The Utopia Project: Dawn of the Phantoms

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>>> [An Adventure Nearly 3 Years In The Making]

>>> [To Find Utopia In A World Lost To Chaos]

>>> [To Build A Unforgettable World With Expansive Lore]

>>> [To Satisfy My Inner Nerd And To Secretly Fanboy About All The Things I love! :3]

>>> [And Most Importantly, To Tell A Story That I Dearly Hope You Find Just As Fascinating As I Do]

>>> [DigitalRiot Proudly Presents]

==[THE UTOPIA PROJECT]==

>>[Dawn Of The Phantoms]<<

===[Chapter 1: A Futuristic Stone Age]===

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==[Begin Memory Playback]==

A dove sat on the branch of a birch tree. Her feathers were a snowy white. They gleamed, soaking in the sun. High above the world. Living in a bubble unbothered by the world. Her only goals; to eat, to sleep, and live to see the next morning. Capable of flying wherever and whenever she wanted to. Because she was free.

His eyes watched her from behind the transport’s window. He debated if his life would’ve been better had he hatched from a dove’s egg. Probably not. He was human of course. He was driven by motives the likes of which she could never conceive. However, the dove spread her wings and flew away. Out of view. Briefly for a moment, he thought that he could follow her. Because he was human. He imagined himself flying wing-to-wing with her. But when his arms spread apart to take off, the shackles around his wrists kept him grounded.

He looked down at his hands. Silently hating the feeling of heaviness creeping inside of his chest. Weighing him down. He may have been human, but the bird was no prisoner. The bird retained something that he as a human had been deprived of. The bird was free.

The others around him were quiet. There was little to say as they waited to be processed. All of them part of the Penal-Unit. What Eli thought hardly mattered now. Soldiers outside began to call to each other, shouting codes and words unintelligible to Eli’s ears. Not like he cared. He’d given up trying to understand the ways of the regulars a long time ago. The truck lurched forward, and he could hear the distinct whir of an electric engine up front. The truck shook back and forth while the axles squeaked like mice and the ground underneath the tires churned. He watched through the windows as the truck passed by armed guards, and then through a gate…

“This is my fourth reassignment this year. Can you believe that?” A prisoner sitting next to Eli said to him. The man was around Eli’s age, perhaps a few years younger. He’d been speaking off and on with Eli throughout the transit to the new base, and he was the only person keeping Eli somewhat grounded throughout all of what was going on.

“They do it on purpose,” Eli told the man, having that piece of information buried somewhere deep in his head. Where he’d gotten it from, he wasn’t sure. Likely word of mouth. But he knew it was true, it made sense, “Overwatch shuffles the prisoners around every year. Makes sure we can’t know each other for too long.”

The other prisoner nodded, “Yeah, figured that much. You were in New Cairo?”

Eli nodded.

“Same. The name’s Dutch. Dutch Laswell,” Dutch reached over to Eli, balling his hand into a fist.

“Eli Freeman,” he reciprocated, the two sharing a fist bump.

“Freeman? Ironic.”

“Tell me about it.”

The truck crossed past a slew of military vehicles. Tanks, soldiers marching in file, a helicopter flew overhead with its whirring blades loud enough to nearly deafen the prisoners from inside of the truck. A robotic voice alert read a message on loudspeakers surrounding the base.

"ALERT. INBOUND CONVICT BATTALION, ALL SECURITY UNITS REPORT TO OVERWATCH FOR IMMEDIATE TASKING."

The robotic voice droned as the Regulars swarmed the trucks pulling into the base.

The truck came to a stop, the door at the back swung open. A Regular stood outside, dressed in normal military fatigues and proper equipment. He carried a rifle in his hands, a pistol on his hip, and had the flag of The Coalition presented proudly on his shoulder.

The prisoners on the other hand were in their normal uniforms. A two-piece suit made of a plastic-like material that Eli couldn’t quite put his finger on. The uniform of the prisoners was a distinct dark-blue, so dark it was nearly black. Orange piping ran up and down along it, and more bright orange material surrounded the cuffs and interior arches of the sleeves. On the shoulders and on the back was a bright cyan delta surrounded by an orange circle. The symbol of the nationless across the world. The symbol of the Phantoms. And also, in some cruel design by a pencil-pusher in Coalition High Command – the symbol of The Penal Unit.

“Prisoners! Get a move on! Line up outside for processing!” The Regular demanded as he stood aside to let the convicts leave the truck. Begrudgingly – of course – they stood in obedience, marching forward towards their fate. They had no other choice. The decision was made for them.

“End of the line. I’ll see you around if I’m lucky, Freeman,” Dutch said with a smile as he turned around.

Eli gave him a brief nod, “Yeah. Take care.”

He had to admit that it felt nice to finally stretch his legs after the gruelingly long journey inside of the troop transport, but he could hardly enjoy himself. Regulars shoved him into line with the rest of the prisoners. A guard stabbed Eli in the side with the thrust of a spiked baton, “Keep it moving, convict”, the guard hissed.

Eli gave the guard the best evil look he could conjure, but ultimately could do nothing more. A line of prisoners stood shoulder-to-shoulder, marching into the Coalition’s forward HQ under a bright blue sky. The air was crisp, cool, yet not cold out here in… wherever they were.

