《Neos Online (Hiatus)》 Chapter 1 It¡¯s a Thursday afternoon at a tavern in the middle of New Jersey. The patronage is sort of slow given that it¡¯s a Thursday, but that doesn¡¯t perturb the old barkeep. The tavern itself isn¡¯t large, just big enough to satisfy the condition of the old barkeep who owns and runs the place. A wraparound front bar sits a little off to the left of the entrance and the surrounding tables are mostly vacant, except for a couple spare tourists making a pit stop on their way to New York. The entirety of the tavern hearkens to the earthy and wood-like feel of old Britain, mixed with the preindustrial age of American capitalism. Five minutes later, a haggard looking man barges through the wide double doors and sits at the counter. ¡°Had ¡®nother one didja?¡± asks the barkeep. ¡°I¡¯ll get the bottle as usual,¡± the man replies hoarsely while wiping his palms across his face in an attempt to clean the sweat and tears that were prevalent on his cheeks and forehead. Staring at the distraught man, the barkeep sighs and says, ¡°Eli, it¡¯s not good ta keep comin in here all da time. Ya really need to go an¡¯ ask ta see one a dem therapists fuh help.¡± ¡°You know I can¡¯t stand shrinks, just give me my fucking drink Ernest,¡± the man replies with a look of indifference. Ernest looks at him for a while, wondering which memory had haunted him this time. Finally, he limps away to go get the bottle of a Jack Daniels Classic situated at the back bar. After a couple of minutes, he comes back with the bottle, sets it down in front of the haggard man, and returns to the other side of the bar to resume cleaning the mugs. The man sitting at the counter stares longingly at the bottle before he drags his hands across the counter, shuffling the coaster that was previously sitting in front of him onto the floor. He gently picks up the bottle, as if it were a sacred artefact, and proceeds to slowly drag it back across the counter. This man is Elijiah Pierce, a 26-year-old history student. He sat there, slumping his tall, barrel chested frame onto the counter, as if trying to find some manner of purchace within its well worn figure. His hands cradle the bottle, filling in the gaps of his callus'' with the dew of the cold drinks kiss. He was old, older than most his age, as it sported its victories within the murky depths of his dark eyes. Ernest, the old barkeep, worried for him. In all his years hauling the lines of his sailboat, he had never once come across a man so stricken by time. He had seen its likeness in but a few of his fellow sailors, those few who returned from the front lines of the war being haunted by the shadows within their minds. Eli unscrews the top and proceeds to greedily gulp down the contents of the bottle, almost the same way a drug addict acts as they are receiving their first dose of drugs after going into a heavy withdrawal. The minutes pass in silence as he drowns himself in the drink. Bottle after bottle having been tossed his way, each emptied before going on to the next one. No matter how hard I try, I can never get fully drunk, He thinks to himself as he tears the latest bottle away from his lips after having drained half of it. He blamed his training because of it. ¡°-And now for the latest on the world. The Peoples Republic of ¡­-¡± Looking up at the interruption, he notices the miniature holovid set above the bar. He vaguely pays attention to it as the news anchor reports about the ongoings of the world, seeming to not care as he listens to the crap being spewed by an overly politicized media outlet. Three ongoing civil wars, superpower nations¡¯ trying in vain to staunch a failing economy, food and water shortages and massed riots in the southern Asian provinces as well as the northern parts of Africa, a population of nearly 13 billion within the world and the entertainment industry still finds ways to help the common folk forget all their troubles with the gaming and movie industry being at its peak. He continues to stare at the television set as he swigs the drink multiple times. The minutes pass and he drains the bottle and proceeds to ask for another. Slowly blocking out all of the external noises, and the alcohol haphazardly being thrust into his system, his chest burns violently as the last vestiges of his reason for coming to the bar in the first place resurface in his being. It was a kind of ringing in his head, as a memory slowly surfaces from his consciousness, accompanied by the pain of what had happened that day.
The blazing heat of a fire rages around him as gunfire and energy weapons are discharged into the surroundings of the 3rd floor of the seven storey mansion. The inside of the hallway leading down to the stairway, once elegant and crisp in its grandeur, barely held together at the seams as the massed bullet holes, grenade explosions and broken furniture littered the floor and walls. Million dollar paintings were now worth little more than a couple credits as they either lay crumpled in a heap on the floor, or torn to shreds from massed gunfire while still hanging on the walls. Table stands missing leg posts, and doors¡¯ ripped from their frames with sprayed wood chips lay strewn around the room. The very epitome of destruction and carnage painted the seen as the surroundings are bathed with inexhaustible heat and flame. He lays face down on the ground as a wall from the previous room had caved in on him as he was making his exfiltration from the premises. ¡°-The building won¡¯t last much longer Princess! Haul your ass out of there!-¡± his earpiece buzzes against his cheek as it wakes him from his reverie. He struggles for a moment, lifting the 35 kilos worth of body armor and ammunition as well as the 300 kilos of reinforced wall. God damnit¡­note to self, don¡¯t try to exit through the floor. A door slams open from the other end of the hall, revealing the remarkably small and wiry figure of a friend sporting the same kit as he. ¡°Jeezus mate! What the bloody hell are ya doin on the floor?!¡± Ian cries out as he rushes over to him and tries to pick the wall off of him. Ian Ainsley, a 35 year-old ex-Special Forces operative for the British crown after a bureaucratic asshole flushed his career down the drain. Grown and raised by the organization created by both Ian and Eli¡¯s master. He was a remarkable demolitions specialist and the overall best mid-range marksman for the Crown. ¡°Had to make myself a hole in order to not get filled with more holes.¡± Eli answers sarcastically. ¡°How many were after ya this time? Fifteen? Twenty?¡± Ian asks hurriedly as he finishes picking the wall off of him. Standing up, Eli picks his carbine off the floor and looks down at Ian before saying, ¡°There were two TAGs blocking my path. I didn¡¯t really¡ª¡± Ian¡¯s eyes widen as he recognizes the term being given to him, but as Eli was finishing, a familiar sound coming from the stair case behind them interrupts his moment. It was the chink of a grenade as it bounces off a wall followed by it rolling towards him. Both of them freeze and simultaneously swivel their weapons towards the staircase before- BOOOM!!! A flash of light, and Eli wakes up on the floor of the tavern. He had slipped off of the stool and was now on his back as he stares at the ceiling. His drink still in his hand, slowly emptys its contents onto the floor. ¡°Everythin alright Eli?¡± Ernest asks as he looks over the counter at him with eyes filled with concern. Not paying any attention to his surroundings, he couldn¡¯t have noticed that what little of the patronage that was within the dim taverns confines had all swiveled their heads in his direction. Each pair of eyes held a different emotion as they each took their own time judging the man on the floor. Breathing in deep controlled breaths, Eli takes a moment to get his racing heart rate back under control. The more he breathed, the more he felt the tenseness in his limbs start to recede, loosening them enough to where he could finally move them. ¡°I¡¯m gonna need another¡ª¡± Eli starts as he slides onto another stool but is interrupted by yet another opened bottle being placed in front of him. He pulls his wrist in front of him and feels for his pulse, noting that it was still a bit too quick and proceeds to continue with the breathing exercise. Glancing at his handcrafted watch, he notes the time and thinks that it¡¯s about time to leave the establishment. ¡°I¡¯m taking the bottle with me, old man.¡± He says as he lays some crumpled bills on the counter.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Just be sure ta think bout seein somebody bout that nightmare o yours,¡± Ernest replies quietly as he watches the man leave. As he nears the door, he hears the vid screen start advertising something by Corellec Inc. As if there weren¡¯t enough advertisements by that company. ¡°-Corellec Inc. is proud to announce our 10-year anniversary for being the top virtual reality gaming company in the world! In celebration of this, we will be holding a lottery at all the university campuses worldwide for the chance to win a free account, and a free subscription to the game for a lifetime! The only catch is that you have to be a student of the stated university to apply for the lottery! We hope to see you all there!-¡± Throwing is gaze over his shoulder, he makes a mental note to himself. What¡¯s so great about it anyway? Looking out on the city, he is greeted by tall skyscrapers and a plethora of cultural restaurants each shouting their own version of aggressive advertisement towards those trudging through the streets of New Brunswick. That was what its official name was at any rate. Everyone else just called it the Hub. Most called it by this name because of the fact that one could find practically anything within the city. Research and development of all things material and immaterial had found their place here. Be it the cure to a new cancer or rare psychological disorder, or the musings of those of the spiritually inclined. Everything and everyone had to have a moral code to live by to reside in this city. That was what it took to live there. Looking back up at the sign of the tavern, making out the bold sea green letters hanging above the wide double doors, reads it, and promptly takes another swig of his beverage. The Livers Worst That was what Ernest had called it when he opened it ten years ago. ¡°If you were ta die at dis very moment, would ya rather be stuck sickly inna bed, or grippin¡¯ a beer in one hand while settlin¡¯ a good ol bar brawl with the other?¡± That was what he asked Eli 3 years ago when he stumbled in the first time. Consequently, it had not been a pleasant evening for him. The city of New Brunswick welcomed all. Its towering skyscrapers mixed with its old architecture made it seem as though pieces of history from every piece of the world were brought together at a singular location. Trudging along the sidewalk with a half empty bottle of alcohol, the looks of other pedestrians showed their contempt for the man, each judging him to be a hapless drunk. Bus stops pass by, the occasional homeless man, none seemed to wish to speak with him if one could see his current attire. As he rounds a corner heading towards the suburbs, he looks up just in time to see the familiar sights. Artificial grass rolls for a while before hitting a playground. Adults stood talking to each other as their children rambled and rumbled about the sand of the grounds. All the children looked to be toddlers from the distance but he decided not to watch it for too long lest a memory rise up again to haunt him. He sauntered on for a few more minutes as he passed the park, not sparing any of the adults a glance as they watched cautiously as he passed. The longer he walked, the closer he got to his sister¡¯s school, Zephyr Lane High School. At first he could make out the distinct outline of the large buildings. It was an unassuming settlement. That was what it looked like from the outside at least. It was built this way because of all of the ongoings in the world. Namely, terrorism in other countries had taken a turn for the worst and had turned their terrorism onto the major nations schools themselves. As such, other countries started hiding their schools in order to make sure that they weren¡¯t as likely a target. This happened decades ago, long before Eli had been born. Gazing at Zephyr High, he couldn¡¯t help but think that it was the right move at the time considering all that was going on. I don¡¯t think any of the terrorist groups in the world at the moment are stupid enough to come here though. he thinks to himself as he throws the glass bottle in a nearby recycle bin at the side of a bus stop. Nonetheless, it was still a state of the art school with all the best things money can buy. The gates of the school held some form of warm welcome considering that they were there to keep people out. Buses had already lined up at the ramp at the east side of the complex, as if ready to ferry their charges back to their homes and into the waiting arms of their guardians. Just as he walks to the front gates, he hears the final bell toll, signaling the release of the students. Walking up to the front of the school, he leans against the side of the building to wait for his sister. It doesn¡¯t take long for a crowd to form as eager students are leaving the building. Scanning the crowd, he tries to figure out where his sister is because he didn¡¯t remember her putting on any form of perfume so that he could differentiate her smell from everyone else. Just as he is about to head inside to look further, a sweet voice chimes from behind him. ¡°Eli what are you doing here so early?¡± his sister asks as she walks up to him. I really gotta stop teaching her how to blend in so well because this is getting ridiculous. He thinks before he responds with a slight quip with a familial. ¡°Oh I wouldn¡¯t know. Here I was, looking for a bomb-shelled beauty of a teacher that could keep me company and what do I get? A crowd of hormonal kiddies who don¡¯t know how to cope with their emotions swarming me from all sides!