Euclid Leaf
Metamorphasis, Genesis, Metastasis
>> Chapter 01 - Heat-Hazed Days <<
Even thirteen years later, New York City still endures the tragic ripples made by the world-changing Afterlight.
When disaster struck all across the world, the city became the center for hope. But that naïve hope wouldn’t last much long. Reality was far crueler than any retelling could possibly hope to capture.
When New York City faced the greatest immigration crisis of its lifetime, the city needed to adapt or be swallowed whole. And so it embraced change. A great metamorphosis took place in this late decade.
If someone took a picture of the city before the global catastrophe, and compared it now, they would think the two versions were two separate cities entirely.
Only the Statue of Liberty still stands from the old era.
Though it would be hard now to find the rusted, unkempt old landmark, as it is nestled abandoned between the towering oceanic walls that shield the harbor and bayside from the environmental sludge from the Atlantic Ocean. Great waves of black ooze, a vile memorial of what was lost across the world, a polluted concoction of oil, refuse, and debris hammer against the coastal barriers, threatening to invade into the bay and poison the clean waters. Relatively speaking, of course. If it can still even be considered a bay. Long Island itself looked like it somehow doubled in diameter near the western end. The bustling seastandings that make up the entirely new ‘New Harbor’ district now connect Brooklyn physically with Staten Island, and the main landmass. And it is still rapidly expanding. Construction projects are ever present in the man-made straits as fleets tow metal and iron to erect more platform sections in the shrinking bay. In a few more years, people would probably forget there was originally an old shoreline to begin with.
The once upstanding and refined Manhattan sector has long been forced to become a part of its poor urban neighbors, the Bronx and Queens boroughs, who are all now conjoined into one supermassive metropolitan mass. Retaining its reputation as one of the world’s most diverse cultural melting pots, the assembly of the previously divided three boroughs now looks more like an over bloated husk of towers and spires. In the face of the -Entity- that rose thirteen years ago during all the chaos of the Afterlight, in an infamous event known as Blooming Blue, the explosive monster of fear and hatred nearly destroyed the entire island. Left with barely any of the old city remaining, in order to house the overwhelming sea of immigrants, New York City had no choice but to make use of the vast estate right above their heads. And this trend continues forward, probably more prevalent than ever, as the grand landscape of mashed skyscrapers get expanded and become more hulking each passing day. A symbol of stubborn prosperity in the most damning of moments.
But despite all the disaster and changes, humanity paved on without pause.
Though the pain of these tragedies continue to linger in the hearts of the survivors, New York City once again stands as a symbol of hope.
The Agency of Civil Contractors vowed to make sure of this.
"Too little money…. I'll pass.”
The smokescreen from a cigarette practically covered the short blonde woman as -Cliff lazily leaned back on the railing of her rickety balcony. The thin iron bar was the only thing stopping her from plummeting twenty or so odd stories to a quick death on the pavement below. But she didn't seem to mind the chilling breeze that crept up her back. It was early in the morning in the Bronx, and already the undercity was in an uproar. Across from her, in the overpass overlooking the apartment, the glimmering of red and white car lights flowed like a glowing river through the dark. The morning traffic of first shift was truly terrifying to anyone unaccustomed to the thunderous noise. The cacophony of honking and shouting and general irritable buzz was the most classic anthem in all of New York. It pervaded the streets below and echoed far above to where she was. It did better than any old alarm.
There is a saying about New York by onlookers abroad;
‘The City that Never Sleeps -- The rowdiness of the people of New York must be what wakes the sun up in the morning'.
Even now, the weary yellow star struggled to peak over the horizon of skyscrapers.
-Cliff was wearing her universal uniform for all things. Sleeping, going to the office, screaming at one’s obnoxious neighbor, a black tank top and shorts could never go wrong for any occasion.
Right now, she was having an equivalent to another’s morning coffee. Her baggy pale eyes glimmered at the postings listed on the phone screen that hung above in her hand like a droopy lamp-head. She maintained a steady air of boredom and disinterest as another billow of smoke filled the space around her.
