The thunder of applause from the press conference echoed through speakers and public screens across every corner of the world. Debate ignited instantly among the masses. Some supported the creation of a superior strike force, arguing that the number of criminals hiding in the Outlands had grown beyond control, and that the central government had no intention of sending ordinary personnel to risk their lives in the dome's decaying exterior.
Others saw it differently. The term P-Type, short for Post-Human Type, struck a nerve among those who believed in equality. Declaring a class of humans as "superior" in a world where people were already struggling to hold on to their dignity only fueled suspicion and unease.
And yet, amid the heated arguments, there were those who simply didn't care. Survival came first.
Edward was one of them. He listened to the news only in passing, treating it as little more than background noise. Right now, he stood waiting for clearance to leave the dome. His goal was simple, salvage what remained of the old world to stay afloat. Relics from before the collapse might have lost all practical use, but to certain collectors obsessed with the past… they were worth a fortune.
Edward stepped through the towering rectangular scanner. The moment he passed beyond the radiation field, his entire identity profile appeared on the officer's screen in an instant.
[Identity Confirmed: Edward Allcroft | Age: 19 | Occupation: Student | Height: 5'9" | Eyes: Blue | Hair: Brown | Blood Type: B Rh- | Credit Balance: 12,473 Credits]
The display also listed his residential details, both inside and outside the dome, along with his full family history, all in line with the system's strict civilian control protocols.
"Heading out to scavenge again, kid?"
The gate officer spoke without taking his eyes off the screen.
"Yeah. I'm running a little low on credits lately, so I figured I'd head out and see what I can find to sell."
Edward replied, tightening the strap of his backpack.
"Make sure your mask and gear are sealed tight out there. AQI's pushing past 750 lately. Stay sharp… especially with those escapees still on the loose."
The officer warned him, a faint note of concern in his voice.
"Yeah… that's exactly why I'm heading out. Gonna earn enough to buy a better mask and suit."
"Alright. Get in line. Queue 42, Lot 3."
Edward made his way over to the group waiting for clearance to exit the dome. Every face carried the same dull exhaustion. Some were heading out for personal errands. Some to visit family still stranded in the poisoned Outlands. Others were there for research.
And some like him were just trying to scrape together whatever remnants of the old world they could find, all for a handful of credits.
He took a seat among the crowd, waiting for the moment the reinforced gates would open to the Outlands, a place where pollution had long exceeded the limits of human survival.
"Lot 3, Queue 1 through 50 prepare!"
The officer's voice rang out over the speakers.
Edward stepped into position without hesitation.
Rumble…
The inner gate slid shut, sealing them off from the dome's clean air. Moments later, the massive steel doors ahead began to part.
Beyond them lay a living hell, washed in a dull orange haze.
Toxic dust choked the air, limiting visibility to only a few meters. Sunlight struggled through the ruined atmosphere, reduced to a dim, suffocating glow that made every breath feel heavy.
Ahead, three or four battered diesel vehicles from a bygone era idled in place, alongside a rusted bus retrofitted to carry passengers. It offered little protection against the dust or toxic air, but the fare was affordable, making it the primary option for those on the margins, and a vital source of income for those living in the Outlands.
Wrapped head to toe in protective gear, a full-face dust mask sealing off his features, Edward climbed aboard the bus. The air inside reeked of oil and exhaust. He tapped his credit chip to pay the fare, setting course for the old suburban districts.
Vrrrmmm!
The engine roared to life as the bus lurched forward, rolling into the Outlands and leaving behind a thick trail of swirling dust.
Before long, it slowed to a stop under a haze that blurred everything into obscurity.
Edward stepped off, greeted by the crumbling remains of a once-thriving civilization. Towering buildings that had once symbolized progress now stood in decay, worn down by time. Concrete walls had peeled away, exposing their hollow insides. Colors that were once vibrant had been swallowed by layers of dust, reduced to endless stretches of dry, lifeless earth tones.
There was no trace of green.
Nothing like the nature he had only ever seen inside the dome's simulations.