¡± ¡°Oh please! I know you don¡¯t have the balls to ask Miss Harley out for a date.¡± She retorts with a snort and a hand on her hip. Leaning forward, she sniffs him and cringes a bit at the acrid scent of alcohol draped around him. Taking a moment to dig inside her purse, she takes out a small bottle of perfume and proceeds to drench him in it. ¡°At any rate, it¡¯s nice to see you here bro!¡± she says putting the bottle back. ¡°Ya, ya, nice to see you too Aella.¡± He jokes as he scans her quickly to see if there were anything out of the ordinary. Aella was the polar opposite of her brother. Lithe and lanky she was, her ravens hair sat atop her head tied neatly in a bun. Where her brother exuded both dominance and loss, she filled the air with a flighty attitude followed by a quick smile. ¡°We¡¯d best get goin if we want to make it home at a decent hour.¡± he replies as he suddenly turns around. ¡°Wait up! Can¡¯t you at least ask me how my day was? Did I make any new friends? That sort of thing!¡± she says as she hoists her backpack and tries to catch up at the increasing distance between them widens. You were gonna tell me anyway Aella so there would¡¯ve been no point to ask, he thinks to himself. He listens to her chatter about her day, almost seeming oblivious to his surroundings as they walk together down the sidewalk. High school drama, soccer tournaments, and college prep seemed to be the most pressing issues that she was having at the school before a topic he wasn¡¯t expecting pealed from her mouth. ¡°¡­ an account for the new game by Corellec.¡± ¡°Wait what?¡± he asks. ¡°You didn¡¯t know? It¡¯s been the talk of the school for the past week! Everyone is either waiting to see what to expect from the new game or trying to graduate early so they can get in on this lottery.¡± ¡°Well I heard about it from¡­ somewhere¡­¡± ¡°You heard it at the bar didn¡¯t you.¡± she says, eyes squinting as if in accusation of what she already knew to be true. ¡°¡­I¡¯m not even going to grace that with a retort shorty.¡± ¡°Oh, I know! I know the perfect way to find out! Time to take a short visit to your school!¡± she says and starts running ahead of him. Jeezus what is she thinking this time, he thinks as he jogs behind her, knowing full well that once she has a plan on her mind she won¡¯t deviate from said plan. The minutes pass by as he and Aella weave through the pedestrians in light of the afternoon sun. It doesn¡¯t take them long to reach the school, grand and majestic as can be as it was one of the few structures that hadn¡¯t been cast down in the bombings of World War Three. Finding her long out of sight, he looks around for her as he walks up the front steps towards the admin building. Seeing the line out the door however, he decided against it and moved towards the library. Before long, he saw her bouncing backpack as it jumped up and down in anticipation near the line for the lottery stationed just outside. ¡°What the hell are we doing here Aella?¡± he whispers. Turning around, she smiles mischievously and says, ¡°YOU are going to put your name in for the new account!¡± ¡°¡­And why exactly would I want to do that?¡± he asks as perplexed by the statement as those around him. Those in the line were confused on why wouldn¡¯t he want to put his name in for the lottery considering the hype for such an achievement to pull something of this scale around the globe. Eli¡¯s own confusion stemmed from his sister¡¯s actions considering the fact that she knew that he would never willingly enter the lottery without a reason. ¡°Because then I would be able to play your hilarious actions in it if you win for my friends!¡± she chuckles thinking about it. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s such a great feeling to be able to be the butt of the joke isn¡¯t it, fair sister. Will this humiliation be net-worthy or will it be solely for your friends¡¯ amusement?¡± he asks. ¡°Depends on how bad you are!¡± she says to which the rest of the line starts chuckling. ¡°That also depends on whether or not I will actually win it. You know with my luck I won¡¯t get it so why bother?¡± ¡°You do realize that there 10 prizes right? Even if you don¡¯t win the lifetime subscription, you can still win the beta account!¡± Sighing, he mutters a small ¡°Very well¡± before entering the line with her. The line was small considering that the it was nearing the end of the day and that the lottery was about to close. The minutes pass as he waits in line but he couldn¡¯t shake this feeling like he was being used. Most likely used by his sister for more fun and games, but he didn¡¯t care at this point. ¡°One ticket please,¡± Eli asks the receptionist as he nears the table. ¡°Student ID.¡± She says, not taking her nose out of the book, while pointing with one hand to the scanner in front of her. Obliging, he scans it before she then says, ¡°Alright that¡¯ll be 10 credits and I¡¯ll need your biometric print so SIN please.¡± He gives her a blank look, not comprehending what she is asking. ¡°SIN? What is a SIN?¡± She looks up from her book, flaked yellow pages crinkling as they show their time among the living. Eyes going wide as she starts getting nervous now that she has to actually pay attention to the man in front of her. ¡°Y-you don¡¯t have a SIN?¡± ¡°I would assume not but I don¡¯t really know what it is.¡± Quiet mutterings of those behind him wonder exactly how far he had gotten in his college career given the fact that almost everything was automated and required scanners to do anything in the current age. ¡°A SIN is a-a System Identification Number. A bionic chip th-that is usually submitted somewhere on-n the body that holds all relevant d-data that c-can be used by government tracking agencies, m-medical services, food dispensaries, and personal net-carts... how long have you been among the States sir?¡± Eli looks around him, wondering if it was just him learning about this, but judging by the looks of embarrassment on each of the other student¡¯s faces it seemed as if it was just him. ¡°Apparently not long enough. Is there some way that I can¡ª¡± ¡°J-just give me your hand s-sir so that I-I can get a DNA swab for the b-basic SIN requirements. Those are all I need for th-the lottery at this time.¡± She says as she picks up a tablet with a built in scanner. Her eyes never leaving his as if enraptured by his presence. Sighing, he presses his hand to it and drops a few hard credit chips before heading off the campus with Aella prancing behind him with a bright smile plastered to her face. Once the two of them had gotten out of earshot, those still in the line wondered who he was while purchasing their own tickets. The receptionist, not paying attention to the rest of them, flicked frantically through her PDA, which was connected to the scanner, to find out who the young man without the SIN was. A desperate attempt to find out who he was despite the short time that she had talked with him. Chapter 2 ¡°MOMMM!!!!¡± Eli screams, as he rips back into reality from his most recent nightmare. Only realizing that it was a dream, he begins to cry softly into the sheets. This was his new normal ever since he started seeking the comfort of the glass bottle. Inflicted by the horrors of his past, be it from his childhood or his teenage years, both held sway over him in ways one would wonder whether or not he should be admitted to a mental home. It didn¡¯t take long for the hurried steps of his sister to make her way to his room. A concerned expression dotting the landscape of her face as she coos softly into his ear to assuage him of the guilt he so obviously felt. ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±She said, over and over. A bitter attempt to help him get better despite the demons that plagued him. The minutes pass in short sobbing silence before he finally turns to look at her, blinking away the tears. ¡°Of course it was. If it wasn¡¯t for my stupid, needy, self, back then, Mom and Dad would still be here.¡± ¡°¡­Would Mom and Dad want you to be like this? Blaming yourself for something that you truly had no control over, isn¡¯t something they would want you to do.¡± She replies, a soft look creasing her face. Eli pauses, wondering where he had heard those words uttered once before, before stating softly, ¡°¡­Never again.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°Never again will I let my family be taken from me.¡± She looks at him with warmed eyes, somewhat akin to a mother¡¯s warmth despite her young age. ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡± She says before consoling him by rubbing his back. After he had calmed down, she slowly gets up and heads out of the room. As the footsteps recede from his room, he looks at his watch, noting the crisp outline of the hour hand hovering over the 4 mark. Sighing, he wipes the leftover tears from his eyes before he throws on his shoes to head out the door for his daily exercise.
3 days later ¡°av ¡®un a ¡®ork!¡± (Have fun at work!) Aella says while she stuffs her face with Frosted Flakes. ¡°I¡¯ll try Aella, I can¡¯t guarantee anything though,¡± Eli replies as he heads towards the door. Noting the dew on the grass as he steps out of the door and starts walking to his full time job. He looks at his watch noticing that it¡¯s 8 am and starts jogging down the road towards the office. The time passes quickly as he makes his way down the road, noting the odd person out and about considering that it was usually a quiet neighborhood. Before long, he¡¯s opening the front door to a ranch styled office with a wrap-around deck. The inside of the office, being more spacious than the outside let the onlooker peek, looked more like a modern gym than it did an office. Weights and dumbbells lay scattered across the floor on the left side. On the right, there is a lone desk with a couple of simple chairs sitting around it. In the back there is a set of double doors that lead out to the porch, both the doors lie propped open. ¡°Elijiah the Piercer, welcome back to your heavenly haven of sweaty delight son!¡± A deep baritone voice with a small twang rings out from the back. Eli notices the outline of the man standing on the porch, and a cheeky grin slowly spreads across his face. ¡°And what would you do without me Hubert? If I left you with the rest of the guys you¡¯d go crazy inside a month!¡± The man named Hubert walks into the room and slowly makes his way to the desk. The 53-year-old bear of a man that towered at his lofty 200 cm, clicked his boots against the hardwood floors as he walked. He was the best craftsman of the company, as well as the head contractor. Shaven head, tanned leathery skin, chocolate colored eyes, and a smile that would melt any lady. A man with the name of rancher just shouting at you from his features alone. Both of them worked for the lone construction company situated in the remains of New Jersey¡¯s Port districts. Well, more accurately Elijiah worked for Hubert. Although they weren¡¯t blood related, anyone could tell that the two were as close as family. ¡°The boys are already over there so if you wanna grab your gear and head on over, that¡¯d sort things out real quick. We¡¯re in charge of demo this time round, but I¡¯m making sure they follow your orders when it comes to placement of the charges.¡± ¡°Alright, Pops I¡¯ll head on over there. Hopefully they haven¡¯t done anything stupid yet.¡± Eli goes over to the lockers stationed along the far side of the room, and grabs his tools before heading out the back. As he nears the exit, he hears Hubert state, ¡°I¡¯ll head on over there once I finish this paperwork for the client.¡± ¡°Alright but don¡¯t take too long. I¡¯m not sure if the boys can handle this much excitement for one day. It¡¯s been a while since they last did something like this.¡± Eli retorts as he heads out the door. Hopping on one of the company vehicles, it takes him about an hour to head out to the demo site by cutting through a residential area. The site is an old 4 storey hotel with walls that looked like they hadn¡¯t been seen in years standing a couple kilometers from the highway. One of the last buildings still standing that survived the bombings of World War Three. The client apparently wanted the job finished. As he nears the site, Eli sees a group of tattooed men standing around near the safety tape, the outer edge of the safe line for where a demo could be executed without injuring anyone. ¡°Alright boys, time to get to work!¡±he yells as he opens the vehicle door. They all turn at the sound of his voice and start grinning when they recognize who it is. Each face varied in their twinkling delight as a single tattoo marked on their necks signified their bond to each other. The men of this merry company were all ex-mercenaries that Eli had put together. Each man with the wish to get out of the killing business, sought him out to see if they could do something constructive with their lives instead of wreaking havoc on the world around them. That being said, there always came a time that they would want to let loose and release the pent-up stress of their daily lives. Demolition work was their favorite way of satisfying that release. ¡°¡°TIME TO SEE SOME FIREWORKS!!!!!¡±¡± they all shout giddily and start grabbing their gear. Eli heads inside and starts marking places they should place the charges. After a couple hours of doing so to make his way up the building, he sets to work making sure all of the charges are set according to his specifications. The hours¡¯ grind away at the day as the laborers set the marked areas and made adjustments to further assist in the explosion process. As they finish their work and make their way to the safety line, Hubert walks up from his own truck, parked a good way behind the line. ¡°Finished are ya? Seems I got here in time to see the show!¡± ¡°Of course you are, who¡¯d wanna miss this show of the month?!