The thought of using the unused train system as a means of
the five of them to The Awakening was a stroke of mad brilliance by Vadim
himself, for although the Estonian man’s superiors had discarded the idea as
being too dangerous, those who now used the very same route saw it as a
necessary risk. ‘I can’t let any of them
get hurt,’ the Russian youth swore to himself, his convictions determined. ‘No one else I care for will die while I
draw breath, I swear it!’ He smirked confidently when Adymn gave him a
fleeting look as he ceased to listen to Ludwig’s prattling about the
superiority of a specific fighter to another. The former guard returned the
gesture with a thumb’s up before returning to his conversation. Casting his
gaze back to the panel that enabled the tram to determine its course and from
what he could discern, he theorised they would arrive soon. “Looks like we’ll
be there in two minutes: lock and load everyone,” he announced steadily, making
quite sure that he sounded as confident as he tried to look. ‘Roe was never scared when he stood up to
that guy in the food court, or when he fought that crowd of protestors. I need
to be like him, I need to control my emotions and not let them control me. Leonas and everyone else will be avenged!’
Those around him had ceased their conversations and were now
donning military uniforms, even Marcella who had made it clear she did not wish
to fight, but would do so to protect them. Vadim had long since donned his own
protective gear when they had begun their transit but nevertheless checked all
protective fabrics. Next to him lay an automatic rifle, another armament that
Ivan and his tall soldier counterpart had stolen before they left, uncaring of
the consequences for their purpose was one none of them could deny. The
aforementioned child soldier donned various thick fabrics and shored them up
with buckles and magnetic strips before giving a firm nod and slinging an
identical rifle across his back and standing. He was quickly joined by
Marcella, Adymn, Ludwig, and finally Vadim joined them in their attentive
stance. “Alright everyone, what’s the saying?” Marcella looked around for a
moment, before retrieving her own rifle and flicking a switch on the side of
the butt of the weapon, “Weapons free, I think it is.” She received a wry grin
from the youngest of their troupe before the tram they were on gradually began
to slow. Those gathered placed themselves behind five of the seven pillars that
served as protection in the military transport. In reality even the glass was
bulletproof, but they did not wish to be seen until the last second. Adymn took
a steadying breath as he disengaged the safety on his weapon and gave a quick
acknowledgement to the oldest of their group, Ludwig. Others shared equally
nervous gazes, but otherwise kept their composure.
After what felt like hours for Vadim, a light in the tunnel
appeared ahead and the tram slowed to a stop. They could hear the rush of
footsteps toward the vehicle coupled with demands that whoever was inside exit
immediately or ‘face the Universal Truth.’ Scoffing at the thought, the dark
eyed Subject looked to his compatriots and gave one final nod. Tapping a button
on a small panel next to one of the entries to the light rail transport, some
gun ports opened in the corners of each window, and each of them took their
point. “Fall back!” One of The Awakening shouted, but it was too late, for the
German named Estonian was the first to fire, striking the man in the back of
the cowl and sending him crashing into a rapidly growing pool of his own blood.
“Open fire!” Was the next command given by the terroristic zealots and it
seemed as though such was more motivation for the rebels than it was the
murderous cult. Gunshots rang out without repose as those in the armoured train
suddenly found themselves bereft of humanity, and it seemed as though Vadim
himself felt a great deal of glee at watching the horrific cult die before him.
Ivan swore triumphantly as he saw his first victim fall, claiming the victory
in the name of his sister. Marcella shrieked an apology as she fired her
weapon, sending a bullet clear into the midsection of an Awakening member
donning a white sash.
“They’re protecting the ones with the sashes and the
armbands!” Adymn called out over the noisy gunfire, “Get them! They must be in
charge!” Everyone seemed to agree with the notion and concentrated their fire
on those who wore either the aforementioned white sash or a grey armband. One
of the cultists called for a human shield to protect the Father, and various
men given the ranks of Steward and Savant. Vadim could not see the Father, and
cursed himself for it, wishing very dearly to end the monstrous man’s life for
what he had done to Logan. He had barely known the fiery haired man, but knew
him to be a good soul with a pension for dramatics. When they had found his
corpse, it was being picked at by crows and other lowborn grubs, with his
throat gouged open and a piece of flesh lodged in his windpipe. The Subject had
learned of the fellow artificially born man’s death from the military rebels he
had befriended when asking about their friends. It had evidently not been made
public knowledge for some reason, but the death sickened him and steeled his
resolve to kill the monstrous Subject One. “I’m running out of ammo!” Adymn
called out, worry in his voice. His concerns were echoed by Ludwig and Ivan as
well, who had no switched to manual fire.
Roughly fifteen men were dead already, but with the amount
of bullets being required to fell even one due to the inexperienced nature of
their marksmen, the de facto leader that Vadim had been made into knew that
they were unlikely to succeed in killing them all. Four figures hefting police
riot shields dashed madly for the exit, and one, donning a unique open black
and gold robe, was identified by Marcella to be the Father. “Stop him!” She
cried out, “We can’t let him kill anymore innocents!” All those within the
military tram let loose a flurry of bullets and were successful in stopping
one, but the remaining three escaped. As they did, Adymn, Ludwig and Ivan made
their lack of ammunition known and their sentiments were quickly echoed by the
others in short order. Gunfire was replaced by a tense silence as the five
gathered contemplated on what they had to do. Hushed words were exchanged
between the two rebelling soldiers before an agreement was reached and Ludwig
cleared his throat.
“Listen, we’re out of ammo, and we’re probably going to be
stormed anytime now. I’d bet my bottom dollar that the Father and his cronies
are on the steps just out of sight waiting to catch us off guard if we exit the
tram. He’s no idiot, so there’s no doubt he’s expecting us to want to go after
him. He’s probably baiting us right now.” A few agreeing motions and words were
given after he made his point, to which he only sighed sadly. Looking out the
window of the transport, Vadim eyed the carnage: over twenty robed corpses laid
still, many of which wore the armbands and sashes that had made them such
desirable targets, and through the gun ports that had been made, the acrid
stench of death filled the enclosed cable car. “I have an idea, but it’s risky,
and you’re all probably going to say no, but Ivan and I talked it over, and we
think it’s our best shot. We’re going to go out there and surrender ourselves
to the Father. We’re soldiers so he can use our codes to reactivate the train
system to get to the Gherkin Alpha.” Addressing the civilian three who had
travelled so far, he offered a small smile, “You three are civilians, so he’ll
probably let you go if we sell the trade right. I’ll tell him that you lot are
going to die in the city since all the ferries have left – that isn’t true, but
I doubt he knows that – so he’ll probably leave you to do whatever you want.”
Adymn was the first to object, and with an angered tone, he
rejected the proposition completely: “I am not going along with this! I won’t
let us give you guys up just so we can escape!” Slamming his fist against the
metallic casing of the interior of the car, he shook his head, “It’s cowardly
and sickening. People aren’t pawns on a chess board, and I won’t allow you two
to do this.” Vadim felt a sad smile creep onto his face as he saw his former
guard friend show his noble soul shine. Placing a hand on the obstinate man’s
shoulder, Adymn looked back imploringly, silently asking for someone to agree
with him. Marcella rose to the challenge, subsequently beating the Russian
Subject to speak first, and she looked to those gathered, oddly calm for a
woman who had inflicted death on such an indiscriminate level.
