Subjectivity: Chapter Eight

Upon a modest coffee table crafted from a transparent glass tabletop and metallic legs which shone brightly sat an equally metal-borne chess set. The board itself, constructed of a black and silver checkered design glimmered dully in the luminescent room for which they had congregated. Upon the board a fierce war was being silently raged. The army of black whose sleek figures stretched high into the air with fluid and regal pose, the king being as tall as six inches, stood elegantly, poised upon total domination upon those who had been caressed with a more fair silver colouration. Their dichotomy of colouration was made more evident by the silver army whose numbers were vastly outnumbered; the lady queen had fallen long ago and the king sat nigh trapped by his pawns. Behind these battling factions sat two figures who had become ever more aware of one another’s thought processes through the game. Championing the black king and his army was Roe, his ever unreadable expression held in perpetual thought as his eyes never ceased their movement over the board as he considered all options available. Behind the white army was Stephan, whose brow was knit in frustration and thought as he scrambled to make a dent in his foe’s nigh unbeatable defenses. Stephan grumbled silently to himself, the monumental task of besting Roe at a game of wits becoming ever more evident as time passed. His lumbar ached from the stiff-backed chair he sat in, whose seat was cold and hard; composed of some sort of plastic or possibly softer metal. The two were seated before the coffee table before the centre of the room, wherein one found a grand, matching glass and metal desk.

Spectators had gathered as well; Emiliyia stood beside Roe and Vadim had taken up post next to the embattled Stephan. As well, upon a third chair facing the small table, sat Natalie Bellerose. Her slender form was garbed in a black pencil skirt which rested just above the knees, and was paired with a lavender blouse whose frills seemed to become metallic in nature as they rose up to meet her bust. Lastly, she donned a white lab coat which reached the floor when standing which gave her an ephemeral look as she moved about in a graceful manner on white heels. Her legs were crossed before her as she watched the game intently, noting a scarce possibility through which Stephan might best her dear son. Though she wished Roe no ill, she knew that both could learn a great deal, were she to intervene. Such was a constant gamble in her career; to put into place her own ideals and processes in the lives of Subjects too often was fraught with peril, as they would not become reliant upon their own critical thinking processes, and to become too removed left the young Subjects feeling unwanted and unloved. She leaned forward, breaking the concentration of both combatants and whispered to Stephan: “Stephan, if a king does not lead his people, who would follow him?” Her words seemed to confuse the young man for a moment, however with a flourish of a slender, feminine hand to the board, he looked to her, his sea-green eyes twinkling with possibility, and she offered him a quick nod. Casting her gaze to the black army’s lord, Roe, she winked slyly, “I am only keeping the game interesting my dear boy.” However Roe gave no reply and instead leveled his gaze on Stephan, whose tanned hand hovered over his contingent of three pawns and king.

“Well, well.” Roe commented simply as Stephan began an offensive, sending forth a pawn which had stopped any checking of his king from the right. Deciding to not fall for the obvious draw, the Subject sent in a bishop from across the board and felled the offending pawn, “Careful, Stephan.” Roe spoke calmly as he leaned back, crossing a leg loosely over the other and his black slacks fluttered lightly from the movement. Having had their clothing incinerated when they arrived, NELO had provided them all with new clothing to wear while their clothing and personal artifacts in their vehicle were disinfected. Natalie had insisted it was necessary, and Roe had agreed, even though the others had been very resistant to the screening chamber following their arrival, as Emiliyia, Stephan and Vadim to an extent, were uncomfortable with stripping down naked for the scanners, but had eventually relented, as it was private. The enigmatic Subject had failed to understand their embarrassment, having stated that such was common in the sterile facilities of NELO wherein one could not come from high population areas in the world without being decontaminated, for when one entered a room whose ventilation system was shared with young Subjects, it was deemed necessary to be extra cautious. Roe’s counter was met with a move that gave the Subject cause to cock an eyebrow; the ever bold Greek had moved his king forward into the fray and removed the black bishop from play. Vadim chuckled lightly as he watched the audacious move be carried out. Natalie looked to Vadim for a long moment, and felt her heart lifted by seeing that Vadim had indeed improved greatly since leaving the university and the memorabilia that reminded the Russian of his fallen friend.

Roe retracted his crushing offensive shortly thereafter as Stephan had offered resistance, and returned to a more defensive strategy. He knew he would win regardless, though knew that such would take a fair deal more time, now. He would have to round his more mobile pieces around the offensive king and trap it, though it would be difficult. “Which is more powerful, I wonder? The mind… or the heart? It is a confabulation that has plagued humanity since antiquity. However I believe an answer is at hand,” Roe mused aloud, receiving a few confused looks from the onlookers, save Natalie, who only smiled a nostalgic little smile. Following a few turns, Roe had successfully placed his queen behind the king and placed him in check from afar, and the Subject knew that it was then that he would seal his fate. Stephan did as he expected and broke free on the left from his remaining bishop, and it was then that he sent in his knight and placed the white king in checkmate. Placing the metallic piece onto the board with a resounding clink of metal, his monotone voice was heard as he spoke: “Checkmate.” With that, the game had been concluded, and Roe, ever concealing any emotion he felt for his victory, and merely nodded to Stephan, who only scoffed at the former’s indifference to his victory.

