Subjectivity: Chapter Fifteen

The wind drifted lazily through the spindly, snow covered trees and rustled their weak beings. Swaying to and fro with the intermittent gusts, snow drifted down from the trees and gave the false sense of the land experiencing a snow fall. However idyllic looking, the clear sky above left the Siberian landscape bitterly cold and Sonya could see her breath before her which was released in short puffs of white. “I was thinking that, with two to three months, considering how we play this, I could travel to Polyarny and get my brother and bring him here.” Sonya spoke after she and Ludwig had walked in silence for roughly a half hour. Her idea seemed to intrigue her taller counterpart, though the Estonian said nothing for the time being, and only canted his dark gaze to her for a moment. Having not realised that the vast majority of her thought process was unknown to her counterpart, she expanded on her idea: “My parents – and calling them that is a justice they do not deserve, I assure you – are quite simply put: monstrous.” He merely nodded as she spoke, and from the generally interested look he was giving her periodically, she assumed he hadn’t thought the idea entirely asinine yet. “Their parents were hit hard with the Barren, but weren’t made infertile. Instead they were just riddled with cancers,” she paused, offering a bitter little chuckle at the idea of referring to multiple cancers at once as just something before continuing: “And they, like so many others, passed down inferior genetic data to my parents which made them, well… kind of mentally unstable. But nonetheless they had kids and, for a few years, they loved it.” She looked forward once more, the tranquil wintry landscape of rolling plains of snow coupled with the massive snow-capped peaks of Siberia’s mountain ranges all around them seeming to calm her from the memories she abhorred so. “For the first five years of my life or so, they showered me with everything they could afford but, when my little brother Ivan was born, they just lost interest in me and never gave any interest to him at all. Naturally he’s a bit bitter about it and, well…” She trailed off, the memory of the dream she had experienced a few nights previous made fresh in her mind at the mention of her family life.

Ludwig nodded thoughtfully, “And so you want to get him out of there. Makes sense.” Donned in military grade winter expedition gear, the two looked more akin to the soldiers they supposedly were than dissidents who had been charged with first degree murder. The absurdity of the charge’s relatively benign nature in Russia only gave further credence to the grim and intense likeness the Russian government liked to export as their personality to the rest of the world. There would be no jail time because someone in the military had willed it so, and such was a worrying thought. An unelected official, one who trained soldiers no less, had such authority. Whether Commander Kopachesky had desired their continued existence for the reasons she had given or something else, Sonya was entirely unsure of. “Well I think it’s a wonderful idea!” Ludwig grinned widely and clapped Sonya across the shoulder roughly, and she delivered the butt of the hunting rifle in her hands into his side. “Hey! If you’re going to shoot me, just shoot me. No morbid foreplay.” The taller man rubbed his side, feigning a terrible injury before continuing his thought. “Now, don’t get me wrong when I start poking holes in this, since I’m sure a feisty little lady like you has already realised the potential problems.” He smirked slyly at her, and Sonya only rolled her eyes at his absurd nature. “How will you get to Polyarny? That’s a really far drive, and that’s as though the roads into Siberia aren’t cut off with snow, which they might be for all we know.” She merely nodded, indicating this had come to her mind. “And a second question, the Ehrhardt family can’t just take care of him until whenever we’re done whatever we’re doing – which we still need to talk about in detail, by the way.” He raised valid points and Sonya reluctantly agreed with another curt nod. Her resistance to speak only served as incentive for Ludwig to perform another unwelcome gesture and so he slung his arm around her shoulders, stooping over somewhat to meet her height. Though Sonya herself was by no means short, Ludwig towered over most and was eerily broad, giving him a rather ‘gentle giant’ persona in most cases.

The rust haired woman recalled when he had struck the drilling instructor and, with one blow, had killed him. While bedridden, he had admitted he hadn’t meant to kill the man, but was just worried he was going to turn on her afterward and decided to ‘win all future battles,’ a reference she did not quite understand, much to his amusement. “Well, I figure I can use some of the money I make as a soldier to rent an apartment in Moscow or Saint Petersburg where he can go to school. I’m not about to hide him under my cot or something ridiculous like that.” Ludwig chuckled a little at her absurd idea, and Sonya allowed herself a faint smirk of amusement. The two walked on in comfortable silence, evidently having abandoned the hunt in exchange for conversation. It was a curious thing for the Murmansk-borne Sonya Volkov to have conversation come so easily. Having been largely ignored from the age of five to her current age of twenty, she had not cultivated conversational skills in the same manner as others. Though she could hold a conversation, there was no innate desire to be sociable in such a regard. During her schooling years, student and teacher alike critiqued her about it and indeed her fellow peers would harangue her over it. After being sent home for, as she had put it, ‘liberating’ fellow children’s teeth with her fists and a rather obvious mark from the back of her father’s hand on her cheek, she had stopped fighting the other children and instead decided to ignore them. The whole series of incidents was something the grey eyed young woman did not speak of, for she found such both shameful and incredibly cliché of someone of her demographic. Having realised she had fallen silent from the expectant look she had received from her counterpart, Sonya continued her thought: “I just want what’s best for him. Someone has to, if not his shitty parents.” She scoffed afterward, growing evermore determined to make her plan come to fruition, regardless of the logical impossibilities it presented. The two ceased their conversation as they exited the spindly forest that made up the northern third of the mountain valley. The treeline abruptly ceased due to a farm that had once been carved out of the forest, though was long since abandoned and was slowly being retaken by the elements. “We walked quite far, you know. We shouldn’t stay long, Miss Elsa said that it’ll be well into the negative thirties tonight without the wind-chill.”