A calloused pointing finger glided across what looked to be a map, with color-coded dots appearing and changing constantly. Mostly blue. This particular app was the lifeline of private contractors in New York City. Though every major city had some equivalent. The CACB, the Classified Advertisement Contract Board, or the 'Contract Board' in layman terms, serves as a mobile listings platform. A digital equivalent to the physical board found at the CC Agency building itself. For such a densely populated city, the NYACC figured they could kill two birds at once by having an app act as an alert system accessible by any verified third-parties. From news networks and police dispatch channels, to even as down to the ground as an everyday citizen, it allowed for eyes everywhere. The NYACC then filters the reports and provides listings available to all licensed contractors real-time, so that anyone nearby could respond in a pinch.
Keeps the private sector busy with work. And it keeps the public feeling like help was just a few moments away in disaster. It was a nifty, convenient idea.
See? Once in a while, a section of the government can do something right.
Though, they purposefully made it stressful. To promote competition, or something along those lines.
The listings are slot based, but also first-come. Depending on the group size requested, one can tap and notify the public channel that they are interested, taking up a slot. But one shouldn’t do so carelessly. Locking up a slot is seen as a contractor accepting a contract with their client. If a contractor expresses interest, but fails to show up in action, they will get heavily penalized by the NYACC and their reputation soiled.
Some even have their license revoked.
This negligence ruling also swings in favor for contractors as well, to make their job easier. If any party files an EE report, once the job is completed, said party cannot back out of payment. And if it is discovered to be some sort of joke report, or false report, the perpetrator will be face with some serious civil recourse.
-Cliff inhaled the smoke like it was fresh air, while she shifted through the listings absently.
“Contractor wanted for entertainment at a house party tonight in the Bronx… Bring magic tricks?” she scoffed, shifting her shoulder to a new position on the railing, “Hah. Only if you want a horror show. A disaster waitin' to happen. Wot is this, one of those gender reveal parties I 'ear so much about? Pays pretty good though...”
-Cliff rolled her eyes and took another drab of the cigarette, practically turning it into a crisp nub in but a single inhale.
“Ugh. I despise crowds…" she then tossed her head back and forth in thought.
"Fuck. But aren’t I still behind on rent again? Hm. But if I down a couple of drinks, maybe I'll be able to tolerate it...”
Gazing once, her finger hovered over the confirmation button. After a moment of holding this indecisive position, -Cliff let out an annoyed groan, turning the phone off and tossing it at one of the haphazardly placed lounging chairs behind her. The woman then swung her body up, resting her chest against the iron railing as she sat on the ledge. She dangled her feet between the gap of the railing and looked down at the lights glimmering below.
Her messy blond hair drooled off her shoulder over the blooming cityscape, much like the leaking pipe hanging out from the building above. The strong breeze felt nice. Like she was floating and being carried in the wind. Moments like this, this damp, stuffy city didn't feel so much like a cage. -Cliff then turned her head idly upwards, her eyes gazing through the swirling smoke, watching as the sunlight began to shine through the fading gray haze. How thoughtful. It gave her perfect line of sight, granting her the pleasure of seeing the wonderfully delightful sight of the greater gray haze that was the overhanging smog.
Though, she can’t be critical of it too much. She probably contributed a fair bit to the disgusting air pollution.
“Eh, damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. City is too boring today. Maybe I'll just stay in...”
Just when she stuck another cigarette into her mouth, her phone began to buzz and rumble, flickering to light with an alert.
Suddenly, an alert brought her attention back onto the balcony. She swung back onto the flooring, grabbing her blinking phone from the cushions. There was an orange dot on the map near her area. This meant a priority listing.
>> Eclipse Entity Sighting -Recon Threat.
Unidentified Bird-like Entity sighted near the Bronx River. Location is attached. Two known casualties, and a child has been abducted by the creature. The EE has taken the hostage into a nearby construction site, which has since been evacuated. Police are on standby, requesting back-up.
Then, just as she finished reading the first posting, another orange plip appeared on her map. This time in the Manhattan area.
>> Eclipse Entity Sighting -Proximity Threat
Urgent!!! Any available Contractors wanted.
High School under attack by sudden appearance of unidentified canine-like Entity. Incredibly Violent. Attached is location along with video footage of the creature caught by one of the students during evacuation. Unknown number of casualties. Has already caved a few classrooms in the main building.
-----
Her expression finally showed a bit of interest. -Cliff returned the smoke stick back to the box with a light smirk.
