Subjectivity: Chapter Twenty-Two

As one of the Class Nine Subjects, Roe found himself in a unique position with regards to the value of human life. He had seen the depravity of NELO first hand, a reality that shook his confidence in Natalie, a woman he could no longer truly believe to be his Mother. Blank faces he had expected to be filled with fear and terror had stared lifelessly out at him, their dead countenances observing him with a blind envy; envy for his continued existence. Theirs was the fate of any Subject who had been found to be slightly more imperfect than he; a Nobody, a Class Ten Subject, killed and deposited into bins like expired produce. There had been no funerals conducted, no wakes in their honour, and in truth no names ever given to such abhorred individuals. ‘The imperfection of humanity lives on in science,’ Roe recalled the explanation Natalie had given him when he questioned the defective Subjects’ existence. ‘I saw it in their minds,’ his mind sped up in its ministrations, and a splitting headache abruptly came into being. “They were normal once, Mother,” He spoke slowly, though the habit of referring to her in such a familial manner had not waned, he found. Those at the opulent table turned their attention to him from their second course.

The woman in question looked to the azure eyed man, a look of pain and regret in her own gaze, though he spared her only the mercy of remaining civil and silent and allowed her to attempt a defense. Doran Laevan, Prime Chancellor of the Trans-Pacific Republic, tented his fingers loosely before him, looking closely at his former beloved, his dark gaze inscrutable. Across the table, Stephan held his Subject friend in attentive regard, worried that his calm exterior was merely a façade for a much more hectic emotional status that he himself was unaware of. “They were, yes. Normal children who laughed and played, who had no idea what it meant to be a Subject,” her words rang out into the tense atmosphere. Regardless of the ever-present conversation around them, their table was perfectly silent, the horrid truth so tactlessly revealed leaving most, save perhaps the Prime Chancellor and his attending Chancellor of Defense, the former having known for decades and the latter simply uncaring. “At the behest of our financial backers, the Laevan Foundation, I allowed their people to experiment on some of my children, so that the others would be safe and live happily.” I was Sonya, having remained utterly silent up until then who responded most dramatically. Her fist slammed into the table, causing wine glasses to tumble to their side, shattering noisily. Shards drifted away from their breaking points, skittering like insects seeking refuge. Cutlery and dishware thrashed from side to side at her actions, and all those gathered shifted their attention to her abruptly.

“You hold yourself like some sort of science-born Gaia,” Sonya hissed, and Roe found himself suddenly on guard, his hands falling into his lap as he readied to subdue the strong woman, should she rise. “As though you’re the great mother of the persecuted, their plight personified…” The words came out with venomous hatred. Stephan placed a hand on her forearm, and she shook it off, grunting angrily. “Don’t look at me like that, Stephan, you know it’s true,” Her voice was measured yet furious, every word annunciated with such terse intent that it left those gathered bewildered at her sudden malicious nature, given a perceived ever present calm. “She sits here, playing the victim, when she’s as guilty, if not more guilty than others.” Poignantly refusing to even look to the Prime Chancellor, she would not openly name him, still needing the guise of a loyal guard to slay him and free the world of his malice. Returning her gaze to Natalie, the woman held her head in the palms of her hands, long blonde hair tumbling through her fingers and over her shoulders. “You don’t even have the dignity to deny any of this, do you?” The question was agonising for the Mother of Subjects, and the glistening of tears could be seen through the cracks in her fingers.

Roe felt anger in himself, but he restrained it completely, refusing to deny the harsh truths Sonya had delivered, and went to speak, but paused as Stephan shot him an imploring gaze. Cursing himself for bending to the will of the second person he had ever considered a friend, he silenced himself, and received a grateful smile from the Greek. “I think we’re all aware that Miss Natalie has allowed terrible, horrible things to happen in NELO,” he admitted evenly, and she looked up, her teary eyes concealing a faint hope that he might have words to admonish her of the crushing guilt that tore at her being. “We’re all also aware that no company or government would fund NELO for thirteen Subject generations, and the first Natalie Bellerose, the one who helped created the organisation, lobbied endlessly for aid to raise humanity’s best hope at recovering from the Barren.” Sonya nodded stiffly, and Doran Laevan’s impenetrable gaze turned to face Stephan, and he felt the weight of the egoless man’s countenance as he spoke. “Miss Natalie,” he looked to her, and smiled a sad smile, “I’m so grateful you helped bring amazing people like Vadim Alkaev, Logan Hayes, Roe Speremus, and so many others, into our sad world,” nodding once, he held his smile, though it trembled with pain. ‘Evidently the hallmark of the eve is misery,’ Roe thought dryly to himself, ‘Is there nothing we humans can do but sob in the face of injustice?’ “But Sonya,” casting his gaze to the auburn haired woman, his visage of pained kindness fell, “She is right. Miss Natalie, you have sinned, but hope is not lost. No sin is unforgivable.” He extended a hand toward her, a symbolic gesture of the hope he wished to give, “Won’t you redeem yourself in the eyes of humanity?”

