Subjectivity: Chapter Six

“Solidarity, my friends. That is what is needed now more than ever. In this tumultuous era following the death of my dear friend, we must stand as one! Riots for Subjects to be removed from schools and to allow businesses to hire Normals only are becoming more and more violent. If we are to stand as a democracy, we need to respond to this. And I say we respond in the democratic nature; we are the voice of the people, we will do as the protestors demand.” Doran’s words were powerful and with a great deal of emotion in his voice he conveyed his points with articulate ease. The statement given by the acting President of the Pacific Union appeared to be well received by the five dissenting nations’ representatives, who offered nods or otherwise acknowledge the action. Others merely sat, uncomfortable and unwelcome by the topic at hand, they were but the observers to a grander scheme. Having found himself raised to a stand, President Laevan lowered himself to a seated position, folded his hands before him and spoke; “Does anyone else have any thoughts to add?” His words were met with uneasy looks from the representatives from Canada and Brazil, though the two, a middle aged woman with greying brunet hair and a man of similar age with dark skin and intense eyes merely looked back down to the paperwork before him. The former, the representative from Canada, opened her mouth to speak, though shut it once more after a sparing a glance to the enigmatic figure across the table from Laevan; the representative from Russia. “Good. Then I propose we put into effect heavier economic sanctions and a larger military police force on Neo-Palmyra Island. NELO has gone too far and is clearly behind these terrorist actions, they are the only Subject organisation with the resources for such.”

It was the Chinese representative who spoke next, the young woman’s voice was authoritative and demanding; “I agree. NELO is the criminal in this, imposing their monstrous product on the world. China will support military action against NELO if they do not submit to the Union’s law. For too long have we let them do as they wish in their laboratories.” Her words hung heavy in the air as the eerie similarity to Laevan’s stance was echoed by the woman, many at the table, including those from Australia and Japan, merely exchanged a quick glance before returning their gazes to the notes before them, the former scribbled a few things down while the latter merely sat stoically, having not spoken a word since his arrival. The Chinese representative looked to the latter Japanese representative critically, “No words? You of all people should support this. Japan cannot afford to take in anymore people, let alone fake, job stealing people.” However the man would not rise to the bait and merely sat silently. The silence edged onward as the Chinese and Japanese representatives wordlessly lived out their deep-seated hatred for one another. It was Laevan himself who broke the staring contest with a clearing of his throat, drawing the twelve sets of eyes to train onto him. From across the table, the silent Russian representative beckoned for an assistant who stood a few steps behind his chair, whispered a few words to the man, and the latter individual left the room with a silent movement of one of the heavy doors that opened to the Cabinet Chamber.

Laevan returned his posture to one of cool composure, and with hands folded before him glanced from representative to representative. “Barring a failure of nerve or democracy, this action will go ahead. That’s all that I had prepared for today, if anyone else has anything to add to the meeting?” With a quick look around the room to the gazes that focused intently upon him, he pushed back his own chair and stood. “Very well. Good afternoon ladies, gentlemen.” The others were soon to rise, the Russian representative already out the door with a flourish of a grey tailored suit and bright red tie. Doran Laevan remained behind in the Cabinet Chamber as the other twelve members filed out quickly, all seemingly eager to be rid of the room as much as the reserved Russian was. The room fell eerily still as the others left and President Laevan nearly collapsed back into his seat with exhaustion. Holding his head in his hands, he felt as though he had aged ten years since the assassination of Ehrhardt – “no, he was not assassinated… I killed him.” Doran Laevan whispered to himself, his expression grim. President Laevan recalled vividly the look in Ehrhardt’s eyes as he died; it was not of fear or terror but of sorrow; sorrow for Doran, for his family, for all those who would be made sacrificial lambs. “It is necessary…” He reaffirmed to himself and sat up straight, breathing out an assured breath. The path had begun and there was no turning back, now. Doran called out loudly; “Martin! Come in here.” His words were followed by silence for a moment, though the sound of heavy footfalls soon came into earshot and not before long a grim looking figure appeared in the doorway. The man donned an adaptation of the Pacific Union military uniform; where the original was white and gold, his was black and silver. Martin Godfried was Minister of Defense for the Pacific Union and had decided that a man who must make such glib decisions should not be dressed brightly. Dark skin was marred with many scars of wounds long past, but such was covered by his uniform, save for one unsightly wound that marked his face from his forehead to jawline and under his eye patch. The man had but one singular hollow jade gaze peer lifelessly outward and with greying hair parted in a military part, the man looked incredibly morose and morbid.