Gathering his fallen pieces and replacing them on the board, Stephan silently contemplated Roe’s cryptic words. It was evident that Roe believed the mental power of the mind was one’s greatest weapon and asset, however such reasoning seemed too simple and inhuman in how curt it was. “Well said, Roe. But the power of the heart can never be denied: it has moved mountains, cured disease, created war, and many other achievements, bot for better or for worse.” Roe too had begun collecting his own pieces, his fingers hefting many chess pieces at once between them. Placing them all but his own king, his picked up the piece and placed it before his azure gaze, regarding it closely, before returning his sight to Stephan, meeting the swirling mix of blue and green that comprised the Greek’s eyes. He thumbed the chess piece in his hand, watching the light bounce off its dark, intempestuous surface which seemed to flow with inky blackness. “Besides, I think you’re painting yourself so plainly like that,” Stephan mused lightly, receiving a quirked golden brow from the young man across from him. “You are not all mind,” casting a look to the other two who had travelled with them, “Seriously! He’s not always brooding silence and creepy looks. He made a joke once, you know.” Receiving only a skeptical look from Emiliyia, who had yet to see Roe in any other light than the silent figure whose presence could be felt long before he arrived, she had appeared to be less than convinced. Vadim, however, merely gave Roe a thoughtful look, as though he had seen something in the young man he had not seen before; a piece of humanity that was once thought to be so damaged it was unrecognisable, or perhaps so stifled it never grew.

Natalie herself stood and made her way to the desk which was set in front of the coffee table and placed two fingers onto an otherwise invisible panel in the desktop. A nigh transparent screen rose from the close edge of the table into the air and became alight with a few news articles, along with a map of the Pacific Union and one of the world. Turning their attention toward the clear screen, Emiliyia in particular paid close attention to the map depicting flight restrictions in the Union. Many airlines now refused to carry Subjects, basing the discrimination of cliental in Section Seventy-Two of the Charter, one of the many new sections of the document, which gave credence to preferential selection of humans over Subjects or Subjects over humans in times of crises. Two more sections had been added by executive order, one delineating the ability to conscript soldiers from the member nations into member-nation based armies which served the Pacific Union in international affairs. “So Trans-Pac Air is the only airline that will still fly from Neo-Palmyra to any of the nations… And Ult Airways will carry them as emigrants to Europe, the non-Pacific Union states in South America, Africa, and the colony in Antarctica.” The others offered mumbled agreement to her statement of fact, and Natalie too rounded the desk’s edge to observe the map as she thought silently for a moment. Emiliyia was indeed correct in her assessment, though Trans-Pac Air would not ferry a Class Nine Subject such as Roe, and to remove his classification was impossible, as it had been embedded in the identification code in his wrist. “Maybe we could get a flight up to L.O.G.O.S. and get a flight down to somewhere within the Union?” She offered, though Roe shook his head at such an idea, finding a critical flaw therein. The Low Orbital Ground Operations Station was a space station set up in Geosynchronous Orbit around the Earth that acted as a crown corporation of the European Union and various private investors, such as Virgin Galactic. The Station was primarily used for the ferrying of goods and services into the final frontier of man, however recreational travel to space had been all but stopped with the onset of the Barren.

“Chartering a flight to L.O.G.O.S. would be expensive and attract unwanted attention.” Roe spoke simply, though Emiliyia relented to the truth of his statement, knowing too well that the government would take great interest in a group of private individuals from NELO travelling to space for no known reason; it would be seen as a spreading of the infection of the Subjects, as the Awakening had spoken a few years before in a web address. “I believe our best option is to hold out here. Moreover, NELO is nearly self-sufficient and only relies on power from the island’s generators. However we might be able to tap into the Pacific Union’s High Earth Orbit Solar Power Collectors. NELO is equipped with the receivers for such, and has the codes to collect it. However such would remain a temporary solution: once Laevan learned of us syphoning power, he would change the codes and we would be bereft of power.” His gaze fell to an article about the supposed horrors that went on in NELO wherein a picture from what he surmised was likely a helicopter or some sort of double engined gyrocopter or tiltrotor. “No… This is our refuge, for now.” His words received a nod from Natalie who merely stood beside the monitor that had been raised, contemplating what had been said.  Though he turned toward the screen with an abrupt lurch of sorts, and tapped the screen, opening one of the news articles that had just been revealed. “What’s this?” The intrigued Subject spoke aloud as a video played before them.

