Subjectivity: Chapter Fourteen

“We have movement on the south gardens, ma’am! Looks like they’ve broken down the south gate.” One voice cautioned nearby. The room was tense and the whir of computers gave the immediate space a hurried and unpleasant feeling as Vadim’s eyes were cast to the innumerable screens projected in the air around them. “Union soldiers have landed at the north beach. Projected time of arrival: twenty minutes, Miss Natalie,” another voice, this one female, sounded. Three of the projections flashed with red borders, cautioning of unauthorised movement on the premises. It was a third voice that gave cause for the most immediate alarm: “They’ve reached Health Building C, Doctor Bellerose!” Female, the voice was full of worry as all those in the room turned their attention to a rapidly expanding projected monitor. Thereupon its translucent likeness was portrayed the Pacific Union Military’s advancement upon the Health Complex, astride transports and military jeeps. By the looks of their light armament, the Union did not expect much of a fight from NELO. Vadim’s gaze narrowed critically on the sight: the military had come dressed for an easy war, he would make personally sure that they would have no such easy access to the children of NELO. “South garden forces have a projected arrival of ten minutes. I’ve erected all necessary storm doors. It’ll slow them down considerably.” Natalie Bellerose’s office, once so sparsely populated with furniture had been made crowded and nervous with the flurry of NELO executives and administrative officials who had refused to leave. Three desks had been placed in the room: one against the wall which was shared with the reception hall of the office, one on the opposite wall and one where the filing cabinets had once stood. The only unobstructed wall was the one made of uninterrupted glass. Outside, the climate of Neo-Palmyra had made itself known: ominous storm clouds rolled tumultuously and threatened torrential downpour. The sea, choppy and grey, flowed in madly as it crashed against the sandy beaches in the north. At such a beach Vadim noted the massive transports the Union had brought in to collect the Subjects.

Vadim sneered angrily, “I won’t let them take a single kid…” He murmured, and received a brief look from Natalie Bellerose who was quickly giving out orders with military precision. The woman had somehow become well acclimated to acting in a military manner, something that had surprised Vadim greatly. For Mother Natalie was, traditionally, a woman of unending kindness and matronly love, though today such maternal instincts had been truly tested as Pacific Union Military Commander Martin Godfried’s forces encroached.  Garbed in one of the second skins that the NELO security guards donned under their uniforms, Vadim found the fabric to be oppressively stiff and uncomfortable, however he knew it to be necessary, as the Union would surely show him no mercy were he to resist. And resist he intended, for Vadim Alkaev had no intentions of letting himself or any of his brethren be carted away like cattle for examination and experimentation. Vadim’s gaze drifted to a set of monitors in the far corner of the room where the emergency bunkers had been filled full of Subject children and their caretakers. Unable to offer any form of real comfort to them in his current situation, Vadim spoke barely above a whisper: “They won’t hurt you, I swear it…” His words were this time unheard by his busy Mother whose heels clacked noisily on the glass tiled floor as she hurried to and fro, observing monitors and subsequently issuing orders. Those who had remained in NELO were the ones that Vadim admired the most: they had been given the option and openly encouraged to leave and escape the soon to be wartorn island, but they had stayed instead. Their families too were in the bunkers below NELO and, though it pained him to think, Vadim knew that these men and women would do their utmost to protect NELO for their sakes, if not for the Subjects who were threatened with total and complete oblivion.

Once more, one of the controllers spoke, indicating that the Union military had broken into Health Building C. At such news, Vadim would suffer no more of Mother Natalie’s doting requests for patience which she had so repeatedly uttered. “We have security guards in Building A, right? I’ll go down there and help!” He could hear Natalie protest, but had already turned and hurried to the exit of her office, throwing the double doors open and storming toward the elevator. Protecting against knives, bullets, heat and so on, the second skin he wore restricted his movements initially but, as he moved every quicker, Vadim found it to become more malleable. Wearing black boots with metallic heels and toes along with grey trousers and a white sweater, the young Russian looked more ready for a rock concert from the past century than to defend a civilian institution. However had his feelings ascribed to what one might ascertain from his garb, he did not feel such. Entering the reception hall of Mother Natalie’s office, more NELO employees worked hurriedly to move all sensitive documentation and computers, either destroying hard drives or readying them to be moved into the basement of the facility where the others hid. However he paid them no heed and, having reached the elevator, tapped a finger against the oblong panel, summoning for the elevator. Natalie caught up, placing a hand on his shoulder, which he removed as he turned. “Mom, I know…” He offered her a small smile, “You’re scared I’ll be hurt, that I’ll be killed.” She merely nodded, her eyes filled with the concern he spoke of, for they wavered greatly. “I can’t promise I’ll be okay, and I can’t promise that I’ll even survive.” His words seemed to be as though he had struck her, for she sucked in a breath, the inner strength she had summoned to champion this cause being stolen from her. “But I can promise that, if I do get hurt, if I do die, it wasn’t because I wanted to die. It was because I wanted to live, to live in a world free of all the people who would hurt my first family.”