Stood with hands behind his back and his chin raised into the air, Martin Godfried spoke with a quick tone, his deep voice and commanding; “You called, sir.” Doran beckoned the man forward and motioned toward the seat next to him, where the Chinese representative sat normally. Godfried looked to the chair hesitantly before taking a seat and looking to the President expectantly. President Laevan had never truly liked nor trusted Godfried, but he found the man’s transition of loyalties from Ehrhardt to himself to be an admirable quality befitting a man of his office. Godfried had been an integral general during America’s Second Civil War, wherein the west coast states of California where they now resided in, Washington and Oregon openly seceded with a resounding sixty-seven percent referendum and attempted to join Canada during the economic disaster that was during the Barren’s terrible reign. Moreover, during such a time the southern states, led by a Texan governor, seceded as well, claiming that the left-wing antics of Washington D.C. were in violation of the constitution that they had agreed to. The country was not to reunite for ten years of warring. However Godfried had been a general for the west coast’s forces and the Laevan family had its origins on the east coast. ‘Evidently old hatred do indeed die hard,’ Laevan mused as he regarded the silent man next to him. With a quick turn of the file before him, he opened it and allowed the military-made man to review it.

“I’ve pushed forward the legislation to move militarily on the Subjects. We won’t do it unless we have to, but for now I want more military police on Neo-Palmyra. We’re going to remove NELO’s stain of existence; we’ll shut it down. But I don’t know how the erratic management of NELO will react to us shutting them down, so I need military backing. Can you do this?” Laevan’s words hung in the air as Godfried silently contemplated them, and likely the possibility of doing such. The former waited impatiently as the latter regarded the document before him which detailed the stipulations of the new law, which removed the necessity of non-discriminatory hiring and enrolment standards. To move too quickly would leave the people of the Union outraged at the treatment of the Subjects, and as such slow and subtle movements in lawmaking had to made, ones that would not be publically announced. Few would dare what Laevan had intended, and such was the man’s intent; he wished to do as none others had to further his end goal. The document left a slight furrow on the Minister’s forehead, however the man nodded once after a long moment.  President Laevan took close note of the man’s subtle frustration, silently noting it as something to recall during the future. Godfried had stood against the Laevan family and spoken out against them during the Civil War’s aftermath during reunification of the United States.

President Laevan leaned back in his chair, returning the document to eye it himself. He would have to instigate it in stages to keep it under the record of the media, he mused. “Excellent, I’ll leave you to the details.” Laevan spoke calmly, though remained seated and upon Godfried having given him an expectant look, Laevan quirked a grey brow and the other man stood with a grunt, leaving the room. Laevan watched the man leave with a silent amusement before speaking nigh wordlessly to himself; “I am watching you, Martin…” Godfried paused for a moment before continuing on his way. Minutes passed in silence as President Laevan sat in solitude in the Cabinet Chambers. However the man found his eyelids having grown heavy and his mind dulled with fatigue. With his hands folded before him, Laevan’s head fell forward for a moment, though snapped back upward with a renewed sense of alertness. However, as fatigue effects one, the to and fro of Laevan’s mind was lost and the man soon fell asleep in his seat, his head fallen and chest rising and lowering slowly.

Darkness surrounded Doran. Endless blackness; vast and suffocating, it bore down onto his person without reprieve. Though it was not a panicking blackness; it embraced and consoled, cradled and protected. Doran’s eyes opened with a flutter, though was blind to anything about him. Before him the inky blackness spread out into an endless beyond wherein neither another item nor person could be found. Floating amidst the ruinous nothingness, Doran felt a great sense of déjà vu, as though he had been there before and found himself as though he had yearned to return for a great deal of time. Though a new sensation took his attention; a feeling of falling began to preclude an actual physical perception of such, however the man did indeed fall through the nothingness. Tumbling head over heels and side to side, he was thrown about as though he had fallen from an aircraft.

As he turned over and over, light appeared below him in a faint dot that grew larger as time passed and before long such light encompassed him and he was within its blinding eclipse. His body righted as he fell through the blinding abyss and as abruptly as the descent had begun, he landed, standing on nothing, though he felt sure ground below him. The blinding brightness began to dim and he found himself within an eerily familiar room. A central desk composed of a glass desktop and steel supports sat firmly, and next to it on either sides metal filing cabinets. One wall was covered with a single pane of glass which looked over a sunless horizon which was curiously still alight with noonday brightness. The other side of the room held three tables, all of which were cluttered with pictures, framed and placed with gentle care. Before him were two figures he recognised immediately.

Behind the desk was a man looking to be no older than his early fifties and with dark, tanned skin and a hawk-like face, he struck a handsome figure. Intense grey eyes were fixed on the figure before the desk and never wavered. Finely wrought brows, meticulously cared for, sat knit in evident frustration. The man was slim and donned a completely white suit. Though it was his striking black hair that stood out from the pureness of his apparel and the room about them and with his hands folded before him he cut an impressive figure. Doran’s face contorted into anger for he loathed the seated man with all the hatred he could muster. Seated there was President Laevan’s elder brother, Galvin Laevan. Though in the scenario the estranged brothers were enacting, he knew that he was not president of the Union and nor was Galvin CEO of the Laevan Foundation quite yet. Galvin’s gaze left the person before the desk who, in the dream mind of Doran Laevan, had yet to come into focus and remained merely a dreaded enigma, and focused on Doran for a moment before he separated his narrow hands and placed them on the clear desktop.