Standing behind a glass podium which warped fluidly as though it had been poured as a liquid and solidified instantly whose front was adorned with a banner depicting thirteen golden stars encircling a dove that held within its delicate beak a red rose stood Doran Laevan. The man’s hawk-like features were poised grandly as he waved to the cheering crowd out of sight and his grey-brown eyes sparkled with an almost dangerous intelligence. A high, widows’ peak of a forehead gave way to grey hair which was combed backward and stood upright. Running a hand through the swath of grey and streaks of brown he smiled a smile that seemed to those observing from NELO as entirely fake and wrong. “Citizens of the Pacific Union!” He called out, his voice echoing deafeningly through the microphone before him. With hands clutched upon the sides of the podium much akin to talons, he continued, his voice alive with emotion and frightening power, “I am made sleepless these nights! The horrors of NELO and the monsters who have created the Subjects have been made aware to me by space surveillance from one of our many satellites in orbit. These Subjects are churned out like toys upon a conveyer belt and made into enemies of the Union and of all Normal born humans through cruel propaganda!” Booing of what had been perceived to occur in the New Evolutionary Leap Organisation Compound drowned out the man, though President Laevan merely appeared to drink in the approval of his disgust. “I know, my friends, I know!” He called out, waving for them to quiet, “But hope is not lost! Our great Russian brothers and sisters have offered to aid the Union in this plight! In one week, we will be sending in a Russian naval fleet to blockade the island of Neo-Palmyra. Anyone who lives on the island will be given a government stipend to move to one of the member nations and free transport thereto.”

It was Vadim who looked the most appalled at the announcement. “They’re… what?” He stammered out, slumping into a seat adjacent to Roe’s. A heavy silence fell over them all as Laevan continued to speak of the necessity of a military blockade to stop any terrorists escaping the island, but would openly welcome any Normal born citizens leaving. Natalie, however, was busily clicking and typing away at her computer, eyes scanning page after page of unknown documents as the others merely sat there, all blanched, save the ever reposed Roe, who had merely remained standing, reading the article. Vadim, however, was once more the first to remain observant and noticed that his fellow Subject was breathing in perfect rhythm and was clenching and unclenching his fist in the same pattern. Merely watching the peculiar display for a few minutes as they sat in silence, Vadim finally addressed the abnormally acting Subject: “Roe…?” The latter’s intense gaze suddenly turned on Vadim, and a look of inhumane loathing for something rotted in Roe’s gaze. Never before had any of them seen such intense hatred in the normally calm Subject as his mere gaze implied the incredible amount of fury he retained for the situation at hand. Though after a moment, it was stifled, and Roe merely stood there in a stiff stature, evidently fighting some primal urge deep down to express his anger. Calming further, he merely took a seat and eyed the screen before them. Their attention were drawn to Natalie shortly thereafter as the woman cleared her throat.

Natalie opened and closed her mouth ever so slightly as she struggled to find the words appropriate for what she felt she had to say. Silence was the result most oft as she merely sat there, her computer alight as more and more screens seemed to appear thereupon its surface. From Stephan’s position he could tell that she had received countless emails and many more continued to pour in. Casting his gaze to the ever inscrutable Roe, who merely sat there with a dead look in his eyes, seemingly too lost in his own thoughts. Emiliyia merely gawked at the article that had appeared following the ending of the address by President Laevan, thoroughly lost as to what they could do. Vadim merely sat there, his fingers fiddling with one another awkwardly as seemingly painful memories came to mind as he regarded the situation at hand. Pressing two fingers onto the panel in the desktop of her desk, Natalie Bellerose lowered the supplementary screen which had allowed the others to see the video stream. “I never knew Doran would go this far… If I knew that he would do this, I would have…” The maternal woman trailed off, her gaze distant for a moment. Stephan raised a dark brown brow curiously, silently wondering what kind of connection Natalie and Laevan had, if any. He knew that the Laevan Foundation created NELO, but if Doran Laevan had any connection to Natalie and NELO, surely she would have used it to their advantage, or at the very least tried to stop him from essentially blocking off the home of Subjects off from the rest of the world. “But…” She continued, drawing the gazes of the others, “I’ve received five thousand emails in the past few minutes, and from what I can tell… countless Subject families and even random people – they want to come here. They don’t want to be a part of the Union anymore… I’m not sure what to do; we can’t house this many people…” She trailed off, running a hand through her bright blond hair, and hung her head low, resigned to the dread reality that there was nothing any of them could do.

*~*

Darkness ravaged all, for Roe Speremus was engulfed in a crushing nothingness. The inky blackness pressed in all around and threatened with dark and unseen malicious intent to suffocate him. His body was cold, frozen to the point that he had long since lost feeling in his extremities and moreover, his mind had appeared to follow such a trend and was made slow and sluggish. Where was he? This place, this edifice of nothingness permeated all with its morose reality. As though he floated in an ocean of black, he turned himself, slowly drifting sideways as he found his movements slowed by both internal and external forces destroying his otherwise impressive person. His eyes, blind to everything but the impetuous darkness as he viewed it: it was brazen and bold to entrap himself, and he was made weak and pathetic to it. The darkness shifted against him as though monstrous creatures caressed his exposed form. His gaze flickered around as foreign panic took hold in his chest, constricting his breathing with a manic disregard for his breathing. A sluggish hand, numb and foreign, clutched to his bare chest as he failed to find a source of the panic that seemed to squeeze at his heart. Blood churned in his body with fury as his head had begun to throb with a piercing headache: the product of the unknown onslaught. His eyes, azure and wide, snapped downward from a disturbance in such a direction, and such was when the whispers began. Maddening and relentless, they assaulted his mind sliding into his person and perverting him, turning him into that which he abhorred to become; what those who feared him saw him as.