“I don’t like their plan any more than you, Adymn, and I
think you know that,” the aforementioned male seemed relieved at the statement
until she spoke again, to which he frowned deeply. “But I think it’s our best
shot. These guys have been studying Subject One for a lot longer than we have,
and frankly we have better experience with Laevan’s tactics than The Awakening
than we do. I think we need to trust in them that they won’t get themselves
killed.” She offered a sly wink at his frustrations, and with a quick look to
the two soldiers, she explained an alternative: “Besides, we could always
rescue them! If the Father as he
likes to call himself brings them to the Gherkin Alpha like I think he will –
it is his goal if you look at the path of death his zealots are cutting – we
could use this tram to get there before and save them.” All those in the
vehicle looked surprised, and evidently had not considered that option. Even
Adymn, who had been so vehemently against the idea, relented slightly and
looked to Vadim to make the possibly fatal decision.
The other four gazes fell on the aforementioned Subject who
did not desire such a responsibility in the slightest. If he chose wrong, they
would all be killed, and any hope of stopping Subject One or saving Roe,
Stephan and Sonya, would be lost. Though part of him had already decided, and
he knew better than to question his internal instinct in the situation. With a
quick glance from person to person, he nodded, “I say we give Marcella’s plan a
shot. What’s the worst that could happen?” He asked sarcastically, eliciting a
few nervous chuckles and thus alleviating the tension for a brief moment.
Pushing himself to a stand after having sat on the below the window when his
weapon ran out of bullets, the blond Subject placed his hands over the screen
he had used to open the gun ports and looked to the others. “Okay, I’m opening
it,” he warned them, and with a single tap of his middle finger, the doors on
the near side of the tramcar opened, and the foul smell of bloodshed poured in.
Involuntarily, he clasped a hand over his mouth and found Marcella doing the
same, however their counterparts seemed content to just frown and crinkle their
noses at the horrific aroma. Stepping onto the concrete slab that served as the
light rail train docking station, he hurried to the nearby wall which joined
perpendicularly to the staircase that led into One City. The other four were
quick to join him as they pressed their backs to the wall and slid toward the
staircase quietly. Looking to the two soldiers, he received nods of affirmation
to their plan, and with such, he called out: “Don’t shoot! We’re unarmed! We’re
coming out onto the staircase!”
Stepping around the corner, Vadim flinched, half expecting
to be shot immediately, however upon opening his eyes, he found, as Ludwig had
theorised, Subject One and the two Awakening veterans to be standing there. The
latter two held rifles which were trained on him, and shortly thereafter
flickered between the other four who stood next to him. Blocking the stairway,
the five rebels silently awaited the Father’s appraisal. “Well, well, I didn’t
expect you to surrender like this, you do
have the numbers, you know,” his words were snide and full of condescension,
however those gathered below ignored it. Slowly stepping down, he inspected
those who had surrendered to him, a smug smirk of victory tugging at his thin
lips. “I feel as though I have met some of you before, but nevertheless… I do
believe introductions are in order, for I am a gracious host.” Extending his
hands outward, he motioned to the hooded figure to his left, and then to his
right: “These are my Stewards, the most esteemed among The Awakening, and I am
the Father, otherwise known as Subject One. A surprising fact, I know, that The
Awakening, the holiest of orders on Earth is led by a Subject. But I am not
merely a soulless shell, I have been filled with the wisdom of the universe and
have been granted the Universal Truth.” Looking to Ivan, he smirked at the
hostile, if curious look, he received. “What is that, you ask? I will tell you,
boy. The Universal Truth is that humanity is an aberration that should have never
existed. The Universal Truth is therefore that humanity must be destroyed and
for a new species to claim its place. One created by me, for I am beyond
humanity in my divine cosmic knowledge.”
The speech was arrogant, self-righteous, and thoroughly insane,
but Vadim ignored it all as he spoke again, having found that none of his
counterparts were entirely willing to take up the task of speaking for them.
“We have come to surrender ourselves to you, yes. But not all of us…” Receiving a frown in response from the god complex
ridden man, the Subject explained quickly: “Don’t be confused by our clothes,
we’re not soldiers,” he elaborated with a quick motion to his military garb,
“Except for the short one and the tall one to my right,” he gave a flourish of his
hand to Vadim and Ludwig who nodded firmly. “A man as smart as you would surely
know that civilians are pretty much useless prisoners, since they can only slow
you down, but soldiers? They have access codes to reactivate the trains that
run through the One City,” the Subject received an intrigued stare and a
quirked brow from his unsightly verbal combatant, and so he continued. With a
hand placed on his chest for a moment, he nodded, “We’re useless to you, and
you wouldn’t be dumb enough to waste precious bullets on us, since I imagine
your stock supply is low, and we’re dead no matter what you do: all the
evacuation ferries have left. So what I’m proposing is you let my two friends
and I go, and you take the two soldiers instead.”
Phrasing it in an overtly selfish way seemed to appease the
sociopathic Subject before them, who offered a devilish grin. “What
disgustingly practical and selfish logic,” he commented, before nodding in
agreement, “You’re a smart kid, so I’ll agree to your terms.” Looking to his
Stewards, he motioned them forward: “Take the soldiers, leave the rest, and
then we’ll use the overland train to get to the Gherkin Alpha and finish this
once and for all.” The two Awakening veterans hurried forward and gabbed Ivan
and Ludwig roughly by the arms and hauled them up the steps, to which they
simply allowed themselves to be pulled up the stairs, hurrying behind the
already retreating Father.
~*~
According to what Stephan had found on the terminal just off
stage from where Laevan gave his famous speeches, the system in places could be
used to activate every licensed television screen as a state of emergency
broadcast in the Republic and would send out emergency notifications to major
news broadcasters across the globe. All that was required was the proper
password, and he groaned at the cliché nature of the problem he had been
presented with. Coiled over the terminal irritably, he typed another password
in, only to have it rejected. In truth he knew nothing of Doran Laevan’s
personal life and such made discerning a password he would have created
incredibly difficult. Worse yet, the man was notoriously intelligent, so it was
quite likely that the password was either incredibly complex or stunningly
simple. ‘Sonya and Roe are relying on me
to send out this damned broadcast, and I will not let them down!’ He swore
audibly, slamming his hand against the terminal before he had begun to think of
what passwords he made himself. Most of Stephan’s codes were related to family
or friends, and so he decided to try such an approach, though was once more
confused: who would he make as a password for himself? Moreover, why was such
archaic technology being used in place of a fingerprint or retina scanner?
