) ROSTER
BOSS: Smyther
SECURITY GENERAL: Boulder
SHED CLUB: Madame Vice (STATUS??)
THE RYEVAL BAR: Kirkpatrick (COUNSELOR)
FETISH SIN DEN: Juanda W
ACE'S HIGH CASINO: Third Degree
PROSTITUTION: Lolli
FIREARMS: Casing (UNDERBOSS)
DRUGS: Fracture
NOTES: Kirkpatrick is the latest addition to the Circle, brought in to run Smyther's newest establishment, The Ryeval Bar. Kirkpatrick also serves as Smyther's replacement Counselor, after the remains of Smyther's last Counselor were found split between West Port and Valor Park.
Madame Vice and Smyther have recently ended their multi-year affair on a sour note, causing many to wonder how long Vice will hold her position within the Circle.
NOTES: Lolli is the Circle's longest-standing General, infamous for the spree of disfiguring attacks that pushed her up through the ranks of her Eastern Fringe Ani-gang and into the Circle.
Casing remains Smyther's most prized General, currently serving as The Splice Circle's Underboss.
Satisfied with the knowledge of The Splice Circle, he prepares to take off towards Static Lane—until he notice a bright flash coming from one of the surrounding rooftops. Focusing on the source, he see it's a reporter, obviously working overtime to break the first scoop on this story.
Hunger for fame he flies down onto the roof and the reporter's eyeballs flash bright, white light upon Travis arrival—it appears she has some kind of optic-photographic Power. The residual twinkling in Travis's eyes catches on the dozens of gold bracelets lining the reporter's wrist. She's a short, Indian woman with two thick braids of hair tied into a bun, wearing shade upon indiscernible shade of black. She doesn't smile.
"Damn police found a way to block my Observancy Knacks," she says, her eyes twitching back and forth, no doubt taking mental notes. "I saw you fly out of there. What's going on?"
Travis stare at the reporter—she's talking so fast her words blur together.
"It's nice to meet you, too," Travis says with a smile, "I'm Gravitate and I just cracked the Rexford Gravitas case."
The reporter shows a momentary burst of excitement but does a good job of covering it quickly. Travis looks at her over—she doesn't have a press pass and she's spying from afar, which means she must be a newbie. Good—better to give the scoop to someone just as hungry for success as him.
"So what can you tell me?" the reporter asks, still not quite looking at you as her liquid brown eyes tick back and forth.
"Depends," Travis say. "What are you going to do with it?"