Subjectivity: Chapter Eleven

Doran Laevan sat before a stately and large desk from which a projected screen played out an international news broadcast, and he found himself at a loss at what to think of what the public now saw in him: “… The President isn’t officially a part of the Laevan Foundation, especially since it’s his brother, Galvin Laevan, who runs the foundation. But we have to ask ourselves: even though the Laevan Foundation has had public and private inquiries recently and has come out of them fine, isn’t it a bit troubling that the President’s own family foundation was implicated in arms trading with NELO? The Union government has been incredibly tight lipped over the whole affair, and it strikes me as worrisome.” The President in question offered a decisive snort in response to the broadcast that he had been watching for roughly an hour at such a point. It was ludicrous to him: ‘of course I had nothing to do with the Laevan Foundation, Galvin hasn’t shown his face in years!’ Though once more, the pundit continued forth and Doran made a mental note to publicly discredit the news station for showing such hateful nonsense. The man who had initially spoken, after responding to a few blazingly hostile questions regarding his supposed anti-Union stance, merely continued on his train of thought: “Look, I’m not saying President Laevan is a bad president or a bad man. I think he’s done an excellent job, given the circumstances of his election by the representatives after Ehrhardt’s death. But the people want to know: what does the government know about the Laevan Foundation and NELO? We all know that NELO and its management team are charged with crimes against humanity for natural born human experimentation, but what else are they up to? I say we let the governments of the Union move forward and shut down that damned fake-human mill and give us all the peace of mind we want.’

A short laugh escaped his lips as Laevan saw the man do an ideological one-hundred eighty degree turn in his thoughts about him, and he realised that the broadcasting station likely realised that he would come down on them like a hammer for slandering him so publicly. A few boos echoed in the audience behind the camera as the man finished his statement and was replaced by a young woman with auburn hair and a pair of narrow eyeglasses adorned in a black skirt, jacket and a bright red blouse underneath. As the woman had begun to speak, for a moment, Doran was reminded of Natalie many years ago. “Hello everyone, thanks for having me on the program. My name is Doctor Theresa Stevens and I am a Policy Analyst at the University of Toronto.” At her admission of being Canadian, a few muffled gasps could be heard. “The folks off stage are telling me I don’t have too long, but I’ll give my thoughts on this as well: we need to support the Union government now more than ever. Our economies are finally coming around and seventy nine years after the Barren was cured we’re seeing a return to hard hit areas such as my home nation of Canada and rural Russia. Our studies at the University of Toronto have shown us that, contrary to what NELO officials tell us, the recovery of our economies is not due to the influx of new workers in the form of Subjects, but instead thanks to radical movements by recent administrations, and under the most recent laws instigated by President Laevan we’ve already seen a zero point five percent increase in employment in almost all member nations. That is simply astounding, ladies and gentlemen.” The woman sighed for a moment, a wistful look in her eyes, “I confess, I am Canada-centric when it comes to my analysis, but for the first time in almost eighty years, Canada is seeing an increase in population. Do you know what this tells me? This tells me that-“ President Laevan cut off the broadcast with a single utterance of the word ‘off.’      

His approval rating was at an all-time high; 42%, the economy was on the rebound and the citizenry was beginning to trust him more and more every day. So why did Doran Laevan feel such great unease? The memorable president sat at the desk where he had killed his predecessor, and found himself distinctly uncomfortable at the memory. Thus he stood, pushing his chair back in a smooth motion before he rounded the side of his desk and began to pace. ‘There has got to be a way to crush NELO without looking like the enemy…’ The man mused silently, ‘If we just bomb them, they’ll have the perfect rallying cry: the Union kills children. People don’t hate the Subjects, they fear The Awakening.’ President Laevan paused, eyeing the continuous glass that was the back wall of the Pacific Union’s president office, silently recalling the bloody smear that had been left there after Ehrhardt’s body had been removed. “Go to hell, Bill,” the current president hissed angrily. Doran pointedly refused to admit to himself his true feelings on what he had done, “You would’ve done the same thing in my shoes.” Somehow, however, the middle aged president did not believe his own words, and deflated slightly at the fallacy that they were.

Before the presidential desk sat a two black leather couches facing one another and separated by a glass coffee table. The mentally beleaguered man took a heavy seat upon one of these small couches and merely stared forward. “I can’t do anything like this. The damned representatives are up in arms over me introducing C-26,” though Doran allowed himself a small smirk, “Though they might just be angry because their parliaments are supporting the bill.” It was then that Doran sat up, his dark gaze lighting up with self-perceived brilliance. The aged president allowed himself a small chuckle, revelling in his own brilliance, before standing once more and making his way to the slim handheld phone that sat upon his desk and dialed a lengthy number. Doran drummed his fingers on the wooden tabletop of his desk impatiently as he waited for his subordinate to pick up. His gaze fell to the idyllic scenery outside his office, and President Laevan wordlessly considered that, once he had retaken Neo-Palmyra from Natalie, he would move the administrative and executive offices of the Union to the island. “Poetic justice,” the words fell from his mouth, and the normally controlled man allowed himself a manic smirk for but a moment. Though his composure was regained as the ringing finally ceased and someone picked up the phone.