He headed straight for a familiar ruin, then descended into a dim, musty basement thick with stale air.
Fff!
With a sharp flick, he yanked away a worn tarp, revealing a gasoline-powered motorcycle, his trusted ride. He had stashed it out here to avoid the absurd parking fees inside the dome. It came with the risk of theft, sure… but in an age where fuel was rarer than gold, who would bother stealing a gas-guzzling heap of metal like this?
Edward fired up the engine, the roar echoing off the concrete walls, then twisted the throttle and sped off toward the distant old city, chasing whatever remnants of value might still remain.
He rode through walls of dust until he reached a large, isolated house. The massive wrought-iron gate out front was thick with rust, its original patterns and insignias long since eaten away. Edward cut the engine, and silence settled in heavy, and unsettling.
Edward moved deeper into the ruined house, making straight for the rotting wooden furniture. With just a light tap, the brittle wood split open, revealing hollow spaces inside. He searched for a long while, nearly ready to give up, until he reached the farthest hall.
There, a medium-sized rectangular metal box sat motionless on the dust-covered floor.
"So this is… what they call a safe."
Edward muttered under his breath.
He tried prying it open, but the rusted steel wouldn't budge. The internal mechanisms, long ruined by time, made picking the lock nearly impossible.
"Fine. I'll just take the whole thing."
Gritting his teeth, he hauled the heavy safe outside and strapped it tightly to the back of his motorcycle with nylon rope.
Then, after a brief pause, he turned and headed back inside one last sweep to make sure he hadn't missed anything.
Whoosh!
A blur of motion sliced through the silence… something lunged at him with overwhelming force.
Crash!
Edward's body was sent flying, slamming hard against the concrete wall as dust exploded into the air. Pain surged across his back, knocking the breath out of him.
"Who the hell is that?!"
He shouted, struggling to push himself up.
"Who are you… are you here to hunt me?"
A hoarse voice echoed low from the shadows.
"And who are you supposed to be, jumping me out of nowhere?"
Edward shot back, anger flaring.
"Don't tell me… you're one of those escapees from the news?"
"If you know who I am… then I can't let you leave!"
The voice from the shadows snapped aggressive, laced with paranoia.
"Hey, calm down! I'm just a scavenger!"
Edward shouted, stumbling backward.
"Calm down? I'm not letting you walk away and tell anyone you saw me here!"
The roar hadn't even faded before the figure lunged moving at an inhuman speed.
Edward twisted aside just in time. The attacker slammed straight through the crumbling concrete wall, losing balance as debris burst outward.
Crash!
Seizing the opening, Edward bolted sprinting out of the house toward his motorcycle.
But the stranger was already moving.
He leapt from the second-floor window and landed directly in front of him with ease, as if his body were forged from steel.
"Damn it… they really are superhuman!"
Edward cursed under his breath, stomping on the kick starter like mad, but the engine stayed dead silent.
"Come on! Not now!"
He growled, forcing the ignition again and again. The man stepped in, ready to strike poised to kill in an instant. But before he could move…
Boom!
Another shadow crashed in from the side, colliding with him head-on. The sheer impact blasted a massive hole through the house wall.
The figure that emerged from the wreckage was unmistakable. One of the P-Type.
"Kid… you alright?"
Another woman in a fitted combat uniform stepped in, placing herself between him and the chaos.
"Uh… yeah, I'm fine. What's going on here?"
Edward asked, still trying to process everything.
"We're P-Type. My name is Alicia. We're tracking a fugitive."
She replied, her gaze locked onto the target struggling to pull himself up from the wreckage.
"Project 14, Benjamin Wagner, You are under arrest. Comply immediately. Do not force me to escalate."
The P-Type officer who had just launched the attack spoke in a calm, unwavering tone.
"Heh… just 23, huh? That uniform doesn't really suit you."
Benjamin sneered as he pushed himself up from the rubble.
"I'll repeat this once more. Project 14, Benjamin Wagner, You are under arrest. Comply immediately. Do not force me to escalate."
