Then, given we're in a limbo state, I trust the E! admins will understand my current continuing currying of interest (and alliteration, apparantly) as not spamming.
Think of this as part of a very recent prologue.
It was the relics. The last tokens of power cast afloat on a tide of destruction that had peaked and drew back from Earth, letting people see where the wave had broken, and was now rolling back.
The Kisloes (remnants of the FBI, Mossad, MI6, others) knew of them but couldn't touch them. There were others who could...but they were dangerous, untrained, chaotic, and definately touched by the madness that had touched this world. They were what LKISLO command called "unassessed assets". But not after a couple of brimstone brandies. It just got hard to pronounce.
Agent Tyler Jaywalker (assumed spy name, perhaps useless now, but it was the last ID he'd been assigned and had long sinced ceased to care to change it) strode through the City (New York? Berlin? Tehran? London? Tel Aviv? Seoul? All of the above?) as semi-nuclear snowflakes rained down, diagonally, across the wastebin fires, the street gangs that had somehow prospered, the corpses and the merrily lit kebab stalls. From somewhere, a dead popstar wailed an overproduced dirge that still managed to send shivers up his over-medicated and over-stimulated spinal cord. The snowflakes, the music, the vast emptiness of streets that would soon no doubt be filled with zombie howls and Kchk! clicks.
He knew something of the wards on certain buildings, the native Indian dreamcatchers and the arabic Evil Eyes that prevented access to some of the City's more...insistent new inhabitants. The things beyond human ken had yet to come across the subjects of Jaywalker's search. The insidious things, the things that still inspired madness long after sanity had ceased to have a purpose, the things with tentacles, the things that had eaten all of the Milan branch's football team (Jaywalker could still hear the screams even as he could remember the flashes of gunfire as he fled the place on a demonically-charged Vespa, crying, oh gods...) they had come to the city. In a childish stamping of feet, Jaywalker said it wasn't fair. This was the last place on earth, why couldn't they just leave them alone...
He had a new directive from LKISLO command, only last week. It was vague, and it was hashtagged, and there was blood all over the fax, and it had been delivered by three giggling schoolchildren (one of them who had an ancient Gnostic symbol tatooed across her face) but he knew it was from LKISLO command all the same.
Normal methods of communication had, shall we say...broken down, since the Sundering. Shattering. Whatever.
He was to gather up the chaotic ones, the bright smart young killing machines, the things driven and powered and kept alive by their overwhelming Eros and Thanatos drives, and get them to help him find the relics.
He took a fairydust lollipop from his suit jacket.
They were in the City. He would find them. If it was the last thing the last member of the last known intelligence service left on Earth in the last City in the world would do.