Monstrosity.

Crime against nature.

Freak.

Sin.

Nobody.

Roe kept his composure as the murderous panic began to push his blood around even more erratically, sending his muscles into spasms and his organs lurch and move violently, causing him to clutch his eyes in agony. He knew it was not true; he was no monster, no crime against nature, no freak, no sin, and not a Nobody. He was human! He had done no harm to anyone that did not deserve it, and in many cases not to those whom he believed that they would deserve his wrath. Though the violating, impure darkness emphatically as it continued to crush him from the inside out and continued its onslaught with renewed vigor, and with one sure constriction, his heart stopped beating. Clutching at his chest with numbed and useless hands, he screamed out in such a pain that bested all those of the experimentation upon his person at the Compound, moreover it had triumphed in cruelty over what the Keepers had done to him, and found no sound to come from his mouth. Upon the opening of his mouth, the darkness exploded into his person from all orifices. Violating, cold, and wet it slithered down his throat, ears, eyes and so on, destroying any purity of person he had held to. The darkness befouled him utterly, destroying his pride, violating his dignity so thoroughly he was left bereft of feeling. Attempting to wrest his person from the foul intruders into his person and that slithered over his body with their foul tendrils, he found himself immobilised and made helpless to their whims. The sickening and disgusting taste of rotting flesh had filled his mouth with the intrusion of the tendrils of malevolence from the omnipresent darkness and he gagged violently, his body trembling as his eyes had begun to close from a lack of oxygenated blood moving about his system.

Slumped forward as his mortal shell died, the darkness retreated, and light began to appear before his half lidded eyes, and as his heart began to pump once more, his once listless eyes opened again and he peered outward. Now bathed in white light, three figures stood before him, and although no ground could be seen, an irrational sensation told him they stood upon solid ground. Faces obscured by a peculiar fog that blinded him from making out their identities, he peered at them, a hand extending for aid as he felt his weakened form become encumbered down by unknown weight, he fell to his knees before the three figures, struggling to keep himself upright. Looking up at the three figures, he saw them in greater detail, though their visages remained obscured to him. The first was clearly female and stood in the centre. Garbed in glowing white armour which seemed to fade in and out of reality in its surreal, pristine beauty, the figure also donned an equally perfect white cloak that fluttered often. Upon her right hip was a golden sword  that dripped with blood, though any indication of hostility from the figure could not be found. Upon her breastplate were intricate lines – paths, Roe decided – that were interwoven and seemed to never truly converge, however all the while existed harmoniously, painting a picture of beauty and peace. Crimson hair fell in lovely tresses and fell around her hidden face, though a piercing and powerful ashen gaze looked forward. Finally, raised high in her left hand was a white gold torch that flickered with a silvery fire that looked to be cool. This woman filled Roe with power and strength, and he felt himself almost able to rise to a stand and join her in her unseen war.

The figure who was right of the armed lady in the centre was garbed as any man, though to specify his clothing was impossible, as it shifted moment to moment; sometimes he would wear a finely made suit, others rags of a seventeenth century pauper, later armour of his own, then only to return to modern clothing and perpetuate the erratic cycle of its garb. Looking the most exotic of his counterparts, he seemed to be impossible to place as any sort of figure one could recognise and instead embodied many; countless individuals lost to the endless and ruthless flow of time, though he stood tall and held a benevolence and welcoming his counterparts would not, for their might was drawn into mortal power, whereas his was a truly beautiful and subtle thing. Roe felt his arms grow weak as he looked upon this figure, and found the male whose wavy chestnut hair to flow magnificently, feeling a love and kindness he had never felt before. The figure’s hands were held outward benevolently, and upon his scarred palms were sigils of power: on the left palm was stamped three spirals drawn together on a central axis whose colours seemed to turn and change with the similar movements of the man’s clothing. It was the triskele which lay upon the injured left palm. The right palm held three pointed ovals that joined their inner points in a three pronged axis and were unified by an interlacing circle through their widest points. Upon this weathered flesh was imprinted the triquetra. Both symbols held great unity and peace, Roe decided, and though many organisations had saw fit to make them their own, this figure held them as his own. Untarnished and unstained by the bloody works of mortal man, he held them as symbols of peace and togetherness. This figure’s gaze was hidden from him under the wavy strands of hair, and roe decided that he admired the figure a great deal, seeking to emulate its magnanimity.