Ludwig, having happened upon a rusted fence post cocked his head before simply pushing it over with a booted foot, and the old, three foot high metal structure made a quiet ‘thump’ as it landed in the snow. “Well, this place could use a bit of cleaning. Maybe a bit of Windex…” At his mention of the unknown product, Sonya quirked a copper brow, and he only shook his head, “Never mind, just some cleaning solution from back in the day. Old joke.” The two continued into what was once a field, given the oddly flat land under foot. “Josh told me that elk and other big game have used the buildings here as a shelter since the doors came down back before they came here. I figure we can bag something big and go back, arms sore from carrying a big-ass deer.” Sonya only nodded, as she would not deny his logic and was frankly glad he might be quiet for a moment. The Russian woman had noticed her Estonian counterpart had an annoying habit of running his mouth when she herself did not talk. Thankfully, as the two grew ever closer to what she suspected was once the barn, he silenced himself as he placed his own hunting rifle in his hands, loading the weapon. Sonya mimicked the action and the two silenced their steps. Accustomed to hunting and knowing what to listen for, the red head focused her attention on what she heard inside. Inclining her head to the barn, Ludwig nodded and moved to take point. Theorising that any animal inside might charge if provoked, it was wiser to have the larger of two to enter first. Silence fell heavy over the two as they silently stepped over the remains of what was once likely a sturdy metal gate, now a sad remnant of its former self. As they approached the barn, Sonya’s gaze snapped to her weapon, where she dialed the weapon a setting befitting of a painless death for an animal, for the taser pins that were fired could be modulated for the given use. The highest setting would instantly kill an elephant, and was so powerful that it was consider a crime against humanity to use it on humans, given the brutality and high chance of the charge spreading to a bystander. Thus, the highest settings possible were normally not equipped on public sale weapons, as limited as such were. Though it was peculiar, Sonya, found, that the Ehrhardt family was in position of first class weaponry, however she put it out of mind as Ludwig readied to round the corner and enter the building.

With a moment of trepidation, Ludwig stepped around the corner. A look of surprise and confusion took his visage and he neither fired his weapon nor spoke. Merely staring into the building, he beckoned her to join him. Tentatively and silently, she too stepped around and looked into the building. The ceiling had collapsed in the back of the barn and its remnants lay forgotten, covered in snow. Stalls which likely had once held horses were mostly all toppled, their high walls like dominos and with gates that had partially, if not completely in some cases, separated from their taller counterparts. In the stable there were no animals, but instead three individuals sat around a small fire which flickered orange in a shallow, foot wide pan. Evidently the three were in deep meditation, for they had not noticed the two newcomers. Most curiously, in the clearing they had likely made around their fire, arcane looking runes had been etched into the craggy, concrete floor. Stranger still, the three figures were garbed in black robes akin to what Wiccans once wore long ago. Flowing black fabric was crumpled to form to their seated positions. Their faces were obscured by cowls, however, by their slight figures, Sonya presumed them to be female. Though such information did not comfort her, for they spoke neither Russian nor English and instead a language she could not recognise. Stranger still, the three women did not seem to notice their new arrivals. Taking such as an advantage, the grey eyed woman ushered her taller counterpart in and she followed in, taking point behind one of the half toppled interior stable walls. Deciding that Ludwig was better at dealing with strangers than she, the Estonian slowly made his way forward. Ludwig raised a hand in greeting before practically shouting cheerfully: “Hello ladies!” Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, he offered them a sly grin, “What’s a couple of pretty gals like you doing all the way out here?”

The three seated individuals jumped to a stand in near synchronisation at Ludwig’s arrival. Sonya noted that, contrary to Ludwig’s compliments, the three were hardly pretty. All three looked to be well into their fifties and were marred with an uneven complexion, freckles, wrinkles and one who was cursed with a smattering of moles. Greying hair fell loosely out of the confines of their cowls. The two had been sitting closer to the entrance backed away defensively, however the one farthest from them merely stood her ground. “Hello… Uh, English? We don’t speak Russian well.” She spoke slowly, recalling what simple Russian she could. Ludwig merely nodded, still smiling widely. “Good, good. Thank you.” The woman spoke in fluent English. “And I hope we haven’t disturbed the locals. We’re only passing through, you see.” Noting the firearm, she seemed a tad more defensive. “You’re awfully armed for one of the locals. Of which there are none, I’ve found… So, where are you from, then?” Her tone became a touch more dangerous, and, if Ludwig had taken worry from such, he did not make it known and merely stood there, smiling still. She knew him well enough to know that such a smile could be both welcoming and deceitful. It was well within him to kill, and so she hoped silently that the robed women would not do anything to threaten him. Staying silent, the black haired man merely stood there, ever looking friendly and inviting. An awkward silence fell over those gathered as the three women sized up their newcomer respectively. Still, the central woman was the only one to talk, for the others remained silence. “You can tell your friend to come out as well, if you’re not going to tell us where you’re from.” Sonya cursed silently, annoyed that she had been so easily found. She was more confused as to how they had discovered her, and decided that she would come out looking as nonthreatening as well. Slinging her rifle over her shoulder, however leaving it charged, she slipped around the edge and walked up. “Much better. Now we can make better introductions, I believe. I am the Sceptre here, and these are my associates.” The woman flipped down her hood and stared at Sonya for a long moment. “We are Awakened, you see.”

