Thread by @asvndre

TO ACCESS PROJECT: NLH PLEASE ENTER VERIFIED CREDENTIALS.

> USER ID: MO35X139
> USER PASSWORD: ************
> RETINAL SCAN SUBMITTED

VERIFYING...

WELCOME DR. OUGAI.

> ACCESS PROJECT KTSE

ACCESSING PROJECT KTSE:
- PROGRAMS
- PROCEDURES
- NOTES
- DIRECTORY

> ACCESS PROGRAMS

ACCESSING PROGRAMS...
- FOX1
- FAIL
- FOX2
- FAIL
...
...
...
- FOX181
- SUCCESS

> LOCATE PROGRAM FOX181

LOCATING PROGRAM FOX181...

LOCATAING...

COULD NOT LOCATE PROGRAM FOX181.
- ERROR UNKNOWN. RESTART?

[ YES ]. NO.

LOCATING PROGRAM FOX181...

LOCATING...

COULD NOT LOCATE PROGRAM FOX181.
- ERROR UNKNOWN. RESTART?

YES. [ NO ].

> EXIT PROGRAM

WELCOME DR. OUGAI.

> ACCESS PROGRAM TNGU

ACESSING PROGRAM TNGU:
- PROGRAMS
- PROCEDURES
- NOTES
- DIRECTORY

> ACCESS PROCEDURES

ACCESSING PROCEDURES:
- MAY 22 2253
- MAY 21 2253
- MAY 20 2253
...
...

> ACCESS PROCEDURES ON JUNE 14 2253

ACCESSING FILES:

JUNE 14 2253:
- HEAD SCIENTIST: DR MORI OUGAI

- ASSISTING SCIENTISTS: DR *******, DR *******

LOG 237:

"...Subject has shown remarkable compatibility with the nanobots. Initial splicing showed signs of biological self-consumption, and subject had to be sedated to allow the insertion of an IV. Once given the proper nutrition

the nanobots have fused optimally to it's skeletal frame. Tests with normal x-ray scans show no sign of the nanobots presence.

Physical tests, once subject has woken, have shown a remarkable improvement in strength, speed, and reflex response times. Further tests show a highly

improved healing rate. Not only is the skin much tougher and the bones harder to break, but once broken, heal in a matter of days. Further tests will be administered to test the range of this healing.

At this moment, the main drawback of this biological fusion is an increased

caloric intake. If the caloric and vitamin needs of the nanobots are not met, they will start to consume the body. Minimal testing in that area showed that the nanobots seem to consume the heart muscle first, as it is highest in nutrition.

However, subject has shown remarkable

splicing with the nanobots. No adverse physical reactions, and psychological evaluations are as well as expected. It seems that we have finally found the perfect program to fuse biological and mechanical life.

Nanobots are still able to be programmed and accessed through the

project computer. Modifications to their programs will be discussed in the next meeting. It is my belief that more technical and advanced programming is possible."

> EDIT LOG
> ADD: "It is my belief that program CN163 is ready to be deployed."
> CONFIRM
> SEND LOG TO DR ********

> EXIT PROGRAM

-- MAY 23 2253

WELCOME DR OUGAI. YOU HAVE ONE NEW NOTIFICATION.

RECEIVED MESSAGE:
- Project TNGU advancement approved, signed by Dr. **********

> START PROGRAM

STARTING PROGRAM...

PROGRAM STARTED SUCCESSFULLY.

-------- +

The city is...loud, in every sense of the word. Flashing lights, whirling neon colors, music playing from every store front, three-dimensional advertisements smiling at him from the sides of buildings, cars and bikes-- flying and grounded--racing by with enough speed to knock him

over with the resulting wind.

No matter where Chuuya looks, no matter what time of day, there's always a /hundred/ things to look at, demanding his attention. It's a near-nauseating overload of color, sound, movement, after the relative sedate pace of his childhood home in the

farming districts.

There, at least, the time after the sun went down was considered /sacred/. It was a time for relaxation and sleeping, and so all the work of the day was set aside.

It is not the same for the city. At least /this/ part of the city.

The aboveground part of

Yokohama-- the business sector, the part inhabited by the rich and upper-class, the sections that get shown on the travelling ads for Japan-- is quiet, comparatively. Not /silent/, because the city never truly sleeps, but more sedate than it's daytime pace.

That's because

everyone who /wants/ to be awake and active during the night hours does so underground. That's where the city comes /alive/, writhing with sound and color and people, all of them come down here with the express intention to experience the things that are seen as /unsightly/

in the light of day. Things that are only acceptable when hidden between the towering retaining walls, covered up by the thick concrete separating the upper echelons of Yokohama, and the lower.

At least, that's what Chuuya was told. The pink-haired girl, with her heart-shaped

freckles scattered over her face, and her iridescent pink eyes, /seemed/ friendly enough when she was giving him directions, but there's no guarantee. There's no reason she /should/ lie to him, but he's heard plenty of stories of city-dwellers playing mean tricks on clueless

tourists.

Not that Chuuya is a /tourist/, per se, because he /is/ Japanese--

He's just from the farming districts, and he's never been to the big cities of Yokohama or Tokyo. He might as well be a tourist, in some aspects, because he has no idea where he's going or how to

navigate the city.

He only knows that he needs to find someone that's referred to as 'the fox'. Rumors and gossip say that they are /here/, in Yokohama, but there's no way to confirm. There's only stories and rumors he's chased all the way down here, into the bowels of the city.