Smiling widely, Vadim offered the woman a firm nod. Natalie Bellerose regained her composure at his words and stood tall, “My dear, great hearted Vadim… You, Roe, Xanthus, all of my dear children, you’re all so brave, so wonderful…” She looked away, outside, for a moment, “I wish I could dissuade you, but I know your heart and I know that stubborn head of yours.” She smirked slyly as he grinned in agreement. Behind him, the elevator door opened, and he placed a hand against the now opened door to keep it open as they spoke. “Be safe, and know that I love you with all my heart, just as I do for all my children. Your mother is very proud of you, this day.” Natalie stepped forward, placing a kiss on his forehead like a mother might do as they sent their child to school for the first time. “Come back, Vadim. Come back and see your brother Roe and your sister Sarah when we can all be together again.” Vadim felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes, for her love touched him deeply, but he wiped them away and nodded, before stepping into the elevator. The elevator, a tube of glass, saw the grey light of the stormy day outside engulf him, and he suddenly felt almost weightless in the transparent shaft. “Goodbye, Vadim.” A sense of finality was coupled with her words and he found them to be heavy and uncomfortable in his heart. He did not want to die, and nor did he wish to never see Mother Natalie again. The two merely stood there as Vadim couldn’t find the ability to close the door, the dread feeling of her words wounding him greatly. Instead, he shook his head, his brown eyes cast away for a moment as he considered her words. ‘I won’t die,’ he spoke to himself, ‘I’m going to see Roe and Stephan again, and I’ll kick their asses for making us worry.’ He smirked at the brevity of his thoughts before looking to Natalie again.

“This isn’t goodbye,” He said, and received a confused look from the woman, “Let’s just say… see you soon.” With his words, she smiled and nodded, evidently agreeing. “I love you, mom.” With those four words, he dropped his hand and the doors slid closed with a proud mother looking on. The elevator had begun to descend as he turned around and face outside, the rolling, storm filled banks of clouds moving ever closer and threatening to soak NELO in rain. “Better rain than blood,” Vadim mused as he descended. The Administrative Building which he was currently in was central in the complex but was also most heavily fortified against invasion by the elements, for NELO had been built to withstand flooding, fire, and explosions to a certain degree. The facility’s security was a constant reminder of a time that no Subject who lived there could remember: the fall of the NELO compound’s elder sibling, NELO One, the original Subject creating facility which had been brutally destroyed by The Awakening many years ago. The elevator reached the main level and chimed as the doors opened, revealing the darkened lobby. Once alive with visitors, Subjects and employees, the lobby of the central building was now eerily quiet and poorly lit, for only emergency lights were on. Natalie had concluded that shutting down the antimatter generator was prudent, given the possibility of Union soldiers firing upon it in an attempt to shut down the power. However such actions would annihilate a large portion of the island of Neo-Palmyra in the process of merely shutting down the power. Vadim grimaced at the thought: it had been the overloading of the NELO One power grid which had destroyed it: power lines became alive with antimatter and destroyed the complex with a spider webbing of micro-explosions. The incident had sparked international outrage and Vadim was pained to see footage from the time: Subject children, crushed in bed, half formed fetuses lay dead in the REGEN Machines, men and women electrocuted as wiring fell from the ceilings and struck them fatally.

Vadim put the thought out of his mind: he was not here to remember the past, he was here to secure a better future for his first family and would do so until his last breath, so that no others would have to lose loved ones as he and so many others at NELO had. Crossing the ornate lobby, his footfalls sounded loudly on the ceramic tiles underfoot as he hurried. A two story wall of glass that served as the primary entrance to the building and a source of natural light cast ominous shadows on the porcelain-white tiles who were made dirty by the dark foreshadowing of the skies. Vadim crossed into another glass tube, this one horizontal that served as a covered means of transport between the Administrative Building and Health Building A. Being completely exposed, the Russian hurried through the tunnel, eager to be out of the possible sight of any Union soldiers. As he passed through the structure, in the distance he could see the immense amount of soldiers which had been called in from all around the world. Evidently Laevan had won his battle of attrition and had worn down the national representatives from the twelve member nations and mobilised enough people to simply overwhelm NELO’s paltry security force. Now within the Health Complex, the hospital aura of building C was laid bare for Vadim: narrow halls with endless doors on either side of oneself stretched out to his left and before him. The lights, almost all of which were dark, had given way to a gloomy and ominous aura. Behind him, a large metal barrier the width of the hall came down with a solid thud and Vadim surmised it was one of the storm doors meant to keep the soldiers out. The once lively hospital had been silenced, for any and all sick and injured have been moved into the basement emergency shelters and left medical supplies upon forgotten carts sat in the halls. The young man spared no time and hurried down the hall before him, toward yet another connection in buildings. Passing through another glass tunnel, the Union soldiers were but one building away and he could see them prepping one of their transports for an unknown purpose. Sparing no time to ascertain that purpose, he sprinted into Building B which was primarily focused upon the rehabilitation of the sick and injured and supplied much fewer operating rooms. With a decidedly less serious tone, the clinical nature of the building was marginally disguised by the more cheerful paint scheme and décor.