The words fell with such weight that Sonya could feel the unease from herself and Ludwig as one would feel rain in a torrential downpour. She knew the dread implications of the woman’s words: they were members of the Awakening, the ones who had slaughtered over half a million Subjects in NELO One, the ones who had killed so many innocent people for the supposed crime of befriending Subjects and the like. Anger began to build up inside her, and though the Russian youth could contain it for now, she knew that her temper would best her eventually. However it was one of the supposed associates who spoke up: “Indeed. As the Sceptre says, we are Awakened and are here to spread the word of the World Church created by our Father so that all may understand and rejoin the harmony of the universe.” She extended her arms outward grandly, and her two counterparts mimicked the motion: “The universe demands an ordering that we pitiful humans have strayed from. We must return to the universe’s order, lest we are destroyed for our hubris.” The other two bowed their heads in reverence for a moment before the current speaker dropped her arms, observing the two of them. Ludwig’s smile had vanished and in its place an inscrutable mask of nothingness. Sonya now held her stormy gaze angrily upon the three before them. “You do not support our mission? Sceptre, something must be done. They must accept the Word of the universe” The woman looked to their leader who merely nodded once, though remained silent. The redheaded woman felt her hand suddenly yearn for the weapon strapped across her back, though she did not draw it, well aware that, in the time it would take her to equip and fire, one of the Awakened might retrieve a weapon from their robes and kill her. She stepped up next to Ludwig, giving the Estonian a knowing look, to which he merely nodded once to. Satisfied he too would not do anything, the two merely awaited the judgement of those before them. However it was the second woman who broke the silence: “We Acolytes, but the initiates to the truth of the universe, know so little. But we know that those who stand in the way of the universe’s power are those more foolish than those who would glorify a false being, an aberration of the universe’s power.” Ludwig lofted a black brow, and the woman inclined her head, agreeing with his suspected question. “Yes. The Subjects. Mankind’s hubris given form.”

“What gives you the right to decide that Subjects are an aberration?” Sonya demanded calmly, though the venom of her hatred slipped out as she looked over those before her. Loathing and disgust filled her heart as she observed them. She did not wish to harm them, but at some level she wanted to punish them for their hateful beliefs. “Who is your Father to decide that some people are worthy of life and others death?” She scoffed bitterly, suddenly reminded of her parents who had so callously decided to not love their own son; their own creation. Silenced came as the robed women did not respond, merely standing there staring at them. Their stares were eerie and Sonya found herself not caring for them, for those before her seemed bereft of any sense of humanity. They stared at herself and her German-named compatriot as though one might stare at a thief; with judgement and animosity. The young woman glanced outside, seeing that the sun had begun to set. With nightfall would come the bitter cold of Siberia in its full might, and such was something that she did not desire to experience again. When she had gone out to find Ludwig, Sonya had returned with frostbite and was somewhat hypothermic. She had not complained, given the woeful state of her friend, though had rued her rash acting and scolded herself for allowing herself to become so vulnerable to the cold. “Answer me!” She shouted, and the three focused upon her. “You people think you’re purer than Ludwig or I? You think you have any right to judge anyone?” She spat to the side. “Disgusting. You’re all disgusting vermin! It’s people like you that made gay kids hang themselves, that decided that people who weren’t white were only worthy of servitude.” Ludwig only smirked slightly as she met his gaze sidelong gaze, and she continued her rant. “You say we must accept the Word? I deny your word. I deny your ideas. I deny your twisted logic and I deny you!” She scolded them furiously, her normally restrained tendencies having given way to righteous fury and her own form of condemnation of the supposedly pious figures before her.

The Sceptre frowned for a moment, before only laughing slightly. “What a shame, you could have had such a fine life had you taken the Word to heart.” Outside, in the failing light, the snow had begun to fall lightly. Little specs of white fell into the endless hills of pure, uninterrupted whiteness. It was a peaceful and serene sight: a land untouched by the hand of man, not defiled by his industrial approach to existence. So much of the world had been perverted by humankind in their pursuit of power and riches: oceans, seas and lakes sucked dry of their fish stock, forests lay bare and thin with the ruthless demand for lumber, mines emptied of precious minerals and more common metals and so on. For a moment, Sonya found herself agreeing with the Awakening: truly humans had destroyed their world. For they had raped and pillaged the Earth with such callous disregard that the ice caps had melted and large portions of the coasts had been swallowed up by encroaching tides. However she could not and would never agree that one of the most miraculous discoveries in human history was a mistake. The Barren had taken the elderly and young in droves unseen in the average aged population: mothers lost such titles, people burying parents too early and so many orphaned, widowed and left alone to face a sad, lonely world. Twelve and a half billion people lived on the planet and although five hundred million or so being infertile seemed like a scarce few, it had devastated replacement levels in many areas. Given the funding and the opening of more NELO facilities, the Subjects could fill the replacement rate’s missing numbers. Though as Sonya remarked upon the reality of her sorry world, the Sceptre shook her head, her greying hair waving back and forth lazily and spoke once more after a lengthy pause: “Alas, you’ve decided your own fate.” As Sonya had suspected, the woman reached into her robes, and, wasting no time, the Russian drew from her back the hunting rifle Joshua had loaned her. The Sceptre procured what appeared to be a hand gun, “Goodbye, child of disorder.” The woman uttered darkly, and for Sonya, it was as though time slowed down to a near stop. ‘I have to kill her,’ Sonya rationalised, ‘If I don’t, I will die.’ Her mind continued to race as the world around her seemed to decelerate, ‘If I die, Ivan will be stuck in Polyarny and probably try to escape on his own. I can’t die. I can’t.’ Her mind resolute, Sonya sucked in a short breath and depressed the trigger of her hunting rifle. One bullet was fired and the Sceptre stumbled backward, blood oozing from her skull from the tiny hole made. Blood trickled down her forehead and down either side of her nose as her eyes, wide with fear, stared at Sonya.