Standing as he offered his hand, she smiled gratefully, and rose from her chair, taking his hand in her own, her slender digits wrapping around his. “Thank you, Stephan. You are truly the embodiment of the kindness our world has forgotten,” she spoke in a relieved voice, “I have always tried to redeem myself by saving as many children as I have been able to, and-“ It was then that her eyes widened and, in her pure white dress, a point of crimson appeared below her bust, and she gasped quietly. The sound of flesh being sliced sounded noisily and the point of blood expanded rapidly, her chest becoming slick with blood. “I didn’t-“ Natalie spoke quietly as she collapsed backward, revealing a stooped, hooded figure adorned in an ornate black robe. Roe sat in dumbfounded shock, his brain, normally accrued to the most disturbing of scenes, failing to comprehend what had just transpired. Crimson eyes, as dark as the blood that dripped off the edge of a wicked looking blade, looked balefully from Stephan to Doran Laevan, before lunging at the man, sparing no time to revel in the death of Natalie. In his flurry of motion as he lunged toward the Prime Chancellor, his hood was thrown back, revealing a balding scalp sparsely covered in white hair, and discoloured, yellowed skin was drawn taught on his body.

Natalie Bellerose, having been almost completely impaled, gagged on her own blood as it filled her throat, and let her head fall to the side before weakly vomiting up her stomach contents along with copious amounts of blood. “Mother!” Roe shouted, kicking his chair back with such force it caught the woman who had rose to flee behind him at a nearby table in the side, sending her sprawling, though he could not care for her fate, and instead focused on Mother Natalie following his moment of shock. Grabbing Doran Laevan by the shoulder, he wrenched the man out of the way of his assailant and threw him to the ground. ‘Mother is dying,’ the words echoed in his mind as he blindly threw himself at the unsightly attacker. He felt that knife slice his forearm’s smooth skin open, and too felt the warmth of blood spill out, but adrenaline fueled him with such fury that he did not feel any pain. Grasping the knife by the blade, its sharp edges bit into his hand, though he once more did not register any injuries, and so, with inhuman strength, snapped the knife in two, separating the blade from the hilt. “Mother is dying,” he repeated dumbly as he tackled the man to the ground, grasping him by the wrists. “Why would you hurt mother?!” He screamed at the man, Roe’s sanity quickly draining from his mind as panic and grief overtook him. “Tell me why!” He demanded, anguish being blinded by pure rage. “Why!?” He repeated, though the assassin could not answer as the bleeding Subject delivered a jaw shattering punch into the man’s face. “Why!?” He repeated again, delivering his fist into the man’s face without repose, though found his opponent’s jaw to not break as he had suspected. Abruptly overpowered, his grip on the man’s wrists was reversed and he was made subservient to the ugly man’s grip, and thrown to the side.

“Stupid little toy,” the man hissed in a gravely tone, “How dare you strike the Father!” It was then that Roe realised who had stabbed Natalie, the leader of The Awakening, a man who had seen the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent people orchestrated with cold calculation, a man with as much blood on his hands as Doran Laevan. With such a realisation, Roe felt all inhibitions fall away like rain off his shoulders. Around him, the sound of gunshots could be heard, coupled with the horrified screams of many. Casting his gaze to the left, the mad Subject saw a middle aged couple, dressed in regal finery, have their throats slit by another figure garbed in a black robe, before being stabbed in the hearts and left to fall to the ground, dead. Their broken gazes looked toward each other, and in their throws of demise, they held each other’s hands loosely, never breaking eye contact as the cold hand of death took them. “Beautiful is not, Roe Speremus?” The man growled his name with malevolence unimaginable for simply uttering a name, “The justice of The Awakening has fallen on this den of gluttonous sinners!” With that, he lunged for Doran Laevan, who had begun his escape, flanked by Martin Godfried and Sonya Volkov, though the latter broke off to intercept a robed assailant. “My failed successor, you are much less impressive than I ever was,” the Father spoke, and it was then that Roe remembered.

The world of cruelty and science had fallen away before his very eyes, cracking and splintering before merely ceasing to be. He had heard a voice beckon to him, enticing him, speaking of a great power he now held. The power to change the world, it had promised him, and he had been easily coerced into believing such. For a split, agonising moment, he had known everything any and every Subject ever knew, though such knowledge was too much for any one man, and his mind cried out against it, tearing his conscious and ego asunder to accommodate for the torrent of information. Defying such utterly, he thrashed against the Phoenix Cloud’s attack, knowing the truth that all Nobodies had been broken in such a way. “I am Roe Speremus!” He shouted, “I will always be he! You cannot destroy me!” For a moment, his words seemed to have an adverse effect as the surge of knowledge increased tenfold, and for a moment he did indeed forget who he was, and all thought ceased. Though he broke against it as a voice whispered to him: ‘And so am I.’ Opening his eyes, he found himself standing in the gently rolling fields of Neo-Palmyra, however where he would expect to find NELO, no ruined structure stood, and where he would see Graham City in the distance, no city stood upon the horizon.