However Building B too was made him and ominous, as though all those sick children were looking down on him from on high, silently wishing for him to keep them safe, so that they could return to the building and continue healing. Vadim silently offered his assurances to his mental spectres that he would do his utmost and continued down the wide hallway and into one more glass passage. It was then that he saw the NELO security guards. Too few and lightly armed, he knew their looks of worry they traded silently were well justified. However he would not allow them to give into despair. Positioned around a central lobby in Building A, a few had gathered behind the large reception desk in the centre of the hall while others stood behind partially closed doors, various tazer-pin firing and other forms of handguns held before them expectantly. The entrance to the lobby was a set of four doors which had been completely covered by another storm door which had descended from the ceiling. Such force had been applied to the one foot thick metal surface that it had bowed out considerably, allowing stormy daylight into the building in the sides. Roe felt a rush of wind as the storm door behind him slid down and had thanked any divine powers that be for not allowing the Union soldiers to have noticed the point of entry that the passageway could have been. As he settled in behind a referrals’ desk, crouched against it, he pulled from his waist one of the taster-pin guns issued to NELO security. Normally, the pins would only send a minor charge, enough to disable a rebellious child without harming them whatsoever, however today the weapons had been dialed up to lethal charge. Flicking a switch on the barrel of the weapon, the machine hummed and a blue light flickered to life on the butt of the gun. Vadim nodded to the young security guard next to him. Donned in their black riot gear, the NELO security contingent could be armed to repel a rebellion by the Subjects, the reality of which disturbed Vadim somewhat.

A deafening boom sounded from the storm door as something large and powerful rammed it. Vadim then realised that the transport he had seen being prepped had been transformed into a battering ram and was being sent to destroy the powerful metal structure of the emergency doors. The man next to the young Russian jumped, cringing as he clenched his eyes. Tan skin much akin to Stephan’s with dirty blond hair, the man seemed much akin to a merger between Stephan and Roe, however he lacked the Greek facial structure of the former and the noble appearance of the latter. Vadim nudged the nervous man with his elbow and offered him a reassuring nod, to which the other cast a wary gaze to the door before looking bad and nodding. In his hands he held what appeared to be a rifle, and the newcomer found himself surprised to see someone using a bullet-using weapon when lazer weapons and tasers-pin weapons had become so common. Bullets were seen as messy and unpleasant, and evidently the guard was not ready to use the weapon. “Nervous?” Vadim whispered and his counterpart turned to face him. It was then that the Russian Subject realised how young his counterpart was, for they could not be more than twenty five years old. Deciding to attempt assuaging his concerns, the Subject struck up conversation as casually as he could: “I’m Vadim Alkaev. Student by trade, Subject by identification,” Vadim smirked wryly, and received a hushed chuckle from the other. It had become a slogan of the Pacific Union government that all Subjects were ‘subject’ to identification of such and evidently his joke had been received correctly. The two cast worried looks to the storm door as it boomed once more with another impact. Evidently, however the Union was ramming, required the resetting of some device following every successive strike.

An eerie silence fell over the two as they recoiled from the impact. The door had shuddered and trembled so terribly that Vadim had suspected it to merely topple, for its supports that held it upright had been all but severed in the most recent assault. Surmising it would only hold out for one or two more impacts, the Subject looked to his rapidly panicking counterpart and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, to which the other looked over alarmed. With an eyebrow raised, the other seemed to understand that Vadim wanted to help him calm by continuing their small talk: “Adymn. Adymn Baxon. I’m not a Subject, though…” Adymn seemed almost ashamed at this fact, something which Vadim was greatly confused at: none were ashamed of not being a Subject and in fact such only served to better one under the anti-Subject society Laevan and The Awakening had created. For a split second, a curious realisation came over Vadim: the Laevan government and The Awakening did seem to work in concert. One struck fear into the people while the other benefited by pushing forward an anti-Subject agenda. ‘Could they be working together?’ Vadim thought silently before dismissing such: ‘That’s insane. Laevan may not like subjects, but he hates The Awakening more.’ Having silently discarded his seemingly mad thought, he looked to the entrance expectantly, foreseeing its imminent fall. “Well, Vadim, it’s been a pleasure.” Adymn said, his tone resigned as though they would soon die. The Subject could not deny the truth, he knew that the Union military was better armed and outnumbered them, but he would not let such dissuade him from his intent to live and to protect his first family. For Subjects were unique in that regard: when born, they were given one massive family with one Mother or one Father and countless siblings of all ages and ethnicities. When adopted out, they would join a second family, but forever remember their first family. When born, Subjects would learn a specific first language which would define where they could be adopted to easily, however some parents did take children who could not speak their language for a variety of reasons.