“You won’t enslave anyone anymore, Sceptre,” she hissed with pure loathing in her heart. Memories of the children of Polyarny flashed into Sonya’s mind then: their emaciated, sad eyes staring hopelessly up at her, their frail bodies sat in squalor and abominable situations. For a world where four percent of people were infertile, an appalling amount of children were dumped on ill-equipped orphanages like televisions for recycling. Her first job was at one such orphanage, where she had seen the true depravity of the world. Infants who had been just born into the world were left at the door of the crowded building, while others who were old enough to walk were brought to the orphanage and, with hurried footsteps, abandoned by their parents who fled like the criminals Sonya saw them to be. The woman’s eyes widened significantly more as the lethal dose of electricity was delivered, and, as she crumpled downward, blood oozed from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears. Her two Acolytes looked on in terror, and had both drew their own weapons. Though, much to Sonya’s despair, two more rounds, not from her own weapon, were fired from Ludwig’s weapon. The young man stood there with a stoic expression as the two Acolytes crumpled to the ground, spasming from the charge delivered. Sonya looked down at the gun in hand, and tore it from her person, the strap unclipping at the butt of the weapon and she tossed it to the ground. “What have I… done?!” She spoke quietly, too horrified to fully annunciate the disgust of her actions. She had killed the Sceptre in cold blood and Ludwig had slain the two Acolytes. “We… I… killed…” Unaware the shock of killing someone would be so strong, Sonya fell to her knees, her hands shaking. ‘They were just pawns,’ Sonya realised, ‘Those three had only been doing as they were told, they were brainwashed. And I killed them.’ Sonya shut tight her eyes, seeking to remove herself from the abhorrent situation she had put herself in. No tears fell, no trembling terrors, for she was merely a still figure upon the floor, seated pitifully.

Ludwig fell to a knee, discarding his own weapon, “We had to, Sonya.” He spoke somberly. Though she could not believe his words, for regardless of how it might make sense, the Russian woman refused to rationalise killing the three women. She opened her eyes, and pushed herself to a stand, and it was then that Ludwig put his arm around her form. It was a strange and foreign sensation to the young woman, though she neither reciprocated the gesture, nor did she refuse it. Far too withdrawn from her physical surroundings, Sonya merely stared at the three corpses laid out before her. In the centre was the Sceptre who had crumpled forward, her robes strewn awkwardly about her still person. A pool of blood had collected around her head and stained her grey hair dark. To either side an Acolyte lay, one face up and the other faced away from the two. The Acolyte who lay upward set its dead gaze blankly upon the ceiling above, her face contorted into shock and fear. A bullet wound had seen a large pool of blood collect around her heart and it was but inches from joining the blood released from her Sceptre. The other Acolyte had been shot in the kidney and copious amounts of blood had already fallen, leaving her black robes wet with blood. The acrid smell of death was already permeating the abandoned barn and Sonya abruptly wished to live. “If we hadn’t killed them, they would’ve have hunted down the Subjects around here. It was necessary.” Ludwig urged her to believe him with his words, though she still refused his logic. Was it true that killing became easier with each felling strike? The redheaded woman decided that such must be the case, for Ludwig seemed quite composed for a man who had just slain two people. Perhaps it was because he truly believed his words, or perhaps it was that he simply did not put value in their lives. The latter was a disturbing thought and one that Sonya chose to not entertain, instead believing that the raven haired male had made peace with his actions more quickly. “It was an ugly act, and it was a necessary one.” He merely held her there loosely, “You’ll be okay.” Though, in Sonya’s mind, she very much doubted she’d ever completely move past this moment in her life.

~*~

With an unusual sluggishness, Roe Speremus’ mind returned to him. His thought processes artificially slowed, he struggled to comprehend his surroundings, though was already aware of his synthetically numbed mind and so he remained as still as possible. The whirring of machines could be heard around him, one that beeped rhythmically, to which he realised was monitoring his heart rate. Suspecting he had been put under inspection of some sort by his captors, he flexed various muscles and indeed found that various needles had been plunged into his pale skin. He was cold as well, and, after a moment of failed cognisance, realised that he was naked. The Subject discerned from these various factors that he was under surveillance by the Pacific Union, and most likely in some sort of medical branch of a penitentiary.  He vaguely recalled being captured in Laevous, and moreover remembered that he had foresaw the capturing as necessary and simply let it happen. However Stephan had not, and was likely catatonic with fear. ‘He is a strong man, but his emotions may best him if he is not careful,’ Roe thought to himself, though gave a mental shake of his head, disagreeing with his first thought. ‘He is a student from America, there is little chance that he has any sort of mental ability to quell panic in the face of danger. He has never faced such things before.’ Roe had occasionally felt a vain and foreign sense of superiority with regards to the Greek youth, surmising that he himself would fare better in a situation such as that. Though the gravity of such did not please the Subject whatsoever, and instead only gave him cause for analytical concern: Stephan would act out, and he would resist. He would inadvertently make his own imprisonment harder. Their capture worked to their advantage, for should they wish to overthrow Laevan and his tyrannical plans to wipe out the Subjects, the best way was to navigate through the Union’s own militarising society.