Finally, after what seemed to be a welcome eternity to Doran, the figure before the desk became more detailed. It was a woman no older than her early thirties. Her bright blond hair was held in a high set pony tail and she donned a pair of black pants, heels, a knee length lab coat and an unknown blouse for her back was turned away from Doran. The woman was thin and fair skinned, and Doran could not deny her beauty. She was Natalie Bellerose or as the Subjects referred to her, Mother Natalie and the situation they played out now in the mind of the sleeping president was one the man wished evermore to forget. Galvin Laevan slammed a fist into the table’s surface angrily and spoke quickly, “Damnit, Natalie! The first generation of Subjects aren’t coming along quickly enough! I don’t have nine months to wait. If we don’t move quickly someone will realise the truth! You will work more efficiently or I will replace you!” The man stood from his chair in a flurry of motion, his blank, white office chair pitching backward and falling noisily. Natalie averted the man’s gaze and merely looked to the ground, a look of resignation on her face. Doran felt his own movements no longer to be his own as he paced up, wrapping an arm around the harangued woman.

“That’s enough, Galvin! You won’t speak to her like that!” Doran ushered Natalie back, the woman whose composure shuddered and warned of shattering every moment merely complied and stood behind him. Doran took a step forward, placing his hands on the desktop, leering at his brother. “The Laevan Foundation be damned, what we’re doing here is dangerous! Do you know what kind of enemies we’ll make for doing this?” His words, emphatic and full of emotion so foreign to him now were a prison to the man as he watched his body move and embrace the abhorrent woman to arguing over the worthiness of the enemies of the Subject. Doran could tell that his dream self was continuing the same rant he had made so long ago, though the man knew better than to believe Galvin was even listening. There was nothing his brother loathed more than being lectured and saw Doran and Natalie’s rebellion as childish insubordination. Galvin Laevan’s brow knit more deeply as he scowled darkly at Doran before he reached forward and hefted Doran by the collar.

The elder Laevan pulled Doran closer, two sets of identical grey eyes meeting, loathing and hatred painted across both sets as the two looked each other down without regard for anything. “I will kill you, Doran,” Galvin’s words were eerily calm and quiet as he spoke malicious words of sublime hatred, “I will flay your skin and watch you bleed out, then as you succumb to blood loss I shall sustain you just long enough to pierce your beating heart with a hot blade and watch you scream as the wound cauterizes.” Doran screamed silently at his past self to draw the gun that was hidden under his jacket and end the monstrosity that was his brother, though the dream continued on course as it always had, and Doran removed himself from his brother’s grasp, shouting at the man words of equal hatred, all the while hearing the complaints of Natalie who begged and pleaded for them to remember that they were family. The woman stepped in between the two, separating Galvin’s grasp on Doran, and the former seemed to mentally snap, and sent a hand through the air, striking Natalie across the face and sending her sprawling to the ground. Doran fell to his knees, helping the woman up, though she shook him off angrily, standing at arms’ distance from both enraged brothers. Tears fell onto her porcelain face from pure azure eyes which held a vast reservoir of emotional agony for the two.

“Do you two not hear each other? I will not listen to this! Galvin, I will work on getting the Subjects born but you will stay out of my way! I won’t let you destroy their hearts! They have no parents, so I will be their mother and father!” Galvin looked as though he was about to protest, though the woman shook her head, “No, Galvin. To hell with your plans and scheming and most importantly, to hell with you!” Her voice trembled with sadness as she looked at the man, tears continuing to fall from her once pure blue eyes, now stained bloodshot with anguish. Doran’s dream-self moved forward, though Natalie retreated from him quickly, the clack of her heels echoing in the tense silence. “No, Doran. You think yourself so different from your brother, but you two are the same…” She shook her head, sobbing for a moment with her face shielded by an arm, before she looked back, “Two peas in an accursed pod of hatred! Go away, go back to America and never return! I will raise these children and I will not let you two ruin it!” Doran knew that she meant every word, as she would prove many times, though he also knew that her efforts would be in vain. Galvin and he would always have a hand to play in NELO and somewhere deep down, Natalie knew such as well.

President Laevan’s understanding of the room was shaken as he heard a distant voice calling his title. His dream-self stumbled to the ground and the two others looked to him, confused. He could feel panicked, incoherent words tumble out of his mouth; ideas and truths that would seem like madness to them at such a point. Galvin was surely dead in the real world, having been Doran’s elder by over two decades and Natalie would soon be reunited with him in combat and mettle. The two of them faded from his gaze as he felt his person being shook once before the entire scene faded into nothing.