A resounding boom sounded at the storm gate, and it was then that, with the audible snap of thick cables and the groan of metal, the storm door fell backward. A deafening crash was let out as the storm door hit the ground, shattering tile and sending debris flying. A cloud of dust kicked up obscured the movement of those entering for they too were the white colour of smoke that had been made, however the high pitched whine of taser darts and bullet capsules being fired sent everyone ducking. Panic took Vadim as the soldiers surged in. He could hear the return fire of those gathered, and even Adymn had sent off a few rounds before ducking once more. His heart pounded in his ears as war itself ensued around him. ‘I don’t want to die,’ Vadim spoke silently, pleading for it all to stop, ‘please, don’t hurt me…’ he could feel tears stinging at his eyes, tears of anger and of fear: fear of dying and anger for his cowardice. 'Don’t hurt me,’ he clutched the weapon in his hands tighter, the machination trembling noisily. He could hear Adymn telling him to fight, that one of their own had already been killed, and that the Union were using neurotoxin bullets. Vadim wanted to fight, he wanted to help, but fear had taken him and he simply sat there and shook, terrified. ‘Leo, save me…’ The words echoed in his head, and Vadim froze as he felt a nervous hand on the back of his head. His panicked eyes opened and he found that Adymn was shushing him. “Hey, Vadim, it’s okay… you’ll be okay…” His voice unsure, the security guard nevertheless tried to comfort the panicking Russian. At the other’s contact, Vadim seemed to calm, and for a brief moment, was reminded of the kind of friendship he had had with Leonas before the Lithuanian’s life was cut so brutally short.

It was then that Vadim noticed that the Union soldiers had advanced further and were closing in on their location. Grabbing the discarded taser-pin handgun, Vadim spun around on his heels and peaked over the counter. Outside, the weather had turned to the worse: the roar of a torrential rain could be heard over the shouts between soldiers and guards alike, coupled with booming thunder and lightning which lit up the building, allowing the formerly despairing Russian to see the truth of their situation. Seven guards lay dead, their lips discoloured and blood having oozed from all orifices; a product of the neurotoxin in the bullets they had been shot with. However he kept his composure and depressed the trigger as one of the invading soldiers noted him. As though seen in slow motion, the bullet was freed from his weapon and, just as it reached the offending Union soldier, split in half and the two prongs embedded themselves in his chest. The man, clad in white had been stained by the blood of a dying NELO guard who had attempted to claw her way up his leg to stop him, however had failed and merely left a bloodstained mess upon the soldier’s trousers. The soldier lurched forward as he was shot and his eyes grew wide before he me simply fell backward, still. The rush of the kill filled Vadim with adrenaline as he realised a disturbing fact: killing the man was exhilarating. The young Russian spared a glance to Adymn who had narrowed his gaze in focus as he let forth a flurry of bullets, seeing three soldiers crumple downward, instantly dead. The smell of blood and gore was thick in the air following the young man’s ruthless assault, and Vadim only felt more engaged in the fight. “You sons of bitches won’t touch my family!” The young man swore in Russian, only to receive a cryptic look from his American counterpart.  Vadim let forth a mad grin as he saw another soldier fall to the electric assault his weapon let forth in its bullet. This soldier, a woman, struggled forward as their nervous system was ravaged, firing madly into the air with an automatic rifle, neurotoxic bullets flying in no true direction, however simply collapsed backward as blood-vessels burst in her eyes.

“Well if I’ve ever seen an emotional turn around…” Adymn commented dryly as he looked upon Vadim’s near manic behaviour. Mere moments ago, the latter had been catatonic with fear and now he sat crouched, firing bullet after bullet as best as he could. For a civilian, the young man had remarkable accuracy, and nor did he waste bullets as one might expect. Vadim knew that he was running out of bullets, and the sight before him was twisting his stomach and his heart. A slight soldier fell before him, their eyes growing bloody with the shock to their nervous system and as they stumbled toward his position, the Russian panicked and stumbled backward. Their white uniform was stained red as blood oozed from their mouth, ears and nose and they crashed into the desk before collapsing back. Vadim eyed the man with horror as their skull split open on the steel desk and the wound was further enlarged as they hit the ground, still. “We need to go, Vadim!” Though the Russian man could not find the will to move once more, for his legs felt numb and he merely dropped his weapon, finding himself evermore revolted at the prospect of what he had done. Men and women alike, drafted against their will, laid still on the floor. Vadim knew that, of the dead before him, those he had killed had died nearly instantly, but such a realisation gave him little comfort. He had killed. He was a murderer. Adymn turned away from his counterpart for a moment, firing a few rounds before his weapon fell silent, echoing nothing but useless clicks, indicating he was out of ammo. “Vadim!” He called out urgently.