To the libertine woman’s left stood a figure both poised and dignified in their stance. Garbed in grey robes that seemed drift into black and white hues in a harmonious and equal displacement, the cloth moved slowly around the male’s lithe form. His left arm was forward and from a clenched fist scales sat, equally balanced and shimmered with a grand and holy golden hue. In the other hand was a sword drawn and held outward, and though the impressive blade looked viciously deadly, Roe felt no apprehension to the familiar figure and saw the blade as a great equalizer; both peaceful in its ceremony and a means of powerful defense. Upon the pommel of the sword was a curious symbol; interlocked tadpoles, one of white whose exposed eye was inky black, and the other whose being was a brilliant blackness identical in colouration to the eye of its counterpart, but had a body of pure whiteness. For thereupon the fine pommel of the defensive blade was the symbol of yin-yang. The figure’s eyes, hidden by a blindfold, seemed to bear down intently on an unseen force, and the blade gripped tightly was held ever at the ready, awaiting the assault of another, clearly more nefarious force. Blond hair, short and golden, wavered in its erect stance, ever shifting and moving with the passage of time. This figure in particular held a great familiarity to the weakened Roe who continue to merely struggle to keep himself on his hands and knees as weakness crushed him downward.

He felt words echo in his mind which turned to sentences and statements, though found them to be neither nefarious nor evil: “You must be strong… or all will be lost.” One male voice spoke in a passionate and benevolent tone, feminine but mighty. “If you are not, if they are not, you will fall. They will fall,” a male voice spoke, his tone was so calm, but held such power and persuasion that Roe merely lowered his head and nodded to the unspoken voice. “You must be one, all of you, and none of you…” A final voice whispered into his mind, and this voice held a kind tone, but a warning one as well, for the gravity of failing him or indeed any of the other detached voices seemed to warn of great peril. “See now what is at stake…” The unseen ground below the Subject abruptly ceased its supporting, and Roe fell downward through the whiteness. Tumbling through the air, he turned over and saw two of the three figures looking down on him, and two others in the distance falling as well, though he could not make out who these newcomers were and they were quickly lost from his vision as the whiteness around him grew blinding in its purity, and he shut his eyes from the pain that was sight. Purity fell away as he grew farther from the remaining two pillars of beings he had seen above him disappear into nothingness. The thick smell of burning and smoke filled his nose as his body continued to turn tumultuously through the air before he abruptly stopped, and found himself standing. Unclenching his eyes due to their fleeing from the blinding light, his stomach lurched in his body as he took in the horrors around him. For the brutal display around him left him speechless, and left his mind at a loss for the necessity of the depravity therein.

Before him, once a shining marvel of hope, providence and fortune, the central administrative building and indeed its accompanying structures of NELO burned and smoldered through shattered glass windows and destroyed sections of the complex. Smoke billowed from the massive structures with such ferocity that it threatened to choke the Subject, and so he turned away, and felt a metallic device smack against his arm. Hanging from his shoulder was what appeared to be a new-age automatic rifle. Roe recognised the gun; he had been part of the illegal trials of its bullets in NELO’s hidden basement experimentation chambers. The rifle fired bullets that released a slow acting neurotoxin that immobilised the target after a preselected amount of bullets were fired into a person. The neurotoxin would leave the person not only immobilised but would begin to corrode nerve endings and give the illusion that one was on fire and send them into a silent agony that was unlike any mere bullet or electric assault of common weapons. Following the trial stage, Roe was informed that the weapon was abandoned due to its capacity to inflict inhuman cruelty. However here in his arms was one of these weapons, and the butt of the firearm was covered in blood and what appeared to be fragments of bone and a grey, muscle tissue Roe affirmed to be brain matter. Strewn about bloodstained grass all around him were the bodies of young men and women, boys and girls, toddlers and infants. All of which laid dead or dying, many of which were staring upward in silent agony as the bullets’ innards burned at their nerves.

Their clothes, once pristine white as his own once, were stained with their own blood and many lay with skulls shattered open, brain matter fallen into the ground around them. The sight was grotesque and bile rose in Roe’s throat as he looked upon the depravity that was the sight before him. The barrel of the weapon on his shoulder pressed into his side, burning him, and he tossed it away, realising that the weapon was hot because it had been fired. He had done this. He had slaughtered these innocent children. He trembled as he fell to his knees, his mind suddenly flooded with the memories of slaughtering these children. They had screamed and begged for him to stop, to have mercy as tears fell down their faces, furthering their anguished visages. Though Roe had ignored them all and delivered unto them the cruelest of deaths readily available to one. Clenching his fists, he found something hanging loosely from his right hand, and his wide eyed gaze fell to a bloodied knife which he held , the blade facing upward. He tossed the knife away and pushed himself to a stand, ambling over to one of the children who he had slain. The child looked to be no more than ten, the age he was when the experiments had begun in earnest. Turning them over, he found the slain youth to be female, and her black hair, once smooth and well combed, was matted with blood and gore from the grotesque wound on the back of her head. Her dark skin was covered in blood as well and her Subject attire had been sliced open at the stomach. Spilling out of the wound upon her midsection, her intestines had been wrenched outward, and Roe fell backward away from her defiled corpse, shaking his head. He could not have done this: this was beyond him. He could be strong, but he was not violent for no cause and was certainly not cruel.