Having heard no signs of life around him, Roe opened his eyes and found the brightness of the room blinding. Squinting against bright lights that were fixed to a low white ceiling, he glanced to his side and found numerous machines watching over him lifelessly, many of which were attached to him via tubes and the like. Though he did not panic, for he had woken in similar situations in NELO before and had been in much worse condition there. Casting his gaze in the opposite direction, he found a wall of what he recognised as two way mirrors and frowned slightly as he heard footsteps behind the glass. He had been discovered to be awake and they would likely demand answers of him. It was typical of the Keepers of NELO to incapacitate him in his sleep, experiment and investigate his body, and then demand answers from him when he woke. Giving a mental groan of annoyance at the tedium of his situation, Roe merely laid his head back and stared at the blinding lights. Behind him, a door opened and the languid steps of heavy boots sounded, followed by those of dress shoes. One voice, evidently an older man sounded worried and nervous as they spoke: “Sir, really, it’s not a good idea. This kid’s a Class Nine, I’d be amazed if he even knows how to count back from ten.” Though the second person who had yet to speak merely ignored them and the two took point at the foot of Roe’s bed. One, garbed in a black version of the Pacific Union military uniform had long blonde hair pulled back, though a few stray bangs had fallen forward. Dull blue eyes indicative of a lack of sleep stared listlessly at Roe, though it was a prominent scar that ran from below the man’s right eye to the curve of his jaw that the Subject found most interesting. The scar did not appear to be caused by any sort of electricity based weapon and so the captive man assumed it to be from a more mundane weapon, which was a curious thing, given the man’s elevated military ranking as implied by his officer decorations. “Sir…?” The medically dressed man looked hesitantly over, though once more the officer did not speak.

A minute passed as, what Roe suspected, the doctor looked uneasily between his captive person and the military official and the latter merely stared at the Subject as though he were the most disinteresting specimen he had ever seen. “By this point the other was already demanding answers. And you’re just laying here,” the blond official spoke, his voice giving further credence to his disinterest in the given situation. He slowly walked over to Roe’s bedside, and the captive man followed him closely with his icy azure gaze. “Roe Speremus, Class Nine Subject, I.D. Number: 17135244. Designated: borderline Nobody.” The man recited, as though to merely state he knew who Roe was, however the latter did neither affirm nor deny the man’s statement and merely stared at him, intent on saying as little as possible. “My name is Jack Gilbert, Roe. I’m the Chief Prison Officer here, you can call me whatever you want, since I frankly don’t give a damn.” The man spoke once more in a monotone voice, and Roe was reminded of how he spoke with most of the world, though Jack Gilbert seemed to have an almost malicious disinterest as he spoke to his medicinal counterpart shortly after introducing himself to Roe. With a quick glance to the other man who still stood at the end of the operating table, Office Gilbert announced his wishes for them to vacate: “Get out, Doctor. I want to talk to the prisoner myself.” The doctor looked as though he was about to complain or refuse, though with one cryptic stare, his objections where silenced and he disappeared out of sight. With hurried footfalls and the opening and shutting of a door, the captive Subject and the Chief Prison Officer were alone in the room. Officer Gilbert rubbed a hand over his face, his hand dragging on the stubble found jaw. “Now that we’re alone, we can speak frankly, Roe Speremus.” Finally the prisoner gave indication that he was listening a slowly raised a blond brow, and this seemed to please his captor who smirked ever so slightly in response. “You see, I’ve got a problem. I have quotas to reach and I am simply nowhere near them.”

Roe merely listened, for he remained keen on still keeping silent for as long as he could and, for the time being, the Chief Prison Officer seemed amicable to continue speaking. His older counterpart yawned as he looked around the room, giving a shooing gesture at the wall of mirrors, cementing Roe’s theory that they were see through on the opposite side and that he was likely being observed. “I need to make results here. You see, President Laevan has a friend who oversees this little mission: his older brother, Galvin Laevan, who is intent on putting to use the unique brain chemistry of a certain kind of Subject for some sort of black project.” Assuming the Subject was ignorant of what a black project was, Jack explained: “A black project is a classified project. I don’t even know about it and I’m one of the second or third in commands here.” He sighed, shaking his head lazily, “It’s rather difficult to be motivated over a project when you don’t know what it is or what it does. Nevertheless, orders are orders.” He looked back to Roe and peered at him closely, “Hold on a second, kid.” He said after a pause and stood. Walking out of sight for a moment, the captive blond could hear the opening of a drawer of some sort, shortly followed by the subsequently closing of such and the return of the heavy footfalls of Jack Gilbert. The man held in his hands a folded piece of grey cloth which he unfurled and placed what appeared to be a blanket sloppily over Roe’s once naked form. Finding the end of his exposure to the crisp air a welcome thing, the Subject was decidedly suspicious of his captor, but was comforted in his theory that, at the very least, Stephan had received similar humane treatment. “As I was saying: Mister Laevan’s project, that is the older one, not the President, involves the unique brain chemistry of a specific group of Subjects. These Subjects are, like you, Class Nine, borderline Nobody. However they are not in any regard Nobodies. We’re trying to figure out why you and your fellow aberrations are so and from that we can figure out if you’re viable candidates for the project.” The man fell silent, and Roe took in the information required.