Before him was a near identical individual, with long, wavy blond hair hanging loosely around his shoulders and adorned in Subject garb not worn for over six decades. His azure eyes were bright and intense, something Roe found strikingly similar to his beloved friend Stephan whose gaze was one of determination and unfailing human kindness. “I am Roe Speremus,” the individual spoke calmly, and Roe went to speak, but found himself unable to do as such. “Yes, I know you are also named that, but I was the first. I am Subject One, the first of our kind, and you were named after me, brother.” Extending a hand, the more human looking Roe beckoned to his calculated counterpart, who instinctively took the hand in his own. “We are brothers, you and I, and so much more at the same time. I love you, Roe, in every facet I do, but…” He trailed off as he led them to a beach shoreline that simply appeared a short distance away. The second Roe, the more calculating of the two, was led dumbly by hand, like a small child by his parents, much of his brain still inoperable due to the mental stress of entering the Phoenix Cloud relatively unscathed. “You’re the first to ever speak to me, I’m so happy!” The kinder of the two smiled brightly, and the other found himself perturbed by seeing such emotion on his own face. “You should be proud, Roe, no one has ever made it this far. It’s been very lonely.”

Something about the place they were in, the mental construction the two were making together, seemed to link their minds in such an intimate and deep way that the cold eyed Roe felt his own heart stir at the happiness the other felt. It was the joining of two minds, something impossible in any other circumstance and so he found himself almost able to understand the other’s thoughts without them even speaking. “You are not truly the first Subject as he is in the real world,” the dead eyed Roe affirmed, and the other only nodded, still smiling, “You are a memory of him left in the Cloud to greet the next person capable of entering. It is not by chance that you and I are named the same.” Once again, his counterpart nodded, and the two sat on the sandy beach, watching the ocean lap in and out lazily. Still with hands held as though they were perhaps lovers or dear family, the two sat in silence as the newcomer contemplated what he had learned. “The real you is not like the you in here. I am sorry for that.” Roe spoke with earnest regret, “He is spurned and damaged. I sense him in here, but he will not let me into his mind like the others. He is dangerous.”

His counterpart nodded, “Yes, you are quite right. I hope that you know that everything I said is the unbridled truth.” Looking to the more reserved of the two, he sighed, “This place can allow you to do great and terrible things. It’s something like a wish, truly; you can will every Subject to change the world for the better, or you can see them slaughter innocents at your command. You have this power, but you have a third option, too… The option to do no such thing, and to let people decide their lives for themselves and I think that is the most noble of choices.” Tightening his grip, tears brimmed in the long haired Roe’s eyes, “I have to go now, Roe, I wish I could stay longer. You’re such an amazing person, and everyone you’ve met has thought that of you, for better or for worse. You are the Paragon of Equality, my friend, my brother, my lover, my stranger, my enemy.” Embracing one another with such warmth and love the cold hearted Roe thought impossible in himself, he felt the other become ephemeral, and he gripped him ever tighter, irrationally resisting the urge to see him go, whispering such to him desperately. “Goodbye, my Paragon, may you and your equals see the world rise anew.”

“Nothing more than a shadow of your past self, how the mighty have fallen,” Roe spoke lowly as his attention returned to the present following the forgotten memory’s recovery. “I pity you, Subject One. Spurned and unloved, you went mad with grief and now strike out at your parents, wishing to see the whole world burn for your pain.” Subject One’s eyes went wide with shock and then narrowed with anger, though the younger of the two would not allow him to speak, “And you are right!” Looking to Stephan, only to find his dear friend trading blows with a robed man as he had taught him, he smirked wildly before returning his gaze to the blood eyed man, “We are merely aspects of one another, but it is you who are weaker! I am the Paragon of Equality, you told me so yourself! But I am not alone!” Gesturing to Stephan with a flourish of his hand, he spoke with such emotional grandeur that it caused the aforementioned friend to turn his attention to him for a moment, “The Paragon of Fraternity, he who stands to bring the world together is with me!” Looking to Sonya who, with bread knives in hands, slashed at one of the black robed men while evading another, he motioned to her, “The Paragon of Liberty! She fights for the freedom of all those you and your hateful father have caged! No, I am not the weaker of us, I am the stronger, and today you will finally cease your hidden reign of terror!”

With that, he sprinted toward the man with speed unknown to even himself, and as he passed the table he had once stood at, he procured a steak knife from the Prime Chancellor’s scattered table set, and lunged at Subject One. “Little more than a beaten dog!” Subject One snarled furiously as he combatted Roe’s frontal assaulted by slipping to the side, avoiding an otherwise lethal blow to the heart from the knife and sent an open palmed hand at his opponent’s side, knocking the wind out of him and sending him tumbling back. “Is that all you can do?” The first Roe asked dryly as he revealed another hellish looking knife from his robes and stalked toward his fallen prey. “That long, boring speech and you’re going to die from only one hit? You stupid little boy, you are a paragon of nothing!” Subject One hissed as he stooped down, slowly pressing the blade to Roe’s chest. The many layers of regal finery he himself wore were easily split by the blade’s sharp point, and blood was slowly drawn from a small wound that steadily grew larger. “I will make this slow,” the Father spoke lowly, “I will make this agonising and painful,” he continued, pressing the blade into Roe’s muscle, “You will beg me for mercy and I… I will deny you.”