Eli wasn’t certain. They were in the mountains. He could see the mountain slopes close to the horizon, standing over them like slumbering giants. Their stone faces black and covered in the darkness of evergreen forest. He hazarded a guess that they were somewhere in the Rockies. It should’ve been winter in North America. The coldest months of it too. But of course, he knew what era he lived in.

It was January of 2050. But the snow caps that were supposed to blanket the slopes of the mountains were missing, only scarce ice caps remained on the peaks of bare grey mountains. It shouldn’t have surprised him that winter stopped being cold, even around here.

At the very least, a cool winter breeze managed to roll down from the mountains, sweeping the small valley that the base was tucked inside of with a hint of fresh cool air. But even then, Eli was sweating underneath his uniform.

The line proceeded forward as moving parts surrounded them. Vehicles, soldiers marching, more helicopters flying close overhead, and the prisoners themselves. It was loud out here, between the engines of the machines and the chatter of those on the ground. The voice of the announcement system was almost drowned out by sirens and wails of a base thrust into activity. It wasn’t long until they entered inside. After passing through the first doors that were guarded by a large detail of Regulars, he noticed a camera mounted to the ceiling that scanned the individual prisoners as they walked in and took a picture of them in a bright flash of light. One by one as they entered the facility. Until it was Eli’s turn.

He tried to shield his eyes, but he was still blinded by the light of the camera as it got a face shot of him. Recovering from being blinded, he was prodded forward by a baton to the back, which pushed him into a line to be processed. A Regular grabbed his right arm and pulled up his sleeve to reveal Eli’s wrist monitor. It was scanned and he was pushed through the line.

He was corralled in with a mess of other prisoners into a large hall. Hundreds of prisoners filtered into the room. The guards did their part to poke, prod, and shove them into place. Regimenting the prisoners into manageable blocks. Each block contained about twenty-five or thirty prisoners each, and among those there were seven blocks. Cameras watched overhead. Guards kept their guns on a tight hold.

The room was brightly lit. Almost nauseatingly so. The fluorescent lights threatened a migraine. Each face was visible. Easy to identify. And yet, they all blended together in his brain. Not that it was helped by the heavy ache of sleep gnawing underneath his eyes.

Sleep deprived and unsure of where exactly in the world he was, he stood there. His tired eyes gazed out at the assembly around him. The others looked equally tired, maybe even more so. All of them looked disheveled, plenty smelled like they hadn’t bathed in who-knows-how-long. But things like that stopped bothering Eli a long time ago. Now, he actually had things to look forward to.

For he was just six months short of being granted his freedom.

He survived through enough to know that he was one of the lucky ones. The lifespan of a Phantom in the Penal-Unit was short, to say the least. Looking around, Eli didn’t see too many old faces, for there never were any. There were only two ways out of the penal unit. Either finishing the standard five-year sentence against the odds – and the odds were definitely stacked against everybody’s favor – or in a body bag. He could hardly say he was proud to have most of his prison stay behind him, but he was relieved.

This had to be it, his last mission. If he just kept doing what he did in the past, he should be alright. Just six more months.

Six short months.

And then, he’d be a free man. True to his name.

He could almost smile, thinking that maybe his life would soon be back to normal and that he’d return to the home he’d lost over a decade ago…

The base’s announcement system blared overhead, this time with an announcement directed at the prisoners.

“ATTENTION PLEASE, ALL PRISONERS, SQUAD ASSIGNMENTS HAVE BEEN UPLOADED TO YOUR MONITORING SYSTEMS. REPORT TO YOUR ASSIGNED SQUAD SWIFTLY.”

Eli looked down at his wrist to see that the monitor fitted around his arm was glowing. Glowing text had appeared on the screen.

‘Eli Freeman. Misfit Squad. Delta Company. You are the Squad Leader. Commanding officer: Captain Juma.’

He looked up from the monitor searching for Captain Juma. The name was familiar. His eyes eventually narrowed on one regular in particular.

She stood at the front of the room, issuing commands to the prisoners, telling them to stand one place or another. Her sunken eyes were buried behind the faint glow of a monitor - she hardly gave more than a passing glare at each prisoner, if she even looked their way at all. She’d simply point at a prisoner and then point at a spot for them to stand.

He remembered Juma from the mission just prior. Memories surfaced of the battle for New Cairo. The half-decayed city, one part super modern with glittering skyscrapers which shone like shards of glass among the desert dunes. The other part a shanty town, crowded, ignored, run down, like a scene of peasants living in medieval Europe.

New Cairo was caught in a war zone between the warring Global Strategic Coalition and the Pan-Oriental Alliance. The details of why they were fighting over Egypt specifically were never made clear to Eli, and most of the mission had been a blur. Captain Juma being an exception.

He remembered her face vividly, her voice too. He remembered that she, unlike most regulars, was a Phantom like he was. Eli also remembered the bitter taste of defeat that he suffered in New Cairo while under her command. That’s the whole reason he was sent here after all, some sort of “Punishment” that Overwatch Command had conjured up for failure. A reassignment of sorts.

As he approached her and gave his name, her eyes only gave him a glance, “Misfit – seven man squad, Delta Company. You’re over there.”

She pointed to a small crowd of other prisoners. Five of them gathered together. It must’ve been them. Misfit. He couldn’t get a good look at their faces from where he stood, so he’d have to get closer. Right before he could take a step towards them, Juma’s words halted him, “Freeman? I remember you. Six months left… don’t trip at the finish line.”