The young man blinked, a name coming to mind to try. With a
few deft keystrokes, the screen blinked green for a moment and he spoke the
name aloud with both surprise and confusion: “Natalie?” The name had worked and
unlocked the terminal. All that he had to do now was to give such a convincing
speech that the people would not mourn Laevan’s death, but instead celebrate
the freedom it brought. A guilty part of Stephan’s mind condemned him for not
considering merely arresting the man, but if he drew breathe, he would garner
sympathy for his incarceration. Steeling himself for the task at hand, he put
the thought out of his mind for the task at hand was a monumentally terrifying
one. Would anyone even listen to him? Or would they simply write him off as a
raving lunatic? He had to try, regardless, for even if he failed, a worse crime
would be to not have even given the effort at all. With a few more keystrokes,
he commanded the cameras to activate when he took to the Prime Chancellor’s
podium and for the doors to lock when he did so.
Turning to face the podium, Stephan’s heartbeat raced in his
chest and pounded in his ears, his throat suddenly felt dry, and hands felt
cold clammy. ‘Don’t panic,’ he
instructed himself, regardless of panic being his primary activity at the time.
‘You can do this. For everyone you love and
everyone you’ve lost.’ “Speak from the heart,” he spoke aloud as he slowly
walked toward the glass sentinel in the centre of the stage. As he did so, the
lights above lit up and blinded him, and he squinted against their brightness.
Growing accustomed to the light, he breathed in and out many times, repeating
the exercise he had gone through with Roe to fight becoming carsick. It was a
calming experience, and by the end, his hands no longer trembled and he felt as
though he could speak once more. Authoritative, but kind, interactive but not
flamboyant, Stephan reminded himself as he took the final step and slipped
behind the podium. The cameras slowly raised themselves into the air above
their respective magnetic pads and displayed a countdown.
Three… His heart sped up again. Two… He gulped back saliva
nervously. One… He abruptly thought of home, and how he missed his family. The
young brunet would never see them again if he failed, and the thought of his
parents grieving miserably over his coffin was a thought too terrible to
entertain. Realising the cameras were now broadcasting, he cleared his throat
and spoke: “My name is Stephan Tharros, and I’m asking that everyone who is
watching this please cease what you are doing, and listen to what I have to say.”
The words came out strangely well, and it emboldened him. He waited a few
moments for the millions, and quite possibly billions, who were alerted to the
display, to settle in. “To those of you who have allowed me into your homes and
workplaces, I thank you. To those who have not, and are watching this in the
near future, I hope tomorrow is a brighter day for all of us,” Stephan smiled
earnestly, for he truly believed his words. Tomorrow would be a good day, and
he would help it be so. Folding his hands on the glass podium before him, he
continued: “I know you would expect the Prime Chancellor right now; and you’re
likely quite confused. I can understand this, and I apologise for this. But I
am here to speak on behalf of a force more powerful than one man, more powerful
than religion or science. I’m here to speak about the truth.” Shaking his head,
he clarified smoothly: “And now about the Universal Truth as purported by The
Awakening and their ruthless murderer of
a leader, either.”
“I know many of you have to come to sympathise with the
ideals of The Awakening, and I am here to, among many other things, show you
the truth of the cult in question. I imagine many of you have already stopped
watching, and I pity you for your closed mindedness,” Stephan spoke calmly, but
his words were poignant, and he had decided quite early on that he would be
delicate only when the situation called for a soft touch. He needed to channel
Sonya’s strength, Roe’s intelligence, and his own kindness. Tapping a few
commands into the screen embedded in the podium, he brought up an otherwise
classified display of Awakening zealots slaughtering civilians in a mall in the
One City before speaking: “What you’re seeing right now is a classified video
recording that the government has hidden from you. Those men and women in
robes? We all know them well: they’re The Awakening. And what are they doing?
They’re killing innocent people in a shopping mall!” His voice made a crescendo
as he spoke, his own disgust for the images coming through. “That is what these
people do, and that is what they are. They are
death, and they bring nothing but dead. Subjects and Normals alike die to them
because they happened to believe that hate is wrong. Well I am here to say, to
reawaken the fire of morality in everyone, that hate is wrong! Hate is entirely wrong! It pollutes us, corrodes our
souls, and leaves us bitter shells.” His mind flashed to Doran Laevan, the
embodiment of a bitter shell of hatred so cleverly hidden behind grand
gestures. However he restrained himself from speaking of the Prime Chancellor,
knowing that such a delicate topic had to be eased into.
Calming himself, the Greek rebel, the Paragon of Fraternity
continued, “The Awakening does not wish to bring about the Universal Truth of
love and harmony, and there are countless examples of them doing exactly the
opposite. Right now the One City is being evacuated because they’re destroying
it! Twenty five million people are in danger because they just want to kill,
because one man has duped them into these horrific acts.” With another few
keystrokes, Stephan brought up a few pictures of Subject One, specifically
including a picture of the man before he was disfigured, and predictably found
him to be Roe’s twin in appearances. “This is Subject One, otherwise known as
the Father of The Awakening. He has slaughtered hundreds with his bare hands,
and wants one thing in life: to destroy the human race! This goes beyond the
borders of the Trans-Pacific Republic, beyond man-made concepts of
land-ownership themselves! If he gets his hands on Doran Laevan’s security
codes, we could be looking at a nuclear winter that might not end for generations.” Raising a hand into the
air, he went to caution those he spoke to, almost seeing them in his mind’s eye
as he shut his gaze from the blinding lights for a moment, “But now is not the
time to default to the power of the grand authority of the Prime Chancellor.
For if Subject One, the mass murderer, is the child of the devil, then Lucifer
himself sits in the Office of the Prime Chancellor here and now!”
It was a gambit, and Stephan expected he would lose
countless people to that one comment, but he had to press on. Intelligence had
been used, and it was time to augment it with strength: “Doran Laevan, former
Co-Chairman of the New Evolutionary Leap Organisation, helped create Subject
One. He had the NELO doctors experiment on Subject One as a child, augmenting
the man’s body and driving him mad in the process.” Letting a dramatic pause,
he sighed sadly, “And why? Not for scientific curiosity alone, for I’m sure
that was part of his reasoning, but for control. Control over everything.
That’s why you haven’t voted for him, that’s why all these changes, this
horrible flag that sits on this podium, all these new terrible changes have
happened!” His voice was anguished, and the young man was grateful for how
strongly he felt for their mission, lest he sound as cold and detached as
Laevan’s fake kindness did to the educated listener. “What do we pride
ourselves of in the Trans-Pacific Republic?” He asked the millions who watched
him with growing amicability. Once more, he used the podium’s computer to
display videos of marching Republic soldiers, of grand ballrooms that Laevan
frequented for public events, and other wasteful projects that brought more
harm than good. “What is all this? What does it matter to you? To each one of
you watching this, do you care about armies, ball gowns, and pointless
frippery? It’s there to blind you from the truth. The truth that eight million
innocent people are dead for the crime of being born differently.”