¡± One of the workers replies with sweat and dirt clinging to his shirt. ¡°Alright, is everyone here?¡± Eli asks in a voice loud enough to be heard above their talking. ¡°Yup everyone¡¯s here boss!¡± one of them replied. ¡°Alrighty then, time for the show to start.¡± Eli states and then promptly flips the switch on his detonation device. The large audible crack of simultaneous charges going off along the entirety of the building forces the hotel to collapse inward, as if a man crumpling into the dust. Everyone starts whooping and hollering from the magnificent sight of destruction. As the dust settles, everyone starts packing up their gear whilst talking in anticipation of the next job they might have. While Elijiah collects his tools, Hubert walks up behind him and says, ¡°Good work, real good work. If only half the guys I hired for a job turned out like you did, I¡¯d be rolling out contracts like no tomorrow.¡± ¡°Well if you had any more guys like my team and I, you wouldn¡¯t need me anymore.¡± ¡°Speaking of tomorrow, why don¡¯t you take the day off and spend some time with your sister?¡± ¡°¡­¡­I can do that, but why tomorrow?¡± ¡°I got a hobby that needs catching up on and no contracts to speak of at the moment, so take some time off to yourself.¡± Eli gets up with his gear in tow, and eyes Hubert, wondering what exactly he should say to the already laid back man. ¡°Alright, I guess I¡¯ll see you say¡­ next Wednesday?¡± ¡°Sounds good to me. And take it easy now would ya, I don¡¯t want to hear about you having another episode from Ernest if I can help it. I can¡¯t have my lead foreman being stuck in a mental ward ya know? So you really should get yourself a therapist to get that all straightened out.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Eli sighs in exasperation as he seemed to be getting tired of hearing the same thing being asked of him. ¡°I promise I¡¯m fine Hubert. I just¡ª¡± ¡°Son, if this is about the insurance, you know your contract to the company covers all of that.¡± ¡°But I¡ª¡± ¡°Boy, do it for me and the boys. If not for them, do it for your sister cause you know she frets over ya.¡± An awkward silence spreads between them as Eli considers what he¡¯s being asked. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll get a damn shrink.¡± he grumbles before walking away, knowing full well that he would¡¯ve had to argue more if he stayed any longer. ¡°Have Jensyn take my truck back to the Headquarters, I¡¯m gonna walk back.¡± He says over his shoulder, knowing full well that Hubert would hear him. He wanted to stew in his thoughts for a while. Eli leaves the area with Hubert staying behind, knowing his boss would want to make sure the workers won¡¯t do anything stupid considering their particular proclivity for pyrotechnics being at the forefront of their minds. The minutes pass in silence as he walks down the road through the parked cars and suburban area. Stewing in his thoughts about his last conversation and knowing full well that if Hubert had required him to have a doctor take a look at him before he could be allowed to go back to work, he would. The shrink. The god damn shrink. For weeks he had been pestered by his friends and family about visiting a therapist to take care of his particular problem. He had gotten used to the, now daily, ritual. Wake up from a nightmare, work off the steam with a couple hours of physical fitness, go to work, go to the bar, drink until he got fed up with the locale, head home for the night, do some homework to satisfy the online professors, and go back to nightmares. Rest, rinse, repeat. That was all he had ever done since he had retired from the active service of mercenary work. After about 30 min down the road, heading back the way he came, he notices a couple jogging on the other side of the street. The white and greyed paint of the houses coupled with the not-so-green grass paired an interesting choice despite the couple¡¯s choice of outfit. While seeing this, he notices a man with blue jeans, a grey hoody, and a knife the length of his forearm waiting 30 meters in front of them hiding behind a hedge. Fearing the worst, he drops his bag and heads across the street behind the mugger. He searches in his pocket for any spare change and finds nothing. Gonna have to do this the hard way,he thinks to himself. As he reaches the other side of the street, the joggers have reached the muggers position. The mugger jumps out, points the knife at them and starts demanding money. Eli, sprinting towards the mugger, jumps off a parked car and proceeds to drop kick the man¡­ sending him flying back into the hedge. An audible crack sounds out as the man¡¯s ribs break under the force of a 100 kg flying object. ¡°Are you two alright?¡±Eli asks the couple as he returns to the ground. ¡°Y-yes we are! Thank you so much!¡± While they are busy thanking him, the mugger gets back up. Despite the pain coursing through his chest, the mugger grabs his knife. As soon as he registered what just happened, he starts running toward Eli with the intent to kill. Realizing that they were all in danger, Eli steps in front of the couple, shielding them with his body as they back away from the ensuing conflict. As soon as the mugger starts lunging with the knife, he sidesteps, grabs the arm with one hand mid lunge, and sweeps his feet out from under him to land on the concrete. The man crumbles like a paper sack after that. 6 cracked ribs, a dislocated wrist, dazed, and a shattered pride. Well done Mister Pierce. Eli thinks to himself as he studies the mugger in his entirety before turning back to the couple. ¡°Call the police.¡± He orders coldly to the couple who are just standing there dumbfounded. 10 minutes later. The police arrive on scene and arrest the mugger.They go to ask for an explanation from the couple while Eli sits on the sidewalk with his bag resting beside him. ¡°I was just in the area and noticed what would happen,¡± Was his explanation when asked why he apprehended the mugger.Once released, he gets up and starts heading down the road. Tired of the usual routine, he heads home instead of the bar to clean himself up.
A couple hours later, ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± he says as he walks through the door. He walks to the counter in the kitchen and starts setting his gear down. ¡°You¡¯re home early, it¡¯s not even 5 yet!¡± Aella exclaims coming out of her room with a thick book in hand. ¡°What¡¯s that, a new conquest?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s something I got from the library while you were out. Besides how was your day?¡± ¡°Oh the usual, blew up a building, got in a fight.¡± ¡°You WHAT?!¡± Aella looks at him incredulously. She inspects his attire and sees that there aren¡¯t any blood stains. ¡°Who is it and when can I kill them?¡± ¡°You can¡¯t kill him because he¡¯s already in the hospital. Don¡¯t worry I took care of it.¡± ¡°Well¡­.alright then.¡± TRINGTRINGTRING¡­. He looks at the phone on the counter. There shouldn¡¯t be anyone calling at this time of day that we know of¡­ TRINGTRINGTRING¡­. ¡°Anyone supposed to be calling for you today Aella?¡± ¡°Not that I know of¡­¡± TRINGTRING¡­..click ¡°Hello?¡± He asks cautiously. ¡°Is this Mister Elijiah Pierce that I am speaking with?¡± A husky feminine voice replies. ¡°Yes¡­.may I ask who is calling?¡± ¡°This is Rebecca Sanchez with Corellec Inc. and we are calling to inform you that you have won the grand prize of the free account and lifetime membership out of the 16,000 entries in the lottery that was initiated 3 days ago on your campus.¡± ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡± ¡°Your Animatus will be arriving tomorrow and you can proceed through to the login whenever you like.¡± ¡°Alright then, thank you for the call.¡±¡­¡­..click ¡°What was that about?¡± Aella asks inquisitively. ¡°Remember that lotto we went to at the university a couple days back?¡± ¡°¡­you didn¡¯t¡± she says quietly. ¡°Yup, apparently I did,¡± he states with a sigh as he knew that his life had now gotten a whole lot more complicated. ¡°Well that¡¯s good for you, just be sure to give me all the juicy footage!¡±She states while giving him a look that was akin to a child finding out they got their favorite toy on Christmas. She looks a lot like Mom when she does that. He thinks as he setshis bag down atop the ¡°Yesh marm! Whatever ya shay marm!¡± Eli replies in absolute deadpan while slapping up an overly dramatic salute. ¡°Oh shut it! That is quite enough out of you!¡± she almost shouts through sheer embarrassment. ¡°And what would oh yon missy like to dine on this fine evening?¡± he says in a very bad fake British accent. ¡°I want pumpkin pie! I want to be spoiled and you can¡¯t say shit about it cause you won something!¡± she replies acting like 8-year-old child princess throwing a tantrum. ¡°Well alright then, I will get started on that pie your High Exaltedness!¡± Aella turns on her heel and heads to her room with the book in tow. As she reaches the door, she looks down and peers back at the book still clutched in her hand.The Art of Warby Sun Tzu.
Inside a GONE (Games Online: News and Entertainment) studio at the same time, ¡°The Blood Legion has again begun to wage war against the Ascendance Guild in an attempt to gain more territory. It is not certain how long they are attempting to do this, but it is certainly good to see some tenacity being displayed. Meanwhile, we have Mr. Barbas, CEO of Corellec Inc., on the line with us this evening and he has agreed to answer a few questions. Hello Mr. Barbas, this is Sophie Wethenby with GONE, it¡¯s great to have you with us!¡± ¡°Hello Sophie, it¡¯s a pleasure to be here.¡± An older man¡¯s voice speaks through the intercom. ¡°Well, I believe we the public are all dying to know why you held the lottery last Thursday for only college and university students. Why not open the lottery to the general populace?¡± ¡°Hmmmm, you will have to forgive me because there is only a certain amount that I can say regarding this matter. The reason the lottery was only opened to the college and university students was fairly for the point that we wanted beta testers for our new product that should be hitting the stands later on in the month.¡± ¡°Beta testers?! New product?! What new product are you releasing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a project that we at Corellec have been working on for the past few years seeing as Ilyanden, our primary fantasy VRMMORPG, has done so well. The project theme of this is the open universe!¡± Puzzlement edges its way into her features for just a moment before it is quickly swept aside with more questions for the man. ¡°Earlier you said that the reason for the lotto was to get beta testers for this project of yours. Why would you restrict the beta to just the ones who won the lottery and not the public in general?¡± ¡°Well, we wanted people that are bright, spongy, and full of ideas while also adding diversity from different cultures into the mix. Colleges and universities are well known to have the most diverse crowd out of any individual city or town. With that in mind, we have personnel attached to every student who won the lotto, and will receive the feedback from the players as they find issues that need to be resolved.¡± ¡°But wouldn¡¯t that elevate them higher than the other players once the product is released?¡± ¡°It might a little bit, solely on the fact that they have experienced what this particular gaming universe is like. But after all the testing is finished, we will be setting their classes and levels back to none and 1 respectively. Hence the reason we are not overly concerned that they will get a massively increased advantage on opening day.¡± ¡°Just for clarification, how many lottery winners are there regarding the fact that there were only allowed 10 students per campus that were allowed to purchase a ticket?¡± ¡°Well judging by the last count that I received, it is settled loosely around 14 million students. A fair amount of beta testers if I may say so myself.¡± ¡°Alright then, can you release some specifics on what we can expect from the game overall and do you have any lasting comments for our audience?¡± ¡°I can certainly do that but only to an extent. The universe is known to be massive and what you do in it certainly has far reaching complications. For instance, if you wanted to be a massive overlord that rules over several galaxies or star systems, you can do that! If you wanted to be a genetic scientist that introduces a new playable race to the rest of us, go for it! If you wanted to just stay on one world and be a hobo, go right ahead! Everything you do in the game, is your own choice, but be careful that you don¡¯t get too carried away. This is the evolution of virtual reality! This, is Neos!¡± ¡°Alright everyone, you heard it directly from the CEO of Corellec Inc. Thank you for speaking with us this evening Mr. Barbas, and we will be back after the break.¡± The news anchor finishes and reaches underneath her chair to grab the water bottle she always kept on hand. Looking around for her replacement for the next show, she sees him talking to her director behind the glass pane that separates the casting room and the tech room. Flowing off the chair, she heads toward the back with long purposeful strides. Opening the door, she hears the last of the sentence from the Director, ¡°¡­¡­time.¡± ¡°Time for what Rita?¡± she asks as she steps into the room. ¡°It¡¯s about time something new happened for a change. Ilyanden was getting boring with all the guild wars over territory.¡± Rita replies with some amount of exhaustion showing. ¡°Sophie, our ratings are starting to stagnate as the rest of the games coming out this year haven¡¯t been enough to support the gaming infrastructure. We can only hope that the new product from Corellec will be able to top their previous game.¡± ¡°Well it should be interesting to say the least.¡± Sophie replies with a firm nod of her head. ¡°Oh and Robert, you¡¯re on in 30 seconds.