“You will not kill him!” A voice sounded, and the sound of heels clacking could be heard out of sight before Roe saw a crimson high heel shoe delivered its long point into the man’s forehead, sending blood splattering across the fallen Subject and sending the old man onto his back a short distance away. The blond man felt two slender, though strong hands haul him to his feet, and he found himself staring at a cut and bruised Sonya Volkov, still wearing her ruby dress. However having torn the lower section of it off, giving her greater movement, she retained the accompanying shoes, likely due to the amount of glass and sharp cutlery found on the ground in the banquet hall. “I heard what you said, and no one has ever honoured me so. Thank you, Roe. It would be an honour to fight alongside you and free the world from this murderer and that monster, Laevan.” Her words were accompanied with a firm smile, and with one nod, she looked to Stephan who had just launched a spinning kick at one of his assailants, sending the man sprawling, before leaning down and knocking the man’s head against the ground, knocking him out cold. “It would appear our mutual friend has a good grasp of fighting. I wonder where he learned that…” She spoke coyly, though her mirth died as she looked to the rising form of Subject One, blood trickling from the wound she had imparted upon him.

Stumbling to his feet, he wiped blood from his forehead and stepped back a few paces, “I do not have time for a pauper whore and a failed puppet. The world will burn and I shall be the one to set it ablaze! Awakening! Kill these three, ignore the rest!” He shouted and the various robed men and women turned from their current, helpless victims, however few remained alive, and hurried toward them. The sound of booted footfalls on the sets of arcing stairs could be heard as they raced toward Sonya and Roe, and as the two were attacked, Subject One hurried up the steps and out of sight. The younger Subject was kicked from behind, though recovered quickly and grabbed the man’s wrist as he went for a punch and spun it through the air, sending him sprawling, before stamping on his neck, killing him instantly. Sparing no time, he sprinted with all the speed he could muster toward Stephan, and vaulted onto a table and then into the air. With one firm kick, he severed a woman’s skull from her spine, the sickening sound of muscle and tendon severing sounding as he killed her with one resounding blow. Though the woman’s head was not removed, the same effect as snapping her neck had been achieved, and she crumpled downward, completely still. His closest friend regarded him with worry, though a look of gratitude in his eyes.

Stephan’s current assailant was quickly overpowered by both the former and Roe as he looped his arms around the man’s shoulders and allowed the Greek man to deliver one incapacitating punch to the face, and the assassin fell to the ground, either dead or simply knocked out, Roe, still largely blind with rage, could not care. “Roe! We shouldn’t kill them, they’re just blinded!” Stephan cried out as he looked to the now dead female assailant. “I know they’re part of The Awakening, but we can’t stoop to their level…” He trailed off as he saw Roe already moving to his next victim, a shorter man who was abruptly killed as the Subject snapped his neck from behind. “Stop, damnit!” He shouted as he hurried to catch up to Roe, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around, “What would Miss Natalie think of you killing like this? You’re not a murderer, you’re my friend, remember?” The brunet implored desperately, eager to see the Subject cease his wholesale slaughter of The Awakening, “Peace made through violence is no peace at all!” Fists clenched before him, Roe’s eyes went wide as he remembered Mother Natalie’s brutal murder at the hands of his predecessor. Lowering his hands, he mouthed her name, before looking to their table, where her still form lay next to, a pool of blood having collected around her. Her eyes were wide and stared lifelessly up at the ceiling, her skin was pale, and her visage one of terror and fear.

Shambling toward her, Roe felt a foreign moisture at his eyes, “Oh, no…” He whispered as he stood before her corpse, the point of blood he had once seen in her chest now covering her entire torso. Her hands were clawed over her stomach, and her once beautiful cyan eyes were lifeless and bloodshot. “Mother?” He spoke quietly, falling to his knees at her side, “Mother, please wake up…” Placing a hand on her upper arm, she felt cold to him, “This isn’t funny, please, wake up…” Roe saw points of clear liquid appear on her arm as he looked down to his hand which trembled on her still limb. Slowly slouching forward, he shook with agony he had never felt in his life. Grasping the far side of her bloodstained dress, he crumpled over Mother Natalie, tears freely falling as he sobbed noisily. “Mother!” He shouted miserably into her chest, “Don’t leave me!” He continued, the world around him falling into darkness and despair as he sat there, heaped over her dead body. “I don’t want you to go, you can’t go!” His words became more childish and manic as the horror of her death fully impacted him, “Come back!” He screamed before his entire body fell into shaking sobs, tears moistening the dried blood of her once beautiful dress. Looking up, his face strewn with tears, his eyes bloodshot from the pain they wrought, and his mouth downturned miserably, he was the embodiment of despair. Whispering to her, he cupped her face with his bloodstained hand, smearing the cold crimson on her face as he spoke to her with affection and utter emotional torment: “Mother…”

~*~

Long, soft grasses gently poked his forearms, neck and feet while a calming wind drifted by slowly. The heath of the sun beat down on him with an equally relaxing nature, and the world felt at peace. In the distance he could hear gentle slosh of the ocean against a sandy beach. Corvus opened his eyes and stared into the uninterrupted blue sky, his heterochromatic gaze listless and relaxed. ‘Has Roe fallen from grace?’ He inquired silently, and the world around him rustled slightly, and he nodded, understanding that the answer was yes. ‘I see. Father, what must I do?’ Once more, the ground under him rumbled, and from its seemingly random movements, he understood that he had to finish Roe’s work, for he was unable to do as such. Placing his hands against the grass at his sides, the teen boy felt his mind surge wildly as he connected with his brother’s mind, and he gasped, his breath abruptly failing to come to him. The ocean crashed into the beach as he failed to control the Phoenix Cloud, and panic rose through his mind, “Brother, please don’t try to stop me,” He whispered to the ground below him, focusing his sight on the sky above to steady himself. For a long moment the waves crashed with fervor, and he felt the cool spray of seawater on his person, though finally he caught his breath and the resistance he had felt ebbed away like a bout of nausea.

