Subjectivity: Chapter Twenty-Four

The elevator rose slowly while the quiet lyrical chatter of music played in the background. The song was composed of a light, quick melody accompanied by a young woman’s singing, furthering the happy atmosphere it attempted to create. In truth, the woman likely did not exist and instead was the product of longstanding synthetic voice simulators, though such technology was well known to the world and had been since the first decade of the twenty-first century. The floor below them was made of a stone slab, accented by naturally occurring veins in the rock exposed by the cross section being cut out. The walls of the elevator were panels of shimmering gold and silver that reflected their likenesses on all sides. Nevertheless, the song and grand decor could not lift the spirits of those who used the opulent lift, for their minds were determined and hearts steeled. Many had died so that they could come so far, and to fail so close to their goal was unthinkable. Friends, family, and loved ones of all kinds had fallen to the evils of a scarce few. Was it madness to believe so few people could change the world when it had been ever fewer that had warped it?

The question gnawed on Stephan’s conscience without repose. He wanted to believe it was not, that they had the right and the ability to change it all: to end the cycle of hatred, to shine the light of hope on people so duped into their own selfish ambitions, and to avenge all those who had fallen. He had known for a few weeks of Logan Hayes’ death, but could not tell the Subject who now stood next to him, for he knew the dread news would only serve to dissuade Roe’s convictions. Many more friends had died in the crossfire, but more had been made, and these bonds of friendship, though new, felt stronger than the ones of old. Looking to Sonya, she met his gaze, and offered a stoic nod, her own mind racing against itself. He admired her greatly, and was incredibly relieved to see her and the enigmatic artificially made man between them broach peace for a greater good. Moreover, the two, from what Stephan could see, had formed a unique friendship of mutual respect and admiration. None could best the blond man in martial combat, but the red haired Russian had done so once, and the look of shock on her foe’s face had been one the Greek man had ever seen. It was through those friendships and strong bonds, that he knew that they would be victorious. ‘The Light of the Paragons will out,’ he thought to himself, assured that the poetic verse was the eventual truth.

Floor after floor, the doors lit up with the floor count, which grew steadily higher. It was as though Doran Laevan and the Phoenix Cloud were the supposed linchpins to the world: the former could use the latter through an individual akin to Corvus or Roe and make it seem as though his hand was forced and he had to kill the Subjects, as opposed to desiring that exact outcome. The aforementioned younger brother, having offered to remain in the food court to stop anyone from interfering, had pledged his fealty, but remained a wildcard for the pondering Greek. He did not trust a boy made by the Prime Chancellor for the sole purpose of using a system as nefarious as the Phoenix Cloud, which bent the hearts and minds of innocent people. Roe had been pushed into insanity by it, and it was only through his friends that he was brought back.  Stephan’s eyes widened then at a sudden realisation which he vocalised, seeking to know the truth: “Subject One went insane using the Phoenix Cloud, didn’t he? What did Laevan and Miss Natalie plan to do with them back then?”

Roe cast his cool cobalt stare at his counterpart, studying him. It was a comforting sight to see the Subject return to his normal, collected self, but it was even more heartening to see a unique spark in the once dead gaze he gave. It was as though the fire of his soul had been lit and now with purpose he was more alive than twenty one years of existence had seen him. “I would like to believe Mother had no hand in that project, but the technology behind the Phoenix Cloud isn’t very advanced, it just requires an extensive system, one that could be put into place completely unnoticed over the course of decades. From that, I can guess that Subject One was their guinea pig in their experiments to understand if the concept itself was workable, but in their efforts his psyche was shattered.” He shrugged, staring forward once more, “Subject One is incredibly dangerous and he needs to be stopped, but knowing why he is how he is means I can understand what his next move is. He wants to spill as much blood, and that’s our advantage: he’s slowing himself down, savouring the victory, before he gets to Laevan. That gives us the time to get rid of Laevan and then once that insane bastard arrives, make him pay for what he has done.” His logic was sound, and from a subdued nod from their female compatriot, it seemed they all agreed with Roe’s deductions. However it was all based on the assumption that Subject One would remain patient and keep slaughtering everyone he encountered and not make a mad dash to his desired target.

Undoubtedly his own chaos slowed him down: with light rail, buses and military transports all either being used to evacuate citizens or simply destroyed, Subject One was left with using other means of transportation, or moving in by foot, which could take hours, given the size of the city.  “But,” Roe began, once more turning his gaze to Stephan, and had his stare quickly accompanied by Sonya’s, her stormy eyes staring imperiously at the brunet. The aforementioned brown haired man could not help but admit that the description as a Paragon of Liberty she had made was incredibly accurate: she was a trained soldier, an excellent marksman and a fine commander. Her strong visage was one that never wavered, and even when she grieved for those she had lost or feared to lose she did so with conviction and determination in her voice. “We cannot just kill Laevan,” the blond finally continued, “for the people love him, and if he dies with such a good standing, he’ll be a martyr for his own tyranny and someone else will just replace him.” Once more, his logic was sound, though given the gleam in his eyes, the piercing eyed man had a thought on what must be done. “Sonya, you know the computer systems in the Gherkin Alpha much better than I, therefore I need you to destroy the Phoenix Cloud for me. I would do so from inside the Cloud, but I must mete out Laevan and bring him to justice.”