“Roe… what have you done!?” An anguished cry sounded behind the horrified Subject. Roe rose to his feet and found Stephan, bloodied, bandaged and limping, standing in the ruined doorway to the central administration building. His right arm was bandaged at the elbow, as no forearm remained, his left eye covered with thick gauze, and his leg was charred black from severe burns. His bright, happy gaze was now listless and tear stricken as he looked upon the sight around them. “You killed… you killed them!” He called out, stumbling toward Roe. Stephan shambled hurriedly toward Roe, and the latter stumbled backward, shaking his head and extended an arm, imploring the former to stay back. Though the brutalised Greek would not be dissuaded as he made his awkward gait continue on course and speed toward Roe, who continued to step backward, before the gore-covered heel of his combat boot caught something and he fell onto what he soon realised was a body. Hurrying off the corpse, he found the person to be none other than Vadim, the Russian’s once proud and self-assured visage twisted in horror and agony. “Is that…” Stephan paused as he reached Vadim’s corpse, “You murdered Vadim, Roe…” Stephan spoke quietly, his head bowed. The soul-crushed young man looked up at his former Subject friend, “You murdered Vadim! You killed all these children! You’re a monster!” Stephan screamed out brokenly, before he fell to his knees, sobbing violently. Roe merely stood there, aghast, confused and lost.

The Subject who had committed such heinous crimes looked down at is bloodstained hands which trembled in sync with his shaking body. “I… I didn’t do this, Stephan.” He spoke in a shaky voice, though Stephan either did not hear, or did not care to hear Roe. The Subject steadied himself and slowly made his way toward Stephan, though the latter’s right hand fell to his waist and procured what appeared to be a handgun, though Roe knew better. The device the devastated Greek held shot pins that, upon delving into the body of the one they wished to assault, wirelessly delivered such an electric charge as to stop their heart instantly and leave them dead before they hit the ground. Roe did not stop, however, and continued forward slowly, “Stephan, I would never!” He heard unknown emotion in his own voice, the ghastly nature of the whole affair rending his normally composed nature asunder and leaving his ruined humanity bare and naked to Stephan’s mind, though he did not seem to care. “It makes no sense… Why would I kill them? They’re Subjects! I would never hurt them!”

A haughty chuckle caught both of their attentions as a figure slowly advanced on the scene, haphazardly stepping on the corpses of fallen Subjects and Keepers alike, the sickening crunch of bone echoing as he stepped on the youngest of the artificially created humans. The man donned a black suit whose coat tails were pointed ends that fluttered in a light breeze behind him. Garbed in a white collared shirt and a black, elaborate and long ascot that was tucked into his jacket, the man continued forward boots hidden under dress pants crunching and making muffled footfalls as he approached the two. “Oh, but you did, Roe Speremus. You did.” The man hissed out as he ran a hand over his greying hair. His nigh-avian features, pointed and wicked, narrowed on the Subject who now stood a few feet away from Stephan. The latter had lowered his weapon for a moment as he stared in sheer disbelief of the man who had most recently arrived. Doran Laevan, President of the Pacific Union and the perpetrator of the injustices done upon the Subjects, the man who gladly denied all those who defied his tyranny the right to life, stood before them, triumphant and gladly exposed his true malevolence and dark nature. “I have not seen you in many years, Roe… Though it is not as though any of the others were largely any different. No, my little aberration, you are no different at all.” The man cocked his head at the confusion and anger that had taken seed on Roe’s face. “Oh? Did your mommy never tell you? A pity. But I’m afraid I have better things to do and little Natalie can no longer explain anything to you. Subject 17135244, kill this boy and we will continue our works.” Stephan paled at his words, for Laevan had implied that he and Roe were in collusion.

“Roe… no… First Natalie, now me!?” Stephan blanched, tears freely falling from his face as the gun held in his right hand fell to the ground, sending its deadly pins in a random direction as his former friend turned toward him upon command. Roe’s eyes were glazed over and dull as he observed Stephan who merely sat there on his ankles, dumbfounded at what had been revealed. “Please! Enough people have died! You can atone for this! I’ll help you! You don’t have to be Laevan’s slave, I’ll-!” Stephan was cut off as Roe closed the distance between the two of them, and placed a vice grip around the Greek’s throat, cutting off all oxygen supply. Stephan grabbed at Roe’s hand wildly, trying to claw it off, but was largely unable. Unable to control his movements, Roe’s hand tightened further, and Stephan’s once tanned face grew evermore red and finally purple, eyes growing increasingly bloodshot and he began to spasm from asphyxiation. President Laevan merely stood a few feet away, watching the painful murder with bored disregard. Stephan’s eyes locked with Roe’s as he whispered out a few words, “Roe… Don’t… Please…” Though was unable to form a sentence as the Subject strangled him mercilessly. Stephan’s thrashing was lessened greatly as quick moments passed by.