The officer delivered the exact same line again, word for word.
"And what if I choose violence, 23… what are you going to do?"
"I was hoping you'd say that. Saves us both the trouble of talking."
Number 23 replied, unclasping the outer layer of his heavy armor until only a dark shirt remained.
"23! If possible, take him alive. Command needs the information!"
Alicia shouted as she half-dragged, half-pulled Edward away from the impact zone.
Benjamin didn't hesitate. He made the first move launching himself straight at 23 and driving a punch square into his face.
Crash!
The sheer force sent 23 flying through a wall and into the next room. But slowly… he pushed himself back up.
The deep gash across his face began to close, knitting itself shut. Two teeth that had been knocked out grew back in an instant.
"Heh… so you're like that guy too."
Benjamin muttered.
"Not even close."
23 replied, his eyes completely devoid of emotion.
Benjamin surged forward again. Every punch he drove into 23's body inflicted real, devastating damage, but each wound healed just as quickly, as if it were nothing more than a nightmare resetting itself.
"Then I guess I'll have to get serious."
The moment he spoke, his form blurred and split. A second Benjamin stood beside him.
"If one isn't enough… I'll just make it two!"
"Make it ten if you want. It won't change anything."
23 replied, raising his guard.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Both Benjamins launched a relentless assault, striking over and over in a brutal barrage. The echoes of impact thundered throughout the house. But no matter how severe the damage, 23's body kept restoring itself.
Again.
And again.
And again.
"Did you know… there's an old legend from the ancient world?"
23 spoke, his voice eerily flat.
"It's about a two-bodied demon they called a Doppelganger. According to the tale, if you ever encounter your other self… one of you has to die."
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
Benjamin snapped back, his breathing ragged.
"Your ability… the more you use it, the more strain it puts on your body. It demands twice the energy."
23 stepped forward, slow and deliberate.
"Our bodies already consume twice the energy of ordinary humans. But you splitting yourself like that… it's four times."
His gaze swept over Benjamin, who had begun to tremble.
"When you escaped the facility, you probably hadn't eaten anything. By my calculation… your body's already reaching its limit. You're burning through what's left. Soon your vision will blur. You'll start sweating excessively. Your hands will turn cold. Your body will shake…"
A brief pause.
"And then you'll collapse."
Every symptom unfolded exactly as 23 had predicted.
Benjamin's vision blurred until he could no longer focus. Cold sweat drenched his body. His hands turned numb with an icy chill. His heart pounded violently, feeding a growing sense of agitation. Each breath came out ragged, uneven, on the verge of collapse.
"At this point, I don't even need to do anything… I can just wait for you to drop."
23 said calmly, standing still as he watched it happen.
Benjamin ignored him. With a final burst of strength, he lunged. The duplicate came in from behind, while the real body charged from the front, but faltered mid-step.
Shhk!
23 drew a combat knife and drove it straight into his own abdomen, piercing through his body and striking the duplicate behind him with deadly precision.
The copy staggered. Then collapsed. Its form flickered… and faded into nothing.
The impact was far worse than expected.
The real Benjamin, standing in front, suddenly coughed up blood, an identical wound tearing through the same spot on his abdomen. He staggered, barely able to stay upright, before collapsing to the ground in a lifeless heap.
The gaping wound in 23's abdomen began to close. Flesh and tissue knit themselves back together at an unnatural speed, leaving behind nothing but the torn fabric of his bloodstained shirt.
"Project 14, Benjamin Wagner, resisted arrest. Termination at the point of contact was necessary."
23 reported in a flat, emotionless tone through the comm device at his ear. His eyes remained fixed on the body lying in a pool of blood as he calmly sheathed the knife.
Thud… Thud…
Alicia came running over, her footsteps quick and sharp. She stopped, staring down at Benjamin's body, her expression unreadable.
Not far away, Edward watched from where he had been hiding, struggling to steady his trembling hands. The speed. The precision. The coldness of the kill. In that moment, he understood, The world he knew was about to change forever.