Sonya furrowed her brow, evidently intent on accompanying him to Laevan’s judgement, but she relented to his reasoning before speaking once more. “Once I destroy it, I’ll join you. But, you’re entirely right, we need to show the world the truth about what Laevan has done. All of it.” A small smirk tugged at her lips as she turned her attention to Stephan, “And that’s where you come in, Stephan. I’m a soldier, so no one will care what I think: my hands are already soaked in the blood of his crimes. Roe’s a Subject so no one will believe him. But you, my friend, you’re a normal guy from a normal city, you’re the perfect man to convince the world of what he’s done.” He opened his mouth to protest, the weight of the responsibility he had been so quickly given being a staggeringly heavy thing. His palms grew cold with sweat as his mind raced; ‘Me? I can’t do this!’ His mind vehemently objected, ‘I’m not some military badass like Sonya or a genius like Roe, I’ve only slowed them down so far!’ Seeing the look on his face turn to one of dread, the aforementioned auburn haired Russian offered a rarely seen smile. “I know: ‘you can’t do it.’ Well, I think Roe would agree with me,” the cool eyed man offered a quick nod, “That you are the only one who can do it. Stephan, I know you doubt yourself, and I hate seeing it.” Stepping before him, she placed her hands on his shoulders, “I know you think you’re just dragging us down, that because Roe can fight and is so smart, and that I’m such a good soldier, that you contribute nothing. But that’s so completely wrong.”

Her Russian accent was thick as she spoke from her heart, and her intemperate gaze seemed to calm as she did so. “I have so much to thank you for: I was becoming used to being used by Laevan. I hate myself for that, and I let so many terrible things happen to you both, just because I was waiting to play my hand.” Squeezing his shoulders tightly, the warmth of her grip was reassuring and Stephan felt a small smile grow on his face. “If it weren’t for you, none of us would be here. It’s just like we said, if I’m the symbol of freedom and Roe justice, then you are the symbol of unity, of friendship, of brotherhood.” Taking a steadying breath, she met his stare, locking their gazes together: “All you need to do is to share that with the world. Tell our story: tell everyone about all the people we’ve lost… and also the people we’ve gained. Of Natalie Bellerose, of my brother, of Logan Hayes, of Emiliyia, Vadim, and all the others you’ve told me of.” Releasing him from her grasp as the elevator slowed to a stop, she hesitated for a moment before impulsively pulling him into an embrace. He gratefully took her into his own arms, happy to offer her support as she so selflessly did the same for him. “Our talks in elevators are really deep, wouldn’t you say?” She chuckled lightly, before placing a light kiss on his cheek, and patting the other. “I’ll see you two around. I can’t wait for everyone to meet one another; Vadim and Ivan are going to get along famously, I know it.” She extended a hand to Roe to shake, which he took, covering it with both of his own. “See you soon, Roe.”

Stephan could still find no words as he stared at her. She had opened up, truly and completely, and it was one of the most gratifying moments of his life. His cheek felt hot from her kiss, and though it did not feel romantic, it was certainly an intimate moment he would cherish: the joining of two hearts in the midst of  chaos and grief. Sonya stepped out into the grey hallway before her, and Roe spoke out: “Sonya,” before placing his hand over one of the sliding doors as it attempted to close, though retracted at his touch, “I’m counting on, please free my family.” His words were imploring and strangely pained, and with another characteristic smirk and a thumbs up, the doors closed, and left Roe and Stephan bereft of one of their party. The Subject leaned back against the railing, sighing from the worry that racked his body. “You should get off a few floors above here: with all the confusion in the Gherkin Alpha, you could use Laevan’s studio for Prime Chancellery addresses,” Roe instructed quietly, covering his eyes with his hand for a moment. Stephan stepped before him, slowly lowering the blond man’s hand, only to find tears in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be letting my emotions be getting the better of me at a time like this. It’s unbecoming.” Averting his friend’s concerned gaze, the normally enigmatic figure scowled at his own perceived weakness.

“How long have we known one another for, now?” Stephan questioned wryly, though received no response, and so he continued to make his point, “All this time you’ve cursed yourself for showing human feelings. I think all this time of being called something else or something less than human, part of you believes it!” From the scolding received, the brunet’s counterpart frowned, and went to dispute the point, however was interrupted. “I’m not quite done, so stow the lecture for a minute,” golden brows flew up in surprise by the defiance shown, and he did as he was bid and remained silent. “Being sad, happy, angry and anything else? That’s perfectly fine! It’s a good thing to feel: it’s healthy and human. And you are human, regardless of how you were born, or what NELO did to you to make you so strong and smart.” Receiving a skeptical stare, the shorter of the two, Stephan, only huffed. “You are so quiet and yet so obstinately stubborn. That’s a superpower in and of itself, I swear… Anyways, how do I know all this? How do I know that this all good for you?” Offering as strong a smile as he could, he replicated what Sonya had done for him and placed his hands on Roe’s shoulders, squeezing them lightly. “Because you’re my friend, and I’d die a thousand deaths if I knew it meant you’d be happy and free.” The elevator slowed to a stop once more, however neither of them had noticed when it had resumed its predestined course to his floor. Taking a step back, the young Greek grinned, “I’m not sure if you’d appreciate a kiss on the cheek, so how about…” Trailing off, he extended a fist toward the Subject. “Bump it, with yours. It’s what people used to do back in the day,” he instructed as he placed a foot against the door of the elevator to stop it from closing. Tentatively complying, Roe bumped his fist against his friend’s before the latter stepped outside of the elevator and giving his farewell: “I’ll see you soon, once I’m done.”

With a hand slowly raised into the air, Roe bid him goodbye: “We’ll meet again, I promise it.” The vow was unwarranted, but evidently greatly appreciated, for Stephan smiled a smile so bright that the Subject’s lips turned upward. The doors slid closed and shut off the former’s sight of the blond man with a strange finality, and Stephan merely stood there for a long minute, silently observing the closed elevator doors. ‘I hope we can keep that promise,’ he spoke silently, his smile fading fast. Turning on his heel, the former student faced a set of black metal doors inscribed with the label “Chancellery Address Studio.” Hearing nothing from inside, he took a deep breath and pushed the doors open.