The man on the other line’s voice was grizzled and serious, and he seemed to be annoyed that someone was calling him, regardless of it being only midday, “General Godfried.” Laevan was about to speak when the a slight disturbance could be heard in the background, something that the president assumed was some sort of collapse of a structure. Without lowering the headset from his head, Martin Godfried, commanding general of the Pacific Union joint military shouted: “Damn it, boy! Drop that again and we’ll all be blown to high hell! Thomson, get your soldier under control or I will!” President Laevan removed the headset from his ear as Godfried continued to shout, and although he found the man’s yelling annoying, he could not deny that his commanding officer of the army was very much dedicated to his job. “Alright, what,” Godfried’s words echoed into the receiver, and Laevan frowned. Though he did admire the man for his duty and loyalty, he didn’t care for his often insubordinate attitude and decided that perhaps an exercise in patience as he had given him was due. Thus Doran Laevan merely left the receiver at his ear as General Godfried grew more and more impatient.

“Apologies, General, one of my secretaries was asking what I wanted for lunch.” President Laevan could practically feel Godfried’s anger at his condescension through the phone. Outside, a parasailor swooped by on the choppy waves that had grown as the sky became evermore overcast. The man’s parachute, high in the air, flapped violently as the stormy winds pulled and tugged at him. Laevan found the sight to be a curious one, for the man seemed to struggle so futilely against the elements that harangued him so, though he continued onward, determine to achieve some ludicrous goal. ‘Why do you not merely give in? This world will not bend for you willingly; you must bend it to your desires, or be a pawn forevermore.’ Godfried had begun talking, though President Laevan was far beyond listening to the man’s ramblings about a new kind of engine they were testing, one that used anti-matter. The esteemed man had gone on to explain that such means of propulsion, while easy made in space, where incredibly dangerous on earth and that modes of transportation that ran off anti-matter were incredibly volatile and could irradiate an entire town if damaged. “I look forward to seeing the results, General, but that is not why I have called.” Doran paused for a long moment before speaking once more, “We have a problem, you see. The Pacific Union’s representative remained divided on what to do about Neo-Palmyra and NELO. Many say that we should merely entrap the Subjects there and let them live peacefully. But you and I both know that they will wish to rejoin their families and leak back into society. Others agree with me that the island must be retaken as the territorial government no longer acts in the interests of its parent state, the US. As the former American representative I cannot let that stand. I need you to… deliver a message to one of the federal governments of the Union, courtesy of NELO.”

Silence followed his words as Godfried either stood, appalled by the idea or considering how it could be done. Given the man’s dubious military history which included his service in the three sided American second civil war wherein he was tried, though acquitted, for war crimes, Laevan was skeptical of the man having moral qualms with his plan. “Hm,” was all that initially came from the General, and President Laevan frowned, growing even more impatient with the man. “This can be done. NELO is – was a part of the Laevan Foundation up until their seventh generation of Subjects so we could say that they had kept some of the company’s military prototypes. You of all people know quite well that the Laevan Foundation was illegally testing weapons back in the day under the guise of medical testing.” General Godfried chuckled a little, earning a grunt of annoyance from the President. “Anyways. Yes, I’ll have this done. It’ll be good to have all the representatives on one page about Subjects. In either case, my boys and I have been dying to try out a new toy and Neo-Palmyra would be the perfect place to do it.” Laevan nodded, regardless of the man he was speaking to being unable to see such motions, though Martin Godfried continued his thought. “We’ll deliver one of the O-4’s to Zhongnanhai in Beijing. A big boom will scare everyone nicely.”

Godfried’s amicable nature both emboldened and worried President Laevan. For the general had been a close ally of Ehrhardt before his death and was outraged to hear of his death and so after Doran Laevan had killed Ehrhardt he had made a conscious note to not include the dangerous man in the cover. “Right, thank you. Goodbye,” and without waiting for a response, the grey haired man hung up and sighed a deep sigh. Were he discovered for performing such devious acts, the people would have his head. Thankfully, being the President of twelve of some of the most powerful countries in the world had its advantages. “I’m a little like Cesar, aren’t I, Bill?” The man inquired to nobody, his powerful gaze leering out the window at the stormy seas. White froth was kicked up by the choppy waves and the man who had so struggled against their initial annoyance was no longer to be seen. Laevan took a seat at his desk and spun the chair around, deciding that it would be nice to watch the weather turn. “Natalie, I’m going to grind you into the dirt… I’m going to make you relive what happened all those years ago.” His words, laced with pure and unaltered hatred slipped from his lips, and the man allowed himself a small grin as he watched the grey waves flow in. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, letting his breath leave him relaxed and calm. “Yes, I understand what I must do…” With his strange words, he turned his chair and activated his computer.