“Oh dear,” Corvus spoke quietly, and removed a hand from the ground with such difficulty that it felt as though great tree roots had grown over his appendage in the time he had laid there, “Big brother, I should go to you now! You are so unwell, your Mother has died!” Smiling manically, he rose to a seated position and spoke aloud, “I will get rid of all your impediments so that I may comfort my big brother.” Taking a deep breath, he removed his other hand, stood, and walked toward the sandy beach. The ocean stretched out into infinity, and he was well aware that, though it appeared to be the Pacific Ocean, it was merely how the human mind understood a collective unconscious: a roiling sea of emotions that could never be bested, and to step into it was to risk insanity with every second spent there. Standing just before the edge of the water, he cocked his head, questioning the ocean, “Am I necessary, friends?” His face adorned with an innocent visage, he leaned forward, “Not very talkative are you guys today? Well we can fix that!” With that, he stepped into the surf, and felt as though a million needles had pricked him all at once. Wavering from side to side as he connected with their minds, he grinned, “Big brother Roe can do this without trying, and so can I. We’re special, aren’t we father?” He asked the sky, which did not answer him. “I suppose I must be necessary, since big brother is not able to use the Cloud right now. He’s too unstable.”

Extending his arms outward as his mind stabilised following a connection with every Subject in existence, save two, the first Subject and Roe himself, Corvus Cladem gave his orders. “I, Corvus Cladem, the necessary evil of the Cloud, the antithesis of the Lord of Justice, Roe Speremus, do command you, all Subjects! Redouble your efforts, make mania in the streets! Kill everyone you see! Make no discriminations! Show the world why they need our father!” A violent and agonising wave erupted out of nowhere and threw Corvus back, however he did not flinch, and instead let the wave throw him into the nearby grasses, thoroughly drenched. The ocean, now blood red, churned and frothed with foam as the Subjects resisted his command with every fibre of their will, but he only shook his head, well aware that no one could deny the wish to kill when their brain chemistry had been so thoroughly damaged that they could think of nothing else. ‘It is done, father. May I leave, now?’ He asked the Cloud silently, and the world around him shimmered. Closing his eyes, he felt the warmth of the sun fall away, heard the crash of the waves cease, the softness of the grass no longer exist below him and after a moment, he floated in nothingness. Slowly being righted through the air by forces unseen, he sat as though he was in a high backed chair and as he opened his eyes, he could hear the quiet hum of computers around him. A glass wall revealing an empty adjoining room was before him, and a semi-circle bank of consoles rounded the interior of the room he was in. Behind him a similar set of computers, and on either side of the room a set of white doors, matching the equally sterile floors and ceiling.  Seated to his side were lab assistants, and standing next to him was a man garbed in a long lab coat, grey slacks, and a burgundy sweater that shone like it was metal.

Groaning quietly, Corvus was unable to speak, and instead looked up to the controlled visage of Galvin Laevan, who stared down at him. “You have done well. For a clone of a Class Nine Subject, it is amazing you are of any use to us at all.” Moving his attention to the console before the two of them, he tapped a few commands in and on the wall before them an address by Doran Laevan was being given. “Doran was almost killed by Subject One and The Awakening, however he’s decided to use this opportunity to push forward the Ragnarok Project into the final phase. And thanks to you, we no longer have any use for that stubborn boy, Roe.” Frowning, Corvus went to speak once more, however found his throat too dry to allow such things, and instead thought to himself his complaints: ‘Big brother is not a bad person, he is simply misguided. He thinks disobeying father will help the world, but father is the only one who can save it from itself.’ Before him, donning a torn crimson tuxedo, scrapes and cuts to one side of his face, Doran Laevan paced toward the podium, and was met with roaring applause. “It’s amazing what choking the media and internet can do to the public’s opinion of one man,” Galvin commented dryly as his younger brother waved to the crowd.

Lowering his hand, Doran Laevan cleared his throat, “Today as a tragedy has befallen the One City. A group known as The Awakening, a terrorist organisation which continually defies the government and is made up of dissenting Subjects has struck a terrible blow to innocent civilians. Seventy executives and their families have been slaughtered, and I myself barely escaped thanks to the heroism of our armed forces. I am here today to put an end to this once and for all!” Roars of cheering and applause followed his words, and he extended a hand forward to silence them. “I am instigating marshal law: and my first act is to order the Trans-Pacific Republic citizenry and army to find and destroy every Subject! Too many have died by their artificial hands; we shall have no more! Anyone who disobeys this order will be met with the same fate they wish to deny for the Subjects.” Clenching his fist, he raised it high into the air. “Peace comes now, my friends! Glory to the Republic! Glory to the people!” Corvus only grinned wildly at his father’s words, nodding exuberantly. ‘The Subjects are completely insane thanks to me, and father has given the world license to kill them. It will be a wonderful bloodbath! So many will die, wonderful work father!’ He beamed joyfully as he stood from the Phoenix Cloud’s operation’s seat and turned from the screen superimposed upon the glass wall before him, walking to the door weakly.