“Hoho, spoiled for choice today aren't I?" she said, stretching her arms overhead and twisting her back until it let out a series of loud cracks.
“A bit of a high intensity morning work-out, but eh, I shouldn't be complaining. I've been lazing around too long these days. Now, let's see if I can hit both before I gotta show up to work...”
...
"If the Eclipse is where our dreams go...
Does that mean our world is the place where the Entities go to dream?"
"Don't be silly. Entities cannot dream."
"Then why do they come?"
"They come to see what it is like to be awake."
…
Does that mean our world is the place where the Entities go to dream?"
"Don't be silly. Entities cannot dream."
"Then why do they come?"
"They come to see what it is like to be awake."
…
Even thirteen years later, New York City still endures the tragic ripples made by the world-changing Afterlight.
When disaster struck all across the world, the city became the center for hope. But that naïve hope wouldn’t last much long. Reality was far crueler than any retelling could possibly hope to capture.
When New York City faced the greatest immigration crisis of its lifetime, the city needed to adapt or be swallowed whole. And so it embraced change. A great metamorphosis took place in this late decade.
If someone took a picture of the city before the global catastrophe, and compared it now, they would think the two versions were two separate cities entirely.
Only the Statue of Liberty still stands from the old era.
Though it would be hard now to find the rusted, unkempt old landmark, as it is nestled abandoned between the towering oceanic walls that shield the harbor and bayside from the environmental sludge from the Atlantic Ocean. Great waves of black ooze, a vile memorial of what was lost across the world, a polluted concoction of oil, refuse, and debris hammer against the coastal barriers, threatening to invade into the bay and poison the clean waters. Relatively speaking, of course. If it can still even be considered a bay. Long Island itself looked like it somehow doubled in diameter near the western end. The bustling seastandings that make up the entirely new ‘New Harbor’ district now connect Brooklyn physically with Staten Island, and the main landmass. And it is still rapidly expanding. Construction projects are ever present in the man-made straits as fleets tow metal and iron to erect more platform sections in the shrinking bay. In a few more years, people would probably forget there was originally an old shoreline to begin with.
The once upstanding and refined Manhattan sector has long been forced to become a part of its poor urban neighbors, the Bronx and Queens boroughs, who are all now conjoined into one supermassive metropolitan mass. Retaining its reputation as one of the world’s most diverse cultural melting pots, the assembly of the previously divided three boroughs now looks more like an over bloated husk of towers and spires. In the face of the -Entity- that rose thirteen years ago during all the chaos of the Afterlight, in an infamous event known as Blooming Blue, the explosive monster of fear and hatred nearly destroyed the entire island. Left with barely any of the old city remaining, in order to house the overwhelming sea of immigrants, New York City had no choice but to make use of the vast estate right above their heads. And this trend continues forward, probably more prevalent than ever, as the grand landscape of mashed skyscrapers get expanded and become more hulking each passing day. A symbol of stubborn prosperity in the most damning of moments.
But despite all the disaster and changes, humanity paved on without pause.
Though the pain of these tragedies continue to linger in the hearts of the survivors, New York City once again stands as a symbol of hope.
The Agency of Civil Contractors vowed to make sure of this.
…
"Too little money…. I'll pass.”
The smokescreen from a cigarette practically covered the short blonde woman as -Cliff lazily leaned back on the railing of her rickety balcony. The thin iron bar was the only thing stopping her from plummeting twenty or so odd stories to a quick death on the pavement below. But she didn't seem to mind the chilling breeze that crept up her back. It was early in the morning in the Bronx, and already the undercity was in an uproar. Across from her, in the overpass overlooking the apartment, the glimmering of red and white car lights flowed like a glowing river through the dark. The morning traffic of first shift was truly terrifying to anyone unaccustomed to the thunderous noise. The cacophony of honking and shouting and general irritable buzz was the most classic anthem in all of New York. It pervaded the streets below and echoed far above to where she was. It did better than any old alarm.
There is a saying about New York by onlookers abroad;
‘The City that Never Sleeps -- The rowdiness of the people of New York must be what wakes the sun up in the morning'.
Even now, the weary yellow star struggled to peak over the horizon of skyscrapers.
-Cliff was wearing her universal uniform for all things. Sleeping, going to the office, screaming at one’s obnoxious neighbor, a black tank top and shorts could never go wrong for any occasion.