Though it was another presence that disturbed his relaxed nature as he opened his email system; the doors to his office opened abruptly and from them stepped in a foreign looking figure. Donned in beige and tan robes, the man was frail and sickly looking. His skeletal person was readily visible as the tight fitting robes he wore accentuated every unsightly bone that stuck awkwardly out of his skin. “If you wish to speak to yourself, you had best recall that those who have Woken can never not hear you, sinner.” The word fell like spittle from the hateful man’s mouth and the aged president scowled at the unsightly man. Doran Laevan rose with such urgency that his chair fell backward and crashed down noisily. His dark gaze looked to the doors of his office, which the newcomer looked to and shook his head. “The sheep will not be interrupting their corrupted shepherd’s enlightening,” the man slowly paced forward, his sickly thin hand extended toward Doran, and the latter took a few steps backward. “So you do remember me.” The man laughed a rasp of a chuckle before rounding the corner of Laevan’s desk and cornering him. An eerie silence fell over the two as Subject One’s skeletal fingers caressed Doran Laevan’s face, the calloused skin causing the President to shudder. “Ever disturbed by me? My holy nature does disturb the impure.” The man’s crimson eyes held Laevan’s dark gaze still as his fingers slowly wound around the President’s neck, having fallen from his face. “I would be a hero to many if I merely felled you here. But that is not God’s will.”

Doran Laevan grabbed the man by the wrist and attempted to wrench his hand off his neck, though found himself unable to remove the frail man before him. “I loathe you. You are a monster and you will always be a monster!” Subject One’s grip tightened on his throat and the angered President felt his breath cut off and blood rush to his head. His grip on the first Subject’s wrist tightened as he failed to pry his hand off his throat. “Natalie and I… were wrong… to bring you into the world!” At such words, Subject One’s hand fell to his side, his crimson gaze wide with shock. President Laevan coughed for a long moment as he struggled to regain his breath, “You know it to be true. We named you for hope. Hope for a better tomorrow.” Doran Laevan composed himself and righted his chair before taking a seat once more. Subject One merely stood there before him. “You tried to get rid of your name. How you’ve tried to remove yourself from the equation. But you’re exactly what you claim to hate.” The aged president chuckled a dark, small and cold laugh. “Subject One? You made The Awakening after she and I abandoned you. You wanted to stop us, so you took on this nonsensical persona of religious piety. It’s all just a disgusting lie and the idiotic public fell for it like the fools they are!” Though his glib amusement fell, and Doran’s gaze fell to the computer screen that had appeared before him previously. “Then Galvin, Natalie and I made an agreement. We’d do everything we could to stop you. But she betrayed us! She was so disgusted at what you did – when you destroyed NELO One. The world was on our side! ‘Protect the Subjects!’ ‘Give them rights!’ You recall, I’m sure.” Doran Laevan paused before looking past Subject One and outside to the stormy day where the waves had grown ever higher and more dangerous.

“And so you wanted to do it again. After condemning me publicly without repose, you decided that, if you copied me, and destroyed NELO Two, Natalie’s NELO, you’d gain enough public support to stop me and advance yourself to help your own nonsensical plan.” The taut skin about his face tightened as he glared at the President before him, “You are disgusting and as vile as Lucifer yourself!” His fist clenched at his side and he slammed it into the desk beside him with an unbridled fury not seen in the man for a long world. “Satan’s very children: you brought us into the world and so I will return these soulless creations to God so that they might never again plunge the world into this chaos! For my methods are unimportant; I am not a callous man like you, I am but the golden sword of god.” His words only seemed to bring amusement to the formerly shocked President. Their conversation rocked the two from one extreme of emotions to another without repose, and evidently it had begun to wear on the cursed looking figure that was Subject One. “You named me for Hope. I am hope incarnate! I will crush everything Natalie and you two aim to achieve. Natalie’s monsters and your insane ideas. You were united in your plan to destroy NELO Two for your own wellbeing to help the world, but she was merciful where you were cold! I am Subject One, I am The Awakening!” His words echoed around the room with the sickly rasp that accompanied his voice, and the President merely sat, his gaze fixed upon the man in contempt.

Doran Laevan’s hand moved to the top drawer in his desk and drew from it a matte black handgun, one which Subject One knew to be one of the Laevan Foundation’s products: a gun which shot pellets that released a lethal dose of electricity to the recipient. Laevan raised the gun to his creation’s forehead as he rose to a stand, the cold metal of the weapon pressed against yellowed skin. “How easy it would be,” he mocked the man coldly, “To end your accursed life here and now!” He loaded the weapon with a metallic click and steadied his hand. “You who we placed so much hope in, you whom I used to further my ends. You call yourself free? You will never be free so long as I draw breath!” Subject One looked neither worried nor shocked, for he merely stood there, his blood gaze fixed upon the man before him. “But,” Doran Laevan lowered the weapon, “As I say, I still need your help. I have Godfried working on planting evidence to implicate NELO for a bombing of Zhongnanhai that he will have done. Afterward, I’m going to crush the resistance on Neo-Palmyra and level NELO with Natalie inside… She will finally learn, after all these years of avoiding death, that actions have consequences and to spurn me will be her most lethal mistake!” Doran Laevan smirked a cold, thin line before speaking once more; “And you will be the one to kill her, Subject One… Or shall I call you by your true name... Roe Speremus?”