~*~

The elevator reached the uppermost floor and its doors parted. Roe’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stepped out into a predictability opulent foyer. Comprising roughly a third of the circular floor that made up the final level of the Gherkin Alpha, the foyer to the Prime Chancellor’s office was marked by a blank wall separating foyer and office and before it a large, narrow desk rounded to the curvature of the exterior wall. Encased in thick steel girders were interspaced with glass, allowing one to see the smoking pillars that rose of the besieged city to be clearly seen. The Gherkin Alpha itself was smoking with thick black smoke from the east side of the building, however the Subject at hand suspected such to be the work of The Awakening who already controlled the lowest levels of the building and had already begun attempting to destroy it. It was a relatively futile attempt, given the stability of the structure, but smoke inhalation remained a valid concern. Looking to a nearby set of doors that opened to Laevan’s office, he took a steadying breath, walked to them, and placed his hands on the long, narrow handles.

Roe threw the doors open before him without repose, sending the finely hewn glass and metal ports flying into their stoppers where they shattered upon impact. Glass shrapnel cascaded a short distance around the entry and from his waist he drew a handgun and marched into the office, safety released and bullet loaded. The office itself was as grand as he expected and more: a panoramic view of the city and the ocean were of paramount impressiveness and the ornate, Victorian-era style furniture that made up the room, save the obtusely modern looking desk, cut the visage of a word that Doran Laevan adored. For the world Laevan wished for was one of pomp and circumstance, of one where beauty trumped savagery and man’s achievements were made into public spectacles of grandeur. It was a world of lies, for Roe, however, for he knew that any aberrant forces in that world would be cast under the relentless march of a humanity blind to the horrors they perpetuated. It was a world that the Subject had to deny, one that the world had to deny, and one that had to be removed utterly. He spared no time as he hurried around the desk before his foe had a chance to escape. Though it was in such assumptions that Roe was wrong, for indeed he found Doran Laevan seated calmly.

Donning a fine black velvet jacket with shimmering equally dark slacks, a crimson dress shirt and a golden ascot, he cut the figure of a modern king. One leg was loosely crossed over the other and his hands were folded neatly in his lap, and his greying hair was combed back at an angle. Small bags and crow’s feet pulled at his eyes while fine lines danced across his forehead. “Ah, my son,” his voice, completely cool and detached, sounded out of the deafening silence that had fallen over the two of them since Roe had found his opponent too collected, “How good it is to see you again.” It was a strange thing for the Subject, as he had known Laevan to be a dramatic man, ready to flourish a hand or shout furiously, though instead he sounded all too familiar to the younger man. “Such a perplexed look you are giving me,” the man commented in a nigh bored tone, “I do hope you didn’t expect me to dash for the door, giving you ample opportunity to kill me.” Leaning his head against a loosely curled fist for a moment, the Prime Chancellor of the Trans-Pacific Republic looked entirely disinterested in such a notion. “Mine is an office of expectations: the people expect me to be dramatic, to be engaging, and to be entertaining. Thus, I give them what they desire, and their love and adoration gives me the license to as I must.” Folding his hands on the glass surface of the desk before him, his dark eyes narrowed, “For the good of humanity.”

The weapon in hand trembled with both anger and fear, ‘Have I been wrong about him this whole time?!’ The question shook Roe greatly, and he failed to compose himself quickly, shaming himself internally for his perceived weakness. Taking in a few deep breaths through the nose, the azure eyed youth narrowed his gaze in righteous condemnation as he spoke: “So it’s all been an act?” He asked, though in truth it was little more than a statement on the Subject’s part. Taking a step forward, his thigh met the cool metal of the desk’s structure and he leveled the weapon at Laevan’s head. “You’ve been deceiving the world for this long. You’re going to tell me everything.” Receiving an unimpressed stare for his silent threat, Roe reiterated his warning: “Or I’ll kill you.” Such words only proved to amuse the older man, who gave a slow, mirthless chuckle of indifference.

“Let us strike a deal then, child of Natalie,” Doran Laevan instructed lightly as he slowly pushed back his throne-like seat and had his slow movements traced by the barrel of a gun ready to fire a lethal neurotoxic bullet through his head. However if such threats bothered him, he did not make it known and instead paced to the wall behind his desk. Roe followed him at a distance, skirting around the edge of the desk and stopping as the man paused before a narrow table that sat below a large map of the world that spanned the centre third of the wall that separated Laevan’s office from the accompanying foyer. “Did you know that the REGEN system has a vital flaw?” The man asked as he paused to admire a set of glimmering, sheathed cavalry swords that glimmered brightly with polished steel. The hilt of the weapon was wrapped with what appeared to be leather, however it was much more likely a synthetic composite. Roe idly observed the weapons for a moment before returning his attention to the man, however he did not answer his question. “You see, the first three generations of Subjects were prone to various cancers much akin to the Barren due to radiation not being properly vented from the maturation chambers.” Dancing his fingers across the pommel of the blade, Laevan’s expression grew thoughtful, “Natalie, Galvin and I worked diligently to solve the problem when it was discovered. We fixed the ventilation system, however I had to take certain precautions… If the Subjects that were born being surrounded by radiation knew that we had done this, NELO One would have been scrapped before it was even finished. We had already begun using the facilities when they were under construction, you see.”