*~*

Roe’s chest rose and fell evenly as he kept his arms raised before him defensively. His gaze was narrowed as he watched his opponent intently. No slight movement would be saved from the merciless, unrelenting sight of the enigmatic Subject, for Roe was ever vigilant, ever watching. Roe’s slim legs were bent at the knees, allowing him greater movement. His hands were left in loose fists and held at chest height. Remaining entirely still, he continued his intent examination of his opponent who had mirrored his stance, though the readied Subject was assured that the other would fail in a trial of patience, all did when battling him in such. “Come on, Roe. Stop being defensive, hit me!” The other spoke, their voice determined. Roe’s stance relaxed and he stood up straight, smoothing his white t-shirt and grey, cotton pants. Before him, however, Stephan stood, still poised for their sparring. The white and grey garbed Subject looked between his open hand and his roommate curiously. Deciding to oblige his friend, an idea that the blond young man still found foreign and difficult to understand, Roe let his hand fall to his side. His person lunged forward with eerie silence, left arm raised in the process and swung toward Stephan’s neck. The young Greek was largely unprepared and felt the firm flesh of Roe’s arm painfully connect with his neck, jarring him roughly. Stephan’s rebuttal was a swung fist toward Roe’s midsection, though the latter merely caught the first in mid swing with his own hand, throwing the arm outward and leaving the Greek wide open. Roe spared no mercy as requested and slammed an open palmed hand into Stephan’s chest, sending the latter onto his back with a resounding thud, coughing and struggling for breath. Roe’s eyes widened in surprise at the effectiveness of his assault and he fell to a knee next to the felled friend.

The room they were in was filled with the sights and sounds of acrobatics and exercising. The large gymnasium was alive with the practising of gymnastics by the university’s team on the far side of the building and on the close side where the two sparred was covered in various wrestling, martial arts, mixed martial arts and so forth mats, padded for safety but firm enough to knock one’s breath out were they to collide with them. The walls were built high and firm with cold grey metal sheets with seamlessly turned translucent and finally transparent at the upper half of the walls wherein the sun shone brightly in the morning sky, casting brightness and hope into the gymnasium. The roof above began flat on the close side of the building however gradually morphed into a peaked roof that rose ever higher before abruptly ending at the far end of the building and within its far above surfaces the nigh translucent material allowed the sun to act as lighting, giving the building a distinctly outdoor feeling. Roe had personally gone to Vadim to offer a place in their sparring, though the enigmatic Subject had found his artificially born ‘brother’ as Mother Natalie referred to fellow Subjects passed out, the smell of alcohol heavy on his person. After placing the grieving young man in his bed, Roe left him to sleep and perhaps relieve himself of the misery that gripped him so fiercely. It was a curious thing for Roe, who had never truly understood loss of a person so close, though surmised he would act in a similar erratic demeanor were one such as Mother Natalie or perhaps Stephan removed from his life.

The latter Greek young man presented a fierce quandary for the reposed Subject who found himself ever more fond of Stephan, and endeavoured to mirror his emotional forte, seeing a great deal of knowledge and wisdom in how Stephan used his raw emotions to drive him forward to study when he yearned for sleep, and whereas Roe were merely ignore such, Stephan recognised it and merely used it as a tool to work harder. Moreover, the extrovert was not limited to using his mood to drive him in studies, he also, without truly thinking about it, used it to persuade others to socialise with him when they would otherwise not wish as such. Stephan had done such when he and Roe had encountered Vadim in the lounge room, the Russian man looking through his phone at pictures of himself and Leonas. Stephan had suggested that they play one of the vintage video games that were at the disposal of the dormitory floor. Roe abstained, professing intrigue in understanding the game and its purpose before playing, though Vadim seemed encouraged by the steady demeanor he presented and the ever supporting person that Stephan was. ‘It is this, yes,’ Roe mused as he looked Stephan over, scanning his fallen form for any injuries, ‘It is his imperfection and emotional instability that gives him strength. I have felled him but he remains my better.’

Stephan groaned, his head fallen to the side as he placed a hand on his chest which rose and fell erratically and with rapid speed. Roe reached forward tentatively, and with a hand to check Stephan’s sternum to ascertain if he had broken. Though it was the latter Greek who abruptly grabbed Roe’s wrist, pulling him down onto the ground, bringing Roe onto his back and with a hand placed on the blond’s chest Stephan grinned wickedly. “You were worried, I’m touched, Roe.” The triumphant teal eyed man spoke with a great deal of pride in his voice, “I didn’t think you’d fall for that,” and with such words, Stephan grinned even wider. Roe resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead grasped the Greek’s wrist and with one sprawled out leg, swung it outward, catching Stephan’s crouched leg and with one firm push against the latter’s chest, sent him into the air and onto his back before placing a bare foot on Stephan’s chest. Roe’s expression remained veiled and even, though for but a moment the slightest hint of a smirk could be seen on his lips. His intense azure gaze was settled on a rather annoyed looking Stephan who had been so easily denied his victory.