~*~

Stephan watched the young woman who had held them at gun point leave and recalled her parting words: “If you want to meet Logan, you’ll have to get there yourself. I’m not putting my ass on the line for you two.” Roe did not seem perturbed by the woman’s reluctance to aid them, but the Greek found it to be a bad omen, and silently wished that, instead of having to traverse a foreign town, they could simply be shown the way. However it was reminiscent of a trial of sorts, and from that realisation Stephan resigned to the reality that he woman had imposed. After all, who were they to make demands if they could not even protect themselves? With a derisive snort, Stephan removed his gaze from the woman had quickly ducked into one of the fallen buildings’ ruined beings. ‘Maybe Roe can get there just fine, but I’m a student! I don’t know anything about protecting myself from being shot.’ The rebel woman whose shirt had emblazoned upon it the rising sun of the Red Dawn did not seem either friendly nor overly hostile, and so Stephan decided that perhaps there was hope for them to garner the Red Dawn’s favour and beseech them for aid.  Stephan could feel Roe’s presence at his side, though he refused to look over, for he endeavoured to remain composed and strong in their tumultuous circumstances. The two strode over the rubble of what appeared to be Laevous’ town square and all around the ruined carcases of buildings could be seen as unsteady and squat monoliths against the failing evening sun. Once an impressive fountain, the central feature of the square had been reduced to rubble and in its place stood a pile of debris, though Stephan paid it little heed as the two traversed the unsteady path they had carved through the rubble. Where Stephan found his steps unsteady and uncertain, Roe seemed to bound across the ruins as though he had traversed it thousands of times and even with his agile frame, Stephan found himself woefully outmatched by his counterpart. The thought of how Roe had become so strong both physically and mentally disturbed the young Greek.

He would readily profess to himself that he cared a great deal for the enigmatic figure, but he could not help but note how unnatural Roe was in many regards. Though not including his personality, something Stephan found to be without any sort of disturbing elements, the blond Subject presented a quandary. It was impossible for a regular human being to be as well suited to walking over rubble with such ease when having never perceivably been in a similar situation, or for him to be able to easily overpower someone much larger than him as he did in the dining hall and so forth. However, Stephan kept his questions to himself, worried that, were he to inquire of Roe’s past any further than he already had, he would merely be pushed away and the Greek man did not enjoy such prospects. Instead, the two continued onward and after they had exited the ruined town square they rounded a street corner. However what they saw there caused both Roe and Stephan to halt in their advance. A building made of white brick had been splayed onto the road, and although such was of little surprise, it was what was laying within the brick structure that horrified Stephan. Contorted, battered, bloodied and many others crushed under debris, lay the bodies of children no older than twelve or thirteen. The wind picked up at that moment and the wretched smell of death assaulted their nostrils. Stephan felt bile rise in his throat and he clamped a hand over his mouth, both supressing a scream of horror and the urge to vomit. Even the ever emotionally removed Roe seemed rather shocked, his azure eyes wide with surprise. Stephan shambled toward the scene, a raging tempest of emotions rocking his mind to its foundations as he fell to his knees at the body of a young boy, his dark skin stained with blood and his chest split open at the sternum from what appeared to be a piece of rebar. A shaky hand extended, Stephan placed it on the boy’s shoulder, “Hey, kid… wake up…” His voice was broken as he shook the boy’s shoulder, and he found his vision beginning to blur. Tiny stains of dark appeared on the boy’s shirt as Stephan tried to wake the dead child and he realised he was crying. “C’mon, wake up… Your parents must be worried…” He shook the boy’s shoulder once more before merely falling forward, catching himself with his hands, and felt the tears fall freely from his head.

Roe was there, then, his shadow covering Stephan, and merely looked on. The young boy’s eyes were wide open and stared lifelessly upward. The Subject dropped to a knee with a smooth descent next to Stephan, who looked over with pain and anguish made clear in his bloodshot and teary eyes. Roe did not speak and instead placed two fingers on the boy’s brow and closed his eyes. “He should not look so horrified in death.” Stephan merely nodded, having slowly begun to compose himself, “Now he might instead be merely asleep.” The words came out slowly and awkwardly as the reposed figure struggled to provide solace to his counterpart who had appeared to take the finding of the children’s deaths very personally. Roe silently wondered why that was the case, though decided such contemplation were best left for another day. His cold gaze looked over the morbid scene before him: many more children were left in much less respectable conditions as the one Stephan had arrived at. One child ten feet away was barely recognisable, for rubble had crushed her upper body, leaving her lower ribs sticking out her pink t-shirt and Roe merely stared for a long moment. “Stephan, we cannot stop here. Their deaths will mean nothing if we do not continue.” His words came out quietly as he attempted to not offend his now silent friend. Stephan’s gaze, hidden from sight, abruptly looked up to Roe, a glimmer of hope in the sea-green orbs laden with heartbreak.