Finally, the Russian heard Adymn’s panicked shouts and looked to him helplessly. He could bring no words to bear, but silently inquired where they could go and what they could do. Vadim spared a glance over the desk: all their fellow NELO guards had died and they were the only two left. One of the soldiers was shouting for them to come out with their hands up, but, from the look on the American’s face, the despairing youth knew that neither of them would do well in captivity. The two crouched under the counter following a few bullets flying overhead and embedding themselves in the far wall. Behind the desk was a single door that led into an unknown room, and, at such a point in time, Vadim decided that the unknown room was better than being caught. “Let’s go for it,” he spoke aloud and, after receiving a dubiously surprised gaze from his newly found brother in arms, Adymn nodded. Vadim procured the weapon he abhorred so: “If I’m going to be a murder, I may as well save one line while I’m at it… Leo, forgive me,” he spoke to himself. His counterpart discarded his riot helmet and ran a gloved hand through curly black hair and shook out beads of sweat. The two spared nervous gazes, for their adrenaline had run its course and the heavy reality of their situation had settled in. If they did not move quickly, they would be shot as they came into view in the space between the desk and door. Thus Vadim loaded his weapon which indicated that he had but three bullets left. Looking over his shoulder and across the bullet scarred desktop, he noted that there were five soldiers. “Go!” He commanded and spun around. He held the handgun in both hands, and with one eye closed, delivered one bullet into one man’s chest, and the man stumbled backward before his eyes widened from the electrical charge and he fell still. Bullets were fired from his counterparts, and he found them all too close to his head.

Evidently, the soldiers that the Union had recruited were lousy shots and the fear of dying had gripped them more thoroughly than the heart heavy Russian who wished for nothing more than to somewhat validate their deaths by saving the NELO Subjects. A second bullet was fired and this one landed in the shoulder of the largest of the approaching soldiers. Vadim could see many more arriving at the building and assumed that these forces had already infiltrated into almost all the buildings. The second man gripped his shoulder as he stumbled downward before, as he fought and failed to stop the lethal charge from killing him, fired off a single bullet that grazed Vadim’s ear. Instinctually, the pained dark haired man depressed the trigger and sent a bullet into the second man’s midsection, felling him instantly with the second electrocution. Tossing the gun away, happy to be rid of it, the Russian launched himself into the open doorway behind him, and crashed into a piece of firm furniture. The door was slammed closed and was already being pelleted with bullets as Vadim stumbled upward. “C’mon! We need to get to the Administrative Building. We can use the emergency tunnels… if I’m right, there’s an entrance in this building from the boiler room.” Vadim stumbled to his knees and suddenly felt incredibly ill. His stomach burned as though he had been shot, but he felt no blood. It was then that he remembered his ear had been grazed by one of the bullets. Speaking nothing but nonsensical gibberish, he collapsed into Adymn who looked at his ear. “Shit! You got hit? That neurotoxin’s lethal, there’s a reason those damned bullets were banned by the Geneva Convention!” A cold sweat of panic came over Vadim as he began to convulse. Adymn swore loudly and began to drag Vadim away from the door, “Vadim!” He shouted, intense worry in his voice. Though the felled man could not hear the guard’s words after such and instead felt his eyes grow heavy and close as the world became muffled and foreign around him.

~*~

Panic. It was the first thing that came to his mind as he awoke. ‘Where am I?’ He questioned silently, his voice evidently lost to him. ‘Where am I!?’ He became more panicked as time wore on. His mouth was stuffed with a cold, dry rag of some sort and his wrists and ankles bound with cold metal. Either he had been blinded, or merely blindfolded, but the young man could not see. It was cold in the room, and the hard floor under him sapped all warmth from his body. He realised he was naked and shame took him: he was no more dignified than a pig for slaughter. Wrestling against his shackles, he found them to be unbreakable, as the metal was simply too mighty for his atrophied muscles to best. Moreover his mind was groggy and slow, it felt as though he had slept for days and had not moved in many more. Panic continued to course through him unabated, and his adrenaline kicked in. He trashed violently against the constraints, his skin digging into the cold metal. He kicked and fought and threw all his fatigued might into escaping, but to no avail. It was then that it began: a hard toed boot was delivered into his stomach and the air was knocked out of his lungs. He tried to roll away, but simply found another kick ruthlessly delivered into his lower back. Crying out in muffled agony, he felt deep bruises beginning to form from the kicking. A few muffled voices spoke to one another and shortly thereafter the captured young man felt something cold and sharp pressed to his throat. It was a knife, he decided then, and they were going to bleed him like a stuck pig, for he truly was swine to them, nothing more than a means to an end. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he laid incredibly still. Tears of sorrow for a life cut so tragically short, tears of anger for being so weak and powerless, tears of fear for the pain that would be wrought and it was then that he thought of him. ‘Roe, help me…’ Evidently he had spoken the words aloud, though he had not realised it, and the knife was retracted.

Stephan Tharros, naked, cold and scared, wept pitifully on the cold stone floor. He cried for the injustice of his situation, of his weakness and of his reliance on Roe to save him. Roe was clearly not here and there would be no help. It was then, as he calmed, rough fabric was wrenched from his head and the brunet found his eyes close from the seemingly blinding light. After a moment, his eyes adjusted and he opened them. In truth, it was not bright at all and in fact incredibly dim. A single light shone above and, no more than three feet in either direction were dull metal walls adorned with rivets and simple panelling. Laying on his side, Stephan saw only one pair of booted feet in front of him, and as he went to speak, one of these feet was once more delivered into his stomach. Coughing against the gag in his mouth, the Greek used all his efforts to repress the urge to vomit from the shock inflicted upon his stomach. Now having his ears freed, he could hear what they said: “Get up!” The person before him commanded, “Get the hell up or I’ll slit your fucking throat!” He felt a gloved hand grip him by the upper right arm and haul him upward. His legs seemed unaccustomed to bearing his weight and he stumbled forward, involuntarily into one of his captors who tossed him into their counterpart who repeated the motion until Stephan could stand alone. He looked around for a moment, his gaze focusing. Much to his confusion he was surrounded by four metal walls. Having already assumed he was in some sort of prison, he was entirely confused as to how one exited the cell. Returning his gaze to the man in front of him, Stephan felt shame wash over himself and he shifted his hands to cover his private. The man, garbed in a grey Pacific Union military outfit was designated as a ‘Correctional Officer’ on his chest, however this man seemed to not care about correcting any sort of behaviour and instead seemed to only desire Stephan’s agony.