“It’s a horrible truth, a disgusting truth, and one that I
wish wasn’t the case. But the numbers don’t lie, and in public facilities eight
million Subjects have been slaughtered. I apologise in advance for how graphic
this video is, but the truth must be shown.” With his warning given, he
activated the video he had found being played in the Phoenix Cloud’s system
room. Men, women and children crowded into a large, gym-sized room, a man being
shot and their child weeping on their corpse, the deadly gas being expelled,
and finally the floor giving way to a horrific pile of bodies before the same
mechanism is stopped by the copious amount of death. Ceasing the video, Stephan
found his voice to be shaky, and he tried and failed to compose himself as he
spoke: “It’s these kinds of things that…” He sniffed, wiping at his eyes, for
the look in the poor child’s eyes destroyed his convictions for a lengthy
moment, “It’s things like that… that we cannot sit idly by and let happen! No
one is born evil and even the most jaded of person would be affected by that
horrible video.” Taking a steadying breath, he stared deeply into the camera’s
lens before him: “But I promise you, this underground world of holocaust-like
murdering is ending tonight. And why? Because good men and women just like you
at home or at work said ‘no more!’ They decided that enough was enough and when
they learned the truth they couldn’t just stand idly by.” Offering a small
smile, he pulled up a smattering of pictures including ones of Roe, Sonya,
Vadim, General Kopachesky, Leonas, Logan, and countless others. “Many of these
people have died for the freedom they wanted for you and I.”
A few deafening bangs sounded at the doors to the press studio
Stephan had locked, and he jumped at the noise. “I’m afraid this is quite
possibly goodbye, everyone. No doubt you heard that banging: it’s the military
and they’ve come to kill me. But I’m not afraid, because I know even if I die,
even if everyone who’s fighting right now dies, you all who have watched this
will do as I ask now.” Speaking from the depths of his heart, he implored the
world to fight against the tyranny which had engulfed twelve countries: “Don’t
let eight million friends, family, neighbours, and strangers die for nothing.
Don’t let this genocide continue. Don’t let The Awakening destroy the world out
of one man’s hatred for it. In short, do the right thing: be a paragon of
justice, be a light of hope.” The doors were smashed abruptly thrown open, and
with a simple “Goodbye,” he cancelled the broadcast. Turning to face the
soldiers who had stormed his sanctuary, he extended his arms outward: “I’ve
already uploaded every classified file that Laevan made to the web. Kill me for
all good it will do, you bastards!” Stephan challenged them furiously. He kept
his eyes closed, not wishing to give them the satisfaction of him flinching
when they fired their guns.
“I would never shoot you,” a strangely familiar voice spoke
with a mix of relief and concern. Opening his eyes, Stephan found himself
staring at Vadim Alkaev garbed in a military uniform. He looked pale, tired,
and skinnier than when they had last seen one another, but joy exploded into
his heart without repose at the sight. “It’s so good to see you, Stephan, you
have no idea,” the Subject exclaimed as he slowly walked toward the stage. The
Greek rebel, however, spared no time and hurled himself off the stage before
sprinting toward a man he had long since expected to be dead and embraced him
with such vigor that the Russian Subject was somewhat winded. The embrace was
quickly returned and relief flooded through both of them as they simply stood
there, enjoying the good fortune that had surprised them both. “Thank heavens
you’re safe,” the newcomer reiterated. Finally releasing the militarily armed
man, the purported Paragon of Fraternity grinned widely, before looking to the
two other possible soldiers he had not noticed. “Oh!” His counterpart
explained, evidently having remembered something. “This is Adymn and Marcella,
they’re very good friends I made in my travels. You two, this is Stephan
Tharros, an equally dear friend.”
Stephan looked between the three of them, “As much as I’d
love to catch up, Roe, Sonya and I have more work to do. I’ve done my part and
I think I might’ve swung a few people to our side, but I need to make sure
they’re both okay. Sonya went to destroy the Phoenix Cloud so neither Laevan
nor Subject One could use it, while Roe wet after Laevan himself. Sonya’s job
is a tough one, can you guys go meet up with her and give her a hand if she
needs it? I need to go check on Roe and see if he needs any help in Laevan’s
office for whatever he has planned.” Having intended to give his question in
the form of a question, the young brunet found his words to sound more like a
statement than a question, and he scolded himself for it. ‘I don’t give orders,’ he reminded himself, ‘They’ll help me if I want to. Surely they’re here for some reason.’
The three newcomers looked between one another, wordlessly exchanging cryptic
stares, before Vadim turned to Stephan grinning and gave him a firm nod. “Thank
you, truly.”
~*~
The global broadcast went silent and in its place was
displayed the Dove of the Pacific Union situated within a twelve pointed gold
star upon an azure backdrop, and all those in the Phoenix Cloud’s interface
room simply stared at it for a seemingly endless minute. The flag appeared to
take into account aspects from all major regional blocs of the human race: the
Pacific Union, European Union, Asiatic League, and the African Conglomerate, or
more commonly understand as the African Union. The flag was motionless, silent
and yet still incredibly powerful: it was a direct opposition to the regime of
the day. Where fear and ignorance reigned in the Republic, it appeared that
Stephan’s Union was one of inclusion and of peace, one where the world stood
together. It was no new political theory, for many scholars of the day believed
that national global unity was desirable as the world was challenged further by
the mistakes of the past and the ever increasing population. “Naïve idiot,” the
words escaped the Father’s mouth with bitter disdain and with a firearm
procured from inside his jacket under his robe, he destroyed the television screen
which subsequently flickered in and out for a few seconds, struggling against
the ruinous damage made into its being before succumbing to a black
nothingness.
Returning his attention to the woman he held still by a
knife to her throat, he grinned wildly: “An adorable
speech, wouldn’t you say?” Looking back to the screen for a moment before he
returned his attention to his prisoner, he pushed the blade more closely into
Sonya’s throat, drawing a thin trickle of blood from where the sharp dagger met
her pale skin. Remaining entirely still, the only response she offered him was
a baleful leer which served to only make him more eager to spill more blood:
“I’ve always loved killing, you know. It is the Universal Truth that everyone
must die: it is my Ragnarok, just as
Doran has his own. My Ragnarok is to progress humanity to its greatest
potential, just as his is, but it is the perfection of death.” Casting his gaze
to the two males being held captive by The Awakening Stewards, his blood red
eyes glinted dangerously intent. “Shall I show you this perfection?” Her grey
eyes widened slightly at the implications that could be drawn from his words.
Seeing the veiled horror in her face, his grin deepened: “Oh? You don’t wish
for them to be harmed, do you? Will you offer yourself in their place? What a
splendid occurrence!”
Subject One stepped before her and steadied the point of his
dagger against the soft flesh of her throat, drawing another trickle of blood.
“No!” Ivan shouted as he surged against his captor, “Let her go, I said you can
kill me, you asshole!” He fought violently, though in vain, for through all the
injuries he and Damir had endured in their travel with the three Awakening
members left them both too weak to put up much of a fight. The unsightly Subject
glanced over his shoulder at the boy with a bored expression, merely shrugging
before turning back to his prey. Like a great beast standing triumphantly over
its prey, he loaded the weapon in his left hand and it resounded a mechanical
click. Sonya fell to the ground after two bullets were fired: one into her
right shin and the other into her left hip and with an agonising cry of agony,
she slumped against the ground, blood pouring through her dark garments.
“Sonya!” Ivan screamed in anguish, still trying to fight against his captor.
Damir merely remained almost completely still in his own Steward’s arms, his
feet barely supporting himself, however he seemed to be roused by her crying
out and mumbled incoherently, his eyes scanning the room, evidently confused.