¡± The young man standing next to the two of them made a surprised look and headed for the door leading to the casting room. Sophie looks at Director Rita, studying her face for clues as to what brought this on. She sees the look of a woman who has taken to age with grace. Bobbed silky grey hair, hazel colored eyes, almond skin with wrinkles in all the right places, and a fairly fit figure considering her prim age of 64. A very grandmotherly look while still maintaining the illusion of a shrewd business woman. ¡°I really hope this will change the gaming world, because this is a fresh start.¡± Rita says while looking back into Sophie¡¯s face. She sees the bright, young face of the California bred woman. Curiosity and cleverness brimming from her as she set about her work every day. Exactly what a budding news anchor needed when it came to this career path. ¡°Why don¡¯t we watch for someone among those people who might be able to stand at the forefront of the game? We could interview some of the winners of the lotto and see where they go with it.¡± Sophie asks with a hopeful expression. ¡°Well, that might work but we¡¯ll need to get the list from Corellec. Let¡¯s just see what turns up in a couple weeks¡¯ time.¡± Chapter 3 BZZZZZZZ¡­. ¡°¡­¡­.ugggghhhhhhh¡­.¡± Eli groans as he hears the doorbell ring. He tosses and turns, trying to groggily unfold himself from the mess of blankets wrapping him like a mummy. BZZZZZ¡­BZZZZZZ¡­ Finally unhinging a hand, he looks at his watch and notices that it¡¯s almost 7AM. His alarm hadn¡¯t gone off as it should have. ¡°¡­Probably shouldn¡¯t have taken those sleeping pills.¡± he mutters while rolling out of bed. He walks down the hallway going for the door. BZZZZZZ¡­¡­ ¡°WHAT?!?¡± He almost screams as he swings open the door. ¡°I have an order of one capsule for a Mr. Elijiah Pierce? I¡¯m assuming that would beyou, sir, going from the address?¡± A brown uniformed delivery man asks while standing in the middle of the door entrance. ¡°Sorry, who are you? And capsule? What capsule?¡± ¡°Name¡¯s Jay Lukas, didn¡¯t the secretary explain anything about the Animatus over the phone?¡± Eli takes his time looking him over. He''s tall, rail-thin, and has a cunning look in his eye that says he''s more than just a delivery man. Eli wasn¡¯t going to risk whatever the delivery was over his supposed animosity at being woken up on his day off. ¡°She said that an Animatus would be here the next day. Usually packages arrive in the afternoon, not nearly this early!¡± ¡°Well I have you on expedited delivery, and a capsule is just what most everyone calls these things,¡±Jay states while looking at this tablet before handing it to him. ¡°All I need is your signature and SIN so we can begin the setup.¡± ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t have a SIN; will that be a problem?¡± Eli scribbles his signature, and hands it back. ¡°No it won¡¯t, just your hand sliding across the tablet was enough for a DNA scan. That should cover all of the basics. Although you may want to see about getting one for any online purchases, online streaming, or extranet activity while inside the capsule.¡± Jay says, ¡°I can set you up with one right now if you¡¯d like?¡± Eli nods quietly, knowing full well that he¡¯d never hear the end of it from his sister if he didn¡¯t record his sessions. ¡°Alright, just give me a moment to get the technicians in here so they can go ahead with the installation.¡± Jay says as he heads back out the door. Elijiah watches Jay walk away before propping the front door open. It didn¡¯t take long for him to get back to the door, followed by two technicians hefting a casket looking object. ¡°Where do you want the capsule?¡± Jay asks to which Eli promptly guides him to the living room. As the technicians get to work connecting the casket to all their needed outlets, Jay takes out a PDA size 3D printer and the tablet from before. He asks a couple of questions while inputting the information that is given into the tablet. Before long, the printer creates a chip the size of a thumbnail. ¡°This SIN holds all of the information you just told me and is synced up to the home network and will automatically sync to every wifi enabled public area that has decent internet security coverage. This will serve as both your online profile as well as a personal information jacket that records everything that happens online.¡± Jay says as he hands Eli the chip. ¡°It also takes a copy of your genetic code to ensure that no one can access it with your particular set of genes. Most people choose to have this cybernetically implanted somewhere on their hand.¡± Looking down at his hand, he feels apprehensive of such a procedure. ¡°I would rather not do that if at all possible.¡± He says. ¡°Alright, then do you have a wallet or personal backpack that you could insert into the sleeve?¡± Jay asks. Eli goes to the counter and plucks his old leather wallet that he usually stashes all of his associates'' cards in. Handing him the chip, Jay watches as he slides it under one of the folds along the seams. ¡°This won¡¯t cost me anything will it?¡± Eli asks. ¡°Not a credit. Normally the government issues the first one to all new immigrants as a form of insurance to keep them from doing anything they shouldn¡¯t, but if you lose this one it costs 10,000 credits to replace. Hence the reason why most people have it implanted so they don¡¯t lose it.¡± Jay says before standing up with his tools. ¡°And being a private securities employee, I have to inform you that you have to carry that around on your person if you ever want any of the discounts at any of the local shopping districts.¡± As he finishes speaking, the technicians finish their task of setting up the capsule in the corner of the room. ¡°Any other final questions you have for me Mr. Pierce?¡± Jay asks. ¡°Um just one. Do I need to do anything special for the Animatus?¡± Eli asks, eyeing the new shiny bin that now took up a fifth of the floor space. ¡°No sir, everything will be explained once you enter the system through the capsule. No getting naked or anything just to satisfy any carnal needs, and please don¡¯t. I get enough flak from the administrators getting freaked out by those who do.¡± Jay says ¡°Just get into any outfit you desire, barring the one I just stated, and submerge yourself in the nanite-bath. It will take care of the rest. It is already connected to the home network and will automatically sync your gamertag to the SIN. The gamertag is then always assigned to your SIN and any other Animatus that you enter will always access the SIN within its capsule. Please be warned, every capsule keeps a time slot of who accessed its contents and how long the person accessed them.¡± Striding over to the door, both technicians leave, leaving Jay and Eli standing in the middle of the living room. ¡°If that is all Mr. Pierce, I have 8 other capsules to deliver in the area.¡± Jay says, before holding up his hand to the wallet to which it vibrates slightly. ¡°There is my contact information should you choose to utilize my services again. And if I haven¡¯t already stated, congratulations on winning the grand prize¡­¡± Turning on his heel, he leaves the premises and heads for the company truck. As the door shuts behind him, he says in a low voice, ¡°A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Pierce. The United Worlds Council is anxiously awaiting your impact on the interworld community¡­¡±
Walking back to his room, Eli hears the door to his sister¡¯s room open slightly, just enough to see her face. ¡°Anything important?¡± She asks sleepily. ¡°No, not really. Go back to bed sleepy head.¡± She shuts the door immediately, leaving him standing in the hallway. Heading into his room, he dresses as he would for his usual workout. A loose outfit designed for free running and endurance training. ¡°I should probably have a bite to eat before I start.¡± He mutters while picking up the instruction manual. He heads down the hallway, brings out some cereal, and starts munching while reading through the manual. ¡®Neos is designed to bring the best of everything from the sci-fi world to you. There is an adjustable setting for sensitivity on how high you want to feel pain or pleasure. The Real World Time (RWT) ratio to Game World Time (GWT) is that of for every 1 hour of play per RWT translates to 6 hours of play inside.¡¯ Hmmm¡­ interesting.He thinks as he continues to read through all of the warnings and countermeasures in place for outside interference as well as nanite energy overload. He stops on a single page for a while, reading and rereading to ascertain whether or not to believe what exactly he was reading. ¡®The nanite bath will simulate all manner of physical and mental pressures while in the game and will act as you do while inside, mimicking the muscular and nervous systems as they progress throughout the game in order to deal with muscular atrophy and mental degradation. WARNING: MENTAL DEGRADATION CAN STILL BECOME APPARENT IF OCCUPANT IS SUBJECTED TO PHYSICALLY/ MENTALLY EXHAUSTING ACTIONS. EMERGENCY SERVICES WILL BE CONTACTED AND BROUGHT TO THE USER IF MENTAL DEGRADATION PROCEEDS TOO FAR.¡¯ He finishes his cereal and proceeds to head into Neos.Opening up the lid for the capsule, he studies the nanite bath before he tests it with a finger. It molds around his finger as soon as he pushes down into it. Seemingly satisfied by the green, jello-like substance, he lays down inside the bath and closes the lid to the capsule. Shit is that cold!He thinks as the nanite bath engulfs him. Before long, the bath lulls him into a drowsy state before something happens to wake him back up. SWOOOOOOOSH¡­ He slowly opens his eyes to a bright white room with nothing in it.
New user detected¡­ Accessing SIN¡­connected Attempting to connect to host server 1¡­failed. Server traffic overload. Rerouting to host server 2 ¡­ ¡­ Connected Finding next applicable contact¡­
What the hell?
Connected Please wait for your designated supervisor¡­
¡°Why hello there, so good of you to join me! Well aren¡¯t you a big one, how tall are you if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡± a husky feminine voice calls from behind him. He turns around slowly, seeming to attempt to get his bearings and notices a lovely young lady standing behind him. She has a cute face with almond colored skin, deep brown eyes, silky shoulder length brown hair, and a fit, slim figure, dressed in a black business suit. "Who are you?" "Oh I''m sorry, let me introduce myself. I am Rebecca Sanchez and I will be your supervisor for the length of the Beta testing." ¡°¡­ Ms. Sanchez, is it? And I am about just shy of 180 centimeters.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry this is our first time meeting and I was told to give you a basic run down on how to get set up. Do you have any questions for me before we start?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m wondering what you are doing here to begin with.¡± ¡°I am here to act somewhat as a guide and a representative for customer service. When you won the one of the lottery slots for your university, you didn¡¯t know that we were doing the lotto to find beta testers for Neos. During the month that you will test and play the game, you can tell me anything you see that could be further improved upon during your experience within the game. That being said, it is a pleasure to be working with you!¡± How annoying, Corellec should have explained from the beginning what their intentions were for the lotto.He thinks to himself. ¡°Well if you are here to instruct me, let¡¯s get to it then¡± he says trying to mask his annoyance. ¡°Alright then. Just to inform you, the character that you make will have their level, class, and skills reset upon opening day. This does not apply to attributes gained while inside Neos. Now what would you like the pain sensitivity set at?¡± ¡°Sweet deal, so even if my character and skills are reset to 1, I can still retain all the attributes and skills that I earned along the way! Alright let¡¯s get started! I want the sensitivity set at 100%.¡± "...Are you sure about that? 100% sensitivity?"The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. "Yes, I don''t want to risk the chance of being hit by something and not being able to feel it. Be kinda stupid if I couldn''t respond to being attacked." ¡°A-Alright if you absolutely insist, let¡¯s begin.¡±
Would you like to make an account?
¡°Yes.¡±
Currently, the only species unlocked resides within the Human Faction. You may change your features and height if you wish.
A 3D image of himself materialized and he looked himself over. ¡°Keep it the same.¡± "Alright Mr. Pierce, here is where I come in. We only have one world and one space station available to the testers. The planet is called Terra and the station is called Ramaeus Station. Where would you like to be spawned at?¡± Rebecca asks as she pulls up a list of places for him to start out at on the planet. ¡°Call me Eli please. I¡¯m not comfortable with the mister in front of my name, makes me feel old. And I would like to be started at the capital of Argus, Sauten City.¡±
Please name this character
¡°Hmmm¡­ how about Alastair.¡±
Character name is set to ¡®Hmmm¡­ how about Alastair¡¯ Confirmation Y/N?
¡°No, just Alastair.¡±
Character name is set to ¡®Just Alastair¡¯ Confirmation Y/N?
¡°No! Alastair!¡±
Character requires surname. Alastair __________
¡°Thawn.¡±
Character name is set to ¡®Alastair Thawn¡¯ Confirmation Y/N?
¡°Yes¡­ Jeezus.¡± he says, exasperated at the machine that seemed to be toying with him. ¡°Interesting choice of name ¡­ Alastair, time for some tests to ascertain your base attributes for your character.¡±Rebecca chuckles as everything turns white. Seconds tick by before a complex obstacle course presents itself before him. ¡°Please test yourself through the 5 Trials we have available. These will constitute your character¡¯s base attributes.¡± Rebecca¡¯s voice echoes out from above him. ¡°Very well.¡± Alastair says as he steps to the edge of the obstacle course.