Slowly lifting the sword off its stand, Doran Laevan admired its fine workmanship as he spoke: “As one of the chairmen of the Laevan Foundation, I was able to send out our nurses to administer to a treatment to the first three generations of Subjects – given the small population of Subjects and their general centrality within the Pacific Union this was quite easy – and after a short while, they simply appeared to die of natural causes shortly following their seventieth birthdays.” Roe was utterly and completely repulsed: Laevan had slaughtered Subjects to save face and cover his mistake? And he had done so with the same cool indifference he spoke to the Subject before him now. “One of our guinea pigs, however, and in fact our first Subject, for whom you are named after, learned of my doings from my elder brother Galvin.” Finally showing a morsel of emotion, the man scowled: “After all I had given my first son, the real Roe… We accidentally doubled the regeneration rate of his stem cells, meaning he could easily live to two hundred, moreover we increased the percentage of active brain function possible and the recovery rate of his muscle tissue.” Walking toward Roe, he offered him the sword, which the former hesitantly took in his free hand, having never lowered the gun in the other. “He ran away like a petulant child, swearing vengeance on us all. He achieved his revenge on Natalie, now she is dead, and now he comes for me.”

Eyeing the blade in his hand, Roe gripped it tightly, feeling the cold metal under his skin resist his grasp. “It would appear that you believe it wisest to kill me,” the man commented as he hefted the other sword, “You have judged me the ultimate sinner, worthy only of death. You no doubt believe yourself a superior leader for the world, a benevolent king for the masses. But a true king is one that sees out justice himself.” Unsheathing the sword from its scabbard, Laevan tossed it away and held the blade before him, “Then have at me like a king, Roe Speremus. Kill me and take this world as your own!” His voice took a previously unheard flourish as he challenged the Subject.

“I would be a fool to believe that you wish for a mere sword fight. Surely you wish to force me off guard and kill me. Nevertheless, I will accept your challenge, for a man of my martial prowess does not need a gun to kill you.” Roe unloaded the weapon in hand and replaced it in its holder at his waist before flicking the sheath off his own weapon. “You are truly what I hate in this world, Doran Laevan,” he began, his voice cold and detached. “You, who pride yourself on your perfection, on how you have transcended the weaknesses of humanity, and for such I almost pity you. I once believed that it was my control over myself that made me superior.” Raising his sword defensively, he extended his free hand as a shield against any oncoming attacks. “I was wrong, and I see that now. To deny your emotions, to deny your humanity… that itself is a weakness! That is because we are our hatred, our love, our envy, our fear. It is what makes us unique! I pity you, for you have forgotten that.” Receiving an amused scoff in response, the Subject stopped his hated opponent from speaking, interrupting him: “I won’t let you disregard me!” His words boomed in the room with anguish and fury, mixed together in a potent storm. Adrenaline was pumping through Roe’s veins as he bore down on his forbearer with his crackling gaze. Righteous contempt filled his person as his mind raced: ‘I will end it now! I will stop the world from following him! I will free my brothers and sisters! I will bring a smile to Sonya’s face, I will stop Stephan’s tears, I will renew Vadim’s hopes and dreams,’ and he continued his thought verbally: “I will bring everything to everyone. I judge you, Doran Laevan! I deny you!”

The man laughed coldly, and Roe’s fury only intensified. His hands felt cold as his blood coursed through him madly, his heart pumping with the increased adrenaline that begged him to move forward. “Don’t you dare mock me!” Roe screamed, “Stephan has wept, Sonya has hurt, we have all lost! You and your bastard son! We’ll be rid of you and we’ll be free!” He launched himself forward with the squeak of his dress shoe on the tiled floor and met his foe with blade in hand, the steel clashing noisily. “I deny you!” Roe shouted at him, tears freely flowing from his eyes, though not from sorrow, but from happiness. ‘It’s almost here,’ he told himself, ‘An era of peace.’ Bearing down, Doran Laevan grunted quietly as he was slowly overpowered, “I deny you your rule!” The man tripped backward before the Subject wiped at his eyes, and struck again, and was parried. Not dissuaded, he swung the longsword again, and the blades met again as Laevan battled him. “I deny you the future you impose!” Once more, the Prime Chancellor was able to deflect an otherwise lethal blow to his neck with a quick side step. “I deny you my subservience. I will never serve you! No one ever will again.” His voice was becoming hoarse as he shouted almost madly.

Gripping the sword with two hands, he swung downward on the man, “I deny you your very life!” Doran Laevan’s sword shattered and he crashed back into his own desk, grunting with pain as steel shrapnel pierced his person and saw blood ooze from his hand, dripping onto the ground. “I DENY YOU EVERYTHING!” Roe boomed with victory as he thrust his blade forward to impale the man. ‘I can do this,’ Roe assured himself, ‘With this act, I can free the world.’ Visions of his miserable childhood, of sitting alone, of eating alone, of playing alone flashed by in his mind, and he rid himself of the heavy weight they placed on him. The memory of eating dinner with Vadim, Stephan, Emiliyia, Ray and Leonas came to mind, and he held onto it tightly: ‘For you, my friends, I do this. You can be free now,’ he told them, and in his mind’s eye, they smiled at him. Emboldened, he took the final step forward. Emboldened and freed of his regrets, of his weaknesses, of his fears and of everything else that had held him back, Roe Speremus heard the gunshot and ignored it: a single wound was an acceptable sacrifice for slaying Laevan.