Blood dripped from his forehead as he scanned the room and from her vantage
point on the ground, the Russian woman could see a dark stain in his black hair
where she suspected his skull had been cracked. Her younger brother once more
drew her attention as he shouted and hollered for Subject One to stop, and she
merely shook her head, the blinding pain in her leg and hip too blinding to
speak.
She refused to cry, or to give any more indication of the agony
she was in after she had fallen to the ground, stubbornly denying her torturer
the satisfaction of knowing what she was enduring. “Not feeling talkative?” The
aforementioned tormentor jeered, “Well that’s certainly a shame, but I am sure
we can get you talking… or should I say screaming?” Once more, the younger
Volkov shouted in protest, and from the Father’s reaction, the teenager had
evidently begun to wear on his patience. Looking back, he instructed his
servant angrily: “I want the child to watch, but keep him quiet!” Upon his
instructions, he hooded figure brought a gloved hand across the back of Ivan’s
head, and given the loud smack that emanated, his sister assumed the glove was
laden with metal. The blond haired boy groaned as he stumbled forward, suddenly
reliant upon his captor to not collapse. ‘Don’t
give them what they want Ivan,’ she implored him silently, her gaze focused
on his, for he now looked as cognisant as Damir, ‘Don’t give in, we’re not in this alone.’
Turning his attention back to his victim, Subject One
furrowed his eyebrows in confusion: “Not going to tell me to stop?” He shook
his head, his visage dark as he spoke: “No, you wouldn’t. You’re just like me:
you love violence, carnage and killing. It makes you feel alive and free.” The
man twirled his blade in hand, “Do you know why I carry this, child?” He
questioned her, however she remained silent, only offering him a smug smirk as
he saw how much her noncompliant nature was angering him through the mad
twitches that marred his face. He ceased the spinning of the dagger and with a
flick of his wrist drew a long and deep cut up her face, splitting her eyelid
open and rending her cheek apart. Biting down so hard her blood filled her
mouth as well, Sonya muffled her agonised, if muffled yelp. “I don’t like it
when my prey doesn’t keep up their end of the conversation. I find it to be
very…” He trailed off before burying the blade in her upper arm. Writing
against the pain, her lips parted and she screamed from the unbearable torment
of having her arm impaled as the man finished his sentence: “Rude!” Blood
poured freely from the wound and she clutched at her arm, desperately trying to
lessen the torture somehow, but only found it increased tenfold as he the man
removed his weapon with a slow, twisting motion. “Can you feel it?” He
questioned her erratically, “Can you!?”
She glared viciously up at him, and though three of her
limbs were largely immobilised from the blinding pain that he had inflicted,
she knew that she was not delivering the desired result. “I can feel many
things,” she had begun before coughing against the blood that leaked into her
throat, “I can feel the horrible pain in my arm, the two holes you made in my
legs… But above the agony I can feel… I pity you.” Subject One’s eyes flew wide
open in shock at the words she spoke, “I pity how the only thing you can feel
is hatred, how all you can do is inflict pain…” Coughing further, she spat up
blood onto both of them, to which he irritably wiped off as he passively drew
the knife closer to her throat. “You’re just a child who’s angry because his
parents couldn’t love their sociopathic son. You can kill me, Ivan, Damir,
Stephan, Roe, and everyone in the whole world, but the fact remains that you
will always just be an angry little pissant…” She let her head fall to the side,
the amount of blood lost severely fatiguing her. Sleep cried out for her; a
long, restful sleep where she could dream as long as she liked. ‘No!’ Her mind defied its weakness, ‘That sleep is for weaklings who can’t face
reality!’ Her gaze momentarily refocused on Ivan who was slowly regaining
his sense of reality after having been incapacitated for the duration of her
conversation with Subject One. “Ivan,” she called out to him, and he cast his
sight around the room, confused. After a moment he found her, and his eyes
widened at the sight of her lying on the floor in a growing pool of her own
blood. “Take Ludwig, go find Roe and Stephan and get out of here…” The young
man shot her a confused look, silently asking how he was to free himself and the gravely injured Damir, who was
then kneeling in a small pool of blood.
Subject One vocalised the same question, however she only
responded with another smug smirk which pulled at the corner of her mouth as he
let his impatience get the better of him. Once more, she felt the cold steel of
the dagger at her throat, and as she felt its presence grow more pronounced and
pierce her flesh yet again, she noticed a sliver of black in the corner of the
doorway, and then shortly thereafter three fingers appeared, gloved and still.
The number was reduced to two after a pause, and then one, “We’ll see each
other soon, Ivan, Ludwig. I promise it,” and offered them a rarely seen smile.
Her brother had begun to weep once more, tears stinging at the corners of his
eyes once more, and he brushed them away on his shoulder, and offered her a
broad smile and a nod. Damir, barely cognisant of his surroundings, looked up
for a moment, and gave his signature, coy grin for a brief moment before his
concentration failed him once more. Looking to the doorway again, she saw the
one finger remaining being retracted.
Taking a deep breath, Sonya fought against the agonising
pain that her actions took, and with her uninjured arm, she removed the weapon
that was fastened to her hip and evidently forgotten by her overconfident
captor. With impressive speed, she fired it twice, instantly killing the
Steward who held Ludwig, however only wounded the other who held Ivan, forcing
the individual to recoil and grasp their shoulder, crumpling down in pain.
Subject One shouted incoherently as he brought his blade high into the air and
with impressive speed and strength, removed the threat of her firearm by
severing her arm in two at the forearm. She screamed in absolute agony at the
undeniable pain, but forced herself through it as she tackled the man backward:
“Run! Now!” She commanded her brother, who, with a conflicted look, was
suddenly flanked by two individuals, a young man and a girl looking to be his
age; the taller male and the teenage girl grabbed Ludwig and Ivan respectively
and forced them out of the room, ignoring The Awakening member who writhed on
the ground at his gunshot wound.
Blood flowed freely from her newest wound and the auburn
haired woman felt herself being easily overcome, and looked to the newcomers
for help. In a flash of black clothing, a third figure burst into the ground,
dark blond hair covered in dirt and grime, and clothing torn and filthy, but he
held a defiant, proud stare and came down upon Subject One with a fury equal to
Sonya’s. “This ends now, you bastard!” He shouted as he threw himself downward,
sending an elbow into the old Subject’s face, breaking his nose and jawbone
with sickening crunches and snaps of bones. Sonya removed herself from her
former aggressor’s grasp, and collapsed backward, clutching the stump of her
arm. It was then that she felt the full agony of her wound, for the adrenaline
in her system failed quickly and she screamed in both fury at the one who had
wounded her so, and at the pain of the wound. It was humiliating to be seen so
helpless and to be writhing in pain, but she cared not, for the unbearable
throbbing that pounded in her arm would not cease and blood churned. She could
hear the grunts and shouts of the newcomer and Subject One as they fought one
another, and it took her a long time to realise he needed help.
