Beneath the stars, and the clouds, and the rain, and even beneath the city itself, there was a little man consumed by his own littleness. He was a ZCorp employee, and a bit of a peon at that. And while he embraced his unassuming self, he was still dressed neatly.

His name? Noon Reylson.

Littleness, it was quite the affliction set against the looming arches of a magnificent subway station. Ornate tilework ran across the walls and around the curved ceiling like a love letter to foolhardy decadence. Reylson clutched the handle of his briefcase, as though to anchor himself against the structure's suffocating swell.

The site’s significance was not lost on him. Noon knew the subway station’s construction bloomed from the whims of the city’s vicious oligarchs: Guy Karde, Sledge Rivers, and Reese Jarrek. Ostensibly, the stop had been added to the blue line so that ZCorp employees could commute. But, truthfully, its addition was a psychological broadside aimed at Ayenee’s citizens—ZCorp’s “big three” were in control, and diverting the city's mass transit was no big deal.