Right now, she was having an equivalent to another’s morning coffee. Her baggy pale eyes glimmered at the postings listed on the phone screen that hung above in her hand like a droopy lamp-head. She maintained a steady air of boredom and disinterest as another billow of smoke filled the space around her.
A calloused pointing finger glided across what looked to be a map, with color-coded dots appearing and changing constantly. Mostly blue. This particular app was the lifeline of private contractors in New York City. Though every major city had some equivalent. The CACB, the Classified Advertisement Contract Board, or the 'Contract Board' in layman terms, serves as a mobile listings platform. A digital equivalent to the physical board found at the CC Agency building itself. For such a densely populated city, the NYACC figured they could kill two birds at once by having an app act as an alert system accessible by any verified third-parties. From news networks and police dispatch channels, to even as down to the ground as an everyday citizen, it allowed for eyes everywhere. The NYACC then filters the reports and provides listings available to all licensed contractors real-time, so that anyone nearby could respond in a pinch.
Keeps the private sector busy with work. And it keeps the public feeling like help was just a few moments away in disaster. It was a nifty, convenient idea.
See? Once in a while, a section of the government can do something right.
Though, they purposefully made it stressful. To promote competition, or something along those lines.
The listings are slot based, but also first-come. Depending on the group size requested, one can tap and notify the public channel that they are interested, taking up a slot. But one shouldn’t do so carelessly. Locking up a slot is seen as a contractor accepting a contract with their client. If a contractor expresses interest, but fails to show up in action, they will get heavily penalized by the NYACC and their reputation soiled.
Some even have their license revoked.
This negligence ruling also swings in favor for contractors as well, to make their job easier. If any party files an EE report, once the job is completed, said party cannot back out of payment. And if it is discovered to be some sort of joke report, or false report, the perpetrator will be face with some serious civil recourse.
-Cliff inhaled the smoke like it was fresh air, while she shifted through the listings absently.
“Contractor wanted for entertainment at a house party tonight in the Bronx… Bring magic tricks?” she scoffed, shifting her shoulder to a new position on the railing, “Hah. Only if you want a horror show. A disaster waitin' to happen. Wot is this, one of those gender reveal parties I 'ear so much about? Pays pretty good though...”
-Cliff rolled her eyes and took another drab of the cigarette, practically turning it into a crisp nub in but a single inhale.
“Ugh. I despise crowds…" she then tossed her head back and forth in thought.
"Fuck. But aren’t I still behind on rent again? Hm. But if I down a couple of drinks, maybe I'll be able to tolerate it...”
Gazing once, her finger hovered over the confirmation button. After a moment of holding this indecisive position, -Cliff let out an annoyed groan, turning the phone off and tossing it at one of the haphazardly placed lounging chairs behind her. The woman then swung her body up, resting her chest against the iron railing as she sat on the ledge. She dangled her feet between the gap of the railing and looked down at the lights glimmering below.
Her messy blond hair drooled off her shoulder over the blooming cityscape, much like the leaking pipe hanging out from the building above. The strong breeze felt nice. Like she was floating and being carried in the wind. Moments like this, this damp, stuffy city didn't feel so much like a cage. -Cliff then turned her head idly upwards, her eyes gazing through the swirling smoke, watching as the sunlight began to shine through the fading gray haze. How thoughtful. It gave her perfect line of sight, granting her the pleasure of seeing the wonderfully delightful sight of the greater gray haze that was the overhanging smog.
Though, she can’t be critical of it too much. She probably contributed a fair bit to the disgusting air pollution.
“Eh, damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. City is too boring today. Maybe I'll just stay in...”
Just when she stuck another cigarette into her mouth, her phone began to buzz and rumble, flickering to light with an alert.
Suddenly, an alert brought her attention back onto the balcony. She swung back onto the flooring, grabbing her blinking phone from the cushions. There was an orange dot on the map near her area. This meant a priority listing.
----
>> Eclipse Entity Sighting -Recon Threat.
Unidentified Bird-like Entity sighted near the Bronx River. Location is attached. Two known casualties, and a child has been abducted by the creature. The EE has taken the hostage into a nearby construction site, which has since been evacuated. Police are on standby, requesting back-up.
------
Then, just as she finished reading the first posting, another orange plip appeared on her map. This time in the Manhattan area.