Stephan lurched upward and wrapped his arms around Roe tightly, embracing the Subject with such force that Roe felt his breath forced out of him for a moment. Bloodstained hands clawed at Roe’s back as Stephan’s tears were renewed. “Why did they do this, Roe…?” The Greek’s words were broken and miserable as he clung to his compatriot tightly, “Why would they do this to children!?” His questions came out frantically as Roe merely sat upon the haunches of his legs, unsure of how to act or what to say. The blond opened his mouth to speak, but found no suitable answers and instead, with a tentative movement, returned Stephan’s embrace and merely sat there as the heartbroken Greek sobbed for the loss of life that lay still before them. Roe’s gaze drifted over the ruined building which he then realised was once a school. Another child, looking to be five years old, merely lay upon the rubble, a long and deep gash down his sternum that had opened him like a frog for dissection. The Subject who was still being held tightly to felt his eyes widen as he was reminded of the many times he was opened in a similar manner with little sedation and experimented on. He felt his hands involuntarily tighten in the fabric of Stephan’s coat as he merely sat there, his oddly emotional gaze fixated upon the sorry child who looked to have died by not the destruction of the building, but a bayonet knife skewering them. “We will make the Union – no, we will make Laevan pay for what he has done here. Doran Laevan will answer for his crimes.” With that, Roe removed his arms from Stephan who mimicked the gesture.

The Subject rose to a stand and offered a hand to Stephan, who took it and stood as well. “You’re right… But once we’re done with the Red Dawn, we should come back here. Give these kids a proper burial. Even if their families are dead… I can’t just let them…” The brunet trailed off as Roe merely offered a nod. Although Roe did not understand why such was necessary, he decided that such understanding was not needed, and that a social contract as he had forged with Stephan did not require an immediate reason. The two merely stood for a long moment before Roe once more ushered Stephan onward and the two carefully rounded the field of debris that made up the school, the latter pointedly avoiding looking at the grizzly sight. Stephan’s mind had begun to wander as he and Roe continued down the rubble covered streets, evermore aware of the atrocities that were making themselves known. Fallen into silence, the only sound that Stephan heard was the sound of debris underfoot and the rustling of fabric from either himself or Roe before him. The Subject remained a confusion topic for Stephan, though he found himself more comfortable with him as time grew on, for although there was much more to the Subject next to him that he did not know, he felt confident that Roe’s secrets were not those which could hurt himself or the young Greek. However his ambling thoughts were abruptly ceased as he saw a tiny glint ahead in one of the ruined buildings. His sea-green eyes peered forward, endeavouring to discern what had created the metallic sheen when he realised what it was: a barrel of a sniper rifle of some sort. “Roe-,” the young man was cut off as the sound of a bullet was fired, and Stephan felt Roe grab him by the shoulder and collar and hurl him into the ground.

Stephan’s ears rung with a dull ring after his head struck the ground and he groaned slightly. Though Roe was already on the move, sprinting forward with inhuman speed and it was then that Stephan felt blood trickle from his forehead. He reached up and felt a painful wound on the top of his head and realised that the bullet had grazed his head. He forced himself to a stand and hurried after Roe, though the blond Subject was already a few feet before the assailant. “You will die for that, and die painfully!” Roe’s voice sounded with such fury that Stephan found the anger so out of character he almost stopped in his chase after the Subject. As he arrived, Roe had a hand on the man’s gun and with one sickening snap, twisted the weapon out of the soldier’s hand and broke his wrist. The man, garbed in a white and gold Pacific Union military uniform, looked at Roe with surprise and cried out in pain as his hand was made useless. “Cry for mercy...” Roe’s voice hissed out as he grasped the man’s broken wrist and clenched ruthlessly. Once more the man shouted in pain, “Cry out, damn you.” Once more, Roe’s dread fury struck fear in Stephan who took a step forward as Roe’s grip on the soldier’s wrist moved down the man’s arm tightened when another break could be heard. Roe’s eyes were narrowed balefully as the man fell to his knees, still unable to conjugate any words and instead would only cry out and scream as Roe tortured him. “How dare you try to kill Stephan…” With his words, Roe delivered a crushingly strong foot into the man’s chest, knocking the wind out of him, and sending him onto his back. The cold eyed Subject slowly stalked toward the man who shambled backward, clutching his broken arm to his chest.