“If I am not mistaken, I believe I have bested you, Stephan.” Roe’s voice remained devoid of true emotion, and he felt no pride in his victory. Often had he trained at NELO in martial prowess to further his defensive capabilities following a select incident at the compound. Moreover, Roe had not wished to engage in sparring with Stephan, worried that he might harm the latter and complicate their relations, leaving Stephan to believe Roe was needlessly violent or bloodthirsty in any sense. However the exuberant Greek had insisted upon such and demanded that he not be treated lightly either, and for Roe to ignore his reservations. Though, for all his demands, Roe remained unable to truly fight with all his prowess, for such would have seen him merely best his friend without real effort given. It was through the spirit of aiding Stephan in training that he did as he did and though he was stronger and faster, he was surprised to find that the Greek was as strong as he was; it was a valuable skill that might aid him in an uncertain future. Removing his foot from Stephan’s chest, he offered a hand to help the latter up, which Stephan took and smoothed his clothing, consisting of a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of red nylon shorts.   

Stephan huffed indignantly as he stood, glowering at the victor, Roe, for a moment before he smirked slyly and spoke, “I think you just wanted to be on top of me,” and offered a sly wink. The lewd connotations of his joke, however, were entirely lose to the Subject who only stared at him with veiled confusion. ‘Why would I wish such a thing?’ Roe mused silently, ‘What possible purpose could be gained in the position we were in other than for martial supremacy?’ The young blond man gave a mental shrug and surmised that it was yet another part of the ever unknown person that Stephan largely remained. The latter looked to the exit for a moment before back to Roe and spoke again, “Well, we should go before we get billed for another hour. Student loans don’t exactly cover sparring as a necessity.” Stephan chuckled lightly before turning and leading the two toward the entrance. Roe followed silently, his mind still whirred in an attempt to understand Stephan’s earlier comment, and the two made their way to the exit, and slipped on their shoes. Stepping out into the morning air, the equatorial warmth of summer had been predictably replaced with the nearly-as-warm heat of autumn on the equator. Wind rolled in from the east and wafted with the smell of the ocean, strong , salty and all encompassing. The campus before them was alive with movement; various students milled about going from building to building and generally enjoying another warm day at Neo-Palmyra’s university. “It seems like such a waste that this island was just going to be a stopover for airplanes at a time,” the Greek young man spoke aloud, causing Roe to cant his azure gaze toward the other.

“It was a logical decision to reach by the Laevan Corporation. The island is not only central to the collection of manmade sea-debris but it is between the continents of North America and Asia. They would be able to make a great deal of money quite simply.” Roe spoke calmly, his eyes returning to the sights before him. For such a peaceful university, it held an ominous tone that could be largely forgotten were one not observant. Unfortunately for the ever watchful Subject, he was not and noted ever TPW poster on the walls of buildings and on the doors into them, depicting the label of NELO under a red prohibition circle, and others more gruesomely showing a monstrous, mechanical being with the likeness of a great serpent birthing human children whose eyes were maliciously red and stamped over the stomach with a barcode. Roe leered at one of these posters for a long time before, oddly enough, found himself speaking his thoughts; “And yet here they stand, having created a self-sufficient society on this small island that has so quickly bent to fear and hatred.” There was an uncharacteristic touch of malice in his voice as he was reminded of the betrothed couple who had accosted him a few weeks ago. Roe had seen them three days ago, and the man whose arm remained in a sling glowered at him, but did nothing. Their resistance to engage him affirmed to the ever silent Subject that he had indeed taken the right route in dissuading him.

The two walked on for a moment, Stephan rather awkwardly ignoring Roe’s malicious tone. Having entered one of the many courtyards that was formed between the many buildings that comprised the university campus, once more Roe took note of a large gathering of protestors outside the Administrative Building, signs being held up depicting the standard anti-Subject and anti-NELO slogans and pictures. Purposefully ignoring the hateful propaganda, it was Stephan who stopped him. A massive, twelve foot banner had been erected and held aloft by a protestor at either side of the amassed group. Pictured thereupon were six individuals, all of which were in foul positions with censored bars over small children and the elderly, and with text bubbles overhead that read ‘We help humanity,’ or ‘NELO saves the world from infertility.’ Roe’s azure eyes widened in shock and he took a step forward before feeling a firm grip on his upper arm and found Stephan to be giving him a warning look, imploring him to not do anything. Third from the right sat a horrendous depiction of Natalie Bellerose, her fair figure transformed into one of sultry, whorish temptation; garbed in a revealing gown, her hands were on the head of a small boy and a bubble over her head read ‘The children are our future.’ Roe had never before seen such an aberrant display of hated for the primary caregivers of the Subjects in his life and he found both curiosity and a foreign sense of unparalleled anger at Mother Natalie being insulted so. “That’s… that’s your mom, right?” Stephan spoke quietly, and Roe merely nodded. “… Stay here.” The eerily composed Greek said before he marched off in the direction of the crowd.