He looked back at her, her eyes had already sunk to observe the monitor before she managed matters with the other prisoners, “Yeah,” Eli whispered, though he knew she couldn’t hear him.

Fear initially filled him when he approached Misfit. As with every squad reassignment, he could never tell whether they would be good company or not. He just had to hope they kind of were. In Korea, he had fond memories of another squad – but they split on less than amicable terms. In fact, their “split” was precisely why he was a prisoner. And prisoners were expected to be expendable, doubly so since almost all of them were Phantoms…

But as he approached Misfit, his fear subsided to brief confusion, and then a smile. He saw a familiar face within the squad.

Dutch held up his hand and flagged Eli down as he drew near, “Freeman? You got put into Misfit?”

“That’s what they’re telling me,” Eli told him, slightly chuckling to himself as if he had known Dutch like a close friend for a while, when in reality they only met a half hour ago. If even that long.

“Talk about a lucky break,” Dutch said.

“You know this guy?” Another man in the squad chimed in. A black beard with white hairs sprinkled in like pepper mixed with a pinch of salt blanketed his jaw and upper lip. He had a mop of straight black hair. Olive skin with liver spots dotting bits of his exposed face and hands. He looked forty or maybe even fifty in years, not elderly by any means, but certainly older than the median life expectancy for the penal unit which rested around the ripe old age of thirty years maximum. Eli himself was only twenty-five.

Dutch shook his head, “Hardly, we met on the transport headed here.”

“I see,” said the man nodding his head, “Matteo Costa,” he said with a strong Italian accent, “I’m the squad medic.”

The next to introduce themselves looked over at Eli's direction with a cool nod of her head and a brief smile, "Paik-Seon Hi. But my friends call me Badger. I'm Korean," She told him. Badger was smaller than almost everyone else and had a distinct and thick line of dyed white hair that stretched from the temple of her head to the back of it. Ending in a ponytail that hung to her shoulders. At the front were a few strands of loose hairs that rested somewhere near her rosy cheeks. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why she was called Badger with both her size and the white streak.

“Rafael Campos! Glad to meet you!” Said another man. Rafael had glossy black hair that was scattered about all over the top of his head. A green headband kept the messy hair from getting into his eyes, and it hid a portion of his sun-tanned forehead. A goatee carpeted the lower portions of his angular face. He looked muscular from the way his prisoner jumpsuit fit onto him, and the manner in which he spoke told Eli that he was familiar with combat, “I'm from Brazil, or what used to be Brazil, at least.”

“Civil war?” Eli asked him.

“Just war. There was nothing ‘civil’ about it.”

Eli nodded as he digested the information, Rafael’s background was much similar to that of plenty of others that Eli has met over the years. He wondered how many of the Phantoms in Misfit had a similar story – most judging by the sympathetic nods from the others. But one of the prisoners still had yet to introduce themselves.

He stood away from the rest of the group, brooding. He had cold, dark eyes. A beanie kept most of the top of his hair hidden, but from what he could see, he was blonde. When he felt Eli's eyes descend upon him, all he mustered up was a grunt and a disinterested nod of the head, “Cato,” he said in a British accent.

“You a Phantom?” Asked Dutch.

“What do you think?”

“Just asking,” Dutch grimaced.

Badger stepped forward, bringing everyone’s attention together, “I guess that’s all of Misfit accounted for.”

“There’s supposed to be seven of us, where’s the other one?” Matteo asked.

They briefly looked around before a small and timid voice spoke up, “O-Over here!”

They looked to their side to see a boy. Eli had to take another look at him to confirm he was seeing things right. A boy. Not a man, a child. He looked no older than seventeen. If he was even that old. Dark skin, big and sad looking puppy eyes that poked out from underneath a shaggy mess of black hair. He was skinny and small, the prisoner uniform hung like curtains on his body.

Eli looked back at the rest of Misfit in confusion, they were equally confused. Their odd looks amongst each other made the boy squirm in discomfort, “Who are you?” Eli cautiously asked.

The kid hesitated for a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to say. Eli repeated himself, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I’m- I’m Omar. Omar Shaya.”

"Where are you from?" Badger interrogated him.

"Bangladesh. Well, I was from Bangladesh…"

"So you’re a Phantom too?" Dutch asked him.

"A what?"

"A refugee. A Phantom," Rafael asked.

Omar nodded, "I think so… the guards called me a phantom, but I don’t know what that meant."

“And how old are you exactly?” Matteo addressed the elephant in the room. The kid looked like… well, a kid.

"I'm 21," Omar mumbled.

"You don't look 21," Eli told him.

"You don't sound it, either,” Said Rafael.

"Look," he turned around, his voice cracking just enough to ironically betray his own argument, though he still held firm. Pestered by the bothering from the squad, whom he of course, just met, "I'm 21! Ok? I'm fine!"

"Alright…" Eli suspiciously relented.

The others in Misfit looked at each other, knowing full well that Omar was lying straight through his teeth. Yet as Misfit debated among themselves as to how it could be, Eli couldn’t help but notice how terrified Omar looked. Small and fragile. Eli wondered how he wound up here amidst prisoners – those sentenced as prisoners of war and rebels against the Coalition’s rule. But Omar didn’t seem the type to fit into either of those categories, and besides that, what the hell would Overwatch even want with a teenager?