The Subject’s eyes, once dull and listless, brightened abruptly, and he loosened his grip slightly, “I… won’t!” He looked over at Laevan, “I won’t kill him! You can’t make me!” The President of the Pacific Union merely cocked his head before shaking it side to side. Roe’s hand dropped from Stephan’s throat, and the latter coughed violently, holding his now deeply bruised neck in his own hand delicately. Though Roe could feel the temporary control he gained over his body slipping as his hand trembled and was slowly drawn toward his left hip, where he felt the pressure of a sheathed knife on his thigh. “Stephan… I can’t…” He grabbed his left hand with his right, combatting the overwhelming power that had taken his hand once more. He clutched it more tightly, intent on breaking his own wrist, though found the strength in his right, once free hand, failing as the ability to control his own person failed more thoroughly. “Run… Stephan…” He spoke through gritted teeth as he slumped forward, breathing deeply as he used the technique he once used to combat the massive pain of unanesthetised experimentation to battle whatever Laevan was using to control his body, and was able to slightly slow its advance. Though Roe knew he was fighting a losing war, “I… can’t… control my body… run!” Stephan looked up, alarmed, though was clearly still too winded to move very far or very fast. Such was made evident as Roe’s body lurched forward and he grabbed the fleeing Stephan by the belt and dragged him back on his stomach before flipping him onto his back. Drawn from his hip, Roe held a small knife in hand. Something obscured his vision as he fought to control his knife wielding limb which had begun to shakily fall toward Stephan’s chest.

Stephan squirmed and writhed under Roe’s inhuman strength, desperately trying to escape, though found himself immobilised completely as the enthralled Subject delivered a bone shattering foot into his shin, snapping the bones therein as though they were flimsy rods of wood under one’s boot. The horrified Greek cried out in new agony as the charred flesh was thrown off muscle and tendon, for the boot that had been delivered into his leg removed the dead skin in the process of painfully immobilising his leg. Roe merely stared down at him, and Stephan realised that the friend he had valued so highly was gone. The intense and intellectual gaze of Roe was replaced by one dulled by compliance and servitude. Though a more peculiar sight caught Stephan’s attention as Roe continued to fight the advance of the knife which had now begun to agonisingly press into his chest, and had already broken the skin layer. “How… strange… you’re crying but… you’re not even-“ His words were cut off abruptly as Roe lost his war and the blade sunk into Stephan’s chest and was buried up to the hilt. The felled Greek spasmed and thrashed around for a moment, before growing still and a single word finished his last sentence: “… human.” The sound of Doran Laevan’s laughter filled Roe’s ears as he felt his mind crushed by the force that had bested him so thoroughly.

Lurching upward into a seating position in bed, Roe let forth a scream so blood chilling that it echoed off the room and terrified all those in the adjacent rooms. His eyes were wide and bloodshot as he continued his horrific scream that had sent panicked footfalls into motion in the other rooms. Roe clutched at his hair so tightly he felt strands torn from his head and the warmth of blood cascading down the sides of his head. His scream fell silent as his voice gave out from the intensity and duration of the echo of his mental anguish recently felt, though he simply sat there in bed, clutching his head with eyes opened in horror. Across the small room, the door slid into the wall with such a hurry that suggested someone had used the manual release and thrown it open. Scrambling into the room was Stephan whose panicked gaze fell onto Roe who remained in a state of shock. Sprinting to his bedside, the Greek placed his hands on Roe’s, prying them from his head, and spoke with worry saturating every word, “Roe! Roe! What’s wrong?! What’s happened! For god’s sake, come out of it!” He shook the psychologically shocked Subject who had so violently lost composure and sent his compatriots into panic. Though Stephan was the first to arrive, Vadim and Emiliyia shortly joined them. Finally, Stephan’s voice broke into Roe’s mind which had continued to play out the horrific nightmare, and he calmed, and Stephan loosened his grip, only to find the Subject pass out and tumble off his bed and into the ground was the painful smack of his skull as it collided with the tile floor.

*~*

Sonya lurched upward in bed, the three strange, omnipotent figures from her dream still etched into her mind. She looked around, panicked and confused, somehow convinced they would be here in the flesh, though found nothing but the three other beds that her military dormitory housed. Her sudden movements had appeared to wake one of her fellow recruits, though she had yet to notice. Being a multi-gender barracks, it was common to find men and women sharing dormitories, though any sort of fraternizing was strictly prohibited and was subject to severe punishments including but not limited to, were it winter, survival tests in Siberia, whipping and so on. The panicked Russian woman calmed after a moment, only to find a figure rose in their own bed across from her. She groaned inwardly as she realised that the tall figure who had been woken by her strange dream was none other than Ludwig Von Strauss. The ever friendly Estonian who seemed to rightly frighten most with his incredible strength and agility but docile attitude spoke quietly in the dark, “Everything alright there, Volkov?” He smirked wryly, and though Sonya could not see such, she scowled at what he expected was him mocking her, “Have a nightmare?” His words cut deep, mocking her nigh prophetic dream, and she curled her fingers into fists angrily as she sat upright.

“I did not have a nightmare.” She spoke a touch too loud, only to receive an annoyed shush from one of her fellow dormitory mates, the woman who had stared at her on the transport so often, Natasha Pajari. Having confronted the woman after one point, Sonya learned that the young brunette Natasha admired her for her strength and was also very afraid of her, due to what she had heard of people from the Kola Fjord and worried that Sonya might mug her on the way to the rebranded prison camp. Covers angrily discarded, Sonya spun herself to the side and slipped her feet into a pair of combat boots painted a camouflage white and grey, she silently stood and made her way to the door, before stopping next to Ludwig’s bed, finding the ever annoyingly cheerful Estonian to be smiling at her, “And don’t follow me,” She warned harshly as she opened the door to their room and closed it behind her. Following the length of the hall, her footfalls were heavy now that she no longer had to hide herself, and due to the natural weight of combat boots, she was quite noticeable. To her right, the wall was clear and made of one long, uninterrupted sheet of glass that supposedly bent and flexed with the movements of the building. Her gaze drifted upward to the starry sky above.