However the Subject in question felt his final assault stop mere centimeters before meeting its mark, and he stumbled backward, dropping his sword and clutching at his stomach where a foreign, warm substance leaked through his fingers. Looking down, Roe found blood seep from his stomach and cascade in copious amounts from the gaps of his clawing hands. He looked back up, shock evident in his visage as he saw Doran Laevan, the man whom he had judged fit only for death, holding a finely hewn flintlock pistol, firee twice more, sending the standard bullets into the Subject’s person. One bullet entered the Subject’s right thigh and shattered his femur. He grunted in pain, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of knowing he was in pain and fell to a knee, clutching his newly acquired injury. Another bullet was sent out and this one met his right eye. Shouting in pain, he failed to hold back his agony as blood oozed from his eye socket, the world around him strangely dark. He could tell the bullet had gone in at an angle, but could not care less about the damage done to his brain. Slow, sharp footfalls could be heard as Roe collapsed backward, his body feeling numb and limp to his senses.

His breathing was loud in his ears, deafeningly so, and he wished it to be silent so that he might better focus on the scene above. Hanging from the inside point of the Gherkin Alpha was an ornate chandelier, but beyond it, a cloudless sky. Pure and serene, he looked deeply into it: ‘I cannot die, not yet,’ he told the world, ‘Laevan is not dead, I have to kill him! For everyone who’s been lost: For those whom I consider friends and the Subjects who are my family!’ A vision of Subjects being filed into a neat line before being executed filled his mind, and he grimaced at it, feeling the ruined flesh of his left eye burning with fury as it failed to close. “Sonya,” he whispered quietly, “Look after Stephan… He seems to get into trouble when… I’m not… there.” Coughing weakly, blood leaked from the corners of his mouth as he now found Doran Laevan standing over him, firearm pointed at his chest, “I’m sorry, I failed…” He choked on his own blood, convulsing weakly as it filled his lungs.

Laevan quirked a brow, his emotionless face truly the embodiment of what it did not mean to be human. “You were unwise to question me,” were the words that escaped his lips. ‘I am sincerely sorry…’ The Subject could hear the voices of his loved ones somewhere in the distance as he apologised to them. His breath came out slowly as he forced himself to slow the relentless outpouring of blood from his person, using the skills he had honed from his days as an experiment for NELO to keep himself alive, though felt his eyesight begin grow murky. Reaching up to wipe away the blood that amassed, he stopped as he heard a fourth gunshot fire into the air. Casting his gaze to the right, Roe saw a figure standing in the doorway with a handgun raised toward Laevan.

‘I will survive this,’ he swore stubbornly, focusing on the chandelier above, memorising each crystal, every flowing bar and all the intricate details so painstakingly made. The figure’s voice seethed with fury as they spoke, however their words seemed fade in and out with each breath as Roe forced the world out of his mind to focus upon his injuries, weakly pressing a hand against his stomach and another against his leg. “That’s enough!” The newcomer shouted as the injured Subject shut himself away from the world. 

~*~

Sonya knew the way to the Phoenix Cloud well, for she had escorted Roe many times. Nevertheless, she traversed the empty halls with silent steps, wary of any remaining soldiers or security. It was a gambit, she knew, to destroy the system, for none knew the effect that destroying it would have upon the Subject population. It was the woman’s duty to destroy it, and she knew that from there, she could do even more for their cause. Having replaced her impractical heels and dress for a military uniform, the Russian lady hurried down the adjoining grey carpeted hall. With a mind drifting to her brother as she made her way ever closer to her destination, his mischievous grin came to mind, and she smirked at the thought.  ‘Are you okay? I hope the General has kept you safe,’ she asked her brother in the depths of her mind. No answer came and such was quite obvious to the auburn haired individual at hand, though she stilled worried.

Turning another corner she was met with a worrying sight: the doors to the Phoenix Cloud system were closed. She thought to radio Ludwig, but discarded the notion, given the probability that he was still out with the evacuee forces. It had taken a great deal of convincing to see him depart from his side, but she knew they would be reunited. They had become reliant on one another for both tactical and personal support in the trying times as the world spun into madness. With bloodthirsty zealots performing terroristic acts of malice across the city, it was also quite possible that he had been killed, but something within the depths of Sonya’s person told her otherwise, and so she took stock in her irrational feeling and inched toward the closed doors. Completely white, save for a dull grey rectangle of metal separated by the seam of the two doors, Sonya approached them with complete silence in her motions. Firearm drawn from her waist, she loaded it as quietly as she could, though a metallic click sounded as a bullet was loaded into the chamber.

Deciding a different approach might be more in tune with the likely civilian force she would find behind the doors, she kicked them open and stormed through, weapon at the ready. Shouting brazenly, she leveled the gun’s sight on the only figure in the room: “Stay where you are!” Seated next to the Phoenix Cloud’s interface was Galvin Laevan, looking oddly disheveled. His dress shirt was half untucked and peaked out from below his grey sweater. With a lab coat having fallen off one of his shoulders and his pants looking creased and in need of ironing, he seemed strangely distressed as he looked over the panel before him. “What are you looking at, there?” Sonya demanded, and the man merely huffed and with a few deft taps on the screen, brought the image onto the glass wall before them. What was displayed before them was a nightmarish scene, and it was made all the worse as he activated the sound on the video, letting forth bone chilling screams and relentless begging for mercy.

Hoards of white clad individuals, people Sonya suspected to be Subjects, were being herded into a massive room before being forced to stand shoulder to shoulder with their fellows by impassive looking soldiers. “I used one of the Subjects who could almost use the Phoenix Cloud to make a few of the others into mindless puppets of mine. They know nothing but how to keep people in that room,” Galvin explained, his voice dry and dead. “Keep watching,” he instructed as she looked to him. Obliging him, the room was quickly filled. Her blood ran cold as more of the Subject cried out for mercy: “Please! I have a husband and children! Have mercy!” One woman shouted at the guards, but was only struck across the face and forced into line. Rows upon rows of Subjects shuffled as they awaited what she suspected would be their death. “Mommy! Daddy!” a child screamed brokenly as they were forced into line, “Don’t hurt my son, you bastards!” Another individual, a man Sonya suspected to be the child’s father appeared from off camera and shoved the soldier backward. The soldier in question removed a rifle slung from his back and delivered a single bullet into the man’s head, sending gore and brain matter across his family. The child screamed a blood-chilling cry before dropping to the ground and sobbing violently over their dead parent. “Keep watching,” Galvin Laevan reiterated.