Trial 1 Begin when ready¡­
Sighing he begins only what he comes to think as possibly one of the most exhaustive physical tests he¡¯s had since he had retired. ¡°Let the games begin¡­¡±
¡°Mrs. Eleanor? Can you come take a look at this?¡± Rebecca asks her boss amidst the flurry of activity of the other supervisors. Striding over, a well-dressed manager makes her way over to her. ¡°What is it Sanchez?¡± Eleanor asks. ¡°Take a look at this Trial scoreboard please.¡± Sanchez says as she moves her monitor for her manager to see. Eleanor studies the screen before she scrolls down to see the rest of the scoreboard. ¡°Is this even possible?¡± she asks quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But even still, we can¡¯t exactly give him the base attributes based off of the Trials. The other testers would be outraged at the advantage given to him! We can¡¯t exactly not give him nothing to start out with.¡± Eleanor is silent for a moment as she stands alone in her thoughts. ¡°He earned those scores based solely on effort. I have to input something¡­ Mrs. Eleanor?¡± Sanchez asks. ¡°Input the Average set up Attribute wise, but tell JENNY to give his tag a¡­ ¡®chance¡¯.¡± Eleanor says, knowing full well that she will be censured for asking a favor of the game¡¯s AI.
After the initial Trials, there seemed to be a lull in the programming, so he spent his time walking around the white space. If he were liken it to something, it would have been the sort of dream space that most people who visit an online chat room would say. Before long the space around him shimmers, giving shape to buildings and walkways, streets and market vendors, and all manner of pedestrian traffic flowing around him. A super city in all respects. One which took on the appearance of maybe New Hong Kong or New York City. Massive in size and scope, accompanied by feelings of fragility and helplessness in the face of such an awe inspiring visage. Pedestrians and travelers make their way down their own sides of the streets, each one dealing with the hustle and bustle of the city life around them. Street corners quickly filled in with market vendors and food trucks, closing the empty gaps in the morning bustle of the morning rush. The particular sights of trees and various plant-life integrated into the city structure paints a pretty picture for the many residents and tourists making their mark upon the cities story. His particular street sported a man at a steamed meat stand with delicious smells wafting to him off the wind. He hears the soft crashing of waves and the squawking of birds coming from far off in the distance, a brief acknowledgement that a beach or even a port was nearby. Before he could walk anywhere however, a bright message pops up in front of him.
WELCOME TO: Sauten City, Argus You are the first to find this city. You are the first to find this country. Feel free to explore its depths¡­ +100 Fame
Well, might as well start looking for a library, or something close to it.He thinks to himself before swiping the page away. Walking to the corner, he looks over the vendor¡¯s menu for getting in line. The minutes pass in silence as he waits his turn. ¡°Erm¡­¡± Noticing the fresh faced customer standing there, the vendor gives him a quick once over. ¡°What can I help you with sonny?¡±the vendor says. ¡°Well I was just wondering where I can go to get some general knowledge about this place. Like a library or¡­ or something.¡± ¡°You must be one of them Spacers the government told us about a couple days ago. Hmmmmmm, you might need to head off to Argus National Library if you wanna know stuff like that. They have everything you could think of.¡± ¡°Alright thank¡ª¡± ¡°THIEF, GET BACK HERE!!!!¡± A woman¡¯s voice screams as a man in an orange jumpsuit runs past him with a briefcase in hand. Hmmm I smell an opportunity!Alastair thinks to himself. He starts sprinting down the road after the thief, while trying to make sure that the thief can¡¯t notice him. It didn¡¯t take long for him to start catching up, but pop ups seemed to always hassle him every couple of meters he ran and jumped. Each time a new one would pop up, he would swipe it aside in order to keep all of his attention on the thief. He could feel the ebb and flow of his body almost struggling to keep up with the man, when in reality he shouldn¡¯t have. Before long, he misses a jump over a trash can swiping it slightly with a booted heel, alerting the thief to his presence. The thief starts sprinting before turning into deserted alleyways. Alastair starts to feel a subtle ache working its way through his body, not something that he cared for but he ignored it for the time being. He weaves through the alleyway, tailing the thief while slowly catching up. Before long, Alastair notices that the alleys had started turning away from the usual cleanliness of the streets he had once stood in before. The each passing moment, more and more trash, dirt, and infected animals came upon his path. As the thief exits the alleys and into the open street, Alastair follows. Expecting there to at least be some semblance of traffic judging by the cars dotting the street, he thought that the thief would have slowed down. If anything, the thief sped up, heading towards a tunnel at the far end of the street. There was something odd about this area. It didn''t take him long to find the answer to his question because there was a noticable lack of life everywhere around him. No one was in the vehicles, no animals scittering around the edges of the sidewalks. At the tunnel entrance, there were a multitude of hovering cars, trucks, and what looked like a train car at the far end connected to a truck that had smashed into the far wall, all strewn about as if they were a maze. Not having any time to contemplate the intricacies of such a maze, even though he sized the maze to be roughly around the length and width of a football field, he quickly looks for the easiest way to apprehend the thief. As the thief tries to weave through the cars as fast as he can, meanwhile Alastair just jumps up and slides across each car hood. The thief makes it to the center and suddenly runs faster and faster, as if he thought that he was about to lose his life if the person behind him ever caught up. Alastair notices this and starts running towards the truck, planning to use the train car that was lifted into the air. The chase continues. Alastair slowly but steadily gaining on the thief as he uses his previous experience to jump and weave, up and over, the obstacles set up against him. Seeing that the thief was nearing the final stretch, he jumps onto the hood of the truck, and hoists himself onto the train car. As soon as he gets on his feet, he sprints to the end seeing from above that the exit to the maze is near the end of the train car. As the thief nears the darkness of the tunnel, Alastair wills his legs to move faster. He reaches the end of the train car at around the same time the thief reaches the edge of the abyss. He jumps¡­ And lands on the thief¡¯s head, crushing his skull and sending the briefcase spinning away. As his legs push down onto the skull, his momentum pushes him further into the tunnel. Sharp pain flares all over his body as he rolls, and rolls, and rolls... to stop. He could feel the cuts, bruises, and tears of his muscles as he lays on the ground. Arterial blood sprays from the now headless man, drenching Alastair as he lay there upon the ground. Looking up, he sees the briefcase, spattered with pink and red brain chunks and shards of skull fragments. A solid flap of skin hanged along the edge of the case, painting a pretty picture against the backdrop of its original black appearance. Have to get the case¡­he tries to think through the pain and exhaustion as he tries to crawl to the briefcase that lays a couple feet away. It would all be for naught however, because as soon as he touches the case his vision, already swimming with drowsiness, fades. As his consciousness fades, the case begins a psionic hum, vibrating before a bright golden light with crimson accents spilled briefly from the creases of the case.
You have died. You are the first to die. +100 Fame
The minutes pass in silence as he takes a quick nap. As he wakes from his stupor, he finds his body, lay sprawled on a bench near where he first entered the city. I died?He thinks as his hand reaches up to push the info button near edge of the screen.
Death of Character: Character is ¡®respawned¡¯ at last saved checkpoint. Death penalties are removed during Beta sessions. Normal penalties include: ¡¤ Loss of (1) bound item ¡¤ Loss of all unbound items ¡¤ 15% loss of total Exp. Points from last life
¡°Wow that is¡­ steep.¡± Alastair says as he swipes the page away. Lifting his head, he sees the briefcase from before laying on his chest. Weirdly enough, his clothes had been cleaned of the blood and skull fragments. Slightly confused at what the case was doing there, he picks it up and examines it. Satisfied that it had no damage showing on the outside, he notices a flashing icon near the far right of his vision before touching it to open its contents.
You have learned 2 new skills and had an increase in your natural attributes
Through excessive running, jumping, hoisting, and your use of your brain in a critical situation, you have raised your natural attributes Agility +10, Strength +5, Intelligence +3
You have learned the skill ¡®Parkour¡¯
You have learned the skill ¡®Death from above¡¯
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Parkour Beginner 6 45%
A combined use of running, jumping, falling, and hoisting. You focus more on getting to your destination as quickly as possible. Makes all movements done by the body faster, without drawing on Stamina quite as much. ¡¤ All skills or movements involving the body are 5% faster ¡¤ Stamina consumption is lessened by 2.5% ¡¤ Falling damage decreased by 10% Passive.
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Death from Above Beginner 2 65%
Most don¡¯t expect an attack from above, let alone something that can kill. Any attacks coming from above your target receive an attack bonus. ¡¤ +Extra Damage in proportion to the weapon being used. If weapon is a body, total body weight is used as the Extra Damage. ¡¤ If body weight and momentum are either not halted nor flowed while using body dmg, falling dmg will be applied towards the user using the body dmg. Passive.