Better thought of as a jailer, the man laughed mockingly at the prisoner’s newly found shame. “Little shit thinks he has something to hide, eh?” The man spoke coldly. Looking to be in his mid-forties, he wrenched Stephan’s shackled hands away from his privates and motioned and shamelessly stared at the Greek who tried to turn away, feeling incredibly uncomfortable and more than a little violated. The person behind him, however, gripped him by the shoulders and held him still. “Nothing to hide there, kid. Must be cold in here,” the man jeered and Stephan felt a humiliated heat rise to his face. Truthfully it was incredibly cold in the room, though the brunet found no fight in himself and merely stood there. Growing serious, the man returned his disdainful gaze to Stephan: “You know, I really hate people like you. You just have to rock the boat and mess the world up for everyone else. But I love my job, did you know that?” The humiliated prisoner didn’t respond and merely stood there. “I’ll tell you why, you little shit. Because I get to put retards like you in their place.” His word choice was vulgar and the exposed young man found himself loathing the man ever more as he continued to speak. “I’ll explain a few things to you, kid, since I don’t want to hear a word from you. You and your Subject friend were captured by some terrorists on Palmyra and handed over, along with a few other undesirables, in exchange for the lives of those who had remained in that town, Laevous or whatever.” Stephan was abruptly reminded of Roe at that moment. The last thing he could remember was he and the blond Subject being knocked out at Logan’s command. How many days had it been? Why did Logan do it? How was NELO? The questions mounted ever higher, but one above all was most pressing to him at that moment.

“Where’s Roe? What did you do with him?” Roe demanded angrily. A metal garbed hand struck him across the face and Stephan’s weak legs gave out from under him. Collapsing to the ground, his head struck the hard metal wall and he groaned in pain. The assault did not end there: as he looked upward, the prison guard delivered a brutal punch to his face. Flinching involuntarily, the Greek man felt the hard bone of knuckles collide with his cheek. His own teeth dug deep into the invading flesh and he felt blood fill his mouth as a tooth was dislodged. Crying out in pain, Stephan narrowed his gaze on the man as he cupped his cheek: “Where is Roe?!” He shouted angrily. Pain so intense white spots filled his gaze came then as a booted foot was delivered into his groin. Nausea coupled the blinding sensation and the beleaguered young man crumpled over, his bound hands unable to protect himself at all. Another kick was delivered to his shoulder and another to his stomach. The wind was once more knocked out of him and Stephan gasped and failed to find his breath as he heaved weakly. The abuse continued without relent and Stephan found himself hoisted into a seated position by his hair. As he regained his breath, a crushingly strong fist was punched deep into his abdomen and he doubled over instinctually. Stopped from falling over once more, the man clutched the Greek by the throat and held him against the wall. Stephan gasped for breath as he thrashed futilely against the injustice of it all. He could feel his face grow deeper shades of red as he looked his would be killer in the eyes. ‘If I’m going to die like this, I’m going to make sure you watch me die, you monster!’ Stephan spoke silently. Failing to speak so many words vocally, he uttered weakly: “You won’t hurt Roe…” With that, the man looked surprised and released him. The young civilian lurched forward, clutching his throat gently in his clasped hands, coughing violently.

The second figure, apparently a younger man who looked to be in his thirties ran a hand down his face, evidently incredibly bored. “As a matter of fact, you’re right, kid.” He said with the most disinterested tone Stephan thought possible when one was abusing a naked prisoner. He placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder and shook his head: “Kicking this shit’s ass won’t solve your problem with the fake kid, Bob.” Evidently the veteran between the two, Bob did not take kindly to his subordinate’s much more relaxed demeanor. Also marked as a Correctional Officer, this man seemed much less interested in brutalising Stephan and instead more interested in silently divulging secrets from his mind. “Your friend’s a tough cookie. He can take a lot of pain and not even whimper. Whether that’s because he’s conditioned or just incapable of expressing pain I don’t really care, but I want in his head.” The man walked toward the far wall and pressed two fingers to it. The wall to his right shimmered and, through some form of mirrors or projection, the once metal panelled wall disappeared and gave way to a set of thick iron bars. ‘So I am in a prison. Perfect.’ The prisoner thought to himself as he stared out into the blackened hallway. He could barely make out an identical set of bars across from his own cell and indeed another pair separated by about a foot wide distance. “I’ll make a deal with you, kid. You tell me how to crack that kid’s mind and I’ll let you both go… after we’ve got what we need from his brain.” The unnamed prison guard flourished a bored hand to the barred passage. “You do that and you’re both free to do whatever you want.” Stephan found that, either from the choking or repeated beatings, his voice would come to bear. Instead, he merely shook his head, and the younger guard sighed. “Look, I don’t want to make your life hell, but I can. C’mon Bob, we’re done for now.” Bob stood reluctantly, his baleful gaze set on Stephan hatefully. “The name’s Jack Gilbert, I’m the Chief Prison Officer here, so you had best not do anything to both mer. Rowdy prisoners are such pains.”