“Roe!” Stephan shouted, causing the blond Subject to look up, the anger in his eyes receding in place of the cool gaze that the reclusive figure almost always wore. “You can’t kill him,” the young Greek stated, his voice wavering for put a moment, “You can’t.” Having hoisted the man up by his combat harness, Roe dropped him to the ground and stared at Stephan, his eyes wide. The young Greek held the other’s gaze and felt as though he was not staring at the Roe he knew, but an entirely different person: a man of volatile emotions that were barely contained, and in those maddened azure eyes he could see a force equally powerful slowly fighting its way back to dominance. After a moment, Roe composed himself and the emotionless mask he wore returned. Stephan grabbed Roe by the wrist and moved his right hand into the air for both to see. Roe’s pale knuckles were covered in blood from delivering innumerable punches to the man’s face, and the damage was readily evident in the form of missing teeth and a broken nose. “Do you see this, Roe? This is what Laevan does. Not you.” Stephan spoke as calmly as he could, for although he did not fear his Subject friend, he did fear for those who angered him. Roe retracted his hand, peering at the blood covered appendage before canting his withering gaze to the man who sat, propped up against a destroyed wall of someone’s house, some sort of handheld firearm in his hand, shakily aimed at Roe. The Subject did not look remotely worried as the man sat there and threatened to kill him. Stephan’s heart sunk as he saw the display; he had saved the man from being beat to death and now he was going to try to kill them? “Why is it…” He could feel the anger building in his heart, “Why is it that violence is all you people think of doing?!” He stood abruptly, and the soldier aimed his weapon at Stephan, though the young man was far beyond caring.

Roe too stood, though Stephan placed a firm hand on his chest and kept him back with a shaking of his head. Stephan continued his advance on the man whose weapon continued to tremble noisily in his hands. His face, bloodied and broken, was a cacophony of fear and fury as he stared up at Stephan, though Stephan felt no anger anymore, only sorrow. Sorrow for the children who had died, sorrow for the fact that this man had been hurt so badly, sorrow for Roe who had been made so cold by a world that hated him so and so Stephan fell to a knee, the cold metal of the weapon placed against his chest. The bulletproof fabric of the suit that he wore under his clothing gave him extra security, but the Greek man was unsure if it be able to stop a bullet at point blank range. Roe stood close by, the handgun he carried behind his back drawn and aimed at the man, were he to try anything. “You think you’re better than me?” The soldier spoke coldly, “What good has your limp wristed kindness ever brought?” He offered a withering chuckle before speaking once more: “Kill me, you coward. Because there’s nothing good that can come from keeping me alive. Or can you not do it? I bet you haven’t killed anyone…” The man trailed off, and spat a rather unsightly mess of blood and spittle to the side. Stephan shot a scowl at Roe as he loaded his own weapon, and waved him away, though the Subject did not relent, and merely kept his weapon trained on the soldier. “Conflict of interests, eh? Looks like I pissed off your friend…” The soldier offered Roe a smug smirk, however the young blond man did not even seem to notice as he merely stood there, observing the man closely. “Not very talkative now, is he? How dull.”

“Just shut up…” Stephan spoke quietly through clenched teeth. He loathed the soldier with his very being for he had offered the man peace but had his generosity spat upon like the wad of phlegm and blood that sat next to the felled man. “You tried to kill me, but I’m willing to forgive that if you leave.” Roe looked to the Greek for a moment before returning his gaze to the soldier who sat against the wall, his weapon still placed on Stephan’s chest. The man’s dark brows knit in thought as he considered the offer and slowly lowered the weapon, which Stephan quickly took out of his still useful hand and handed it to Roe. “If I see you again… If you try to hurt myself or Roe…” Stephan let out an exasperated sigh and spoke three words with such great reluctance and heartbreak that he found them to be little more than a whisper: “I’ll kill you.” The man’s eyes widened in disbelief for a moment before he struggled to his feet, and without another word, shambled off in the direction they had come. Both Stephan and Roe watched the man leave and as the man rounded a street corner, the former felt himself visibly deflate, and he slumped before looking at his hands. He had threatened the man with death. “Who am I to take his life away…?” Stephan asked silently. Roe provided no answer, and if the Subject had one, it was evident he did not wish to give it. Instead, Roe merely stepped toward the morally compromised young man and shook his head, as if to imply that he was not in the wrong in his threat. Though Stephan did not doubt that he would have been justified in killing the man on some level, he would never truly outlive the guilt of widowing someone, or leaving children bereft of a parent.

Roe began to walk in the direction of town hall once more before he paused and found Stephan merely standing where the altercation had taken place, “Let us be off, Stephan.” His words were stoic and cool, though Stephan took from them a modicum of strength and after a moment of repose followed the already departing Subject. The two continued to walk in silence and from time to time would see the occasional corpse in one of the many ruined buildings they passed and although no living human beings, the Greek man could not deny a heavy feeling of being watched. Roe too seemed to notice the observed feeling that permeated the ruined, quiet town and his gaze was ever wandering, all the more aware to look out for anymore soldiers. The two did not encounter anymore Union military soldiers, however, in the still air of a town rent of life, a heavy feeling of morbidity coupled the sense of being watched, and Stephan found himself reminded of many of the towns he had visited in the United States. During the Second Civil War, many states had their populations cleaved in two from the vastly destruction ‘bunker buster’ mini nuclear warheads that, although did not produce significant radiation, provided a powerful explosive strong enough to vaporise a few city blocks. As the young brunet was drawn into the past of his war-torn homeland, the two rounded a corner and were finally privy to the town hall. Once, a palatial looking building with four columns supporting a semi-circular outcropping based off a rectangular building with two wings facing away from the street, the building was now a sorry remnant of itself. Porcelain white cement walls were now blasted with black pitch and incendiary debris, a dome roof had collapsed and all that was left was a sorry, fallen roof that had appeared to let in birds, for a few flew out as they viewed the ruined building.