Before they could interrogate the question further though, a voice crackled on the intercom system. A new and unfamiliar one.

“Phantoms. Prisoners. Soldiers. You have all chosen – or have been chosen – to fight for The Coalition in the Utopia Project. While I am not able to disclose all the information with regards to Utopia, I do want to take a moment for clarity’s sake. On behalf of myself and the rest of Overwatch Command, welcome! I am Major-General Kovic, but I’ll introduce myself properly when we meet face to face.” Kovic’s voice echoed throughout the facility. An older brassy voice, with a slight twinge of a pacific-northwest accent. The loudspeakers blared above them.

“As for the Prisoners who haven’t been given the briefing from Coalition High Command, you are being deployed to an experimental battlefield either on collective punishment for prior mission failure, or at random. It is hoped that after this mission is accomplished, you will have been rehabilitated. Upon Mission Completion, you’ll have your sentences waived, and you’ll be free men and women once again. However, let me remind you of the circumstances…” Kovic’s voice suddenly took on a darker tone, it caught everyone’s attention as they looked up to the loudspeakers hidden somewhere along the ceiling. The small bubble of hope that Eli felt inside of him quickly popped into despair, as Kovic continued to speak.

“As Prisoners, you are not required to return. That will only come about when I and the rest of Overwatch Command are satisfied that you’ve accomplished your mission and have been properly rehabilitated. So, I implore you all to remember your duty, even as prisoners you serve the Coalition. So, cooperate, follow orders as dutifully as you are expected, and obey your officers’ instructions above all else. If you do that successfully, then you may earn your freedom.”

Eli looked away from the loudspeakers, his eyes desperately looked to Misfit to see whether they heard. Judging by their bewildered looks, they had. All the Prisoners and Phantoms in the unit were dumbfounded. The Regulars who patrolled their ranks remained steely-eyed. They knew something the prisoners didn’t.

Kovic had muttered the last line in a way that set them all on edge. Eli scratched his head, pondering what he could’ve meant by that. What the hell was “the Utopia Project”? And where was Kovic?

But then, the potential of being freed. Never before did Eli have a mission where the automatic reward for success was having his sentence waived. He’d heard of some Prisoners getting their sentences shortened for either good behavior – snitching for Overwatch and ratting out conspiratorial Phantoms. He’d even heard of Phantoms being sent on extremely dangerous missions where their reward for completion was a sentence reduction, usually by a few months or even a year in some cases.

But automatically freed?

What kind of mission was Overwatch tasking them for where the reward was automatic freedom?

Eli felt like he should’ve been happy to hear the news. But he knew how Overwatch operated. Nothing was ever given with zero strings.

His mind briefly wondered what the job would’ve been. Maybe they had to go clear out a minefield with their bare hands? Or maybe they’d have to act as meat shields or cannon fodder for the regular forces in some battle against the Pan-Oriental Alliance's troops? Or maybe they’d be fed into a active volcano? Sent scuba diving in the middle of shark infested waters with raw meat attached to them? Who knows?

"The 17th Penal Battalion. I hold an almost childish hope for you. Myself and some of my officers believe you'll be able to break the mold. Maybe, you can finally redeem yourselves as soldiers and even heroes worthy of being given a life away from a prison cell. Maybe you'll overcome the challenges ahead. You'll have to. The challenges you face are historic, to put it mildly. But should you succeed, you'll be able to thank whomever it is you put your faith in that you'll wake up another day, and if you’re lucky, you’ll wake up as a free soul. 17th, let the storm carry you home. Phantoms, prisoners, your test awaits on the other side."

No time for questions. No room for answers. Large doors at the far end of the room slid open, revealing a large tunnel that dug further into the mountain’s depths. Eli was surprised to see vehicles in the tunnels. Trucks for hauling passengers and cargo. One by one, regulars took platoons of prisoners and loaded them into the backs of the trucks. Each squad climbed aboard, and when the truck was full, it rolled off. Their electric engines echoed in the stone tunnels. Driving further into the mountain until they disappeared.

A regular soon walked up to them, waving his baton to get Misfit to walk towards the trucks. They didn’t speak as they went up, only following the crowd. Eli felt like a pig. Being loaded onto the back of caged trucks with a slaughterhouse as the destination. Like an animal. Some vivid imagery of fighting back against the guards flashed through his mind but it quickly vanished when his senses came back to tell him how hopeless it was to even try and resist. Which is why he found it strange when he saw Rafael of all people shouting back at the guards. Asking where they were being taken, and why. Of course they did not answer, and they only threatened Rafael with a beating if he didn’t comply – eventually he did keep walking forward, begrudgingly so. Something told Eli that Rafael wasn’t yet finished.

“What the hell is going on?” Was the first question out of Badger’s mouth when she took a seat into the transport. The regulars of course did not answer her question, only loading as many prisoners as they could before they shut the door and locked them in. A curtain of silence fell across the squad, looking out through the barred windows as they tried to piece together some idea of what was happening.

Eli was being metaphorical when his brain pictured animals being led to a slaughterhouse, for a brief moment he was terrified that been more accurate than he'd thought.