------
>> Eclipse Entity Sighting -Proximity Threat
Urgent!!! Any available Contractors wanted.
High School under attack by sudden appearance of unidentified canine-like Entity. Incredibly Violent. Attached is location along with video footage of the creature caught by one of the students during evacuation. Unknown number of casualties. Has already caved a few classrooms in the main building.
-----
Her expression finally showed a bit of interest. -Cliff returned the smoke stick back to the box with a light smirk.
“Hoho, spoiled for choice today aren't I?" she said, stretching her arms overhead and twisting her back until it let out a series of loud cracks.
“A bit of a high intensity morning work-out, but eh, I shouldn't be complaining. I've been lazing around too long these days. Now, let's see if I can hit both before I gotta show up to work...”
...
The NYACC building was located at the figurative heart of New York City, the bustling commercial entertainment center of Times Square. An odd choice to some, but considering that the old City Hall was destroyed that fateful day thirteen years ago, much of the relocation of the governmental facilities happened northbound.
But despite the noisiness, being in the pulse of the city had it advantage of allowing the NYACC to easily see the emotional state of the general populous through the culture on display. Whether it be the massive media billboards, to the exotic street side art exhibits hung on display, or the musical troupes playing their hearts to passerby's, it was easy to see what the people of New York truly felt.
The main building itself, though not nearly the tallest, or grandest, the agency is still regarded as the most prestigious and extravagant in the entire district. The neo-gothic design of the tower stands out amongst its contemporary peers amongst the colorful spectacle of the thrilling displays brimming in Times Square. Shrouded in mystery to outsiders, it has become something of a tourist location in recent years. The gargoyles overlooking the city are rumored to be alive and have been caught moving on various viral tapes. Though these claims have since been disproven by the acting Region Director of Civil Contracts. But today, the structure housed another brewing secret.
Within the hallways leading to the executive offices, there stood a dark-skinned woman with pale blond hair who stared at her phone like it was the last thing on Earth. She practically counted the seconds before she let out an exasperated hiss between her teeth.
"5 minutes. I told them 5 minutes to be here. God. The Captain will have a fit. Law, where are you? Even Roundabout made it in time."
She gazed up and down the hallway outside a pair of closed doors, of which, a low tapping can be heard coming from behind. Flipping behind the doors would reveal a typical meeting room, a spacious unoffensively colored room with a long table and rows of chairs. At the farthest end, the most distant from the entrance, sat a young black man. Whose pristine blue suit pant leggings stuck out underneath the somber NYACCC uniform coat, accented by its signature yellow-strip reflective bands. His shining badge and imposing stature spoke enough of his ranking. And mood. This man was the source of the relentless tapping. Every other second that passed, without fail, his left hand bearing a ballpoint pen would snap down across the tabletop and produce an unnerving tap within the quiet space. But there didn't seem to be displeasure in his actions. It felt hollow, empty, just an idle repetition.
What actually gave away his displeasure was the furrowed expression that continued to dent in his brow.
There were various contractors gathered from abroad at the table with the Captain. Among them, were the usual members of the Dispatch Unit, such as the aforementioned Roundabout, the grimfully graceful Verity, and even the newly adopted Monarch. But unfamiliar faces proceeded them as well. The 'wild' contractors from the private sector sat across from the team. It was rare to see private contractors this far into the NYACC headquarters, outside of arrest and detainment, which of present company, some could consider their involuntary 'invitations' as such. But to think outsiders would be allowed to attend a meeting with the esteemed emergency dispatch unit, would be conduct unheard of by any civil standards.
Clearly, something strange was happening. Especially with some of these new contractors possessing extensive, rather questionable histories.
But the Captain did not take much notice to the odd gathering at hand. In fact, none could recall and instance his dark blue eyes did look at any of them the entire time there. He was fixated, keeping his gaze firmly on the door where the Lieutenant stood in waiting for the last remaining members to arrive.
After another uncomfortable minute passing, the man's eyes flickered up at the clock, which now struck the end of the hour. At this point, he finally spoke, as if he had been waiting this whole time for a moment. Indeed, those veterans of the squad would recognize the complexities of the Captain's contract of routine. He is locked from speaking until designated hours. Usually, this leaves the Lieutenant acting as his mouth-piece.