But he has to find them, and he figures there’s no better place to look than in the bowels in the city, a place that even the uptight politicians and government officials turn a blind eye to.

They’ve already buried this place as best they can, built a second floor on top of the

old city—the /original/ city— and stacked a new, clean city on top of it so they never have to look at the /unsightly/ things beneath their notice ever again.

The buildings in the old city used to stretch up toward the sky, their tops gilded by sunlight—

But no longer. The

only things that live in the old city now are the forgotten, the poor, the undesirable and the /criminals/.

Chuuya tucks his jacket around him more closely, the sounds of old Yokohama drowning out the sound of his steps. It’s not cold down here— it’s actually /devastatingly/

muggy, the steam and exhaust of a working city clinging to every surface without a fresh breeze for a /century/ to whisk it away— but there’s eyes everywhere.

He can feel them on him, even if he can’t see them past the whirling LED lights and neon signs. People are watching him,

this stranger from the outlands, looking so out of place with his clean skin and his nice-by-comparison clothing.

Idly, he wonders if anyone will try to rob him before the night is over.

The address the pink-haired girl gave him nearly takes him all the way to ground-level.

It's practically an ancient relic by now, the fossilized remains holding the memories of a civilization that was bound to the ground long ago. Humans took to the skies long ago, always building higher and higher, burying their mistakes underneath them--

And those who couldn't

afford to /fly/, stayed here, climbing the metal racks somewhere between the true ground and the artificial one built above it, watching as Chuuya steadily makes his way down.

He knows when he's found the building he's looking for, not by the look of it and not by any sort of

sign or lights.

He recognizes it by the pulsating, /throbbing/ beat that spills from the door when it's opened, a girl with shining rose-gold hair looking both ways before sliding inside.

Parties aren't /exactly/ forbidden--

But a lot of the things that happen in the shadows

of a busy club-- drugs, illegal trade, smuggling, /trafficking/-- /are/. That's exactly why Chuuya came here tonight, so far beneath his apartment in New Yokohama.

He needs something that he can't buy at a /store/. He needs something he can only get from someone who doesn't live

by the /rules/.

He needs the /Fox/. Criminal extraordinaire, if the stories are right, and rumored to be able to get whatever a person may want. Drugs, money, weapons, illegal tech-mods.

There's even a story that he can get /fresh water/ without having to use rations. Chuuya

doesn't believe that one, it's too far fetched. It hasn't rained naturally in Japan in /months/, and every drop of water that falls from the sky is collected before it can even hit ground. Even the rich are on rations for water and food, have been for years.

Still, even if the

stories are /slightly/ exaggerated, it's still the best place for Chuuya to look.

He steps to the door, checking over both shoulders at the sprawling web of catwalks that network over and through Old Yokohoma. When he sees no one suspicious in sight, he tugs open the door and

enters.

The sheer amount of noise and sights and /people/ is enough to nearly stun him only a few inches inside the door. Music, much louder inside than it seems outside, throbs through the sprawling room with enough bass to make his heart feel like it's squeezing in his chest.

There's flashing neon lights in every color of the rainbow and several /other/ colors that his regular-vision can't make out but make his eyes hurt nonetheless. Flying androids buzz over the crowd dancing in the middle, carrying black lights that turn everything in their path a

different color.

Their path—a repeating pattern over the crowd— reveal a different world for a few moments in time. White glows, colors shift to neon or another color entirely, tattoos etched in UV ink are revealed under the black-purple light and disappear just as quickly when

the light spins away again.

It’s a sea of color and alcohol, a baseline too heavy to hear and throbbing loud enough to rattle bones driving groups of people to join the dance floor. Everyone has a place, the wild energy effortlessly expanding with every new addition and every

rhythmless grind.

It looks wild, untamed, uncensored in a way that you only see in places like these. All ideas of manners or propriety go out the window, leaving only instinct and desire behind.

If Chuuya weren’t here looking for someone, he’d be tempted to go join them. Lose

himself in the crowd and the rhythm.

But he is looking for someone, and he doubts he’ll find them in the middle of the dance floor. He’s not lucky enough for that, and besides—

He doesn’t know what the Fox looks like. He knows what the warrants say he looks like, but there’s a

chance that might not be /right/. After all, the Fox has managed to evade police capture for the last five years at least, so there’s no telling how much of the common knowledge is true.

So instead of joining the dancers, he circles around the edge of the building. There’s quite

a few tables and chairs scattered along the edge. Most of them are taken up by groups of people, many of them chatting loudly over a few drinks. One particular couch looks like it’s about to be soiled with how heavily the couple on it is making out.

Chuuya frowns, eyes roaming

over the crowd. He’s not sure who he’s looking for; the pink-haired girl just gave him directions and sent him off with a wink saying ‘you’ll know him when you see him’.

Considering /everyone/ is a riot of color, it’s hard to tell if anyone stands out in the crowd. He can barely

make out any individual features, faces and bodies blurred by a mix of body-paint and UV ink. At least one person has a pair of cat ears perched on their head, though he’s not close enough to tell if they’re good-looking dupes or real augmentations.

On thé far side of the crowd,

there’s someone who looks to be at /least/ twice Chuuya’s height. He supposes that’s the closest thing he’ll probably get to someone ‘standing out’, so he resolves to make his way over to them in a moment.

First, he wants to check out what looks to be the VIP section.

A set of

three steps separates a platform from the rest of the crowd. They dip under his weight, the electromagnets holding them up compensating with a stronger flash of blue-white light.

There is a guard waiting at the top of the steps— a giant, mean-looking man with a set of curling