With that, he stood before the cell bars and raised his hand. As though at his command, a two foot by six foot gap opened and the two passed through. Stephan thought initially to chase them through, but found himself simply too weak to rise. Now revealed to be the superior, Chief Officer Jack looked to Bob expectantly who merely grumbled. “Mandate Seven: bare necessities.” He spoke aloud. A mechanical whirring was heard below him and Stephan shifted nervously as two holes opened abruptly in the floor. One right next to him in the corner and the other across from him and where the one next to him was small, the one across from him was quite large. From these two holes rose a toilet and a thin cot. The floor locked in placed with the new arrivals in the room. Too exhausted to even get up to lie on the bed, Stephan merely sit there against the cold wall as his captors walked away. Deep bruises had already begun to appear on his body from where the Correctional Officer had brutalised him, and the Greek knew they would be enormously painful come the morning. He shivered against the wall, feeling pitiful and befouled. ‘I’m so weak… I couldn’t even defend myself… I pleaded for Roe to come save me! Why am I so weak?!’ Stephan clenched his jaw shut and fumed angrily. He then recalled something Roe had said to him shortly after the two had agree to begin sparring. Roe had just beaten him for the fifth consecutive time and Stephan’s temper had been frayed beyond repose. He cursed himself for being weak, and it was then that Roe had spoken such powerful to him. ‘I do not think you’re weak,’ Roe had thought aloud, ‘You have a strong sense of justice and an ever stronger heart.’ Roe had placed a tentative hand on his shoulder then and said: ‘Do not doubt yourself, Stephan. You have no inner strength to find, because it is already here. All you must do is recognise it.’ The memory brought a sad smile to Stephan’s lips. Roe never, to his knowledge, lied to Stephan and so the Greek decided that he could, at the very least, partially agree with what he said. He would be strong for Roe, so that he would not disappoint him.  Darkness took Stephan then, and, though he had slept much beforehand, the brunet fell into a fitful slumber.

Stephan stood in a familiar place: Unity Square. It was a place dedicated to the end of the Second Civil War. For ten terrible years the United States of America warred against itself: the United States on the east coast which was comprised of roughly the original thirteen colonies and a few inland states, the Confederate Union in the south and the New Federation of the west and north states. The United States were the de facto remnants of the United States who wished to retain sovereignty as it was, whereas the Confederate Union of the south wished to secede entirely from the Pacific Union, believing international interference would see their fragile economy ruined. The New Federation was a group of states who wished to join with the still prosperous Canada of the time, believing that Washing D.C. no longer held the interests of the entire nation at the time and believed that the peaceful nation of Canada with its booming resource economy would better aid overpopulated states such as California and Washington in their endeavours to feed their starving nation. The war had ended in a brutal stalemate of the three powers as Canada refused to accept the New Federation into their country, the United States simply ran out of money and the Confederate Union was torn apart by moderates wishing to end the war, however it had been the actions of the People’s Republic of China that truly ended the conflict. Sweeping in and activating nuclear bunker busters in all three capitals of the warring nation, the entirety of the nations’ executive powers were annihilated and, with their death came a grudgingly accepted peace. Unity Square was a lovely place, Stephan remarked, as he looked over the palatial gardens that had been erected. It had been here that the Vice-Presidents of the United States and Confederate Union, and the Minister of Finance of the New Federation had met, signing the peace treaty and ending the conflict.

America had yet to recover from the struggle and, in the ensuing power gap, Doran Laevan had gained notoriety for his America first policies and was appointed Representative of the United States by the president, though all of this seemed foreign and strange to Stephan. Though born in America, he knew his heart was in Greece, the homeland of his parents, and saw the Second Civil War as though one might see an alien planet from afar: confusing and illogical. Why had they simply not worked together before the war Stephan could not say, but his attention was quickly stolen away by the centrepiece of the square. Converged upon by four separate pathways, a twelve foot statue of the two Vice-Presidents and Minister of Finance had been erected of the three men shaking hands as one. They smiled grandly and looked noticeably peaceful; a foreign concept to the war-torn nation. Next to the statue stood the familiar figure of Roe Speremus, donned in white slacks and a white shirt that was drawn up under the arm and over the side of his chest by a zipper. His hair was pushed back off his forehead, exposing his peaked hairline and narrow brows. He merely looked at Stephan as he approached and greeted him calmly when the two were in earshot: “Hello, Stephan.” The young Greek found himself wordless, for he knew that Roe was held in the prison and so too was he. He surmised it was a dream, though decided quickly that it was a good dream, one where the pains of reality might be lost in the familiar company of such a dear friend. The two merely stood silently as the Subject patiently awaited his response and, after realising that no such response would arrive, he spoke again: “This is a curious place. To commemorate such a bloody feud in a nationalistic country with a peaceful garden such as this? I do not understand.” The blond peered out.