Small tendrils of black smoke wafted from the building’s collapsed north wing and from the south wing lights flickered in ruined windows and in these rooms the shifting forms of various individuals could be seen, however Stephan found his attention diverted as he felt the heavy gaze of Roe boring into him, and so with a quick glance, the two returned to their advance on the town hall. Only after a few steps were they stopped, and from the rubble around them four figures emerged; two on either side, with what appeared to be rifles that shot tazering pellets and upon that realisation Stephan halted abruptly, quite worried for his own safety. No words were uttered, no threats, not demands of why they were there, for the four merely stood, weapons drawn and trained on Roe and Stephan. The former did not seem even remotely concerned and merely stared at the building before them, his hands at his sides. From the shattered glass doors stepped a familiar figure; now garbed in black cargo pants and the same tank top adorned with a torn leather jacket, the woman slowly made her way toward the two. “At ease, gentlemen, these two are honoured guests. Red wants to see them himself.” From her words, the four burly male guards lowered their weapons and merely stood, their gazes never leaving Stephan or his Subject counterpart. “Come now, boys, but don’t be too shocked at what you see inside,” the woman from before offered a sly smirk and beckoned for them to follow. With a scrape of the heel of her boot, she turned and returned on her way to the building she had exited. Following closely behind, Stephan noted the unsettling amount of individuals armed with rifles and sniper rifles in shattered windows on the second floor, many of which were trained on he and his comrade.

Stephan entered the ruined town hall after their escort, and inside he saw a truly deplorable sight. What he suspected were a hundred citizens of Laevious sat huddled in the building’s expansive lobby. The room itself stretched uninterrupted to the second floor wherein one found large, spider web-like holes in the roof. From these holes failing sunlight poured in and cast strange shadows all about, and on the far side of the building was a ten foot wide set of stairs that led to what Stephan assumed was the town council chamber, given the signs indicating the room being off limits, and on the second level two halls led in opposite directions to the wings of the building. However it was not the ruined architecture that held the young Greek man in shocked awe, it was the people within the building. Many were bloodied and adorned with thick bandaging, others merely lay still under dirty blankets with arms or legs exposed and covered in shoddy casts. The scene seemed like something out of the twenty first century; primitive medicines clumsily applied and leaving the patient in waking agony. Their guide spoke up about the eighty percent destruction of the town and their works to keep the remaining twenty percent functioning, however Stephan had already stopped paying attention. A young boy with a lacerated arm sat against a wall, clutching his arm against his chest and sobbed quietly. The sight rocked Stephan at his core and he simply stopped, eliciting a rather annoyed grunt from the female ‘freedom fighter’ as she had introduced herself and a merely quirking of a golden brow from Roe. The light footfalls of Stephan were all that sounded as he rushed to the child who looked terrified at his hurried arrival. Stephan dropped to a knee before the boy who trembled weakly and as he began to shift away from him, Stephan offered him a sad smile, and the injured child stared at him skeptically. “Please, I want to help.” Stephan spoke as gently as possible, and the boy relaxed slightly. Roe stood next to him, his freezing gaze set upon the boy, though at his unfriendly visage, the child shied away and instead focused on Stephan as he removed his long jacket and placed it at his side before also removing his crimson t-shirt. “My name is Stephan, Stephan Tharros. What’s yours?” Stephan inquired kindly.

The boy, looking to be no more than thirteen years old had the horrified look of one who had seen a great many injustices in a short timeframe, and when Stephan looked to Roe, he saw a quizzical, distant look in the Subject, and surmised that he had recalled his own past. The boy spoke up in a quiet, raspy voice: “Jacob…” Seeing the young man before him remove his shirt, the boy cocked a black eyebrow as Stephan tore from the bottom of his shirt a thick section of fabric before replacing it on himself as well as the coat he had also worn. Now with a rather asymmetric cut on the shirt, it served very little purpose, though the brunet ignored it and continued in his ministrations. He was no field medic, let alone a doctor, but he knew that the boy would bleed to death if the wound was not contained, and from the many deep cuts that disfigured his skin, Stephan surmised that the boy would not fare well if not given proper treatment soon. Warning the boy pain would be felt, Jacob whined as the stranger began covering his wounds tightly, “Hey! That hurts, you know.” Stephan did not speak, though offered a sympathetic frown before finally covering his forearm. Stephan sat backward and looked to his work and offered a quick nod. “Thank you, I guess…” Stephan opened his mouth to speak, though their guide cleared her throat and looked expectantly to the Greek, who only stared incredulously at her. An awkward silence fell over those gathered. Roe merely stared at the child, a knowing expression in his azure eyes.