Casting his gaze back to the elder Laevan brother, he nodded, “I am going to go help father: with any luck, tens of millions will die tonight and a new world order will begin tomorrow!” Not wasting any time to hear out the old man, he pushed open one of the doors and hurried down the hall, his dark Subject garb fluttering around him. Running a hand through his completely black locks, he grinned, “Big brother we’re going to meet soon, and when we do, I’ll kill you,” giggling madly, he burst into a run toward the elevators. With every footfall his grin grew wider, and he pushed himself to run ever faster toward his goal. Lithe legs bounding under him, he silently thanked his Father for the impressive body he had been given, and intended to put it to good use and stop the rebellion that was on the horizon. ‘I have to protect my father and my brother, they’re my family!’ He spoke to himself silently, nodding repeatedly in agreement with himself. Passing by a group of laboratory technicians, he waved quickly and with a chipper disposition: “Hello guys! Take it easy!” Seeing the intersection in the white halls before him, his grin deepened as he sped into it before bounding into the air, planting a black, laceless shoe against the wall, and sending himself spiralling into the intersecting hall before landing on his feet and continuing further.

Skidding to a stop before a set of elevators at the end of the hall, he breathed in and out quickly, recovering from his run, and tapped the pad many times before resigning to waiting for it to arrive quickly. “That Russian woman, Kopachesky? The Major General at the Training Camp in Russia, she’s plotting against us, and it looks like all her pieces are in place for her move… It’s too bad for us that the errant Subject is here with his servants too, and almost killed Father!” He spoke to no one as he waited for the elevator to arrive from countless floors below or above. “But that’s okay, Father can take care of himself. So what if the whole city is destroyed? As long as we three are safe…” He trailed off as the elevator doors opened, and he met the curious visage of a Congresswoman, though continued as he stepped in, “Then no one else matters.” The woman gave an awkward ‘hm?’ as she was evidently unaware as to whom he was and what he was talking about. He smiled a manic smile at her; toothy and broad. “Don’t mind me, miss! I’m just thinking aloud.” Stepping toward her, eyes wide with wonder, he brushed the back of a hand over her greying hair, “Oh my, you’re beautiful! Far too lovely to be working in a big cucumber building like this one.”

The woman blushed a deep scarlet, clearing her throat before laughing nervously, fixing her hair. “Oh what a charming young man!” She tapped the screen inside the elevator, sending the gold and marble structure downward. Falling into comfortable silence, the two stood there comfortably. Casting his gaze to the woman, Corvus smirked slightly, knowing quite well the power of kind words, for he had learned such in his brief life from his Father. ‘Father is a master of manipulation,’ he revelled silently, ‘Everyone thinks he’s this passionate man willing to do anything to help him. He’s not some little kid! He knows better than to let personal ambitions get in the way of world peace.’ Studying the woman, he let his smirk fall into a neutral expression, ‘People like her can die for all I care, they’re unnecessary to Father’s, Roe’s and my happiness. We’ll be perfectly happy together, like a real family.’ Frowning, he quickly supressed such an expression, not wishing to alarm her. Thinking resolutely to himself that they were a real family, his thoughts were interrupted as she let out a quiet noise of surprise. “Where are my manners? I am Congresswoman Juley Robertson, from China. It’s a pleasure to meet a young man who isn’t totally lost to virtual reality simulators and synth-pop.”

Folding his hands behind his back, he nodded quickly, “That’s so cool! I’ve never met a congressperson before, what an honour! You and your fellow people keep us all safe and sound,” layering on the trait of an innocent schoolboy, he smiled grandly at her praise of him, forcing a light blush to dust his pale cheeks. “Oh but you’re too kind, I’m not better than anyone my age or otherwise. We’re all equal, no one’s better or worse, but if what you say is right, I guess I might’ve made better choices than some, but that’s all thanks to my father.” Giving a wistful sigh, he spoke truthfully for the first time in his conversation with the woman he was quickly growing to dislike more and more. ‘Old, wrinkled, white hair, saggy breasts,’ the list continued in his head as he inwardly loathed her with more of his person with each second. Noting that they had almost reached his destination, a devious thought came to mind, though he did not act on it immediately. “Say, ma’am, what do you think of the Subjects?” The abruptly serious question seemed to throw the woman off guard, and she regarded him as quizzically as she had when the elevator stopped to let him in. “I ask because I think a smart, pretty lady like you must have an informed opinion on them, and it’s important to know what the world’s leaders think about hot button issues, wouldn’t you say?”

