Caligari Nectarios sat in his living, his thin form stretched out across his large red chair. He was sitting before his bookcase, his hands folded beneath his chin, his small, piercing eyes staring at the brown wall. To outsiders, it would be appear as if he was deep in thought, but in reality, this was just how the assassin relaxed.

Caligari unfolded his hands and then refolded them. This was a habit that had accompanied him since childhood, a bit of a nervous tick. Not that he was nervous, he just tended to do it when he had nothing else to do.

The assassin's left hand felt cold against his right. That made sense, of course, since his entire left arm was completely mechanical. It always felt cold to Caligari, yet its metallic touch was often something of a comfort for him. He liked its constant presence, the reminder that it was still there and that he still had a left arm to use.

The assassin finally ceased looking at the wall and leaned back in his chair, unfolding his hands again. He glanced up at the ceiling, but its white form failed to peak his interest. Sighing, Caligari looked down, his gaze wandering to his mechanical arm.

Unlike most robotic limbs of 2076, Caligari's arm was not highly advanced. It rather resembled something out of the Victorian age, almost looking like it was built out of pieces of a clock. The assassin knew that wasn't the case, but still, he knew his arm was highly out of date. Still, he knew he was lucky to have it at all. He had been very poor when he had lost his left arm and this was the best he could have afforded at the time. In fact, he was surprised it had come out as good as it did.

Still, after the mechanical arm had been built, Caligari had made some modifications of his own to it. He had added in a retractable blade that would shoot out whenever he clenched the robotic limb tightly. Being a hired assassin for the Corps Police, Caligari often found himself in hand to hand combat situations. The arm had proven very useful in those situations, and with the addition of the retractable blade, it had saved his life more than once.

It had been a very rough week. A group calling themselves the Mais Kinnderan had suddenly appeared, announcing themselves as the liberators of the oppressed and shunned. This group had reportedly stolen vast amounts of the Animalia drug, a special type of drug that allowed humans and animals to combine traits. This drug had been developed by scientists and they considered it a failure, as the results produced horrible, mindless monsters that the public called Hybrids. Caligari had seen some of these creatures himself and they were hideous, non-human beasts. If the rumors were true, this new group had been using the drug to create dozens of Hybrids to serve as their private army.

Caligari reached up with his right arm, scratching the back of his neck. The Mais Kinnderan had already launched several, one in the downtown area of Sprawl City, one in the underground tunnels called the Narrows, and one even in the Flicker, the upper class district of the city. All three times, the Corps Police had managed to fight off the attackers, but had suffered heavy casualties and failed to take any prisoners for questioning about the group's motives. Caligari had been present with the police during those attacks and had killed a number of the terrorists himself. He wished he could have done more for the investigation, but he was, after all, just the cop's hired gun.

Now Caligari was sitting alone in his house, waiting for the Corps Police to contact him again to help fend off another attack. The assassin knew it was bound to be tonight or at the latest, tomorrow morning. But he had now been sitting in his chair for almost an hour and nobody had contacted him yet.

Caligari sighed again, the mechanical fingers of his left arm twitching. The inner workings of his robotic limb creaked loudly, making a whiny noise. The assassin knew newer models of mechanical arms were completely silent, but he still didn't have enough money to buy one of the newer models. But still, he made grown used to the noises and didn't even really notice them much anymore.

Caligari finally decided that he had enough of waiting. Perhaps he had been wrong in his prediction. Maybe the Mais Kinnderan had finally gone into hiding. That would be the wise decision. Even with their surprising numbers and added help from the animal/human Hybrids they had been creating, they couldn't hope to beat the Corps Police. And after all, they were attacking Sprawl City, the largest city in New London, protected by the Point Star Army. If the situation got completely out of hand, the army would be called in and root out the terrorists and kill them all.

The assassin stood up from his chair, moving across his carpeted floor. He decided to go to take some sleep. He hadn't gotten much the past week since this new threat had appeared. And the Corps Police needed him in top form. He was, after all, one of their best assets.