Roe hesitated for a long moment as he watched the other move toward the crowd, hands balled up at his sides. More curiously, a group of onlookers had amassed around the protestors, all of which had dressed oddly heavily; most donned shorts and long sleeve sweaters of various fashions and the like and merely looked over the crowd, most scowling deeply. Parting their observing crowd, Stephan stormed to the side of the protesting group and Roe was close at hand, but kept his distance, to at the very least partially oblige the oddly determined Stephan. The latter male abruptly turned one of the banner holders and spoke angrily, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Take this shit down!” His words were loud and a few of the observers took tentative steps forward toward the Greek. However, more of the protestors turned on Stephan, faces contorted in anger or confusion. However the singular young man held his crowd, for either anger or bravery had dulled his sense of danger. Roe took a few more steps forward to drag the brunet back, though felt his wrist clutched by another and turned to see Logan Hayes holding him back, and unzipped his sweater, revealing a most peculiar shirt worn underneath. Roe nodded once and fell into their loosely organised observing group, though removed his arm from the other Subject’s grasp, deciding that Stephan may yet require his aid. The young man Stephan spoke to did not seem respond quickly enough for his liking and so Stephan grabbed the pole he held which kept the banner aloft and jerked it out of the man’s hind with surprising strength. Roe idly noted that it must have been their sparring that had strengthened Stephan so. However the now failed banner-man did not care for being removed from his cause in such a humiliating means.

“What do you think you’re doing, you idiot!? Do you want the Subjects to stay here?” The man shoved Stephan backward, the latter taking a steadying step back and regaining his balance. A few more protestors turned to Stephan, however he had already acted by such a point. A fist flew through the air and struck the jaw of the former banner-man, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Now more paid attention to the goings on next to them, never having seen someone protest their protestations before. Stephan rubbed his hand for a moment before he felt a burning sensation of pain in his midsection, finding another one of the protestors had delivered a brutal kick to his stomach. He stumbled further back and fell to his knees, coughing. It was then that Roe engaged them as well, his anger actually besting his normally perfectly composed mind. The moment of irrationality was bested with supreme and crushing composure and Roe’s body became alive with precise movement. Using the felled Stephan as a means of gaining height, he vaulted himself off the Greek’s shoulder and delivered a crushing kick to the jaw to Stephan’s attacker, sending them sprawled onto the ground, incapacitated thoroughly. However Roe did not cease there, and upon recalling what he had been taught at NELO, swung his right arm outward which dealt a winding blow to an attacker from behind and with a spin of his heel sent an open palm into his chest with brutal force, and as the figure fell, delivered a knee into their face, which was followed with a sickening crunch.

Stephan was once more on his feet as he saw that he had not only been joined by Roe who so expertly and with utter calm in his visage but also those once gathered outside the group who discarded their sweaters roughly, revealing shirts that had written upon them on a white background ‘Subject and proud,’ along with ‘You won’t take the rights of innocents!’ and many other slogans. These masses added further confusion to the chaos as a mob riot event took place, groups wildly fighting against one another. The banner once held high had come down and Stephan tore at it furiously as he grabbed a young woman who had sought to deliver a kick to Roe’s back by her collar and threw her behind him before sending a fist into another offending young man who had attempted to drive an elbow into his throat, though, having recalled Roe’s lesson upon attacks aimed at one’s weak points, such as the neck, grabbed the extended limb and delivered his free hand into their stomach, winding them utterly before sending a foot into their chest. “Roe!” Stephan called out as the Subject was brought to his knees as one of the protestors used one of the poles that had held the now ruined banner aloft as a club and beat the blond Subject down. Stephan was abruptly stopped as a larger male grabbed him from behind and tossed him to the ground, from where Stephan felt a brutal kick delivered to his face, leaving him temporarily blind in his right eye. From blurred vision Stephan saw a fiery haired figure shove others aside and grabbed the offending instrument that had left a bloody mark on the back of Roe’s head, the man now laying on the ground that was in the process of delivering a swift kick to another who had tried to step on him. The newcomer who, from his rapidly improving vision in his left eye, could be loosely identified as a man Stephan had seen Roe speak to following a rally outside their dormitory complex a few weeks ago and the man, now grabbing the pole which had beat Roe bloody, wrenched it out of the man’s hand and dealt a crushing blow to the former wielder’s chest that they merely fell back, knocked out.