“So bright for your age, my, your father must be proud,” she complimented him kindly, offering him a warm smile that only served to wish for him to hasten his plan. “Well, I, and many of my colleagues, have no strong feelings on them. It is my belief, and that of the Prime Chancellor, that they are indeed not people, and any personality they appear to have is a trained ability, much like how a parrot can speak. The bird can’t actually understand what it’s saying, but at the same time, it would seem to.” Nodding to him as he kept a cheerful countenance, she continued, “Indeed they’re little more than dolls painted to look like us, but in reality they’ll simply never be—“ The woman abruptly stopped, gurgling on a liquid that had appeared in her throat. Coughing violently, she sent blood splattering onto the golden doors of the elevator. In her throat was a long, narrow dagger, much akin to a bayonet knife, though deeply serrated. The notched blade was held by Corvus, who had procured it from his shirt sleeve, and now tore it out of her throat, sending a wider spray of blood across the front wall of the elevator, and he gave a ‘tch’ of annoyance as he pushed her away, stopping her from bloodying him. “—human…” She trembled from blood loss, her face deathly pale, “I never… really believed...” She mumbled, though he would not pay her any attention.

Sending a swift kick into the woman’s stomach, she merely crumpled forward, dead from the mammoth amount of blood that had spilled from her neck and pooled around her fallen person. “How dare you call me a doll,” the black haired teenager hissed furiously, and leaned down to face her at eye level. “Do you hear me, you old hag? How dare you!” He shouted at her, though her lifeless, dull eyes indicated she had already passed. Shirking her head back by her hair, he stood once more and faced the doors as the elevator stopped at the desired level. Reports had come that The Awakening had members planted in the Gherkin Alpha who were now wreaking havoc on the one hundred and fifteenth floor which housed a large cafeteria and a few small shops. Looking back to his victim, her face painted with horror and pain, he spat on her corpse, “Anyone who calls me or my big brother inhuman can rot in hell!” He shouted as loudly as her could muster. Exiting the elevator, he found himself on a sort of pavilion specially made for a set of six elevators, split into two rows facing outward, that looked out onto the food court.

Where once one might find stately sets of tables and chairs filled with suit wearing politicians, businessmen, bureaucrats and many other walks of professional life, now blood and carnage covered their finery, staining table cloths irrevocably and marring the mutilated bodies of innocent bystanders not spared by The Awakening’s assassins. “Father’s first child is insane, that’s for sure,” he commented calmly, though found his words to be drowned out by the intermittent screams of people being slain by the cloaked figures whipping around the establishment with dark intent. “Faceless, no one will care when you die,” He referred to the robed individuals coldly. They had given up their identities for their cause, and so to Corvus, they had given up their right to life, and he would gladly mete out his Father’s justice in his stead. “First, I need to find big brother. I bet he’ll be with his two friends, and if they wanted to stop The Awakening, they would’ve followed them here.”  Descending a wide set of stairs, he passively walked over the corpse of a fallen man, his bowels ripped from his stomach and left to snake over the bloody floor below. A wide hallway was evident at the back left corner of the cafeteria, and the main shops for food were found in an L-shape in the right corner, whereas the rest of the space was used for seating, and the opposite wall was a rounded one, and made completely of glass: the exterior of the Gherkin Alpha. The ceiling was marked with verdant swirls; organic lighting that lit the large area with a warm, inviting light.

Ignoring it all, the ebon haired Subject walked quickly toward the distant hallway which appeared to bend back around the food court and follow the curve of the Gherkin Alpha. Before him, however, robed individuals noticed him, and converged quickly on his location, “You silly fools, you can’t harm me! My brother is Roe Speremus and my father is Doran Laevan, do you really think you’re any match?” The two robed assassins only took such as provocation to expedite his dispatching, and sprinted toward him, one holding a rifle and the other a wicked looking dagger, something he would expect to find in cultish practices of a bygone era. Drawing the knife he had stored in his sleeve, he crossed his arms before him, his free hand held in a tight fist and the knife held parallel to his forearm. Crouching slightly to parry their attacks, he blinked as blood spewed from their concealed necks and their crumpled forward, revealing a familiar figure. Adorned in the tattered remnants of a fine tuxdeo, his silvery shirt was torn half open, revealing a pale, firm chest nicked and scratched, and with only one noticeable gash on his lower right leg, Roe Speremus had evidently proved himself in the past hours to be a master at arms. Though it were his eyes that took Corvus aback, for where he had expected to find his brother reposed and calm as always, his eyes were tear-stricken, bloodshot, and wide with emotion the older Subject had likely never felt before. “Big brother?” The younger questioned, in disbelief his ideal elder self could be so unwell. Lowering his blade to his side, he took a step forward, “What’s happened?”

At his movement forward, Roe drew both his identical blades outward, holding his arms out and bent at the elbows. With one leg crossed over the other, and head crooked forward with a mad steely stare of ice, he looked all the part of an angel of death. “You,” the bloodstained blond hissed, “You are real!? Stay back! How do I know you are not in league with either of them?”  Going to answer, Corvus was cut off as his elder brother suddenly flicked his left wrist, sending his dagger flying over the former’s shoulder, and a firm ‘thunk’ of the blade meeting its mark could be heard. Looking over his shoulder, the chipper youth’s brows rose in surprise as he saw an Awakening assassin crumple backward, a blade embedded in his face. Such brutality had not seemed possible for the relatively benign Roe, and such worried the younger aspect greatly. Two more had arrived from the elevator, and the proclaimed Paragon of Equality sprinted forward with deadly speed, retrieved his knife from the dead man’s face, and took his angelic stance once more, allowing the two to approached him. Corvus did not move to intercept them, eager to see his brother in action with all sanity removed from the equation. It donned on him then that his actions to send the Subjects into a murderous flurry could have further exasperated a mental state Roe would have been otherwise capable of supressing, but clearly something terrible had transpired, and given a face so laden with anguish as his, he knew it to be a terrible happenstance.