The soldiers suddenly absconded from the room, and a low crash of a heavy door could be heard. “My god, they’re not going to-“ Sonya was cut off as her dread was made reality. The room fell dark and ultraviolet light was captured on the camera, once more illuminating the screen with various hues of green. A strange anomaly appeared on the near side of the large room which took the shape of a murky grey cloud before it abruptly surfaced from all rooms. All those in the room screamed and clawed at their throat. The observing rebel could not break her stare with the child who had been made an orphan so cruelly. He writhed against his father’s cold corpse, clutching at his throat and let forth shaking spasms. In the ultraviolet light she could see a liquid ooze from his mouth as he fell still against his father’s body. Soon thereafter, the child’s horrific death was joined by all others in the room as they collapsed against one another into a macabre pile of death. “Oh dear god,” The auburn haired Russian whispered, clutching her hands so tightly onto her weapon that it creaked in her grip. Rage and sorrow filled her as she saw the floor merely fall away, giving heed to a horrific lower chamber filled to the brim with bodies.

In a cruel joke, as the trap door that was the ground of the holding chamber went to retract, it caught upon the corpses of the recently killed. “No more!” She shouted, firing off a round into the computer before the elder Laevan brother who jerked back impulsively. The screen before them simply faded from existence and left them in silence. However, Galvin merely slid his chair in front of her and tapped a few more times on another screen, bringing up another imposed video on the glass wall before them. This video, initially only one, ballooned into eight. “One City?” She questioned as she vaguely recognised the restaurant she had recently attended, the port, outside the Gherkin Alpha, and various other locations across the city. In each one she saw the depravity of The Awakening. In the restaurant Sonya had barely escaped with her own life, she saw the horror that she had fled from. Tables had been knocked onto their sides or completely over, chairs were shattered or lay on their sides while cutlery and decrepit food sat on the blood soaked ground. Corpses filled the spaces between the fallen furniture, still and grey. Faces contorted with fear and terror, they stared lifelessly outward. Like statues crying for aid, their calls went unanswered, and in death they only served to remind those who saw them of the depravity of man.

At the port, Sonya saw a different sort of distressing sight. The ocean had crept up onto the piers and was pooling into the exterior streets and steadily flooding the outer residential blocks. How the city had been destabilised was beyond her, but nevertheless the large structure was incredibly unsteady when its delicate balance was thrown off. “The city is going to capsize at this rate,” Galvin explained as she followed his gaze, “It looks like The Awakening destroyed a few of District Three to Six’s floats. In short? The city’s going to sink within a few hours. It looks like a few rebel agents in the military have evacuated the population to the lifeboats.” The man snorted at the notion of calling the evacuation ships ‘boats,’ given that they carried a thousand people each. “We still have about a million people left, but they should get out in time,” Laevan explained as he looked to another screen, “But it certainly helped that The Awakening thinned out the civilian populace…” On the next screen the camera was evidently situated on one of the skyscrapers surrounding the Gherkin Alpha, for it looked from an incredible height. “This camera’s looking at what’s left of District Four. Each district’s a piece of the pie that is the City. Really it’s an amazing waste of money to destroy this damned thing, but here we see why the city’s only got hours.” For a Laevan, he sounded incredibly casual and moreover he seemed entirely disinterested in the dire situation at hand.

“The hole you’re looking at stretched about ten blocks by six blocks in the residential sector of the fourth district,” He explained, “It’s allowing so much water in that the city’s flooding even faster with the all the floats having been destroyed. The Awakening was very thorough. That part of the residential sector was high density housing, and I’m guessing about a few hundred thousand were drowned.” Once more, his callous disregard for life only served to anger Sonya, though she remained silent, too disgusted by the disgusting nature of humanity that had been thrown into her face. Should she save the city? Should she help anyone? The questions gnawed at her mind as she looked at each screen, finding only more death and destruction in each one. Through a series of carefully orchestrated and designed explosions, The Awakening had been able to sink large, high density residential blocks by separating them from the rest of the city’s super structure and keep those nearby from evacuating efficiently by destroying nearby transit before or shortly after. “I’m sure you’re here to destroy the Cloud and by all means, go ahead, but you have bigger fish to fry…”

The man tapped a few commands onto the screen below him and brought up a single screen, and her eyes widened greatly at what she saw. They were observing a closed train station where she saw none other than Subject One, along with roughly twenty of his terrorists garbed in their signature black robes and cowls, however some of them wore a white sash and others grey armbands. “I didn’t know they had a hierarchy beyond Subject One being at the top. What is it they even want to accomplish with this wholesale slaughter?” She asked the man, and he only shrugged, evidently intent on letting her mull it over for the time being. “Whatever, once we get rid of Laevan we can deal with him,” and with those words, she aimed her gun at the Phoenix Cloud’s interface: a high backed solid seat looking more like a stale throne that anything else. Glancing to her right, she lowered her weapon abruptly as a small tram car rode the derelict tracks to the Father of The Awakening’s location. She could see the flash of bullets as The Awakening officials were slaughtered without regard, before three escape and the attackers left their shelter. There were five in total: three of them she did not recognise, however the other two forced the woman’s blood to run cold. With a head of recently trimmed, bright blond hair and defiant blue eyes, Ivan Volkov stood, rifle in hand, squared off against The Awakening’s leaders. Moreover standing next to him was Ludwig with his tall, imposing figure slowly moving in front of her brother. “Ivan…?” She questioned before looking to Ludwig: “Ludwig? What are you two doing-“

