The door to the small apartment in Sector 4 creaked before Lohan locked it from the outside with a quick motion.
Lohan pulled the hood of his black hoodie over his head and adjusted his breathing mask.
In the real world, the mask was a symbol of submission, a collar imposed by the Federation on the inhabitants of the Lower Zone so they wouldn't die of asphyxiation from the soup of gases and unhealthy pollution that the industries of the Upper Zone spewed down upon them.
But for Lohan, the mask was now merely a disguise, since even without the digestive filter he was already able to survive in that polluted air with ease.
He began to move.
Despite his camouflage, Lohan did not walk like a frail, sickly college student. His steps were quick, silent, and steady. Thanks to the Viscous Flow and the Sharpened Instinct synchronized with his physical body, he moved across the cracked, potholed sidewalks as if walking on a freshly paved road.