Struggling as she dragged herself with her wounded arm and
stump to the handgun that laid next to her removed hand, she bit back her
expressions of pain, though found each movement requiring more effort to move
further. Her vision blurred further as she lost more and more blood, and she
knew that, from the sounds behind her, she needed to help, it was not within
her to merely lay there and wait for help. ‘If
Roe can go through life being that boring,’ she smirked weakly, ‘Then I can shoot Subject One!’ Finally,
after what seemed like hours of agony for her, Sonya reached her severed limb
and the gun that lay next to it. Once more, with incredible pain and even
greater fortitude, she hefted the firearm in her remaining hand and rolled onto
her back, finding Subject One pinning the newcomer down, the same knife that
had mutilated her held to his stomach. She fired four rounds, one striking the
man in the shoulder, the next in the ankle, the third missing, and the fourth
striking him where she desired: in the hand. Two fingers were blown clear off
the hand and the knife tumbled harmlessly from his grasp. “I saw what you did
to Logan!” The man shouted as he threw the Father onto his back. “You tore his
throat open like an animal! I didn’t even know him that well and right here,
right now, I’m going to avenge him!”
Leaning close, the man hissed into Subject One’s ear as he
failed to hold back the blood that was now seeping from his wounds: “Remember
my name, you monster, because I’m the last person you’ll ever see in life
again!” Grabbing the discarded dagger, he buried it in the old Subject’s
midsection as he spoke: “Vadim Alkaev, it’s a fucking pleasure, I assure you!”
He mocked hatefully as he twisted the blade, forcing the man to bellow an
anguished cry of pain. Sonya slowly hauled herself ever closer, but found a
pair of familiar hands haul her up by the armpits, and when she looked back to
find her aid, it was none other than her brother, Ivan, who offered her a grin
as she helped her closer to the man. Gun still in hand, she shakily brought it
up to wound the man further. Revealing his name to be Vadim, the young soldier,
whom Sonya was quickly ascertaining was no such thing, stepped away, not
wishing to be injured in the crossfire. The young Volkov brother kept her
upright with an arm around her stomach, supporting most of her weight so her
more usable leg could do its job.
“I hate violence,” she whispered weakly as he glared daggers
up at her, “But you were right, I’d like to inflict pain, but only on you…
Because it’s all you deserve.” She depressed the trigger twice more, and fired
a bullet into his shoulder and into his right lung. The man coughed up thick
blood afterward, shuddering on the ground as he failed to speak. Dropping the
weapon, she fell against her brother, the blood loss too great. “Do it,” she
urged her new ally who stood nearby, watching her worriedly. He quickly nodded
to her before he swept over top of the man, his stare malicious. Slowly
lowering himself downward, the Father’s knife in hand and since he did not
speak, Sonya did, though it was little more than a whisper: “How many have you
killed? How many have you hurt? It all ends now, you bastard… With your death,
the world can move forward…”
Subject One cackled a bloody, evil laugh as he lay there
dying with thick crimson spreading around him. His laugh was slow, deliberate,
hollow and fake and it resounded in the room ominously. “The world will never
change…” He wheezed, “Even if I die, Doran Laevan’s Ragnarok will lead to the
same result, whether he wants it to or not.” Casting his fading gaze from Sonya
to Vadim, he rolled his eyes. “A pitiful little boy and some handless bitch
killing me, this is pathetic… You’re not worthy of this victory, such as it can
be called…” He rolled his eyes as he let his head fall back, “My memory will
haunt this world forevermore!” Evidently, his words had drawn what little
patience Vadim held out of him and he drove the hooked dagger into the first
Subject’s heart. The hated man coughed and hacked on his terminal breaths,
cursing and damning them irrevocably. Blood continued to leak and spill out
onto the floor as he lie there, defying death with his mania and hatred. With a
great deal of pain and effort, Sonya forced herself to shakily stand on her
still functioning leg, she raised her firearm once more and fired a single
bullet into the man’s head. Brain matter and gore splattered across the wall
and floor behind him, and the last breath Subject One ever drew, the First Roe
Speremus, escaped his lips. With his head falling to the side, he was dead.
~*~
I
t was obvious to Stephan that Roe would be fine after
confronting the Prime Chancellor; one was a young man with impressive martial
prowess while the other was a man past middle age that had spent his life
studying and later politicking. He ran down the stale corridor regardless,
eager to be free of the insipid city that had trapped them. Though it was then
that the automated intercom in the Gherkin Alpha activated and informed him of
their dread reality: “Attention: stage four evacuation policies are now
enacted. All essential services are to vacate the city. Any remaining citizens
are to do the same. Estimated time until complete city inoperability: thirty
minutes.” He had not known the city had been so badly damaged, but given The
Awakening’s extreme method, the brunet did not put it past them to destroy the
city. ‘Good riddance,’ he thought
glibly, ‘Let this city sink so that we
may all be free of what it stands for.’ Not knowing the layout of the
building well, for most of his time had been spent in its onsite prison, he
turned down a hall, only to find it end abruptly. Frustrated, he turned around
and returned from where he turned and followed the opposite hall. The building
was understandably massive, and regardless of its shaping forcing higher floors
to be smaller, the now famous man was hopelessly confused.
What did the world think of his words? Did they approve or
condemn them? Did anyone listen, let alone care? Questions gnawed at his psyche
as he searched for the elevator that led up to the Prime Chancellor’s office.
The one he had departed from had only led a few floors higher, and he suspected
such to be an effort meant to protect the most powerful man in the republic.
The man who had brought so much pain to so many for the sake of peace, and
Stephan felt anger build himself at the thought of that peace. “You bred
someone who was just like you, didn’t you?” He asked the air, mocking the image
of the flamboyant, dramatic man he saw Laevan as. “I guess it was your fate to
make something as hateful and bitter as yourself. You want order, so does he.
You just see yourself at the top and he sees no one there at all!” Offering a
bark of bitter laughter, he turned another corner to find a single elevator
door. Finding it rather surprising for it to be so unobtrusive for a man like
Laevan, he merely shrugged it off as a quirk of the man and activated the lift.
The doors parted before him after a moment and he stepped into a blood soaked
canvas of gore and death. Piled against the corner of the small area were two
dead guards, their organs spilt out of their stomachs and heads looking to have
been bashed against the nearest wall, given the dents thereupon. The smell of
death of was thick in the lift, and the Greek man felt his stomach lurch at the
revolting sensory overload.
Of note he found a single eight inch bayonet style knife
buried in the cranium of the guard who had his colleague piled on top of him.
Something about the knife struck him as familiar, but he could not decide. As
much as he wished to give the guards a more dignified send off, time was a
premium, for although he knew Roe to be better equipped for a fight, Doran
Laevan had been clever enough to fool enough people to support him as they had,
and so he was certainly not without his own ways. Moreover, Roe and Subject One
were quite alike when the former lost his self-control, and so, knowing that,
the Prime Chancellor could surely use his knowledge of the first Subject to
manipulate Roe into doing something rash. “I’m overthinking this,” Stephan
assured himself as he activated the elevator and sent it rising toward the
final level. As he did so, using the control panel on the door, he attempted to
ascertain what had gone so awry that the city was under an evacuation. Finding
little security measures in place, likely due to the normally extreme
difficulty of entering the most secure parts of the building, he found that the
vast majority of the security guards and soldiers had been diverted to aid in
evacuating citizens or repelling the terroristic elements, as the notifications
identified The Awakening. Going through a few more notifications he learned
that explosives stolen from the military had been used by The Awakening to
destroy vast amounts of superstructure connectors that kept the sectors of the
city connected and also used the same tactic to destroy the flotation devices
on one side of the city, forcing it to gradually sink.