Soon though, the truck got to moving. It hummed along driving down the stone tunnel that was illuminated by construction lights. What surprised Eli most were the trucks that drove back from the depths of the mountain. Where were they coming from?

“So, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume none of us know what a ‘Utopia Project’ is supposed to be?” Dutch asked the group.

They all shook their heads.

“I don’t like it, whatever it is. Utopia Project… sounds like something a cult would come up with,” Dutch said, “And who’s this ‘Kovic’ guy, anyway? Telling us that he’ll see us on the other side, and that we aren’t expected to make it back? Who the hell is he?”

“Not a damn clue. I remember Captain Juma though,” Matteo muttered, “New Cairo. In fact, I remember a lot of the officers here.”

“Juma? Isn’t she a Phantom too?” Badger asked.

“Probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ratted someone out to become a regular,” said Cato, “Overwatch rewards loyalty. If you sell your soul, they’ll play favorites with you.”

“Not a half bad deal if you ask me,” Matteo said. It made all of the others chuckle, save for Eli and the boy Omar. Eli only orbiting the conversation, not bothering to say anything himself. Omar…

He looked at Omar’s face. Once again, stunned that he was looking at someone so young standing here in the Penal Unit. The kid was beyond terrified. He was trying to hide his face away in the corner of the truck, not talking or engaging with Misfit at all. He seemed scared to even breathe, the way he sat there still as rock yet small and insignificant. It was easy to forget him among the crowd of other faces. In that, being a orphan child himself, Eli felt sympathy for the boy.

But he couldn’t really do anything for him. He ignored Omar, trying to focus on the chatter between Misfit. Though the thought of Omar being here, sixteen, hung on his mind. Was the Coalition truly so desperate that they were importing prisoners still in their teens? And how the hell did Omar get here in the first place? What did he do to deserve… any of this?

Rafael got serious, leaning forward, his eyes darted between the rest of the squad, “They can’t keep treating us like animals. Not for long. Eventually, we’ll get angry enough to fight back against them.”

“Easy on the rebel speak,” Badger said with a cautionary tone, “We’re in a Overwatch nerve center. They have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“They can't punish you for speaking. To them, we're too small to even be worth the effort. As a matter of fact, I hope they can hear me.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t attracting unwanted attention. The last thing I want is a security unit harassing me because of something you said.”

“I’m willing to bet they’ve got two armed guards for every convict here. If it was possible, there would’ve already been a riot,” Matteo muttered, adding on to Badger's point.

“It is possible, they just don’t want you to think it is, my friend. The one thing they fear is hope. If you’ve got hope, you can do anything!”

“My hope is to finish my sentence. I intend for this to be my final mission, only two more months left. I’m not throwing that away for a dream.”

“It doesn’t need to just be a dream! Don’t you want your freedom? Why be a prisoner here when you have so much of a life to live? You’re an older man, you of all people should know how precious freedom is in life!” Rafael asked the man, looking up into his eyes.

Matteo sighed, “I’d rather be alive to live that life. Revolution is for the young who haven’t realized how valuable their youth is. I’ll sit my sentence out, and I’d advise you do the same.”

Rafael grunted in dissatisfaction, “Whatever you say, old man,” he turned to Eli. A strange look coming in to his eye, one Eli had never seen before. Someone was turning to him for help… direction? “So what do you think, Eli? You’ve been quiet…You’re our squad leader, right? Don’t you decide what we do?”

Eli shrugged. He dismissed the question as if it were ridiculous. He was merely a figurehead. He didn’t lead anything. His job was to parrot whatever commands Overwatch gave him. Just like the rest of them, he was a prisoner, “Matteo’s right, Rafael… it’s pointless. Rebels end up dead. Or worse.”

“There’s nothing worse than the Penal Unit! I mean come on, isn’t your last name Freeman?”

“Very funny, Rafael.”

“I’m not kidding. Where’s your anger? Your hopes and dreams? Isn’t it better to be free than with these things on our wrists?” Rafael gestured at the monitor on his wrist, his fiery eyes darting around not just from Matteo and Eli – but now to all of Misfit, “They track our every waking move with these things. They know where we are, when we sleep, when we wake up, when we eat, and when we take a shit with this thing! And it’s driving me insane! How is it wrong to want to be free from that? Without this thing monitoring your every single waking move. Without the cameras watching you day and night, or the guards who can just pull you aside at will to beat you? And for what? What are you all in prison for? Are you murderers? Are you monsters?”

Eli did not answer Rafael. His heart sunk into his stomach. He looked away. Yet Rafael continued on. His tanned face had grown red from frustration. Eli listened to his words. He could understand that on a moral basis what Rafael said was true. But there was simply no chance. There was nothing else they could do. Rafael was proposing that Misfit effectively commit suicide, and no matter how much it hurt to admit – Eli would rather be a prisoner than a corpse. Even penal-unit Phantoms, the lowest of the low, could hope for a better future. The dead were deprived of that luxury, as short a bar as it was.