Deciding that little harm would come from speaking and that, to not speak would likely cause him more inconvenience, Roe opened his mouth and tried to speak. His throat was dry and sore, and he found his voice silent as he tried to speak. Clearing his throat, he found the ability to speak returned. Regardless of the questions that harangued him, there was one concern that trumped all queries that had been raised by the Chief Prison Officer’s explanations. “Where is Stephan? What have you done to him?” Roe asked calmly, his subconscious ability to supress his emotions as strong as ever. His question only seemed to amuse his counterpart, who offered the Subject a little chuckle. Attempting to push himself to a seated position, the captive blond found his arms and legs too weak to actually support his weight, though nevertheless he struggled against whatever had sapped him of his strength. After a moment of abject failure in his trials to sit up, Roe merely relaxed and lay there, his head canted toward the glorified guard who had watched his efforts with boredom, though had yet to respond. “You have been cordial, given the situation we are in, and for such I thank you. However I must know where my comrade is and if he is well. He is not accustomed to these kinds of situations and will not fare well.” Jack Gilbert merely nodded thoughtfully, agreeing that Stephan would not, or had not, fared well. The ambiguity in such implied to Roe his previous concerns that the extroverted Greek had not been treated well and was thus injured or mentally scarred. A minute point of anger grew in Roe at the thought: he had sworn to himself to not allow any other friends, as he had learned to understand his comrades to be, to be killed as Leonas had been. Though he had not felt much affinity for the rather brusque and ill-tempered Lithuanian, Roe held a fundamental value for life following the cruel disregard for Nobodies he had seen in NELO. Moreover, the recent incidents at Laevous through which atrocities were committed upon innocent bystanders had revolted the ever stoic Roe, who could only stand there and allow Stephan to embrace him and sob in anguish over the scene thereof. Returning his attention to Chief Prison Officer Gilbert, the man seemed finally attentive enough to actually answer his question, and so Roe asked once more: “Where is Stephan and what has been done to him?” His words poignant and his question simple, the Subject would not allow his question to go unanswered.

With a rather weary sigh, Jack Gilbert stood and paced around the room, though Roe’s gaze never left his person. “Your friend will live,” He said vaguely, “I’m afraid one of my more hands on guards had a bout with the kid and he was kicked and punched a little. Nothing broken, so he’ll live. He’s being held on charges of conspiracy to perform acts of terrorism and aiding an abetting criminal: yourself.” Roe felt his gaze narrow ever so slightly, though he ignored the involuntary reflex and continued to listen. The prison officer stopped before one of the machines that was connected to Roe via a narrow tube that plunged into his left thigh, however nothing was transmitted from the machine to the captive Subject. “You know, they told me I should use this. It’s some sort of toxin that keeps you immobile.” He canted his dull gaze to Roe for a moment before smirking slightly, “But it looks like they already used it, since you can’t move.” He sighed once more and looked to the wall of mirrors, “The investigation team is very thorough, they dread the idea of a specimen waking up mid surgery. What they want inside you I do not know, though.” Officer Gilbert returned to his seat and faced Roe once more before speaking: “Your friend will be given better quarters if he cooperates and gives any and all information he knows about pertinent matters. If he’s especially helpful, I might even allow him to see you before the investigation team goes to work on you. They’re very keen on meeting Galvin Laevan’s expectations, you see, and they despise failure as much as he does.” However the door to the operating room opened once more and Jack glanced to the entrance, annoyed that they had been interrupted. Unable to see the newcomer, Roe merely lay there as he suspected the newcomer was using some sort of set of symbols to inform his superior of a worrying situation. The Subject inferred such from Officer Gilbert’s decisive frown and his return to standing. The door closed and he looked to the younger blond: “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this short. It looks like Godfried’s boys have almost taken NELO and they want me in the command centre to see it all play out.” Without another word, the man hurried out of the room, and left Roe to his own devices.

~*~

The first thing Vadim heard was the raspy breath of another. Hoarse and fatigued huffs of breaths were expelled without repose as the wind rushed by the fallen Russian who slowly realised he was being carried. Hefted like an oversized toddler, his arms were slung around Adymn’s neck and his legs supported by the guard himself. It was then that he realised the intense burning that was rocketing through his system: every nerve ending in Vadim’s entire body seemed to believe that he was being both burnt and stabbed at the same time. His bowel churned violently, fighting in vain against the powers of the toxin in his system and the dark blond man felt nausea explode into existence in a hot fiery ball of discomfort. His mouth was dry and his lips chapped, and so, failing to speak, he merely clumsily bumped his hand into Adymn’s chest, who looked up to him as he carried the fallen Subject. The two of them traversed a dimly lit maintenance tunnel: the ceiling was covered in venting, wires, and various tubes that the felled man could not recognise. Cement was the primary building material, and long cracks ran the length of various sections of walls. “Stop…” Vadim rasped out weakly, and Adymn, all too eager to be free of the immense burden that it was to carry another person, halted and set the poisoned Subject down who merely collapsed to the side. The Russian Subject felt bile rise in his throat as he fell and, without being able to right himself, vomited. Expunging copious amounts of liquid from his stomach, Vadim was wracked with spasms and shudders as he vomited violently. Blood was mixed into his stomach contents, and panic rose in his mind at the sight. Failing to recall the events preceding his fall into unconsciousness, panic continued to course through his mind as he could not rationalise his violent illness. One hand slid through the bloody bile before being clumsily wiped on his shirt and placed on the side of his head, failing to stop the agonising migraine that pulsed through Vadim’s skull. It was then that he felt the bloody indent that had been made in his ear where the bullet had hit. ‘I was grazed by a neurotoxic bullet. I guess I should be happy to even be alive,’ his mind rationalised weakly, though he could not feel grateful for his agonising situation.

