Particle Cities mod for Half-Life 2

I have this little scar on the inside of my elbow. To most who see it, though, it's just an odd looking birthmark. It even fooled the government officials when I renewed my passport.

You see, underneath the scar I have this little microchip like most of the world these days. We get it implanted in the delivery room. However, mine is much different than the average person's. Not in make, or design, but simply in what information can be gathered from it.

For most people, whenever they do anything from getting a new job to depositing a large sum of money, the system automatically and instantly performs a background check, making sure everything is in order. I have passed every single check, but that is only because I am not who I say I am.

When I was 16, I became associated with a group in the Underground; a network of people who have long refuted the idea of government tracking. This type of people have been around as long as history itself, but never have they been so important. To the world, they are a rebellious nuisance, but that is because the world has become deaf and blind. Deaf to our shouts of reason; blind to the effects of globalization.

There's an ancient Latin proverb: Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? or "Who will guard the guards?" It is the reason for Internal Affairs in authority organizations, the reason for unbiased inquiries into government policies, and the reason for that third dentist who doesn't recommend Colgate. We guard the guards, who are ironically, in place to guard us.

In the early years, we were violent. We had tried peaceful protests (since those are the most likely to sneak past the system safeguards), but no one listened. When we started vandalizing the offices that held major DisBIADDS servers, we set off "yellow flags" in the preventative screening system, and many of us were arrested.

Eight years ago, we set off red flags in six major North American cities.

We knew the system would pick us up, so we went at it with such ferocity that those responding would not be ready for us. Many lives were lost in the riots and subsequenting standoffs that lasted for weeks. I, Robert Turner, died in one of those standoffs.

Kind of.

The world knows me as Robert Turner, or at least that's what my chip tells every computer that asks. He died in Seattle when an emergency legislative injunction was passed, declaring the rebels terrorists. In my day, terrorists are wanted dead or alive... preferably dead. The state police and FBI entered and killed all but 6 of the original 50 housed in that abandoned warehouse. They figured that six was just enough manpower to dispose of all the bodies.

My friend, Robbie, was one of the last to die. I still carry a part of him around with me. Sometimes I wonder about the way the world works. He died, and I later had his chip implanted in place of mine. He had a squeaky clean record before that day, and ferderallis don't bother much with updating the records of dead "terrorists" unless previously on some terrorism hit list.

To the world, it was actually me that died that day, because I ceased to exist in it. His flesh went with my identity, and I carried on in his stead.

Nobody knows this; as I said, they are still deaf and blind.

I live my life like a normal person, waiting for the inevitable day that everyone regains their senses.