Silence fell among Misfit once again. Nobody spoke a word. Rafael deflated into himself as he slowly fell back into his seat. His shoulders drooped, his head lowered. Had Eli done that? Had his own refusal to accept the possibility of resistance sucked the life out of Rafael? He felt horrible. A rot gnawed away somewhere inside of him. But Rafael was foolish for daring to resist. It was futile. How could he dream of fighting back against something so massive, so uncaring, so cold, as the Coalition? A rebellion wouldn’t last five full minutes before everyone was either dead or worse. They thought nothing of it. Their only value to Overwatch existed as living machines for labor and combat. Once they betrayed that, they were no longer needed. Slaughtered, like animals…

Yet, He still felt terrible saying it to himself, to dismiss Rafael so firmly. Eli was aware that the defeatism and hopelessness of it all had already established a firm grip over his mind. As Rafael pointed out, it was exactly what Overwatch wanted. They didn’t operate by crushing rebellion. Overwatch had erased the very idea of rebellion altogether. Those who tried, as Rafael so insisted, were looked at as insane, naïve or both.

He scanned the faces of Misfit, trying to imagine their lives as if they were his own. Their dreams, their desires, their backgrounds. He was squad leader after all. Their lives were, on paper, in his hands. But what could he do? As far as he was concerned, he was just another cog in the machine. Same as Rafael, same as everyone else.

The truck carrying them rattled back and forth until it slowed in the middle of the tunnel. Eli tried to get a good look outside of the barred window to see where they were being taken. All he could decipher was a large steel vault ahead of them. Surely, there was something behind it. The name, “The Utopia Project” rung in his mind again and again. But no matter what he tried to come up with, nothing made sense. Maybe the Coalition thought it right for them to do some manual labor, mining away at the tunnels here? But then what of the name? And the supposed danger that Kovic had warned of? This wasn’t some odd labor job like they sometimes would get assigned if they were lucky. Those types of jobs were almost always better than fighting out on a warzone. Almost always.

Besides, they were supposed to be here as a punishment. No cushy mining work today.

The Utopia Project. Just in the name alone carried a feeling that there was something secret – something sinister – about it.

“The Utopia Project…” Eli whispered to himself, thinking out loud, debating every possibility. But nothing worked.

“Maybe it’s an underground colony?” Badger suggested the answer with a slight bump of the chin and a shrug, though even she didn’t look confident in her answer, “Tunnels are good against nuclear weapons, if they’re scared about a repeat of Seoul, it would make sense to tunnel underground.”

“Yeah? Then what the hell was Kovic on about us not making it back?” Dutch said.

“Mines are dangerous, I guess.”

“Dangerous enough to call it a historic challenge?”

“I don’t know, like you said, it sounds like something a cult would come up with. I can see The Coalition trying to drive society underground. Build a new home… a utopia.”

“Bullshit,” Cato spat out, “Coalition wants to build a utopia? Don’t they know they’re the reason why this whole planet’s gone to hell? And they want us to build it for them?”

“See? Cato gets it! They want to build a utopia off of slave labor,” Rafael tapped his skull – accenting the point he tried to make, “If that’s not ironic my friend, I don’t know what is.”

“Just keep your heads down and do your jobs, we should be alright,” Eli said.

“We’ll see,” Cato said, “But we’re Phantoms. Phantoms and living full lives don’t exactly mix.”

“Six months, Cato. I intend to make it through no matter what.”

“We all intend to do things, but it never quite happens the way we want, does it? I mean, you’re in the bloody Penal Unit. Right?”

‘Great… a snarky wiseass, a rebel, and a child,’ Eli sat back, thinking to himself. Misfit was a very fitting name in retrospect. He needed to stay alive for only a few months longer without any issues with Overwatch, but Misfit seemed hellbent on throwing a wrench in those plans. Ignoring Cato’s snark, something told Eli that Cato especially would be a character to keep his eyes on.

The glowing headlights of another truck behind them shone against walls. In fact, is seemed like an entire convoy of trucks were just behind their own lone truck. He could hear their distinct hum echo through the tunnels.

A siren blared and red warning lights flashed ahead of them. Slowly the vault at the front of the tunnel began to move. Two massive blast doors rolled aside, revealing yet another chamber further into the mountain. The trucks drove in once the doors had stopped moving. Soldiers and guards swarmed the convoy as they proceeded into the next chamber. Eli was surprised to see it, but this area was developed. It wasn’t just stone walls, instead there were walkways, glass windows leading into rooms where shadowy figures observed. Electronic cords and wires dangled from the ceiling, which stood high – probably fifty feet high. It was a large cavernous area that had brand-new iron girders holding the cave walls and ceiling up. But most surprisingly to Eli, was the military equipment. Tanks, APCs, armored vehicles. There were even parts of helicopters that had been disassembled and were being loaded onto the backs of trucks.

Helicopters underground? Eli couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It didn’t seem like the cavern opened to the outside world, or if it did, not in any place that would justify parking helicopter parts down here. Besides, why the secrecy?

If Eli was right that they were in the Rockies, this would’ve been American or Canadian soil. If the Coalition wanted to put aircraft here for storage, then they could easily do so above ground. It could only mean that they were trying to hide this place from the POAs eyes. Kovic said it was a secret after all, and if what Misfit theorized was right – them trying to build an underground “Utopia” – then it might make sense to try and hide all traces from the prying eyes of the POA. There was just one thing wrong with that, theory.