Her words were cut short as the doors to the Phoenix Cloud were thrown open. Spinning around her heel, a gunshot rang out and Sonya involuntarily dropped her weapon, which fired off harmlessly. Blood oozed from her right shoulder and she clutched it. Looking to her attacker, she found two robed figures of The Awakening, both wearing the white sashes across their chests, flanking a man garbed in a similar robe, though left open to reveal a white tunic-style shirt and breeches along with a pair of black boots. His robe was adorned with golden filigree and was incredibly intricate, but within its billowing fabrics was none other than Subject One. His sickly and drawn skin was bloodied, bruised and slashed, however he held himself triumphantly. “Ah, you must be Sonya. I’ve heard so much about you, though I do believe we’ve met before,” his voice came out as a laboured hiss as he stepped toward her, before regarding Galvin. “Galvin, my friend. Thank you for stalling her while my men made preparations. For your cooperation, I grant you your wish.” With the same weapon he had shot Sonya with, he now depressed the trigger again, and sent a bullet through the elder Laevan’s skull, killing him instantly.

Gore splattered across the terminal he had been using and across the glass wall behind the terminal. Brain matter and blood slid down the once pristine surfaces and the smell of copper filled the air. Sonya looked to the man, her mouth agape, “Don’t look so repulsed, it was his wish. He wished to die. You see, the REGEN system not only gave horrible cancers to the first three generations of Subjects, but those who used it were subject to a myriad of fun side effects.” His voice was mocking and condescending as he bore down on her, and his blood red gaze was wicked with glee, “You see, Doran, Galvin and Natalie were all cursed with rapidly reproducing stem cells, which meant that they didn’t die! It was the same curse that they had given me. The technology has been around for centuries to do this, but no one thought it was ethical. Until they decided to make me their little super-baby.” Looking back to his subordinates the man nodded, “Bring them in here.” The two men bowed deeply and exited hurriedly. “Now that we have some time alone, tell me what you were going to do.” Sonya went to refuse, but he let forth a few clicking sounds of disappointment, “I’m afraid I’m not asking,” he explained boredly.”

Taking a seat in the Phoenix Cloud, the man had a strange look of nostalgia on his horrific face, and he even spoke of it: “It has been some time since I sat in one of these. I didn’t know Doran had one built here, but I suppose it makes sense. He was using that Roe boy, the one whom they made with the same genetic sequence to make me, to make this thing work.” Looking to her, he blinked, his tone still mockingly cruel, “Oh, you knew him? A true tragedy, really: he went to meet his daddy and, well… I’m sure any moment now that family reunion will be cut short. Now if I could only find the other one… The one who seems to temper you two… Oh well, all good things come to those who wait, hm?” The man looked back as the sound of footfalls came into audible range. “Speak of the devil,” he commented casually. Subject One’s once formal, foreign tones had been replaced with casual, common day slurs and the like, and such struck Sonya as incredibly odd. What had changed him? And how? From the entryway, the two sash wearing Awakening terrorists hauled in two prisoners, bloodied and beaten, and the Russian rebel knew them well. One was more dragged than anything, his leg clearly broken and blood dripped from his downcast face, while the other vainly struggled, his strong countenance pale and beleaguered. There stood Ivan and Ludwig, defeated and badly injured. “Oh yes,” Subject One countered as she mouthed her defiance to such a reality.

“Hey sis,” Ivan coughed weakly, slumping forward a little, “Sorry we couldn’t get him, we…” He gagged on his own blood, dry heaving for a moment before he regained his composure, “… tried out best,” he finished, looking to her with drooping, sad eyes. She lurched forward, though a gun pressed to her side told her to stay still. Subject One held a rifle to her side, giving a tsk of disapproval and so she fell still. “We met up with a friend of a friend and his friends,” the younger Volkov explained, “It still wasn’t enough.” She shushed him, and as she went to speak, could find no words. ‘Ivan is hurt,’ her mind panicked dumbly, ‘Ludwig is hurt,’ it advised lamely, ‘They’re going to die if I don’t help them!’ Ivan looked to Ludwig, and grinned at the older individual, who gave him a few confident, if weary, nods. “We gave ‘em what for, eh Ludwig?” The blond teenager looked back to his sister, “Made you proud, I bet.”

Subject One laughed a dead laugh, “What a touching family reunion!” He applauded it for a moment, his tone ever still demeaning all that occurred around him. “I do believe I can reward myself with a bit of theatre before I kill the rest of the Subjects with this handy Cloud,” he decided before looking to Sonya, “You! I’m going to kill one of them, but I’m going to let you decide which one. You see, I am an angel of sorts in my own right. I’ve come to correct the world, to fix all that has gone wrong in the world – namely humanity.” Nodding to his servants, the two robed figures pressed their rifles against the two prisoners’ heads, fingers on the triggers. “Oh let me guess, ‘you can’t make me decide that!’ You’re a predictably boring girl. Shall I choose, then?” The man slowly stood, walking over to Sonya a placed a cold hand on her shoulder. “Did you know that this… Ludwig, isn’t all he seems? Ludwig Von Strauss is just a name he made up. After a bit of… coercion, I learned that he’s really a murderer from Estonia. His real name is Damir Kuul: he killed four police officers and six civilians before escaping to Russia.” The Father of The Awakening looked to the Russian woman who now regarded her closest friend in an entirely different light: “Do you still wish to save him?”