¡°Uh¡­ okay. Weird.¡± Alastair says as he picks himself up from the bench. Heading back towards the meat stand, he forms a mental question as to why his body was so stiff and unreliable when he was doing all of his previous actions. As he nears the stand, he notices the man comforting an oddly dressed woman sitting on the sidewalk. The woman had a slim figure. Cropped black hair peeked out from underneath a crisp military hat, and is dressed in some sort of black uniform with a service tag hanging on the front. She seemed to be crying. Walking up to her, he leans down and stretches the briefcase out to her. ¡°I believe this is yours ma¡¯am.¡± He states softly. Both the vendor and the woman look up at the same time, and drop their jaw, simply awestruck at seeing the briefcase in his hand. ¡°How did you catch him?! He is known to be one of the fastest thieves in this entire city!¡± She asks desperately.Noticing her cute features along with her light blue eyes, he states, ¡°Well he may have been a bit fast but obviously he wasn¡¯t a good thief cause he didn¡¯t use his head that well.¡± ¡°I told ya miss, he¡¯s one of them spacers we started hearin bout from the government. Ask your superiors about it, even better, take him with ya¡± The vendor says to the woman excitedly. ¡°Wait, what? Superiors? Then what is in this briefcase? Who do you work for?¡± Alastair asks inquisitively, obviously quite confused by the exchange. Before any other exchange comes to light, the woman''s face steels itself intensely before looking down at the briefcase. ¡°I can¡¯t go into the details sir, but I work for the military. Please hand over the briefcase." She orders hand outstretched. "Why? What''s in there? Incriminating photos, latest gossip on who shagged who?" Alastair jokes. Before he could even register what was happening, a subtle hum sounds out from his wrist. Looking down, he sees that he''s now in a pair of stun cuffs with her hand conjoined to his. Damnit, what''d I say this time?He thinks as he is promptly dragged away. Chapter 4 Alastair looks around the city as he follows the woman. Tiny and desperate as she was, being forcibly towed toward the massive skyscraper in front of him was the last thing he had in mind for starting Neos. As he got closer to the building he was being led to, he noticed it was different compared to the other surrounding skyscrapers. Revolving doors, steel frames on the windows, and the occasional lead-like lining along the edges of each entrance or exit. Every door, every vent, every crinkled edged window, everything was encased in a lead lining. As he approached the building, he glances up to see a name hovering above the doors, ¡°Operational Headquarters.¡± ¡°I thought you said that you worked for the military? Doesn¡¯t that mean something a little more¡­ military-ish?¡± Alastair asks. ¡°I do, but I can¡¯t tell you any more than that.¡± She replies, looking back without a hint of pearly white teeth. Dragging him inside the doors, he couldn¡¯t help but stare upwards at everything around him. What must go on here that precludes this kind of layout?He thinks looking around. The inside of the building looked similar to an underground war bunker with guards almost everywhere, and the occasional lab coat streaming past. The guards were wearing the same kind of uniform as the woman he was following only deep grey and not so stiff. He felt like he had just stepped into a tech-ed out representation of the Pentagon. Before he could take more than a couple steps inside, 20 guards surround him at gunpoint. I should probably let missy here deal with this,he thinks trying to maintain an appearance of calm. All the guards have some sort of weapon the size and shape of a paintball rifle with a strap hanging off in their hands. Each rifle was black in color and humming with bright blue energy. ¡°Relax boys, he¡¯s here for the big guy.¡± The woman states. Her voice wavering slightly as she didn¡¯t know how this was going to pan out. ¡°Are you sure ma¡¯am? He doesn¡¯t seem like someone with the connections to know him.¡± One of the male guard¡¯s replies, not taking his eyes off Alastair nor lowering his weapon. ¡°And how would you know who the big guy knows, hmmm? I thought we were all in the business of protecting people not filling them with holes. Or has that changed in the 20 minutes that I¡¯ve been gone?¡± She replies coldly before holding up the shackled hand. ¡°Besides, he isn¡¯t going anywhere that I¡¯m not.¡± ¡°¡­¡­. point taken Ma¡¯am, but I don¡¯t feel right with this guy. He feels¡­. odd. Like he¡¯s not from here.¡± He replies uncomfortably. If they only knew. They all put away their weapons and go back to standing guard situated seemingly at random within the lobby and other areas of the ground floor. Alastair and the woman continue going towards the back where 3 sets of elevator double doors stand silent amidst the bustle of the surrounding lobby life. Walking inside the center pair, he wonders what kind of material it¡¯s made from. The inside was dark and metallic with a single light shining fervently from the top. ¡°So I¡¯m going to see the head honcho around here am I?¡± Alastair states as the elevator doors close.¡°That¡¯s convenient.¡± ¡°You picked that up did you? I thought you should meet him, considering the circumstances.¡± She replies while pushing the button for the top floor and nodding briefly to the briefcase. ¡°And what circumstances are those?¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡­. a secret.¡± She says quietly. The remaining minutes in the elevator are quiet, as if neither of them know what to say to the other. The elevator chimes for the top floor, but the doors don¡¯t open. ¡°When do they hide?¡± A cold low male voice comes from a loudspeaker placed somewhere near the buttons. ¡°When they realize it is the end.¡± The woman replies before taking off the stun cuffs linking the two of them together. The doors slide open silently¡­ revealing a spacious room with a large desk facing the elevator. The walls, black and unyielding as they are, pulse with blue neon light coming up from the floor. Entering the room, Alastair wonders what exactly is held within the briefcase that precludes a meeting with someone who sits in a dark room. Dark rooms to him usually meant someone important was hiding until the very moment they decide to come into the light. ¡°Put the case on top of the desk, please.¡± The same cold voice says from behind them, as if punctuating his earlier thoughts to masterful effect. Alastair whirls around¡­ only to find nothing behind him. The woman is still standing stock still next to him, almost trying not to make herself a beacon to something she had no wish to come into contact with. Taking the briefcase in both hands, he walks forward and lays the briefcase down on the desk. ¡°Thank you, Agent Rilke for bringing him to me. I had gotten reports that Spacers were on the station, but not here on Terra.¡± The cold voice continues seemingly everywhere. ¡°He has helped me greatly for the time being. He took out Rhyme.¡± She states with barely any emotion, almost monotone. ¡°Hmmmm. Let me guess, you were on your way here from the Terminal and Rhyme swiped it off you as you were flirting with the blonde headed security guard from NetX. You pursued Rhyme and eventually lost sight of him. This Spacer here saw him running, followed him, killed him, and came back to you with the case. And finally, we are all gathered here because of his actions that saved your ass.¡± ¡°¡­¡­¡± This is getting kinda creepy.Alastair thinks as he hears the exchange. ¡°Wait a sec, you said all of us. Then where the hell are you?¡± Alastair chimes in for the first time looking around. ¡°Hmmmm, you are fairly perceptive Stranger.¡± The cold voice answers seeming impressed. ¡°I would like to know whom I am addressing as well. I don¡¯t do well being left in the dark.¡± ¡°Sometimes the dark is the only place one need look,¡± the cold voice answers. As he says this, he starts materializing. Alastair stares in awe as what he could only comprehend as some sort of stealth field is released. The light filtered through his person as a field of patterned energy releases from the top down. The man whom they had been talking to steps to the side of the desk as the last of the patterned field releases. ¡°I am Director Tal. I believe you have questions for me Spacer?¡± The man says lightly.
Achievement Unlocked! I met someone important! +50 N
Alastair studies Tal before he says anything. Personal armor seemed to be a sort of hallmark for the dark skinned man, but with the overly ostentatious trench coat draped over his frame, it seemed to hide most of the man¡¯s various knives that poked their outline from beneath the coat. Dark eyes, overly white teeth with surgically lengthened canines, most likely trained to kill from a young age. I should be careful about this.Alastair thinks to himself.I really don''t want to test out his skills with those knives if at all possible. ¡°Ummm, I¡¯m interested in learning and testing myself if possible. Do you know any way that I can go about accomplishing it?¡± ¡°¡­¡­¡­ Out of all the things I expected you to ask, that was the one I least expected.¡± He says with a sigh. ¡°Wealth, if you use it, comes to an end; learning, if you use it, increases.¡± Alastair replies with a smile. ¡°That is an interesting saying. Where does it come from?¡± Tal says, a smile gracing his face. His incisors almost seeming to glint under the overhead light. ¡°It comes from where we Spacers come from.¡± ¡°Fair enough. What would you like to know first?¡± ¡°I want to know about my status. The ins the outs, everything that I should know about when it comes to status andskills.¡± ¡°Alright. State clearly ¡®Status Display: Administrator Mode¡¯. This way I can see it for myself so I can explain it to you. Otherwise, just say ''Status Display'' for a Safe Mode.¡± ¡°Alright, Status Display: Administrator Mode.¡± A bright yellow circle appears in front of him with his status attributes appearing along the edges. Each attribute had a connector, each heading out from the circle attached to a skill tree. Only 2 of them had something attached to them. In the middle of the circle is his personal information accompanied by a number next to each attribute.
Status Window
Name: Alastair Thawn Alignment: Neutral
Level:The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. 1 Class: None
Race: Human Gender: Male
Titles:
None
Achievement Score:50 N
Fame: 200 Infamy: 0
Currency:
0
Health: 100/ 100 Health Regen: .5 / Sec
Stamina: 100 / 100 Stamina Regen: .5 / Sec
Psi: 100 / 100 Psi Regen: .5 / Sec
Satiety: 95/100
-
Strength: 15 Agility: 20
Vitality: 10 Dexterity: 10
Intelligence: 13 Wisdom: 10
Presence: 10
-
Attack: 1-4 Defense: 0
Physical Resistances
Slashing: 0 Piercing: 0
Crushing: 0
Elemental Resistances
Fire: 0 Water: 0
Wind: 0 Earth: 0
Mental Resistance
0
¡°That¡¯s a lot of information¡­¡± Alastair says with wide eyes, looking over everything while wondering how the system was computing all of this per person for every tester within the game. The amount of processing power alone was more than he could fathom. ¡°Well that¡¯s interesting, it¡¯s been a while since I last saw someone with Psychic capability.¡± Tal whistles impressed. ¡°Where do we start?¡± Alastair asks eagerly. ¡°Well let¡¯s start with the physical attributes and their skills. Highlight with your hand the Strength, Agility, and Dexterity Attributes.¡± Alastair does so and the portion of physical abilities pops out of the circle, straightens out, widens for him to see everything. ¡°These Physical Attributes are all tied together. Some skills that you get will be shared between 2 of them but there are cases when there has been a skill that uses all 3 attributes. The Strength Attribute is pretty self-explanatory; it allows you to hit things with your body harder. Whether that means you are practicing on a training bot or lifting things that would normally take more than one person to lift, it all depends on how the Strength attribute is used. The Agility Attribute allows you to move your body faster. And the Dexterity Attribute makes aiming and focusing on things easier. True Marksmen in this age use this attribute to the exclusion of all else.¡± Tal explains while pointing to each attribute as he states them. ¡°If that is the case, then aren¡¯t the other Attributes connected to each other as well as these?¡± ¡°They are but we haven¡¯t gotten there yet.¡± Tal chuckles and points to something connected between the 3 attributes. ¡°It seems that you already have a 3-way skill. Do you see the skill connected to the Strength, Agility, and Dexterity Attributes?¡± ¡°Yes I do; it says ¡®Death from Above.¡¯ Does that mean it counts how hard I hit something, how fast I am going, and where I hit it come into play?¡± Alastair asks. ¡°It does but it can also only utilize certain attributes if you are using different weapons such as a hand gun. Like I said, everything is interconnected. The physics of the natural world can be utilized in that way and most people use it to great effect. Now, swipe your hand across to bring you back to the main status screen and highlight Intelligence and Wisdom Attributes.¡± He does so and the same thing happens as before, except only the Intelligence and Wisdom come up this time. ¡°These are the Mental Attributes. The Intelligence Attribute is mainly used by people that create, repair, or use their brains to solve problems. That could range anywhere from a gunsmith to an architect. Sometimes this attribute makes use of both Dexterity and Agility but it doesn¡¯t happen that often. Most often this attribute is increased by reading manuals or testing your mental acuity within the arts. The Wisdom attribute is a combination of your mental acuity and your intelligence. This is mainly used for your psychic powers and there are multiple ways that you can train this. Most of those ways include putting yourself either under the tutelage of another, or being mentally assaulted and using them constantly.¡± ¡°That¡¯s interesting, but I see a connector for the skill ¡®Parkour¡¯ between Intelligence, Agility, and Dexterity. So this basically lets me see how my environment can be used to my advantage by navigating with my body!¡± Alastair asks, wondering what kind of AI was computing all of this. ¡°It would seem so. If you don¡¯t mind my asking, what is your name Spacer?¡± Tal asks inquisitively. ¡°Alastair Thawn¡­ is there a problem?¡± ¡°No particular reason. Alright now let¡¯s talk about the Miscellaneous Attributes. Swipe your hand again to bring you to the main status screen and highlight the Presence and Vitality Attributes.¡±Tal says pointing to the 3 on the bottom. He does so and the same thing happens but only the selected attributes show. ¡°These are the Miscellaneous Attributes. They usually don¡¯t get a skill attached to them because they aren¡¯t that easyto get skill in to begin with. The Presence Attribute is basically your overall effect on the world around you. This could mean the people close to you, companions or enemies, living or dead, everything regarding how you interact with your surroundings is affected by this attribute. Whether this is headed toward more of the natural realm versus the astral realm is something I¡¯m gonna let you figure out. The Vitality Attribute is connected to your Health, Stamina, and Satiety. Sometimes this can work in conjunction with the Leadership skill, but there has only been a few who have gotten them over the centuries. I think the last Human to acquire one was a lieutenant a few weeks back.¡± ¡°Really? Then what skills are those?¡± Alastair inquires. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that. It¡¯s best to find that out on your own.¡± Tal says smiling. ¡°Alright well if that is the case, can I train with your operatives to increase my Attributes?¡± Alastair asks hopefully.¡°And maybe gain more knowledge from the library? I heard that there was a library nearby.¡± ¡°Hmmm, I don¡¯t think that that should be a problem. But don¡¯t expect to get any favors from them, they aren¡¯t that gracious to outsiders.¡± ¡°Alright, just one more question.¡± ¡°Shoot.¡± ¡°Why is it so dark in here? Can¡¯t you get some natural light in here?¡± ¡°¡­¡­¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Raise blinds,¡± Tal orders. Looking around, Alastair notices that the walls are slowly getting brighter, as if they were losing their pigmentation. The moments pass as the walls finish their pigment transition before settling on their natural function. Watching the transition, Alastair stands there in rapt fascination as the walls he had thought to be walls were in actuality windows. The entire room was surrounded on all sides of windows. Walking to one side, he looks over the tops of the city, taking in every stark rooftop, every sky garden sitting atop their storied pillars, every sun bathing citizen taking in the moment to enjoy the fruits of the sun. He could just barely see the edge of the city line to the east, ships ranging in size from the smallest dingy to the largest military barge stopping by for a quick juicer. Looking to the west, he was beset by a sea of greens and browns. Forest tops almost as sky reaching as the scrapers of the city, found purchase against the mountain seemingly leagues away. Where civilization seemed to have ended, nature took over. ¡°Every now and then I open the blinds to remind myself of what I aim to protect. Although that pales in comparison to the monumental task of a couple other friends of mine.¡±
A casino inside Sautens Red District¡­ A lounge with mahogany floors, lavish furniture, and drinks spread around a redwood bar, stands filled to the brim with a sea of patrons. Men and women of all ages dressed in their best, frequented the billiard hall... very few were of the elderly variety. Each one a killer in their own rights, each killer making their mark upon the age they lived in. Each method as different as the clothes each person wore. A bald bartender in a grey suit stands behind his counter cleaning glasses. An elevator stands to one side while a luxurious couch sits on the other facing the winds overlooking the ports of the wide sea. The elevator doors open and an old butler walks out and scans the room beforenoticing whom he needs. Walking over to the couch in a slow manner, a man lay draped across it dressed a black suit while a bowler hat covers what''s left of his face. He stops just short of a meter away from the couch before saying, ¡°Rhyme is dead, Mister Badon. Master Tyule wishes for his murderer to be eliminated.¡± ¡°Who did it,¡± answers the man. The words were slightly slurred, whether it was from the bottle resting empty on the floor or the drowsiness of sleep, the butler couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°We don¡¯t know yet. We looked through the holo files of where he was murdered and have the photo of the man who had managed to¡­ catch him.¡± he says before reaching into the folds of his suit to find the picture. ¡°¡­Compensation?¡± ¡°Master Tyule offers your choice of 5 items from his vaults. He wants your best.¡± the butler asks. The man rubs his chin with his hand and as he thinks for a moment. By leaving the hat resting on his face, he makes it seem as if he was too lazy to take care of it while he was thinking. ¡°Ray!¡± He says a bit louder. Everyone stops what they are doing, and looks toward the bartender. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the matter.¡± The bartender replies in a cold voice before setting down the glass he was polishing.