It was a cruel method, and something that he would expect
from Subject One. ‘To think he was made
with the same genetic sequencing Roe was… They’re nothing alike whatsoever.’
A memory came to mind when he was once more reminded of the enigmatic man he had
befriended. The cold eyed youth had explained that those who had grown close to
him as a boy simply disappeared, however he held Logan as the prime example.
Apparently any Subjects who became too familiar with him were moved into the
care of a different caretaker, as opposed to Natalie, therefore removing the
chance they would see Roe other than in passing. Logan, however, had been
removed because not only was he forcing the Subject to experience polluting
emotions that would prove to make him inadmissible to the Phoenix Cloud.
Subject One, he concluded, had been isolated too much, as he had only lived
with Natalie and Doran, and later on the former alone, and thus became erratic
and insane. Hoping Sonya had reached the Phoenix Cloud before the red eyed man
had, he stood rigid, keeping as much distance as possible from the two bodies
before the doors finally opened.
An immaculate lobby opened to him, though he ignored it as
he found a familiar figure standing in a nearby pair of finely hewn doors.
Clothing bloodied and slashed at, he was covered in various healing stitched
wounds, freshly made injuries and held a handgun before him, poised and still.
Corvus, the third Subject made through the same genetic sequence that had made
Subject One, looked unnerved and that worried Stephan greatly. The boy was,
from what he had, confident to the point of arrogance, and held a strange,
maddened love for Roe, for he saw the latter as a beloved sibling that he
looked up to. It was then that he fired his weapon and horror exploded into
being in the newly arrived Greek who was now bearing down on the teenager
before tackling him into the room and kicking his weapon away. Whirling to his
feet, he saw the sight he had dreaded: there Roe lay eerily still in a dark
pool of his own blood and Doran Laevan above him, a flintlock pistol in hand,
which was now slowly being lowered, likely due to the surprise of the black
haired lookalike of the felled Subject having fired a gun near him and being
subsequently thrown into the room. Retrieving the weapon, Stephan leveled it
before him, first pointing it at the youth and then the Prime Chancellor. The
former looked more surprised than anything, while the latter held an
expressionless visage. “Wait, Stephan!” Corvus called out, though the
individual he addressed was not listening.
He focused his attention on the man he had come for: “You!”
He hissed, stalking toward Laevan with the black haired boy’s gun in hand,
“It’s time you answer for your crimes!” The man in question only let out a
dead, joyless chuckle at the demand. Taking a seat at his desk, Stephan side
stepped the man’s position to examine Roe. ‘Don’t
be dead,’ he begged silently, ‘Oh
please don’t be dead,’ he fell to his knees, and tentatively placed two
fingers on the still Subject’s neck, finding a stable, if slow pulse. Breathing
a sigh of relief, he turned on the seated elder man, loading his weapon and
keeping it inches from the man’s lined forehead. “What did you do!?” He
demanded furiously. The Prime Chancellor, however, offered no response, and
instead merely folded his hands and placed them in his lap as he crossed a leg
over the other, looking as refined as always. However a notable absence of the
exuberant spark in his eye that Stephan ha so often seen in the man on
television was a jarring fact, and it seemed to draw him in. Looking back to
Corvus, he narrowed his gaze: “If you want to say you didn’t shoot Roe, then
find a first aid kit,” he spoke harshly before returning his attention to the
man before him: “Tell me everything now.”
Laevan once more let out a dead laugh, “What a demanding
child you are. Very well, though I do not believe knowledge will ease your
mind.” With that, he turned to his computer and typed in a few commands upon
the glass surface. A projection appeared above his desk, showing the Phoenix
Cloud, looking to have been utterly destroyed and copious amounts of blood
layered the floor. Of note, however, the brutalised and ruined corpse of Subject
One lay dead. “Your compatriot, Lieutenant Sonya Volkov, was successful in
killing my errant son. However she will likely not survive the ordeal: much of
that blood is hers. The same stands for the other Roe that lies behind me.”
Stephan stared silently at the screen, aghast at the thought of the woman whom
he had come to so greatly respect possibly dying. ‘No,’ he determined stubbornly, ‘Vadim
and the others must have made it to her. She will be fine,’ he promised
himself, ‘I have to believe in them. I
have to.’ Determining such, he kept himself silent as he stared at the man
before him. “What else? Perhaps the Ragnarok Project? Well The Awakening has
thrown quite a wrench into that, and you yourself are no less, if not more,
guilty. Your impertinent speech has… Well, let me show you.” The man turned
once more and activated the projection again, though this time it appeared to
be the United Nations’ General Assembly chambers. The crowds were roaring
fervently as an old woman took the stage.
She was assisted by a man with a piercing stare and black
hair greying at the temples. Something about the two of them struck Stephan as
familiar, and after a moment of pause, he realised who they were: Elsa and
Joshua Ehrhardt, the wife and son of William Ehrhardt, last President of the
Pacific Union. “Everyone!” She called
out, her voice amplified greatly. The crowds slowly quieted as she waved from
them to silence, and after a minute, she spoke again: “My name is Elsa Ehrhardt. I’ve come to share a message with you. It’s a
message of peace, and of unity! It was taught by a young man to the world
today, but two men so cruel and so controlling have sought to silence it.”
She looked around again, nodding to those who cried out in various languages: ‘Avenge
Ehrhardt!’ “I’m sure you all know of what
I speak. It was a message sent out through the Trans-Pacific Republic’s as a state
of emergency address. And it is a state of emergency there, because, just as I
have feared, millions of Subjects are dead!” Gasps and shouts of horror
flooded the room and she shushed them again: “People, please! We cannot fall into chaos! The European Union and
Asiatic League have received word from General Jovannah Kopachesky of the
Russian army that a violent coup d’état is taking place on One City. They need
our help! The people need to be evacuated, and Laevan needs to be stopped! My husband
was taken from us by the same man, and I ask the world for your help in giving
my family peace!”
“Peace,” Laevan mocked coldly as he shut off the broadcast, “What
she calls peace is madness; it is a world where every plebeian fool has a say.”
He scoffed indignantly, shaking his greying head from side to side. “I have
lived for well over a century and a half now, thanks to the effects of the
REGEN system, and in my many years I have seen a few undeniable truths: man is
violent, and easily corruptible. Man is worthless! He can only exist peacefully
when the sword of order is held over his head.” Looking out the glass walls to
the city below, where Stephan noticed much of the outer sectors had been
overcome by the sea. “Do you see this? My beautiful, perfect city: untouched by
the weak hand of nature in its creation, it would have lasted millennia. Now it
sinks because my foolish son was too childish to understand my Universal Truth. His is one of
ultimate death, and it is good that is no longer the case, however…” The man
spun his chair around once more, a disturbing grin upon his face, “I will not
leave this world without granting it the knowledge that I have been its angel
of order!” Becoming typically emotionally dead, he spoke more calmly: “I began
the Ragnarok Project seventy nine years ago with the help of my elder brother,
the patron of the Laevan Foundation, and my unwitting fiancée, Natalie
Bellerose. My brother and I, through the Laevan Foundation, spread a beautiful
disease around the world, one that we perfected to be airborne and extremely
long lasting.”