Roe rolled to the side, expecting the pole to be brought down after the ceasing in assaults, found Logan standing over him, the erratic Subject hauled him to his feet and shouted over the cacophony of the riot; “You and your friend need to get out of here! The military police will be here any minute! Live and fight later, Roe!” Logan shouted, and Stephan too heard the words and quickly accepted Roe who had been shoved in his direction, shoving rioters out of his way, friend and foe alike and hurried out of the courtyard and made their way toward their dormitory. Roe stumbled along next to Stephan and the latter, upon seeing the atrocious amount of blood on Roe’s once white t-shirt now made fouled with the thick liquid which oozed from the back of his head and neck, slung his arm over Roe’s neck, careful to avoid the fresh wound, and helped balance him. The Subject resisted for a moment before relenting and allowed himself to be helped. The two hurried along away from the fight, the sounds of sirens quickly coming into earshot from behind them, however Roe and Stephan were roughly a block away from their dormitory. Their fellow students gave the two both incredulous and worried looks, many of them asking if Roe needed a hospital, drawing phones from their pockets. The Subject shook his head and Roe thanked them earnestly for their kindness, drawing hope that all goodness was not lost from the world yet.

Having been allowed into their building by a student who had just opened the doors to allow himself in, the two hurried down the hallway and Stephan threw the stairwell door open and began to haul the evermore lagging Roe who had begun to stumble up the steps. The four flights dragged on and Roe’s sight blurred as he felt himself more and more supported by the Greek who had fought on his behalf but before long they had reached their floor and entered their room. Stephan laid Roe on his bed and commanded that he stay put as he hurried to their washroom. Within the small space he passively remarked upon how sparse Roe’s half of the vanity was, bereft of anything, save a toothbrush which sat in its charger. Taking a cloth from a drawer on his own side, he ran it under warm water, took a second dry cloth and grabbed a roll of gauze, a ‘necessary purchase,’ according to Roe upon the beginning of their sparring. Stephan doubted that Roe had expected it to be used upon he himself before the former, and Stephan took a morsel of ironic humor at such. Hurrying around the doorframe, Stephan, finding Roe to have discarded his shirt and lain upon his stomach, the brunet found the true extent of his injuries. Roe’s lower neck had been split open by the beam’s solid surface and looked rather ghastly. Stephan ignored the extent of the blood, assuring himself that Roe was in no danger from the looks of the wound, having realised earlier that the blood loss was from the amount of blood in the neck, not the severity of the wound. Wiping the excess blood off the wound, Roe laid entirely still, his hands folded under his chin as he stared at the wall, and Stephan was reminded of the grizzly and offhandedly regaled tale of the experimentation done unto Roe and how he had devised a means of ignoring the pain therein.  “Just sit still, alright?” Stephan spoke, finding his voice shaky and uncertain.

Discarding the bloodied cloth, Stephan used the warm, moist towel and dabbed at the wound, once more being given no indication of pain by Roe who merely lay there, and with a steady breath, ignoring all that around him. Stephan meticulously cleaned the wounds upon the Subject’s neck, removing smalls shards of metal that had buried themselves in his neck, further indicating the strength at which Roe had been struck. The process of doing such dragged on for quite some time as the Greek was ever vigilant to not harm his friend, dreading the idea of reminding the other of the experimentation that was done unto him without any sort of anesthetic. After cleaning the wound, Stephan found that the bleeding had lessened greatly, likely from the lack of movement, and grabbed the roll of gauze and began to wrap the Subject’s neck. Looking to Roe’s head which faced away from him, Stephan found that the enigmatic young man had fallen asleep, and his head rested against his pillow, and with eyes closed he inhaled and exhaled steadily. Stephan continued to wrap the wound, adding much more gauze than he thought necessary to be evermore sure that he would not only keep the wound closed but stop any blood from leaking out. Standing once more, he procured Roe’s discarded shirt and tossed it into a hamper by the door, before placing a hand on the Subject’s back, sighing sadly. “Oh, Roe…” He spoke aloud, his voice aching with thinly veiled anguish. Roe had saved Stephan and all he could do was merely dress his wounds.

Deciding that he needed rest more than his depressed company and worrying, Stephan crept from Roe’s bedside and made his way to the door, intent upon visiting another almost as dear to him and also felled, though by entirely different circumstances. Having exited his dormitory with a silent shutting of the door and a locking thereof, he made his way down the hall and turned at the lobby of the floor where one would find the elevator and made his way down the other hall that comprised the L-shape of their dormitory building. His footsteps sounded quietly on the carpeted halls and before long he had arrived before another room, two fateful names written on a piece of paper that had been crudely taped to the door which read first ‘Leonas’ and ‘Vadim.’ Knocking lightly, Stephan spoke, “Hey Vadim, bud… you there? I just wanted to make sure you were alright and everything…” His words were soft, though Stephan reminded himself as he spoke to make sure that, though he did not alarm the grieving Russian, he did not be so faint as to not alert Vadim of his presence. Being given no response, Stephan knocked with more assurance and strength, and spoke aloud “Vadim?” But once more was given no reply. The Greek man took the handle of the door, the slim metal mechanism cool to the touch and gave it a trying turn, finding it to be unlocked and thus slid the door open. The room before him was of identical size and shape to his own, however the blinds were drawn closed and as such little light entered, giving the messy dormitory an ominous feeling to it. With the door closed behind him, Stephan stepped carefully around discarded liquor bottles and the like before finding Vadim sprawled on a bed which was distinctly marked by a degree of some sort written in Lithuanian overhead, and as such Stephan assumed that it was not Vadim’s bed that he had collapsed upon.