The two Awakening members charged Roe, confident they would overpower a slender man in his early twenties, but were sorely mistaken. As they fell into range, he dove left, crossing his arms before his face and sending one of the blades into the man’s shoulder, burying it to the hilt. The man cried out in agony as he involuntarily went to grasp the blade and remove it, though his opponent would award him with no such mercy quite yet, and with his free dagger slashed three times as though he were scribbling on a page, blinding the man before  changing his grip to bury another blade and dove it into the man’s soft throat, “I will not give you mercy,” He whispered as he twisted the blade before removing the first and driving it into his heart, “Choke on your own blood like your master saw Mother do!” He shouted brokenly, sobs choking his words for a moment. Removing both blades, he went to attack the other, though Corvus had decided he did not wish to merely watch, and so as his elder brother went to attack, he was already forcing the man onto his back, having pounced on him like a lynx. Blade in hand, with both hands, he forced it through the man’s forehead, the sickening sound of bone cracking and splitting on the other side being heard as he did so.

Looking to find Roe looming over him and his fallen prey, the teenager smiled brightly, “I can’t let you have all the fun, big brother!” Going to speak once again, the taller Subject silenced himself at the sound of new footfalls, one Corvus identified to be a woman in heels, and the other a man of similar height to his beloved sibling donning dress shoes. Placing his foot on the dead man’s face below him, he wrenched his blade free and the man had begun to spasm from nerve damage as he bled out onto the ground, forgotten by bother Subjects, who were now face to face with a red headed woman with the stormy eyes of a born battlemaiden and a man with a gaze as kind and loving that the black haired boy thought he looked upon God for a moment. Both had been once dressed grandly, but now were covered in blood, their regal clothing torn and cut, and both wore slashes and bruises in greater number than their Subject counterpart. “Lieutenant Sonya Volkov and Prisoner 853 Stephan Tharros?” He questioned incredulously. He did not know that the soldier who had been given special treatment by her father worked with dissidents such as the prisoner. Frowning at Stephan, he returned his attention to the man at his side, “Big brother, we need to get to Father, so that we can complete the Ragnarok Project together. The Subjects are in place, the new world can begin soon!”

Stephan stepped forward, a gun held shakily in hand and aimed at Corvus, though the Subject doubted very much he could fire on a supposedly innocent child. “Miss Natalie is dead, and Roe has gone mad, do not talk to him right now! I won’t let you pervert his broken heart to a madman’s wishes!” Motioning with the weapon, he took a steadying breath, “Step away from Roe, now.” The brunet’s words were stern, though his pained sea-green eyes spoke to the inner torment that he held in his heart for his actions. “Do it!” He snapped, and loaded the weapon, “These are neurotoxic bullets, I won’t hesitate!” With a sly grin, he complied, and stepped away. “Good, now tell me, who are—“ Once more, another was interrupted as the elevators behind them opened: all three that faced the food court and likely the other three, though they could not confirm such, and from them poured five heavily armed Republic soldiers, donning all black uniforms including narrow helmets Corvus suspected to be impervious to any form of attack. The fifteen soldiers spread out in a straight line, loading rifles and pointing them at the four gathered. “The army? We don’t have time for this! We need to stop Laevan!” Stephan spoke angrily, looking to Sonya, though her attention was diverted elsewhere. Behind them the hurried footfalls of countless individuals could be heard, and the other three turned their attention there to find what the youngest guessed to be thirty Awakening figures, robed and armed with identical weapons to the soldiers behind. Evidently they had broken into the army’s weapons’ lockers situated in numerous places in the Gherkin Alpha.

“Who I am can wait,” Corvus spoke quickly as the two rival factions formed battle lines, as though they expected such dated methods of warring to be effective, “We’re going to get killed if we stay here. We need to pick an exit and go with it. Through the Trans-Pacific Republic, or through The Awakening to live another day.” Behind them, the army stated their demands, though such was ignored by the three and their younger unwelcome companion, and subsequently the manic ideals given by The Awakening. “These guys seem content to yell at one another, but once the shooting begins, we can leave. What will it be?” Looking to his elders, Corvus scrutinised them quickly: “Sonya? Stephan? Brother?” None answered and instead slowly shifted lower, one after another, save Roe, expecting shots to be fired at any second. It was Roe who broke the silence and made the decision for them. Cold and callous was his voice as he spoke, and he brought a shocked gasp from the one who held herself like a warrior, a lady of freedom, and a pained uttering of his name from the man who held kindness above all else, a man of brotherhood. The third fellow of their trinity, the Paragon of Equality, sounded the call to arms with malice in his voice, his broken heart capable of feeling naught but vengeance on the entire world:

“None of them deserve to live. We kill them all.”

Sonya could not help but remark on how much he sounded like Subject One in that moment.      

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