His deep voice continued steadily, accompanied in undertone by the persistent tapping.
"This is not how we usually conduct business. For many of you privateers -- You have travelled long and wide in response to our urgent request. I'm sure your travels must have been tiring. And even for those of you who are not here under your own... free will, this is frankly a disgraceful sight. For representatives of the NYACC to be delaying such an important discussion with careless tardiness... It is a waste of precious time." tap.
The Captain lingered his gaze before bowing his head slightly. "For this, I personally apologize." tap.
...
But despite the noisiness, being in the pulse of the city had it advantage of allowing the NYACC to easily see the emotional state of the general populous through the culture on display. Whether it be the massive media billboards, to the exotic street side art exhibits hung on display, or the musical troupes playing their hearts to passerby's, it was easy to see what the people of New York truly felt.
The main building itself, though not nearly the tallest, or grandest, the agency is still regarded as the most prestigious and extravagant in the entire district. The neo-gothic design of the tower stands out amongst its contemporary peers amongst the colorful spectacle of the thrilling displays brimming in Times Square. Shrouded in mystery to outsiders, it has become something of a tourist location in recent years. The gargoyles overlooking the city are rumored to be alive and have been caught moving on various viral tapes. Though these claims have since been disproven by the acting Region Director of Civil Contracts. But today, the structure housed another brewing secret.
Within the hallways leading to the executive offices, there stood a dark-skinned woman with pale blond hair who stared at her phone like it was the last thing on Earth. She practically counted the seconds before she let out an exasperated hiss between her teeth.
"5 minutes. I told them 5 minutes to be here. God. The Captain will have a fit. Law, where are you? Even Roundabout made it in time."
She gazed up and down the hallway outside a pair of closed doors, of which, a low tapping can be heard coming from behind. Flipping behind the doors would reveal a typical meeting room, a spacious unoffensively colored room with a long table and rows of chairs. At the farthest end, the most distant from the entrance, sat a young black man. Whose pristine blue suit pant leggings stuck out underneath the somber NYACCC uniform coat, accented by its signature yellow-strip reflective bands. His shining badge and imposing stature spoke enough of his ranking. And mood. This man was the source of the relentless tapping. Every other second that passed, without fail, his left hand bearing a ballpoint pen would snap down across the tabletop and produce an unnerving tap within the quiet space. But there didn't seem to be displeasure in his actions. It felt hollow, empty, just an idle repetition.
What actually gave away his displeasure was the furrowed expression that continued to dent in his brow.
There were various contractors gathered from abroad at the table with the Captain. Among them, were the usual members of the Dispatch Unit, such as the aforementioned Roundabout, the grimfully graceful Verity, and even the newly adopted Monarch. But unfamiliar faces proceeded them as well. The 'wild' contractors from the private sector sat across from the team. It was rare to see private contractors this far into the NYACC headquarters, outside of arrest and detainment, which of present company, some could consider their involuntary 'invitations' as such. But to think outsiders would be allowed to attend a meeting with the esteemed emergency dispatch unit, would be conduct unheard of by any civil standards.
Clearly, something strange was happening. Especially with some of these new contractors possessing extensive, rather questionable histories.
But the Captain did not take much notice to the odd gathering at hand. In fact, none could recall and instance his dark blue eyes did look at any of them the entire time there. He was fixated, keeping his gaze firmly on the door where the Lieutenant stood in waiting for the last remaining members to arrive.
After another uncomfortable minute passing, the man's eyes flickered up at the clock, which now struck the end of the hour. At this point, he finally spoke, as if he had been waiting this whole time for a moment. Indeed, those veterans of the squad would recognize the complexities of the Captain's contract of routine. He is locked from speaking until designated hours. Usually, this leaves the Lieutenant acting as his mouth-piece.
His deep voice continued steadily, accompanied in undertone by the persistent tapping.
"This is not how we usually conduct business. For many of you privateers -- You have travelled long and wide in response to our urgent request. I'm sure your travels must have been tiring. And even for those of you who are not here under your own... free will, this is frankly a disgraceful sight. For representatives of the NYACC to be delaying such an important discussion with careless tardiness... It is a waste of precious time." tap.
The Captain lingered his gaze before bowing his head slightly. "For this, I personally apologize." tap.
...
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