Almost all the satellites that Humanity had were destroyed in the Space Wars. At least most of them were. Any satellite that either the Coalition or the POA launched was fair game to be shot down as far as either faction was concerned. Eli remembered when the network was first knocked out across the planet in the 2040s. Phones, GPS, TV networks, across the country – everywhere – went silent. Radio stations cut abruptly. The internet had become a thing of the past. For the Pan-Oriental Alliance to get their hands on a spy satellite without it being shot down would be a feat in itself. Humanity had not just turned their guns to the skies, but they were fighting wars among the stars. Getting a satellite into space was difficult enough on its own, let alone getting one over The United States, the ringmaster of the Global Strategic Coalition.

If Eli was right, it would’ve only meant that the helicopters and vehicles weren’t meant to be hidden. They were to be used somewhere within the tunnel. But how?

The Coalition was without a doubt hiding something major. But what?

The trucks again came to a halt in the middle of the chamber. The doors to the truck were thrown open, Regulars ordered the prisoners to stand and get out. When Eli’s boots thudded against the solid surface, he was able to get a better look of the chamber.

It was massive, far more cavernous than Eli thought looking at it through the window. It had to be as large as the interior of an aircraft hangar. Likely even larger than that. The ceiling sloped upwards as it intersected the far wall which brought the room to an end. Massive spotlights hung on the ceiling, illuminating the area with spots of dull light. There was an observatory for the Overwatch Commanders looking out at the massive space, glass windows protecting their front row seats to… whatever this was supposed to be.

It was strange. Wires were both laid across the floor and suspended from the ceiling. Dozens of them, some large and thick, others small. They were all connected to a massive steel contraption at the far side of the chamber. It was circular in shape. Electric components were bolted into it. A circular frame which spanned from the floor to the ceiling. A ramp connected the bottom of the frame to the floor, as if vehicles were supposed to drive through it– yet the circle was blocked by the grey concrete wall on the other side.

“What is that thing?” Eli wondered out loud.

“Portal?” Dutch joked.

“Yeah, that’ll be the day…”

Eli’s eyes were glued onto it. Most of the prisoners cast a few quick glances at the structure before returning back to their duties. But Eli’s eyes wouldn’t budge. There was something strange about it. His mind tried to form some explanation as to what it could’ve been, but every answer he came up with was worse than the last.

An impatient guard walked up to Misfit, snapping his fingers to grab their attention, “Prisoners, get moving! Come on!” He jabbed a thumb at a line of prisoners forming up on the sides of the room. Eli followed the direction of the guard, taking one final look at the contraption, before trying to forget about it. Yet, it sat in his mind, refusing to go away.

He followed Misfit as they trudged on, lining up behind a wall of other Prisoners. Guards held up a backpack filled to the brim with gear and issued them out to the prisoners as well as a vest of body armor. Each one had the Greek Delta on the back of it, cyan blue. The symbol of the Phantoms. One by one, each prisoner received the backpack and vest until Eli was holding one in his hands. His eyes glanced over the objects shoved inside of it. A gas mask and first aid kit being the two most obvious of them. The former struck Eli as odd, but he brushed the thought away as he strapped the pack and armor on. No sooner had he finished, another Regular approached.

The Regular took his arm, rolled up his sleeve to expose his dark brown skin and the monitor wrapped over his forearm. With a metal device, the Regular took off his old wrist monitor to replace it with a new one. The device was slightly larger and heavier, covering more of his forearm than the one before. When it was placed on his forearm, it automatically conformed itself to fit tight – though not too tight – onto Eli’s arm. It turned on automatically revealing the flag of the Coalition and then the logo of the Phantoms. A cyan delta surrounded by a orange circle.

Eli observed the new monitor as if it were some alien device that was grafted onto his body. For all he knew, it might as well have been. The sudden change in equipment prompted a brief wave of fear in Eli as to how dangerous the mission they were running actually would have been, but it faded away the moment he looked up.

Electrical components on the strange circular frame began to move. Twisting, spinning. Sparks flew. The hair on the back of Eli’s neck stood on end. For a moment, he felt weightless. As if he could jump up and float like an astronaut. All of the prisoners looked up, watching as an mechanical arm lowered to point towards the circular frame. An electric buzz filled the room, the silence from the convicts was deafening.

From the far stretches of the ceiling, Eli could see something glide through the air. So fast it was almost imperceptible. It was a dove suspended in air, flying over the crowd of prisoners and regulars, entirely unnoticed. Except for Eli’s eyes, which followed her as she flew…

And then, an explosion of light! The bird vanished, and his eyes were drawn to the steel frame. A bright ray of red energy burst forward from the iron arm, aimed at the crown of the frame. The energy connected, powering the other electronic contraptions within the structure, they charged, pulsating, firing on. Until a shockwave resonated from the structure. A blast of energy washed over the crowd of terrified prisoners.

Like a wave, the energy blast forced the prisoners to take a step back, and Eli found himself being pushed and thrown with the crowd of equally terrified bodies. Prisoners flailed around, trapped in a calamity moments before their destruction. The screams that he heard blended into each other, mixing into one massive echo of fear and confusion. A blinding light flashed from the contraption finally, forcing Eli to look away. Even still, he could see the bright white light through his eyelids until the light faded away.

All was silent when he opened his eyes once more. The whirring of the machines stopped, the screaming vanished. They all watched the frame.

The opening of the circle had been replaced by a colorful swirling light that ebbed and flowed, currents of bright blue, candy pink, forest green, and deep violet mixed with each other. Eli was enraptured by it. His mind was mixed with fear… and wonder. Helpless, all he could do was watch in stunned silence.