Memories of their escape from the invading soldiers flashed into his mind and adrenaline surged into Vadim’s weak body. Placing two hands beside him, he attempted to push himself to a seated position, though was simply too weak. However he felt two hands grip him by the shoulders and haul him into a seated position. Knelt before him was the guard he had met in the hospital building and Vadim felt incredibly thankful to the individual who would have been wiser to merely leave him for dead. “C’mon, Vadim, snap to it,” Adymn’s voice was worried and his eyes full of fear. ‘He’s afraid of being caught. I don’t blame him,’ Vadim thought to himself as he failed to understand that he needed to stand and get going, ‘I think I’m afraid, but I just can’t think straight…’ Watching the security guard make hurried gestures for him to stand, the ill man failed to understand why the urgency, for he could simply not connect the worry of being caught and the danger of sitting around. As he stared blankly at Adymn, after a long moment, he finally realised that, were he to continue sitting, he would be caught. With such a realisation in mind, he extended a weak arm forward, still too disoriented and weak to fully stand on his own. Adymn readily took the arm and hauled the taller individual to his feet, the Subject wobbling uneasily. “Okay, good! Can you walk? We need to get to the Administrative Building.” Vadim, wide eyed and completely removed from the situation’s gravity, stumbled forward in the wrong direction before being pulled in the correct one.  His legs felt numb and sluggish as he stumbled forward, and before long was once more supported by his guard counterpart. Adymn’s white uniform had been largely discarded and in the protective vest’s place was now a white body suit exposed above the waist, and large, unsightly sweat stains had grown in the middle of his chest and from his armpits. His once dark blond hair looked even darker with the advent of sweat staining the short locks. With an arm slung around Vadim’s shoulders, the Russian could smell the acrid stench of sweat off his counterpart, however ignored it, for his legs simply could not keep pace and his body stumbled to and fro. The two followed the maintenance hall in a wordless hurry, though the silence was broken by the unsteady breath of Vadim and the fatigued, hoarse gasps of Adymn as he struggled to continue supporting both of them. ‘I can’t keep this up for long,’ Vadim realised as his legs continued to fail him and, with a glance to his would be savior, he thought to himself: ‘And it doesn’t look like he can either, but we need to get to the Administrative Building to escape. The tunnel to the dock is there and we don’t have much time…’

The two rounded the corner in the maintenance shaft and, hanging from the ceiling, was the sign the two of them had been waiting for. Supported by two thin metallic strands was a sign that read ‘Administrative Building Sub Complex.’ “Ahead should be the turn off to the dock. If Doctor Bellerose is right, there’ll be some sort of transport there and we can rest for a bit,” Adymn spoke between ragged breaths. Vadim merely nodded, too weary to speak himself and instead merely resigned to the reality he was presented with. The tunnel’s quality improved significantly as they entered into the zone below the Administrative Building: cracked concrete walls gave way to metal plates and the proverbial veins of the infrastructure of the complex were hidden by an equally steely ceiling. The sterile atmosphere was amplified more by the bright lights that let forth such intense light that even the scuffed floor reflected the white light. The lights themselves were a biotechnological advancement that used bioluminescence to create cheap, and environmentally friendly lighting, however dampening them was difficult and so, belowground, the lights shone without relent, forcing both Vadim and Adymn to squint as they hurried down. “This is cliché,” the latter pointed out, “Running into the white light while I feel like I’m going to collapse any second.” Vadim gave a soundless chuckle, too breathless to actually laugh and shrugged mid jog. The two once more rounded another corner, following another blindingly bright hall. The nausea he felt had not abated and the foul smell of vomit was ripe on Vadim’s own person, furthering, already strong urges to merely keel over and vomit more. However he held his own to the best of his ability, determined not to be the cause of their capture or being left behind by the fleeing Subjects. A sign above read that the service tunnel to the port was ahead and the noisy clanking of metal flooring underfoot increase as the two surged forth. Their breath came out in ragged bursts now, and as the neurotoxin burned through Vadim, his vision blurred often and he found himself relying on Adymn more and more for direction as his body continually failed him in their vital quest to flee Neo-Palmyra. Following a sign that indicated the port was down a bisecting hall, the two hurried down the perpendicular hall before finally being met with the rumored means of transport.