“A few months ago, I might have said no,” Sonya admitted, and Ludwig’s face was cast down from the reprimand. “But I’ve learned much since I left Polyarny: I learned the value of human life, the nobility of camaraderie, and that sometimes we need to forgive, like how Roe forgave Doctor Bellerose. That was noble, that was kind; that was good.” She looked to the first Subject, scowling, “Something you’d never understand. You tell me to choose between my brother and the man I love?” Ludwig, or rather Damir, let forth a choked gasp of surprise, and even Ivan swore quietly. “I say to hell with your choices! I choose myself,” her declaration was met an amused chuckle by Subject One. “I’m sure Ludwig – Damir has his reasons, and if he lives his life to atone for his sins, then I will support him, and I love Ivan, he’s my baby brother and I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

Subject One laughed a broad, loud, hollow laugh before he calmed and spoke again: “Very well, I like your choice. I’ll kill you, then finish off the rest of the world.” Sonya nodded and looked to Damir and Ivan. The red eyed Subject drew from his sleeves a wicked looking dagger and drew it to the Russian woman’s throat. “Observe closely, boys. This is what your good intentions lead to,” his words mocked all they had worked for, and Sonya felt her fear creep onto her face, though she wiped it away. ‘I need to be strong for Ivan: he needs to live on not feeling guilty. I need to not be sad for Damir, so he can learn to repent and not live only stuck in this moment.’ Calming herself with a few deep breaths the auburn haired woman offered a light smile to her loved ones.

Tears welled in Ivan’s eyes as he watched his sister be prepped for death, and his tall counterpart thrashed weakly against his imprisonment, having lost too much blood to put up much of a fight. “Don’t look so sad, both of you. You need to live on, to bring peace to the world and to end this cycle of pain,” she instructed them. Casting her gaze to Ivan she looked deeply into his bright sapphire eyes and spoke: “Ivan, I’m going to be selfish for a moment, can you oblige me?” He nodded weakly, tears freely streaming from his face as he failed to speak, for he was too ruined by his emotions. “I need you to smile for me, so that the last thing I see from you is that happy, mischievous brother I know so well. I hate when you cry, because it makes me sad.” He blinked, before he, with some trepidation, wiped at his eyes, though his tears still continued to well. “I know, your big boring sister can actually be sad. And I am right now, because I’ll never get to see you grow up, but I’m at peace because I know you’ll be happy.” Ivan failed in his efforts and broke into loud hacking sobs as he looked at her oddly peaceful visage.

“How can I be happy… if you’re dead?” He asked her brokenly, falling to the floor and looking up at her with bloodshot eyes. He looked down at his trembling hands, “I couldn’t… I can’t…” He sputtered as he crumpled downward, his knuckles scraping against his forehead, “Please Sonya,” he pleaded, miserably, “Please!” He abruptly looked up to Subject One: “Take me you bastard! Kill me instead! Just leave my sister alone!” The first Subject gave a thoughtful noise as he considered the offer, eyeing the boy as he did so. As the man fell lost in thought, the teenager looked back to the fiery woman, “You can be happy, okay? If I die, you can be happy with Ludwig. You can go and live in one of the nice cities, like we always talked about doing. Wouldn’t it be fun?” He sniffed noisily before wiping snot away, “I just… Ludwig, please, make her stop!” The older of the two prisoners looked to his younger counterpart hopelessly, before up to Sonya, gauging her carefully. The two held each other’s stares for a long time, and evidently the Father was more than willing to watch the emotional to and fro play out, and from his wicked grin, he seemed to be enjoying it greatly.

Damir smirked nostalgically, “When we met, you were silent, sullen, and just a little bitchy,” he admitted, giving an exhausted chuckle. “I kept trying to talk to you for the whole ride to the training camp, but you would have none of that. Really, it was quite annoying! Only by the end did you buckle and start holding up your side of the conversation, but when you did, I learned what an amazingly strong and vibrant person you really are,” his smirk failed and he fell serious. “I didn’t want to kill those people, and they weren’t exactly civilians… They were affiliated with the Laevan Foundation, or at least I learned that when I looked up who they were when we joined the army. They were looking for Generation One to Three Subjects who had been accidentally exposed to radiation in the techno-womb so that they could administer some death drug and make their deaths look natural, so no one could question why they happened to die at the same time, as they were doing.” Damir narrowed his gaze on Subject One, “But it looks like they missed one,” he spat blood onto the ground and continued. “The police were crooks and were just pawns for the Laevan Foundation, so in the process of escaping, I had to kill a few. I’m not proud of it, and I wish I could turn back time and undo it, but life is like that.” He then returned his attention to Subject One, “Don’t kill her. Take me instead, I’m overdue for a bit of justice for what I’ve done.”

The Subject at hand seemed all too eager and willing to seemingly kill them all, but he gave unspoken restraint against his desires and took a seat on the armrest of the Phoenix Cloud apparatus. “Decisions, decisions,” he hummed in thought. Looking between the three of them: Sonya looking over her loved ones, silently imploring them to rescind their offers, Ivan , once so fiery and strong, crumpled on the ground with bloodshot eyes imploring his sister just as she did to him, and finally Damir who slumped weakly against his captor, his dark gaze flickering between the first Subject and Sonya. “I do believe I’ll keep to my second plan. Sonya dies, and that’s that.” As Subject One drew the knife to Sonya’s throat, the cold, sharp edge nicking her pale flesh ever so slightly, the intercom in the building sounded with a familiar voice, and the television monitor in the room flickered to life with an equally familiar, if  beleaguered, visage upon it.

“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.”

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