“Is it really a…” Badger started out, but quickly went back on her words, “No. No, that’s impossible.”

The swirling light refracted, bending and twisting, until a clear image formed on the other side. Where there was once a wall, was another chamber awaiting them on the other side. Regulars ordered columns of prisoners to march on through the steel frame structure.

The first column protested, yelling, flailing, doing anything they could to remain where they were. But if they didn’t walk, the guards forced them in. Keeping them at the end of a electric baton, or a gun. They were forced to walk through. Every step of theirs felt like it took an eternity. Eli’s eye twitched, he couldn’t tell if he was about to witness something amazing, or if he was gonna see dozens of people get torn apart. He could see tears streaming down the eyes of some prisoners as they shakily clambered up the ramp.

And then they entered through. It was as if they passed through a glass window. Entering through on the other side – unharmed.

Like a choir, the remaining prisoners muttered exclamations of wonder, surprise, fear even. Had the Coalition really constructed a…?

Other columns of prisoners were singled out and sent through the portal. One by one. Until Misfit was selected to go through. Eli saw the look on the faces of his squad. All of them were terrified. But his eyes landed especially on Omar. The boy was pale. His eyes wide with fear. He was shaking. Frozen still as a statue, “Omar…”

His eyes darted up to Eli, looking at him for anything. Eli forced a smile onto his face. A smile he didn’t believe in. He knew he was just as powerless as the rest of them were. There was nothing he could do to slow them down as they were forced at gunpoint to march towards the opening of the gate. There was nothing to do but comply. Until they were at the entrance of the Portal.

Eli was the first one up. He could feel a strange heat radiating from the entrance. The point where one chamber ended and the other started was separated by a thin transparent barrier that resembled jelly flowing in the air. Eli briefly looked back, his legs ready to collapse under the weight of his fear. The rest of his squad watched him. He looked back towards the portal. Sucking a breath of air in, and closing his eyes.

A step into the unknown…

>>>[Verifying...]

>>>[Loading SitRep A-2...]

>>>[Going through File Directory]

>>>[Standby...]

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==[THE WORLD OF 2050]==

==[A Futuristic Stone Age]==

2050: ["Billions were caught in the center of a globe spanning fight that would spiral the planet into chaos. As the superpowers collapsed, nations united to prevent total catastrophe. Of those nations rose two powers. From the old remnants of NATO and the West, rose the Global Strategic Coalition. And a rising bloc of the eastern Pan-Occidental Alliance. The two rivals circled each other, saber-rattling, pushing and getting pushed, fighting over the increasingly scarce resources as the world burned around them.]

Planet Earth is on the brink of disaster, for humanity at least. Divided primarily between the warring Pan-Oriental Alliance and the Global Strategic Coalition . Resources dwindle, nations burn, and superpowers crumble. Humanity must search for salvation. But where...?

["...But there was a third group. Phantoms. The nationless. Without a home. We had no money, no resources of our own. Some may dare call us "innocent". One failed state after another spawned the existence of Phantoms. Refugees. The world's unwanted..."]

A continent baptized by fire. The Caspian Sea dries leaving millions in Central Asia without water, meanwhile the Pacific and Indian Oceans flood. Washing away cities inhabited by billions of people and swamping them underneath their calamitic storms. Riots, Revolutions, and Relapse into dictatorships have become a norm. The hopeful optimism that inspired the new democracies of the 2000s now brace in fear of the unknown future...

The so called "Leader of the Free World" is but a hollow shell of her former self. A military coup d'état has left Washington without its democracy, the rising Atlantic has rendered some of the most vital cities and economic centers lost underneath their waters. Millions have been displaced by the storms while America's global order crumbles. Yet, despite this, America remains a superpower. Though a dying one. Around her, America's neighbors fare little better as they are battered in the throes of the new - old - world.

>>>["...War. Famine. Disease. Storms washed away homes forever. Fires tore communities and nations in half. Refugees used to come in waves of thousands. Those numbers grew to the millions. The Space Wars destroyed the last links that our people had to those who lived at the dawn of the new millennium. Global telecommunications were wiped out in the blink of an eye, with satellites crashing down to Earth destroying the knowledge of humanity with them. Internet, Satellite, GPS, all of it lost as debris destroyed satellite after satellite, like a great cosmic game of pool. In just one war, Humanity had been brought from technological greats and cast back into the stone age. When the National Guard was forced to evacuate Miami from the rising water, and when satellites fell from the sky like a great meteor shower, the entire world finally realized that there was no such thing as turning back. There was no solution. There was no escape. Or so we thought."]

London is six feet underwater and the "United" Kingdom is united no Longer. The Netherlands have fallen to the seas, and the remnants of Belgium merged into the Flanders Emergency Reconstruction Zone. The remaining heirs of the European Union grapple with instability, looming financial catastrophe, and security threats as the European Nations struggle to maintain their democratic light against the encroaching storms.

==[DIRECT IMAGE LINKS FOR CLEARER RESOLUTION]==

>>>[THE RESOURCE WARS]

>>>[A WORLD ON THE BRINK]

>>>[INFERNO IN THE ORIENT]

>>>[THE FALLEN EAGLE]

>>>[THE EUROPEAN CATASTROPHE]

==[END TRANSMISSION]==