Director Tal watches Alastair leave, noting the various bits of information that his perception skills were telling him. Drawing, measuring, getting a feel for the Spacer that had been introduced to him. The doors to the elevator shut quietly as he proceeds to take out a phone from his coat pocket. He punches in a number and listens for the other end to pick up. RING¡­. RING¡­. RIN- ¡°Papa Bear, what is it?¡± An old gruff voice replies. ¡°I think I¡¯ve found the one we¡¯ve been looking for.¡± Tal says smiling. Chapter 5 Ramaeus Station ¡°Sir I don¡¯t see the reason why you need to leave at such an important time! If you leave, the Spacers will start doing whatever they want!¡± A large, dark blue uniformed man with an earpiece walks down a metal hallway with columns and struts breaking off in sections, listening to his subordinate whine to him in the usual manner of his position. The occasional window can be seen, opening the way into the spawning void. Hazard signs pop up periodically on the pipes that run along the walls as he walks down the corridor. ¡°Then you take care of those fucktards because I¡¯m tired of answering all their inane questions! I want to put in for my vacation time while I¡¯m at it.¡± Uniformed man replies. ¡°Then what about the rest of the crew? What am I gonna tell them when they find out that you have left the station and for a vacation no less?!¡± ¡°They¡¯ll think ¡®About damn time¡¯. Otherwise they¡¯re just gonna have to get over it.¡± The uniformed man replies. ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s about time you learned how to fend for yourself son, because one of these days I won¡¯t be here to haul your ass out of the fire.¡± ¡°But sir, orders dictate¡ª¡± ¡°Orders can be interpreted in different ways, Major. You are now in command of this station while I am away. If I come back here and find the station in complete disrepair because you couldn¡¯t handle a couple god damn Spacers, you might as well tear yourself a new asshole before I get to you!¡± The man growls. The uniformed man switches off his earpiece before he could be barraged by yet more questions. The walk down the hallway is short for a man of his stature, as he proceeds to the Terminal to leave the station. The Terminal is a massive hangar for inbound and outbound traffic with an energy shield separating the void from the hangar. The main path he is on lead to a stairway that went down into the hangar. Stopping at the top of the stairway, he scans the Terminal as the shuttles come and go. As he does this, he spots a lone shuttle pilot sitting on a crate next to his shuttle playing a game on a pda. The shuttle the pilot sits next to is a fairly average shuttle, around the length and width of a bus with an extra compartment for luggage and cargo. The windows are slightly tinted but are wide enough to afford a decent view when you fly on board. Perfect. Idiot probably thinks he has the day off. Time to ruin his day.He thinks before walking down the steps. He breathes in the familiar smells of the hangar, finding solace in the fact that he could finally be rid of the artificial air mixed with oil and gunmetal. He walks toward the pilot with long strides while not paying attention to his surroundings. He knew that he would be watched regardless of what he did and where he did it. As such, some of the other traffic controllers had taken notice of his personage gracing the hangar bay. A shuttle on his left opens as he walks passed to release new crew members aboard the station. He walks past without even a glance¡­although the same can¡¯t be said for the new crewmates. They stop what they are doing and stand gawking at him as he passes. ¡°Did you see that?¡± ¡°It can¡¯t be anyone else!¡± ¡°I¡¯ve only seen him in the vids but what¡¯s he doing out here?¡± The pilot he was heading toward hadn¡¯t seemed to notice him, even with all the commotion going on with his appearance in the Terminal. ¡°PILOT!¡± He barks from 3 meters away. The pilot jumps, startled at the sudden noise coming toward him. Finally noticing the man in front of him, he jumps off the crate, tries to hide his pda in a small pocket in his spacesuit, and stands to attention. ¡°Y-yes sir. What can I do for you, sir?¡± He manages to say while trying not to lose his wits. ¡°Take me to the Sauten City Terminal,I have an appointment to keep.¡± ¡°Alright sir, just give me a moment to warm up the engines.¡± The pilot says rushing into the shuttle. The uniformed man slowly walks on board and wonders which seat he should take considering how empty it is. The ones close to the cockpit are nice and spread out with their fair share of leg room, almost as if it were a first class section on a shuttle. The chairs were deep blue, with the occasional stain indicating a story that just itched to be told. He takes a seat next to a window and looks out towards the blue and green mass called Terra. Feelings of longing, etch themselves across his face. He had been away from his home for far too long. Recalled from the patrols across Alliance Territory only to be put in charge of a station well out of reach of his home. He longed to put his feet back on the homeworld. This guy better be worth it, Tal.He thinks with a sigh, before the subtle rumble of the shuttles engines start up, bringing his attention back into the moment.
Operational Headquarters ¡°Alright, go and warm up and make sure your muscles are all loose.¡± Rilke says as she puts a towel down on a bench.¡°I need to see what you can do before I set a training regimen.¡± Alastair walks into the gym, throwing his gaze around only to be greeted with stares from the other agents already doing their routines. The gym itself was divided into 2 sections: free weights and weight machines lined the outside wall while the rest of the room was devoted to a massive sparring mat. Most of the agents looked to be clearing out as each was about to return from their break to back on the clock. Time to get to work.He thinks excitedly. He lays on the mat and stretches till every muscle loosens. He knew his own routine, usually rotating from using an obstacle course down to bar brawls in theLiver¡¯s Worst, but he knew how to push himself with what he had around him. He would push himself as far as he could, noting that the system was reducing his normal strength considerably in order to account for the attributes that his status display read. After the first hour of free weights, he started getting messages from the system stating increases in physical attributes before he could feel the effects of the added points being added to his character. A cooling water sensation would flood through him every time he would add a few points to his status. Checking his status display, he noticed his Satiety getting low and crossed to the water fountain bolted to the wall next to the hallway doors. Rilke sat on a bench on the other side, watching him carefully. She made a mental note when she saw him do something that seemed odd, making sure to check it against the Alliance database for muscular routines. Not finding what she was looking for, she copies his physical form going through its rotations, scanning him all the while to figure out the effectiveness of such a regime. She wasn¡¯t the only one to do this. Various agents within the gym would steal a glance or two at his form as he continued to go through his personal routine. Each one gaining some manner of inspiration into their own routine before going back to their workout. The hours pass in silence as he continues his mind-numbing work. He had learned early on that the system didn¡¯t account for exhaustion that normally became apparent when one worked out their body if he worked his body at a steady pace. It was a very different feeling considering his earlier acrobatics in the streets. Stopping for a moment, he walks over to Rilke, noting her dubious expression before saying, ¡°This is great Rilke!¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ normally someone wouldn¡¯t be able to do it this long because of exhaustion. The longest that anyone has ever trained consecutively before starting to feel exhaustion is 3 hours. I guess that¡¯s why you are a Spacer.¡± She says with a pearly smile.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Please call me Alastair. The term Spacer doesn¡¯t sit right with me.¡±Alastair says sitting down. ¡°Are you sure? I don¡¯t want to offend you or anything¡­¡± She says before scooting a bit away to make room for him. ¡°I¡¯m sure Rilke. If I can call you by your name, then you can do the same with mine.¡± ¡°Rilke is actually my¡ª¡± ¡°WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS SPACER TAL TALKED ABOUT?!?!?!?!¡± A baritone yell, close enough to be a drill instructor¡¯s hallmark, was heard in the surroundings coming from the hallway door. Everyone stops what they¡¯re doing and looks over in the direction the voice came from. And everyone, as if on cue, freezes in surprise at the man standing there. Alastair, not knowing what is going on, just looked at the man who entered. A large, wide-set man with a white uniform, deep brown eyes, and a shaved head. He had a weathered and tanned face, but Alastair didn¡¯t know if those were wrinkles or scars from battle. A full salt n¡¯ pepper beard settled on the man¡¯s face made him look older than he really was. The old man picks Alastair out from the back and continues. ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s you! The only shitstain who doesn¡¯t seem overly enthusiastic about my glorified appearance here!¡± ¡°That would be me sir, but what do you want from me? I haven¡¯t met you before have I?¡± Alastair asks cautiously. ¡°We will see about that when we meet with Tal. Drop what you¡¯re doing and come with me boy.¡± He promptly turns on his heel and walks out the door. ¡°What the hell was that about?¡± Alastair asks Rilke in a low voice. She doesn¡¯t even register that he had spoken, her eyes still riveted on the back of the old man walking impatiently down the hallway. ¡°NOW PRINCESS!!¡±The man bellows from the hallway.Oh boy,Alastair sighs before jogging down the hall to join the old man in the box. ¡°Get in here boy, I wanna talk to you.¡± The old man says as Alastair enters the confines of the elevator. As the doors close, everyone jumps into action as they all gather near each other to start talking about what just happened. ¡°Everyone just saw that right?!¡± ¡°What is he doing here?!¡± ¡°I thought he was up in the Station taking care of the Spacers! If he came down here for only one Spacer¡­.¡± All the operatives start gossiping like a bunch of housewives over a juicy new secret. ¡°Ma¡¯am, what do you think?¡± One of them asks and they all turn towards the slim woman. Not fully comprehending what had just happened, she scrambles her brain in order to try and put the puzzle together. She starts pacing. ¡°If HE is here, that can only mean 1 of 2 things. 1. He¡¯s here to take the Spacer up to the Station with the rest of them, or 2. The Director saw something in him and called Him to take a look.¡± She rationalizes out loud. The agents that hear this start thinking while some start nodding in agreement. That would seem to be the only logical response to the new Spacers. ¡°I just hope Spacer Alastair doesn¡¯t do anything drastic in there, especially in front of those 2.¡± She says grimly. The rest of the agents do a silent prayer for the Spacer with an unknown future.