Although they were within the city of Krasnoyarsk, little light pollution as produced, as the energy deprived city down shut off all street lighting and mandated lights out at midnight to keep solar energy reserves high enough to work in an emergency, which was commonly called when rebellious soldiers sought to steal away in the darkness from Military Training Base Seventeen. Their training commander had informed them that many soldiers had attempted to flee conscription already and were killed on sight for desertion, for such an action had been enforced by a law that had been recently re-instated by the Kremlin in Moscow after being beleaguered by lobbyers from the Pacific Union Parliament to become even tougher on insubordinate soldiers. Her training had not yet begun, though she knew it would be incredibly difficult and with the announcement of Russian mobilisation to aid in evacuating civilians and stop any Subjects or NELO officials from Neo-Palmyra, she was quite sure that they would expedite training immensely, so that the Russian government could showcase its young and impressively large army to the world, thereby affirming their worth to the Pacific Union. Such was an unfortunate necessity for the embattled nation of Russia, for following the running out of the last oil reserves, the country had been severely crippled due to a lack of immensely profitable goods to sell, and many businesses had simply left, leaving the country destitute. Moscow had once been home to the most billionaires in the world, though such a record had moved to Beijing long ago and now the city of Moscow and indeed all of Russia stood as a sad reminder of the dangers of overdependence upon natural, non-renewable resources.

Sonya sighed, annoyed and looked over the starry sky above. Galaxies, stars and nebula twinkled brightly in the nigh infinite cosmos that stretched out endlessly in the sky. The enormity of the universe took her for a moment as she looked over its immaculate beauty. It was as though the great painters of all of history had come together and created such a magnificent display on an otherwise empty, black canvas and made a universe so beautiful that it was only logical for man to stride into it to become one with its beauty and perfection. Though it was her dream that brought her mind back to reality: she had met three great characters, one of which had a likeness that seemed so familiar that she could almost place a name to them, but the other two remained so foreign and mysterious, but at the same time familiar as well, as though she felt a deep connection to them too. Moreover, she had fallen from their presence and saw two other figures in the distance descending to some unknown fate as well. She had initially assumed one of them was her brother, but such seemed intuitively wrong. She would have recognised him. However, she was unable to see the faces of the three mighty beings and so she surmised that such would have been the case for her falling compatriots. She had been witness to the day where her brother Ivan was told by their mother of her incredible indifference for his existence and wellbeing, and Sonya was powerless to stop her from speaking or to save him from having his heart and family-borne love shattered. The scene had made her sick with anger for her mother and grief for an innocent boy learning that his mother did not love him. She clenched her fists once more at her sides, pinning the blame indeed upon her parents, but also upon the accursed disease that had made her parents weak; that had made them cruel and selfish. The Barren had robbed her and Ivan of a proper parentage and she loathed whatever malicious force created it with all her heart.

“You look a bit angry; did your dream do that?” The curious diction and grammar, coupled with the strange accent, indicated that a newcomer had arrived while she let her mind wander, and that it was none other than the one man whom she had forbidden to follow her: Ludwig. She spared him an icy glance, and he merely looked away from her and to the sky, a small smile on his lips, as it almost always was. Silence fell over the two as they merely observed the night sky. “It’s a lovely night,” He commented at one point, his voice ever peaceful and calm. She did agree with him and cursed him silently for being so infernally correct about her dream, but found no words coming to bear and merely stewed in her own annoyance at the man’s perceptive nature. A railing was erected upon the glass wall, likely to stop one from falling through the clear wall, and the two leaned on it as they stargazed, and Ludwig struggled to make conversation with the woman. A small twinkle shot across the sky for a moment, and the chipper Estonian man pointed up at it, his striped pajamas, which she had thoroughly mocked him for, rustling from the movement. “Look, a shooting star,” He said quietly, before looking over at her, “Make a wish.”

At that comment, she felt the anger in her system be defeated, and she merely sagged against the railing, loathing not being victorious in their battle of personalities. There were many, many things that she would wish for, countless opportunities she could have taken up, innumerable facts of her life she would change, and she simply could not think of one thing to wish for. Looking over at the twenty seven year old garbed in the most juvenile sleepwear imaginable, she rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the man. “I wish the world was not such a terrible place,” Sonya spoke aloud, finding an uncharacteristic amount of sadness in her voice, and she quickly scolded herself mentally for sounding weak in front of another. Though if Ludwig found amusement in her sadness, he did not let such be known, and merely nodded in agreement, offering an amicable ‘dah,’ in response, before merely watching the cosmos continue on its endless journey as they, but ants upon a speck of dust in space, hurtled through its enormity.

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