Prologue

Jack Taylor, a young lab assistant, was about to work until late. Again. This prospect didn't make him happy, especially given the fact that he had a family, which was waiting for him. But he knew that this inconvenience was nothing compared to the information he could gather. Until now he hadn't have the opportunity to work that long with Michael Dorn – the hero of Libria to those who lived to support the system and an amoral son of a bitch in Taylor's own personal opinion.

Michael Dorn, busy performing a thermal decomposition of Stein's antidote, didn't notice Taylor, who was bringing him requested reagents. The lab assistant, making advantage of Dorn's preoccupation, peeked through the scientist's arm in order to see his notes.

"Ah, here you are!" Dorn turned his head to see his assistant, who barely managed not to jump. "Thank you. Now, if you could get me my notes on the Omega substance, lying on my desk. Then you may leave."

"Will I be needed again?" the lab assistant asked, hoping for a yes.

"No. Up from now I prefer to take it alone."

Taylor nodded in reply and headed towards Dorn's desk. Now that would be a great opportunity to scour through his papers if not for two things: that he kept almost everything in the drawers, which were always locked and that the laboratory was monitored.

The man sighed. He could feel that he was about to discover something crucial, when Dorn dismissed him. But, on the other hand, he was thankful that Dorn – due to his hurt ambition and curiosity, obvious to anyone, who cared to observe other people – instead of destroying the substance, decided to research it. Otherwise, there would be no hope left.

Taylor took the folder from Dorn's desk and flicked through it, before giving it to the scientist. He hoped that this looked innocently enough; he intended to last at least long enough to obtain the information that might – although in the long run – give his resistance companions a reason not to give up.

While handing the folder to the scientist, he peeked once again at the notes, hoping that Dorn will not become suspicious. The scientist took them, muttering "That's all" and focused again on the substance.

Taylor turned away and headed towards the exit, barely holding back a sigh of relief. Now he could bring hope to those who needed it: last day he managed to steal a very small amount of the antidote and now he managed to steal some useful information – his photographic memory once again proved invaluable.

Now he had to pass it on. Those, who – like he – resisted by dosing Prozium II, produced in great secret, once sworn to liberate those who were slaves of Prozium III. Dorn, although unknowingly, made the first step, Taylor was making a second one. The rest was up to Taylor's contact in the Equilibrium Centre.

The young lab assistant left, desperately hoping that his contact hasn't already been burnt.