Caligari stopped at his bookshelf. He looked over multiple unread volumes that filled it. His gazed stopped at one title, called "The Spectre" by Jeremy Havoc. The assassin had actually started reading that book, but hadn't gotten past the first two chapters. He reached for it, deciding to try and read another chapter before going to sleep.

That was when his communicator buzzed. Caligari twisted around and walked back to his chair. Next to the red chair was a small table and upon that table, was a communicator.

Communicators were small little devices that were standard issue for Corps Police officers. They were used by officers to contact each other quickly. Although Caligari wasn't an official officer, he was still given one so the cops could contact him whenever they needed him.

The assassin picked up the communicator. It looked like a small metal watch, square shaped and had a tiny little green button in its center. Caligari pressed the button and said, his quiet, almost whispery voice cutting through the silent air of his living room, "Caligari here."

"We've got a situation downtown," A female voice immediately answered. The assassin recognized it as the voice of Lieutenant Harris. She was the officer who had been put directly in charge of Caligari and acted as his superior officer, giving him orders and was the one who usually contacted him.

"Let me guess…" The assassin answered, his voice barely rising above its quiet whisper. "Is it the Mais Kinnderan?"

"Gosh, you must be psychic," Harris said sarcastically. "Yeah, its them. They've taken over a nearby warehouse and killed all the civilians inside. We've tried to negotiate with them, but they are refusing to talk and keep taking potshots at us. We can't get in, as they've got the entire place guarded and we don't know how many of them there are inside. Plus, they've got at least four snipers on the roof and could have a few Hybrids inside as well. However, we've got the place surrounded as well, so its in a stalemate right now. I was hoping you could change that."

"I'm on my way," Caligari replied, lowering his communicator and making his way across the apartment. "Any officers been injured?"

"Not yet, but the snipers could shoot any of us at any time," Harris answered. Suddenly, a shot rang out on the communicator, briefly blocking out all other noises.

"Harris?" The assassin said, halting in mid-stride. "You okay?"

Harris's voice returned after a moment. "Oh just freaking dandy! One of the snipers took a shot at us and caught an officer in the ribcage. He's being carted off by the medical team right now. We returned fire, but none of us can hit anything from this angle. How soon can you be here?"

"Ten minutes, tops," Caligari said, resuming his walk across his large apartment. He came to the door that exited it and moved forwards. Reaching out with his mechanical arm, the assassin pulled open a closet that was right next to the door. The closet opened with a loud screech and he reached inside. "Caligari out."

The assassin clicked off the communicator and put it in his pants pocket. He rummaged around in his closet, before grabbing something and pulling it out.

It was a long, blue duster. It was Caligari's coat, one that he usually wore everywhere it when. Slipping it on, the assassin adjusted the long coat, before reaching back into the closet and pulling out another item.

This item was a hat, specifically a black, wide-brimmed fedora. The assassin had gotten this hat at a marketplace a long time ago, and like his duster, usually wore it whenever he went.

Placing the hat on top of his head, Caligari shut the closet and moved towards the door. Halting, he turned towards the wall opposite the door and moved forwards. There on the wall was a large, silver safe. Currently, the safe was shut tight and had an electronic lock on its side.

The assassin reached forwards with his mechanical hand and typed in the security code. It was a four digit number, "2046". That was Caligari's date of birth.

After entering the code, Caligari waited in silence for a moment, before the safe made a clicking noise and opened up, swinging open. The assassin reached forwards into the safe and grabbed a few items within. He then slammed the safe's door shut and held up the items he had taken from it.

He was holding two items. One was a gun holster, which the assassin quickly secured to his pant belt. The other object was a gun. An 1851 Colt Navy pistol, to be precise. This was an extremely rare gun, which Caligari had found in one of his target's hideouts. It appeared the man he had killed had it just for show, but for some reason, the assassin liked the gun and had taken it. He then modified the pistol to be able to use modern bullets and had also made sure the gun would be it perfect working order for use.

It was Caligari's favorite gun, which he also brought everywhere with him. The assassin then shoved the Colt Navy pistol into his holster and turned away. Grabbing the doorknob of his front door, the assassin stepped outside, his duster blowing in the breeze.

It was time to go to work.