The dark blond Russian laid there clothed in only a pair of ill-fitting boxer shorts and close to his hand was a half drank bottle of tequila. Stephan took the bottle and placed it on the unclean chest of drawers identical to his own, and left it there before placing a hand on Vadim’s shoulder and shaking him firmly. The passed out Russian groaned, his head turning away from the window and he squinted, before curling up slightly. “Who… what?” His words came out with a heavy accent, almost indecipherable to the unilateral English speaking individual, though after a long moment Vadim’s eyes opened and bloodshot orbs stared at Stephan, confused. The Russian man struggled to sit up, as he had almost completely slid of the bed and Stephan caught him, steadying him. Vadim looked down at himself before away bashfully, uttering a few indistinguishable Russian and English curses before standing and grabbing a bathrobe from a nearby hook on the wall in the same position where Stephan kept his own. Garbing himself in such, Vadim shambled to the window and drew the blinds upward and squinted, swearing once more. “Ah, shit! That’s bright… What time is it…?” Vadim groaned to himself before he looked to his phone on the chest of drawers next to him and groaned at how it was already noon. “Wait, Steph? What are you doing here? How did you get in?” His questions hung in the air as Stephan stood, leading the largely confabulated Russian to a seat before turning the lights on with a wave of his hand over a panel on the wall and sitting himself.

“Your door wasn’t locked, for one,” Stephan said, shrugging lightly, and Vadim coughed awkwardly, “and for two, I’m here because… something happened.” Vadim leaned forward expectantly though the young Greek found no words coming to bear and floundered for an appropriate response. His gaze drifted to the window where he found the sun to be still shining happily over a morbid campus where a rioting mob could erupt simply over the allowance of human rights to untraditionally born humans. Outside, upon a street four stories below, Stephan saw many military police vehicles drive by, their bright white exteriors accented with the gold that also marked Union military forces being seen by the disparaged Greek as nothing more than a sham, for they surely held naught but the pro-Subject rioters. His gaze returned to Vadim and he spoke once more; “There was another rally by the TPW. Except this time they had this huge banner that had all the Mothers and Fathers of NELOs on it and they looked like paedophiles and monsters. I don’t know why, but it made me so angry… So I pulled it down, but then one of them punched me so, so I punched him back. Before I knew what was happening, a riot had broken out and Roe was kicking ass, but then he got beaten down by one of the poles the TPW were using to hoist their hateful banner and this red haired guy, I think his name was Logan, showed up and saved him and forced us to leave.” His words fell into the air with eerie silence and Vadim merely nodded.

The Russian leaned back in his chair, placing a hand on his forehead and groaning for a moment, abd spoke; “Eugh, my head is killing me…” Removing his hand, he spun his chair to the side and nodded once. “You did the right thing, if I had seen that I would’ve punched everyone out. I’m sure Leo would’ve…” Vadim trailed off at the mention of Leonas, his gaze growing distant before cloudy with misery. “Well, it’s not important,” he said, taking an unsteady breath, but remained otherwise largely composed, “Anyways, where’s Roe? Where’s the man of the hour?” Vadim smiled a small smile, though it quickly fell and a morose, resigned look took its place. Evident to Stephan, though he tried, Vadim was not ready to move on from Leonas’ death. Stephan wondered what kind of friendship the two of them had had to be so close and for Vadim to be so devastated at his death. Granted it was natural for anyone to be shaken and miserable at the sudden and violent loss of a friend, but Vadim had taken Leonas’ death incredibly difficultly. According to Emiliyia, she had found him drunk and sobbing at the door to his dormitory, crying out for Leonas to come and open the door, that he was lonely and scared. The sight of such brought tears to Stephan’s eyes, but he wiped them away for he had to be strong for Vadim, so that he could heal and return to his former self.

“I am here.” A calm voice sounded from the doorway and Vadim and Stephan turned to find Roe in the doorway, his intense gaze dulled with weariness, and he leaned against the doorframe. “I know what we must do. We are no longer safe here; Leonas has been killed, I have been injured, and on countless occasions, regardless of being Subject or not, we have been assaulted by the foul curs who loathe our kind.” Roe looked to Vadim upon his final words, and the other nodded. A heavy silence filled the room as Roe stood up straight, his lithe, athletic form draped in an open, black shirt and cotton pants replaced with form fitting slacks that Roe had recently picked out. The Subject’s gaze intensified as he spoke words that were filled with dread unmeasured: “We must return to NELO.”   

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