Golf cart sized buggies sat parked before a tunnel wide enough to fit two trailer carrying trucks side by side. Signs of hurried activity were evident everywhere: discarded suitcases, bags, paperwork and other miscellaneous items. Though Vadim did not spare his failing gaze on both the forsaken treasures and niceties of life and instead stumbled into one of the small vehicles. Adymn practically threw himself into the driver’s seat and pressed a large blue button on the side of the steering column, and the vehicle’s electric engine started. Wasting no time, he pushed the accelerator into the floor and the small car lurched forward abruptly. Finally given time to relax, Vadim could feel his heart beating in his ears. Exhaustion gripped him completely and he sagged in his seat, struggling to regain a normal breathing pattern. The neurotoxin in his blood roiled his stomach without relent and he could feel his bowels desperately pleading to be voided, though he refused both urges for more fluids to vacate his body. Though he knew such to be a futile attempt, for due to the toxin’s effect, his nerves were no longer firing as he had intended and they would eventually win out over his flagging self-control. Vadim’s counterpart, Adymn, panted freely in the driver’s seat, his sweat stains having grown larger and his fatigue crippling him to the point where he merely slouched on the steering wheel. Dark bags had appeared under his eyes as he swerved the car to and fro. Normally, the Subject would have been incredibly concerned of the guard’s dangerous driving, however he could barely contain his already projected stomach contents and instead clenched his fists tight, breathing as deeply as he could to find some sort of power to resist defecating or vomiting. The two continued driving dangerously for many minutes, Vadim slipping ever closer to unconsciousness as he had begun to lose the war against the poison in his blood. However Adymn remained awake and continued driving, and eventually the two did reach the harbor.

The tunnel abruptly opened up into a vast sea hangar. The ceiling, well over a hundred feet above them, was strapped with massive metal I-beams and before them an artificial dock had been erected. The huge structure was open to the sea, and outside the choppy waves gave caution Clad in cold metals, the dock had parked next to its comparatively small girth a massive, ferry sized ship that stretched out into the stormy ocean before them. The large ship rolled tumultuously in the tumultuous weather and the exposed half was battered with heavy rain. The ferry itself was painted bright white and flew the European Union flag. Aptly named ‘Salvation,’ the ship was already being loaded with scores and scores of white garbed children of all ages. Many of these children were carried in large strollers which held, what Vadim guessed was ten babies at a time while others merely ushered the youngers one forward like cattle herders in the old west. Shouts and cries of children could be heard all around the building, however, much to the relief of the weary Subject, the ship looked to be almost completely loaded. Adymn drove the small buggy down to the dock and the two readied to embark upon the large ship. Before them, a thick line of Subjects, Caretakers and other necessary employees shuffled forward, all of which clutched tightly various trinkets and items of sentimental value, all with faces of concern and many of fear. The scene was nothing less than fringing upon chaos as what appeared to be thousands of people were loaded onto the ship. Vadim stumbled forward, but found his right leg unresponsive and collapsed downward. Falling into the cold metal decking of the NELO port, he once more felt Adymn haul him to his feet, “Thank you,” he murmured, still too unwell to speak coherently for more than a few words.” The security guard, now to Vadim, life saver, offered him a worried smile and the two joined in the large line. Jostled and hurried, the Russian Subject found it easy to stand as he was sandwiched against others. Ever watchful, Adymn did not leave his side, not trusting the neurotoxin-filled Subject to be able to continue as he was for very long. The rain poured down without relent, soaking all those gathered and leaving hair matted to one’s head and clothes stuck to their person. However Vadim found it cooling and relaxing following their exhausting sprint and, by the relaxed look on his face, Adymn too relished the feeling of the winter rain.

The decking below them pitched and rolled with the violent waves as the two of them stepped out onto the floating pier. Vadim struggled to keep his balance and his fatigued rescuer looked incredibly seasick. All around them children whined and groaned, perfectly aware that the seas were incredibly unsafe and that their voyage would not be an easy one. Ahead, at the end of the pier where the ferry’s ramp had been extended onto, a European Union soldier shouted for the Subjects and NELO employees to hurry, that they were leaving port in two minutes. At his shouting, the line lurched forward and the incredibly sick Vadim nearly toppled over, if not for the people so terribly close in front of him who merely shouldered him back into standing following his stumble. As he and Adymn ascended the ramp onto the ship, both saw in the distance what appeared to be Pacific Union battleships of various kinds. Painted pure white with a gold rim just below the main deck level, to Vadim they looked like angels of damnation bringing death and despair upon NELO. However, they hurried onto the Salvation and, as the final stragglers ran onto the incredibly crowded ship, the ramp was retracted. The Russian man’s heart sank as he saw NELO employees and Subjects alike sprinting to the ship, though it was simply too late. The massive vessel had already started its engines and had begun to slowly move forward. Averting his gaze, Vadim felt fatigue and sickness finally take him as he simply collapsed into Adymn. Too exhausted to support his fallen comrade in arms, the two fell against the thick wall that was the railing. Crammed together even outside in the pouring rain, Subjects and employees alike exchanged nervous, but relieved gazes as the ship sailed out of port. However, the roar of conversation fell eerily still as the deafening boom of explosions sounded in the storming skies. Vadim stumbled to a stand to see a truly horrific sight. All eyes were trained to the stern of the ship where one could see the NELO Compound. Smoke billowed from all buildings and, in the centre, the tallest building of them all had begun to collapse. Once beautiful, seamless materials had created a near perfect prism of glass and steel that was the Administrative Building, smoke now billowed from shattered windows and crumbling structure. The top five floors of the building pitched forward and away from their vantage point and it was then that Vadim remembered: Mother Natalie was on the top floor. Heartbreak and despair exploded into his heart as he saw the upper levels of the large building collapse downward before the entire structure was lost in a black cloud of smoke. The rocketing boom of the building finally collapsing completely reached the ship shortly thereafter and the screams of horror and outrage against what had occurred filled the skies. Joined by others in their own variations of their displays of sorrow, Vadim spoke in a near whisper as his mind finally accepted what he had seen. Miserably and filled with anguish, Vadim Alkaev spoke one word of broken and dashed hopes: “Mom…” 

All rights reserved. Contact author for redistribution.