Stephan looked, and was completely and utterly appalled. “Do
not give me that look, boy,” Laevan scolded him, “We did so for world peace.”
The notion of such was ridiculous, but evidently to a man as emotionally dead
as Doran Laevan, it made perfect sense: “The disease brought twelve radically
opposed countries together, ending civil wars in many of them, and increasing
the standard of living and quality of life exponentially. If it were not for
the Barren, you would still be living in a warring America, you ungrateful
child.” The young Greek felt his jaw grow slack as he slowly accepted bandages
and gauze from Corvus who, upon completing his mission, aided in dressing his
brother’s wounds. “The only problem was that someone cured the disease, or
rather, someone stole the cure! I was irate when I learned it was Natalie, and
swore that, when the day her life was threatened, I would let her die. But of
course I had to keep appearances, so I kept up the charade of love.” Looking
down to his hands, he smirked, “I am truly an angel, am I not? I brought order
and stability to the world. Now all the remains is to enter the last phases of
Ragnarok where I will introduce a new disease and subsequently cure it after it
has killed enough people to bring world order.” With a few keystrokes on his
desktop, a projection of a world map appeared with various red dots in major
centres.
He eyed the map with admiration for a moment before speaking
again: “This time, I will not be stopped, there will be no Natalie to discover
the cure while snooping through my things. I do suppose it was my own fault:
when we accidentally created Subjects, I intended to use them as a police
force, but Galvin didn’t care for them at all, and simply wanted to experiment
on them.” With a light shrug, the man explained further: “It seemed like a
waste to use the Subjects simply as guinea pigs when they could be of much
greater utility. While he and I secretly squabbled, Natalie destroyed all our
records, both digital and physical copies, and took the one REGEN machine we
had needed with her, along with the children that we had made.” With another
mirthless chuckle, he rolled his eyes, “In all the commotion, our son Roe, or
rather, Subject One as he was called by anyone other than her, escaped. He didn’t
show his face for decades, but when he did, he swore vengeance upon us, and
started killing the children his mother had been creating and anyone who supported
them. I don’t really think he had a reason beyond being jealous they were loved
and he was not as children… Just an insane boy in an old man’s body. Pitiful,
really. I had never wanted children, and my one son was a bitter
disappointment.”
Stephan’s weapon rattled in his hands as he stood there, the
revelation that one mad had effectively caused over seventy million people to
be killed. “All in the name of world peace,” he reiterated, his voice trembling,
“You did all that for peace.” The man before him nodded, almost bemused at the
reaction. The younger of the two looked to Corvus for a moment: “Make sure Roe’s
wounds are properly dressed,” he said a touch more softly, though found the
teenager simply seated upon his haunches, staring at his purported father. His
eyes were wide and his mouth parted in shock and sadness. ‘Oh no,’ the Greek male thought to himself, realising that Laevan
had inadvertently admitted to never having loved the boy. The black haired
Subject was not one for emotional stability, given his rushed creation, and so
the brunet fretted. Corvus simply slumped forward, his shoulder shuddering with
misery as the realisation slowly set in. Quiet sobs could be heard as he sat
there brokenly, and he shook his head intermittently, failing to compose
himself.
Side stepping the bandaged body of his friend, Stephan
placed a hand on the boy’s back as he continued to weep. “You said,” the
teenager whispered hoarsely, “You said we were a family!” He abruptly screamed,
forcing himself to a stand and stared with an anguished gaze at Laevan. “You
said that you, Roe and I… we’d live together, we’d be a family! You said you
wanted that!” His shouts were as heartbreaking as they were deafening, and the
now extraneous rebel winced at the loud nature of the boy, but nevertheless
felt a hand intertwine with his own. With some surprise, he found Corvus was
now holding his hand with his own trembling one. Deciding to let the boy seek
comfort in him, he nodded to the boy who took the action as encouragement to
continue his tirade. “I get that you needed me to bring them here, and I did! I
did all that for you, because I believed you! Why don’t…” He trailed off, tears
falling freely down his face, “Why don’t you love me!?” Corvus demanded to
know, but only received a bored shrug of shoulders from the calculating
mastermind.
From the response, the black haired Subject simply collapsed
to his knees, and sobbed loudly, incoherently speaking between his cries. The
sight was a heartbreaking one, and even to Stephan who had seen the boy commit
terrible crimes, having realised that the knife he had seen embedded in the
dead guard was probably one he had put there. Nevertheless, Corvus held tightly
to his hand, and he did not try to remove it, finding empathy for the product
of such hateful endeavours to be a genuine feeling, regardless of the boy’s
creation. The Prime Chancellor went to speak, “I could never lo-“ he began,
though was silence by a deafening gunshot. Stephan’s arm burned from the recoil
that hit his muscles, but ignored it as he saw his enemy slowly look down at
his chest in surprise, finding a growing point of blood in his chest. He forced
himself to a stand, and stumbled away from the three gathered before him. Blood
dripped from his chest as he clutched it, his breaths coming in and out with a
ragged, hoarse sound. “I can’t,” he wheezed, “Die here…” He continued his
almost random trek toward the far wall, but collapsed to his knees halfway
through his journey, coughing up blood onto the floor, still somehow defying
the lethal nature of being shot in the chest. “Very well, then….” He whispered,
“Good… show…” Doran Laevan’s last words escaped his lips as he collapsed forward,
sprawled out onto a finely made French rug.
Stephan dropped the weapon he had taken from Corvus, the boy
now staring widely at his dead father, too shocked for words. A groan sounded
behind them, and much to their surprise, the two cognisant figures found Roe
Speremus, one eye half lidded, staring at the corpse of Laevan with a perplexed
look. “Thank you…” He whispered, though to whom Stephan could not determine.
With those words, he canted his azure gaze upward, murmuring. Outside, the
water had trapped the Gherkin Alpha, which now stood as a lone sentinel among a
sinking city. The younger Subject was immediately at his supposed brother’s
side, whispering reassuringly that he’d be fine and that his family was here
for him. It was an endearing sight, the young Greek rebel decided, and decided
it would be an admirable sight to see before he surely died. “Stephan…” His name was whispered hoarsely by Roe, who weakly gestured upward. Through the
glass dome that peaked the Gherkin Alpha, they saw helicopters bearing the
insignia of a myriad of nations and national blocs flying over the city and
landing on half submerged buildings, and two looked to be landing on one of the
many buildings connected to the central building of One City. “It’s over,” Roe
spoke as strongly as he could, and Stephan could only smile and agree
wordlessly. The sky had clouded over and snow covered the city, but the sun shone brightly through,
bathing the world in a pale brilliance.
Everything was white.
All rights reserved. Contact author for redistribution.
All rights reserved. Contact author for redistribution.
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