Formed in concentric circles were six circles of gardens, all of which held one colour of flowers and gave the air a pleasant, alive aroma. Four pathways bisected them which led up to the central statue and all around them the federal buildings of the United States stood watch over the monument. “It’s a little weird, I know. But no one wants to remember the civil war with a bloody display reminding everyone of how horribly they acted.” He looked around, gesturing at the flowerbeds and gazebos that were erected at equidistant points. “Flowers and benches make them feel better and help them move on.” With that, Stephan gave a light shrug, “It’s closure.” Roe nodded thoughtfully at such, repeating the word to himself aloud. Wordlessly, Roe moved to one of the benches which flanked the statue and took a seat, crossing one leg over the other militantly. His brunet counterpart followed suit, however sat with his legs spread before him lazily. “This is a dream.” Stephan noted reluctantly, and his comrade merely nodded in agreement. “I don’t want to wake up… these prison guards are horrible. I’d rather stay here, safe from them and their evil world.” He felt weak and pathetic for admitting it, but in his dreaming mind, the Greek man felt his heart’s pain duplicate painfully. However Roe merely shook his head at the prospect of never waking, however if he had intended to explain his disagreement, he had clearly forgotten. The natural born youth stared at the Subject critically. Yes, he felt weak, however Stephan did not appreciate being made to look so weak and pathetic in his own mind, let alone having Roe, seemingly too good to respond, just sit there and disagree.

“If you never wake, you will never live.” Roe noted after a long pause. His words seemed to strike Stephan who slumped back in his seat, dark eyes opened wide for a long moment. “You will live because you are stronger than I, Stephan.” The absurdity of his words was such that the latter individual snorted derisively. The brunet certainly did not feel stronger; he had cried and begged silently for release and was not given it. “I have nothing, Stephan Tharros. I am nothing. I am the product of man’s insatiable desire to replicate itself in everything it does: dolls created in the likeness of their creator, robots made to mimic and act as humans and now artificially made humans.” Roe looked to Stephan, his gaze full of morose wisdom as he regarded the darker skinned individual. “We are called Subjects for good cause, for we are subject to the right of others. My life is not in my own hands and even the value of my existence is a subjective matter.” For the negativity of his words, the Subject sounded neither angered at his reality nor depressed over the matter at hand. His indifference seemed to anger Stephan at that moment, and evidently the former had noticed. “Do not feel angry for me, Stephan. I am a Subject: my existence was decided upon by those who would use me to make money and it may yet be decided upon by those who value money over morality.” He shrugged lightly, “I have made my peace with it, however you have not. Why?” His question struck Stephan as so many others had and the Normal felt himself weighted down greatly, as though his reluctance to accept Roe’s unacceptable reality was something of a personal fault. Anger surged upward in his chest as he regarded the ever calm Subject, furious that he could be so calm and that the blond individual could even question him. Stephan stood abruptly, his fists clenched at his sides as he tried and failed to calm himself.

Sweeping a hand through the air, the Normal borne young man refused visually. “I will never accept that reality, Roe, never!” He declared loudly. The Subject, ever calm, only quirked an eyebrow, however his cool demeanor struck a nerve with the Greek. Grasped by the collar, Roe was wrenched to his feet and stood toe to toe with Stephan. “You think you’re nothing? That’s just dramatic, self-destructive nonsense and I won’t allow you to even think it, let alone say it ever again. I don’t care that this is just some dream I’m having because I’ll shout this at you when we meet again.” At his last words, Roe opened his mouth to question him, though Stephan practically growled with anger. “No! We will meet again, Roe. Do you know how I know? Because you’re my best friend and I am not letting you die!” Releasing the Subject, Stephan smiled a small, sad smile. “I won’t give up on you and neither with Doctor Bellerose, or Vadim, or Emiliyia, or Xanthus or any of them.” Abruptly wordless, Roe merely stood there, attempting to contemplate what had been said. “I won’t let you give up because… because right now I’m passed out, naked and cold in a cell who knows where and I need you to be alive so that all that isn’t in vain.” Forcing the Subject back into his seat, Roe merely slumped to a seated position on the haunches of his legs. “And don’t be so stupid as to say anything as sad as you are nothing because, well…” Stephan trailed off, his gaze falling on the idyllic square that was around them for a long moment. A peaceful breeze rustled the tall flowers and the rich scent of their beings fell upon the Greek for a moment and he calmed. “… Because you’re my best friend.” He restated, and received an incredibly rare small smile from Roe.

Curled up against the cold, metal wall, all the while being naked, alone and freezing, Stephan smiled faintly in his sleep. He would be alright.

He would survive.

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