“I wouldn’t press him over what happened, kid.” The woman spoke up after a long moment and Roe merely nodded. “Or anyone here, really.” With a firm hand on his shoulder, the leather garbed woman pushed Stephan forward and toward the staircase. Stephan offered a wave to the boy who only stared at the ground, asleep, dead, or lost in his own thoughts, the Greek man could not say. With Roe next to him, the three ascended the dirty, cracked stone steps, the woman spoke again: “Look, it’s easy to explain. Those people, down there?” She motioned to those gathered in the lobby, “They’re the lucky ones. They were close to town hall or on the outskirts; places the Union wanted intact or it was impractical to destroy.” The woman grunted angrily as she looked down over the sorry masses huddled together, whispering quietly to one another, many of which stared up at them. “The Pacific Union doesn’t really want Siochana. It’s strategically worthless, and this isn’t exactly a war, they’re just crushing a bunch of people who don’t want to let NELO and all those kids become prisoners of war.” She turned sharply and led them down the hall toward the south wing. “Laevan just wants to make an example and call it justice. Fucking sick bastard…” Roe, at such words, offered a short ‘hm’ in thought, and Stephan cast a gaze to the blond who only stared forward. “The Union military bigwigs, we think it’s Godfried himself that called for it; they want to destroy Siochana and say they had to because we, Palmyra, that is, had bombed Beijing. NELO’s a Subject facility and we’re just trying to keep these damned people alive.” She motioned to the ruined building around them. Once bright red carpet had been stained with dirt and rubble and crunched lightly underfoot. “Why is that so damned hard?”

Roe looked to Stephan, a warning look in his eyes, “Because Laevan and the Union are powerful. Godfried was a part of the United States’ Civil War a few years back; he knows how to spread fear. The most logical means to make the Subjects a global enemy is to paint them as civilian killing monsters who object to anything and everything people hold dear.” The three stopped before a set of double doors marked as the mayor’s office. Stephan and their ebon haired guide merely stared at Roe, both looking to be rather surprised at the fact that he spoke after being silent for so long.  “Were I in Godfried’s position, I would make an example of Neo-Palmyra. I would make it so that the public feared and hated NELO, and an easy way to achieve such would be to blame an atrocity on them. This bombing you speak of in Beijing is a logical step, but it is not definitive. No, this is too centralised. This will enrage the Chinese and the Asian Union countries, but it has to be public. Laevan would be wise to…” The Subject trailed off, evidently realising a vital piece of information before simply looking to Stephan, his brows knitted in thought for a long moment. “Regardless, let us meet with this Red.” Roe’s voice was calm and low as he spoke, as though he had an inclination as to what the Union’s next move was and it troubled him greatly. Stephan observed him closely, though if Roe’s countenance was to aid him in gleaning anything, the Greek could not find any indicators and after a moment merely gave up. With a curt nod to their attending rebel, a single door was opened for him and Roe.

Inside the office was typical of the ruinous nature of the town and the building. A central desk sat, largely undamaged, save a broken corner and numerous scrapes. Overturned filing cabinets made of sleek, smooth metals were dented and spread over the floor to slow an offending intruder, and moreover the windows were blacked out with what appeared to be the remnants of desktops. At the centre desk sat a familiar figure. Bright red hair was swept to the side and pale skin was marred with cuts, bruises and the man’s arm was held in a sling under a camouflage coat. Roe took a few steps forward, though if he was surprised, he did not show it in his emotionless visage. The woman who had accompanied them silently took her leave as an awkward silence descended over the three. “Logan Hayes.” Roe quirked a single brow at the man who only offered him a wry grin. The Subject only offered a slight ‘hm’ at the reveal of the man known as Red who led a few brazen citizens against the ever growing assault against a civilian town bereft of citizens, however Stephan seemed more surprised and somewhat disturbed at the revelation. “I understand, now. If a Subject led a rebellion against a peacekeeping mission the Union would have more than enough license to assault a civilian town. You are a fool.” The man who so often wore a wicked grin quirked a single brow before relaxing his face and sighed. The two merely stared at each other as a deafening silence overtook all parties in the room.

Logan Hayes pushed himself to a stand, and winced in pain before clutching his tethered arm. The crimson haired man stepped around his desk and Stephan saw that his right leg was covered in long metal spires that supported his weight and he shambled toward them, and the young brunet found himself pitying the man for his injuries. Indeed, the entire right side of his body was damaged greatly, for his right eye was almost completely shut from what appeared to be a painful infection upon closer infection. Logan offered a small smile to Roe who only nodded once as he stepped behind the blond Subject and placed a hand on his shoulder before speaking: “I’m sorry for this, Roe, Stephan.” The man’s voice was solemn and calm, though laden with morose. Panic took  Stephan, though Roe only placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, as if to tell him that it was necessary. As he let his hand fall, Roe mouthed the words ‘It will be okay, Stephan. Be patient.’ With those words Stephan felt a blunt instrument strike him across the back of his head and as he stumbled forward, his gaze blurred and he only saw Roe collapse backward after he too was struck. Stephan felt his form hit the floor, though the pain of such was lost to him. As his eyes drooped and finally closed, the last thing Stephan saw was Roe’s still form crumpled before him, his azure gaze fixated upon him. Stephan felt his mind fall into an unconscious state and he could only guess that he was speaking:

“Roe, help…”

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