Writing Prompts (Week 1) - "Block Tension"

I told everyone that it was time to go, but nobody left. Ah well, their choice! Rucksack in hand, doobie rolled; deathly silence as I leave. Outie and kickoff. Solo it be and so be it!

I step out of the Teleporter, which reassembles itself neatly into a backpack and I put it over my shoulders. I look around furtively but there's nobody about, great! Around and beyond lie the ruins of what was once the City of London and the towers of Canary Wharf. 'Big Finance' was now a fallen ghost - rubble everywhere; the tarmac at City Airport cracked and overgrown; stumps of bridges overhanging the boggy marshland that once contained the Thames. Skeletons of the Old Order everywhere.

I shiver in chilly anticipation and consult the location data on the inside screen of my goggles. Broken glass glimmers darkly in the low-angled sunlight and shatters crackingly underfoot. A couple of pigeons take off in alarm. I freeze! A group of three figures gathered around an open fire gesticulate to one another in sharp voices. Did they hear me? But they carry on unabated and unaware of my presence. Phew!

Goggles tell me that my destination is a mile or so to the West and I set off along the banks of the river, now a treacherous maze of fallen and falling rubble. I've been lucky thus far - no gangs, no patrols, no mishaps. But I'm getting close and I know that the area is under surveilance. Goggles notify me of approaching drones bearing the markings of ONESTATE and I take necessary action, switching into 'Powerup' mode. The drones hover overhead, closing in and opening fire. I feel the vibrations rippling through me as the area where the group of three were standing is engulfed in flames. 'Powerup' mode keeps me invisible and undetectable. I move along breathing quickly.

I have to hurry! The drones will have relayed enough data back to identify traces of my presence in the lingering heat signatures and physical imprints on the ground. 'Powerup' mode is only possible in short bursts and uses energy supplies that take time to replenish. I calculate that I have around 45 minutes until they pin-point my exact location in real time. After that it's a question of how quickly they can get to where I am. There will be no pleasantries, no mercy if I'm caught; it's pretty obvious what I am doing and these guys are ruthless. Once they figure out what's going on, they'll be desperate to stop me.

The ruins of the City are all around me now. Emmanating from within the buildings I pass are scratching noises and deeper sounds of growling and fighting, but I can't make out if these are animal or human. It is dark and there are no street lights, but my goggles have night-vision. At intervals I spot small groups huddled together over open fires, silhouettes dancing menacingly on the walls behind. I slink past in the shadows, holding my breath. All of a sudden I hear a loud crash and a cloud of dust descends upon me. I immediately take cover. A fallen gargoyle looks at me with twisted grin and mischievous glint of rainwater in its empty eye-socket as it settles into position. That was close!

The goggles direct me into a building where I climb up a flight of creaking stairs, scramble along fallen beams and concrete pillars, and walk past derelict offices and boardrooms. At the far end of what might once have been a restaurant, I slide down a chute of rubble and find myself on ground level, concealed from outside view and standing right in front of the secret entrance to the former "Bank of England".

Made it!

I stop chatting with my audience on the blockchain and perform the necessaries - quickly and efficiently - as I had practiced many times before setting off on this mission. My heart is beating rapidly but I maintain calm. I'm excited, but do not think about it, focused as I am on action and the ticking clock.

The setup takes longer than expected, but I get there. D3t0n4TOR in place, timer set, I stand back and watch a section of the wall disintegrate, revealing an inner chamber leading into the vaults of what was once the swanky HQ of the Bank of England. The view is cavernous and I am engulfed by a cloud of rancid, pulsating energy that penetrates my being. I feel weak for a moment and stumble.

Deep breath as I enter, stepping into the labyrinthine bowels of the building, solid enough to have survived the destruction without. The ONESTATE, in it's chaotic and tyrannical confusion had searched in vain what I am now on the threshold of. The Old Order had vanished without a trace and the so-called New Order had not been able to gain access to this place, the source of what would be its Dark Secret Power. For me, it was a chilly feeling to be treading these floors once again, icy memories half-frozen in the mists of time floating up and stabbing me in the chest. Cobwebs, dust, centuries of Greed and lusting for Power line the way. I shudder, just about managing to keep the rising terror at bay.

Then, just as my goggles tell me I'm standing in front of the inner core beside the vault where the object of my mission lies waiting, I hear the drones again. Fuck! Tick tick 'whoosh' as D3t0n4TOR does its job, only 34 seconds this time to setup. I'm on autopilot. The exterior of the 'super-strong' vault gives way in synch with the explosions and the sounds of running boots that I can hear in the passage to my right, reverberating with desperate predatory energy and echoing from the left, closing in.

I turn back to the task at hand. This is it, the time has come! I reach forward through the breach to where the object is lying on the shelf. I pick it up. It's not heavy, neither is it empty. I'm not thinking anymore, they're almost upon me!

Drawing back, I turn on my heels, will I make it? Backpack obligingly transforms once again into the Teleporter and I step inside, reaching for the button.

Not sure if you fellow Steemians know, but back in the days of the 'ORDERS' I used to work for MI5 as an undercover operative for 'The Movement'. It was a long career and I was never 'un-covered'. Although I completed many missions, my main business was with the bankers in the City itself. I cannot disclose details - they are Dark, and in any case irrelevant at this juncture. However, the experience gave me the 'Knowhow', and provided me with the 'Keys' with which to undertake this mission. I was the only one who could do this it seemed; nobody else wanted to, thinking it impossible or else themselves incapable. Pessimism had taken over in spite of all the longer-term indications to the contrary. I guess I didn't really have much of a choice in the matter!!!

I had told everyone to go, warned them; blue-in-the-face stuff. None ventured out. I decided to go it alone!

And so, fellow inhabitants of the 'ORDERless' New Paradigm, you now know the story of how I rescued the last blockchain in existence; the very last remaining fully working fully running node; the very last goddam copy of the Steem blockchain - uncorrupted and complete - which had not been destroyed by the ONESTATE in its quest for Complete Domination & Centralised Control. This was their very last chance to control the blockchain, and through it all consciousness. I blew it for them! Dig?

The rest of course, is HI_newSTORY :). I sit about with my feet up nowadays, lording it over myself and doing nothing. I don't even need to interact externally, my consciousness bubbles up into expression whenever and wherever I wish. I absorb no tension; enTITLED or not, infused into storyline or not ;-). Mine is a dance of nutty benevolence, it is fun in and of itself.

@nutraj
_{PS. In case you are scratching your head (or somewhere else) and wondering WTF is going on...well, now, did you really think @barge was going to save the Steem blockchain and get your sorry asses out of the current depression? Wretched fellow can barely save his own, d'ya really consider him capable of the kind of DeepDark undercover shit that this requires? ........pfffff!}

This is my entry for The Writing Prompt (Week 1) hosted by @themarkymark.