Tal sits in his black leather chair, reading some documents on a holo-screen hovering above the middle of his desk. He flicks through a couple of them and finds one with a list he needed. He reads through for about 5 minutes before... ¡°DING!¡± The elevator chimes. ¡°Update to datafile ¡®Project SCION¡¯, encrypt file, and clear screen.¡± Everything clears from the holo-screen before settling on the home page. A small camera feed opens in the lower left corner of the holo-screen, showing who is inside the plush box. He pushes a button under the desk. ¡°Silence is Golden¡± He says aloud. ¡°And Bacon is BROWN, now cut the crap Tal, I¡¯m not here for a visit!¡± The uniformed man in the elevator growls. ¡°So lovely to see you again Derek. How¡¯s your wife doing?¡± He says with a smile before releasing the button to let the doors open. The uniformed man, now known as Derek, strides inside with a nervous Alastair following closely behind. ¡°Stop asking questions you already know the answer to. So, what do you want done with him Tal?¡± Derek asks annoyed. ¡°Well I was hoping you would train him.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t expect me to train a grimy little cocksucker that has barely even learned the way of the world. And even if I did, he would probably run away before we get anything done!¡± ¡°Have you asked him about you training him?¡± They both turn to look at a now thoroughly confused Spacer. Thoughts race through Alastair¡¯s head as he tries to comprehend what exactly is going on. ¡°How about it boy? Will you undertake my training and finish it fully? Or will you bow out like a coward halfway through?¡± Derek asks with an intimidating glare. Well this is awkward¡­Alastair thinks to himself.I don¡¯t want to go through training that could potentially limit my prospects later on. What if there are specialization options for a class or something later on? ¡°Hold on, who said anything about me even wanting this?¡± ¡°Well you did! As soon as you met Tal here, he knew that you wanted some guidance in some form or fashion.¡± ¡°¡­ How¡ª¡± ¡°It might be better if I answer that,¡± Tal says, ¡°I have anInnate SkillcalledTalent Perception. It allows me to glean a glimpse of what the person I¡¯m studying can do if given the chance to shine in their particular field of expertise.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°What I saw within you was something I have not seen in a long time. You have the aptitude to rise from humanity¡¯s cradle and pioneer the galaxy!¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already been trained before so what need have I for your training?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s put it this way princess. He collects the talent, I train them. If you can hold up to my standard, you will become a leading chump within the Human Alliance! Blah, blah, come on now, just say yes!¡± Derek says, his patience visibly thinning. ¡°What are the benefits to the training?¡± He asks after some time. ¡°Well, what have you already learned?¡± ¡°Derek, maybe if you see what he¡¯s done that will help speed the process along.¡± Tal says after finding the video of Alastair¡¯s previous feats. Derek turns and heads around the desk to watch the camera playback. 5 minutes pass and he resets the video to a specific point and plays it back slowly. ¡°Alright boy. Go get your stuff. We got shit to do.¡± He says finally as a queer expression spreads across his face. His eyes never leave the holo-screen as he replays the sequence over and over again. ¡°¡­ Um, I don¡¯t¡ª?¡± ¡°Alastair, go tell Agent Rilke to get you some startup gear.¡± Tal says watching Derek¡¯s face. ¡°Alright¡­¡± Alastair says slightly confused. He then proceeds into the elevator and pushes the button for the gym. The doors closes, and Tal asks in a low voice ¡°Do you think he can do it?¡± ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t know if he can, but judging by his first 2 skills alone he should be able to do it.¡± Derek says still staring at the screen. ¡°He could be the perfect candidate for that project we started all those years ago. He also has the Psychic trait so that should widen his possibilities.¡± ¡°Most Spacers have that trait anyway Tal, that doesn¡¯t mean he will survive the journey.¡± Derek states grimly. ¡°I¡¯ll start making some calls and see if we can either do it by increments or if I can collect the parts as we go. And I¡¯ll have to give that nutjob a call because she¡¯s the only one who can train the Psychic trait.¡±
Alastair heads down to the hallway towards the gym. He reaches the steel framed doors, wondering if they took a slab of steel and simply attached a door handle to it considering how heavy it was. Opening the doors, he is immediately swarmed on all sides by the agents still in gym. ¡°So what did they say?!¡± ¡°What did He come here to talk about?!¡± ¡°How can I get an audience with Him?!¡± What the hell is with these people? Do they have some sort of protocol to swarm the newcomer?Alastair wonders. ¡°Rilke!¡± he yells out, scanning the crowd to find the one person he semi knew. The crowd itself wouldn¡¯t abate despite his attempts to search for her. Jumping up he spots her sitting on a bench packing up her gear. He struggles through the crowd, insistent as they are in their avid questions. ¡°Yes what can I do for you?¡± She says looking up at him as he finally makes his way over to her. ¡°Tal says I need basic starting gear. Apparently I¡¯m going on a trip with that old man that showed up a couple minutes ago.¡± Everyone freezes around him, as if time was stopped except for him. He looks around at all of their shocked faces and proceeds to ask¡­ ¡°Ummm, is everything alright?¡± Rilke is the first to recover and looks up at Alastair with some mixture of awe. ¡°This has never¡ª He hasn¡¯t done this in years!¡± She exclaims in a small voice. ¡°Well apparently I impressed him. I don¡¯t know how I did it or what I did, but I need to get some gear before he comes back for me.¡± ¡°Well let¡¯s see what I can scrounge up from the Armory.¡± She says going for the door. Following her, every agent¡¯s eyes were glued to his back. Each pair of eyes wondering just who was the Spacer that caught the attention of one of the Heroes of Mankind. 3 floors down, there was what Rilke called an Armory,but as Alastair steps inside, he immediately thinks it was more than simply an Armory. Assaulted by the smell of burning ozone, gunmetal, and fetid sweat, he looks around and gets the feeling that it¡¯s less of an armory and more of a workshop with a locker room attached. A well-lit room with a black walls and a tire-like floor. Strewn around the room are work tables with all manner of tools and gadgets for upgrading and maintaining anyone¡¯s weapon of choice. Plasma cutters, kinetic clamps, pressurized hammers¡­ Hubert would have a field day in here.He thinks as he looks over the room. Only a couple agents seemed engrossed in their work at the far end of the work tables, he sees a busty, flak-armored woman come out with a puzzled expression on her face. Judging by her tool belt, magnifying goggles, and the massive cannon that she is hefting around on top of her shoulders, he judges her to be a munitions officer of some kind. ¡°Rilke, what¡¯s this guy doin here?¡± The woman calls out adjusting her goggles to normal eyesight, the overly large lens magnifying her hazel eyes larger than normal. ¡°He¡¯s here for equipment. Gotta get him ready for whatever He puts him through.¡± She replies smiling. ¡°He? Who the hell is He? You don¡¯t mean¡­¡± She asks, her eyes almost seeming to push at the seams of the goggles. ¡°Yes. Him.¡± Rilke replies, her smile turning into a beam. ¡°He¡¯s finally gone and gotten one, after such a long time of waiting¡­ If that¡¯s the case, he¡¯ll probably want pretty boy here to have as much weight as he can carry. Let¡¯s get started!¡± she says lifting the goggles to the top of her head. Chapter 6 I think she is a bit too enthusiastic about this¡­Alastair thinks to himself as he watches her stride to the lockers. Stopping at one of the few unused ones, she opens one up and pulls out a basic military power suit that looks like it was used for space exploration¡­or at least it used to. ¡°Alrighty pretty boy, this is all yours. It should be a bit baggy on ya, but don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s been thoroughly vetted so you don¡¯t have to worry about returning it once you are done. Put it on and let¡¯s see how you look!¡± She says with a smile that screamed at him to turn around and head back to the safety of the elevator. He looks at the suit and starts examining it. After a couple seconds of looking it over, he gets a pop-up.
Model: Unidentified Make: Unidentified
Type: Power suit Durability: 20 /100
Overall Quality: Poor
An old Power suit that hasn¡¯t been used in decades +1.5x Strength, Agility, Dexterity, Vitality +3% Damage Reduction *Upgradable*
It was a shade of faded grey, with a single white strip running down the sides of the arms. Harness clamps were built into the suit accompanied by a shoulder strapped PLCE Webbing and hip mounted power packs inlaid into the belt. Despite its rough and tumble appearance, he could tell that it used to be a highly made Power suit given the fiber-like armor woven into the suit. ¡°I think this is¡­ alright.¡± He says before looking up at the two women with predatorial grins plastered across their faces. ¡°Where can I change?¡± ¡°You can change in here. Now all that remains is your weapon of choice. You can either choose one of the premade weapons or you can make one yourself using spare parts lying around the workshop.¡± She says. It takes them a while before both women realize that they shouldn¡¯t be watching him, before walking around to seemingly count the number of grilles along the lockers. As Alastair starts putting on the suit, she goes over to the tool wall and presses some button hidden from view. New walls of weapons drop down from the panels hidden in the ceiling. Rifles, shotguns, hand cannons, and high-powered repeaters. Each one as varied in design as they were in the different calibers of shots they would dish out. Melee choices were another matter entirely. Broad edged knives, stun staves, and sabers of every shape and size. Thinking there were too many variations for him to choose from, he decides to turn to a nearby work table. Scraps of metal and pieces of leftover parts litter the top. Sifting through the pile, he starts putting together a mental image of what he wanted to make and started collecting the materials for it. ¡°Ahhhh, a fellow weapon smith we have here!¡± The gunsmith exclaims enthusiastically. ¡°Do I need some sort of skill before I can start making something?¡± Alastair asks, turning around with wide bore barrel in his hands. ¡°I could, but you have to promise me that you will show me the specs once you are done.¡± ¡°Only if you give me the basest form of smithing,¡± he says smiling, giddy at the thought of continuing his plan. TING!
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Smith Mastery Beginner 1 0%
One of the oldest crafting arts still in existence. +2% overall effects *Component/ Tool Bag needed* *for field modification* Passive
¡°Alrighty, let¡¯s get started!¡± He says with a determined look in his eye, ¡°but first, pull up tutorial on weapon-smithing.¡± A screen comes up with a list of subjects involved in the beginner stage. Knowing from experience what he should do when it comes to gun making, he flips through the tutorial while filing away the useful bits of information. Returning his attention to the leftover pieces, he begins his self-prescribed task of search for the pieces that he would need for his weapon. For the next hour and a half, he shifts through the pile, pulling and tugging pieces out of the pile. A power cell limiter here, a biparticle-rotation cylinder there, he kept pulling pieces out until practically half the table was segregated into piles of pieces that he had figured he would need in his head. After the final piece had been collected, he begins the modification process. File and plasma-cutter in hand, he made his adjustments down to as far as his eyes could see. Each piece would be methodically changed before being set back down in the respective pile it came from. ¡°Well damn if it isn¡¯t taking you a long time!¡± Derek¡¯s voice calls from the doorway. ¡°Perfection calls for unwavering attention to detail.¡± Alastair says not looking up from his work. Continuing on, he finishes the original piece before setting to work on the attachable parts. He hollows out a wide bore barrel longer, setting the file and plasma cutter to the part as he makes his adjustments. Having played around with a chemistry set in a gun factory in his youth, he couldn¡¯t have made what he was attempting now in the real world. Having everything become factory-made, came the cost of decreased functionality and personalization. As he finishes his final piece, he sets it down and begins putting everything together. The piles¡¯ wither in size as he puts tiny piece after tiny piece into the frame. The clicking of pieces snapping together in place seems to satisfy him in some way as he continues with it. His hands fly over the frame, taking their time in adjusting every piece to perfection before he stumbles upon a problem. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have some sort of rechargeable power cell around here would you?¡± he asks into the air, his eyes not leaving the frame as he continues his work. ¡°Hold on.¡± The gunsmith says as she searches through a drawer. Before long she returns and places a cylindrical tube about the size of a soda can next to him. ¡°This should last you a standard Terran month if used heavily and often. Otherwise, it should last you at least one cycle galactic standard.¡± Grabbing it, he slots into the center of the frame and pauses to watch as it hums quietly. After a grand total of four hours of adjustments to the stock items he had taken, the finished form sits completed on the table with two extra attachments. A bipod and a lengthened barrel. Finalizing the piece, he slots a magazine into the side. A low hum of energy purrs from the machinery, before the quiet glow of the number ¡®90¡¯ above the shot-switch, signals that everything was at a minimum level of working efficiency. Looking up, he sees that Rilke and Derek were sitting in front of him watching in half-hearted amusement at what the Spacer in front of them is doing. Derek, having changed into something less ostentatious as the uniform he had been adorned with earlier, twirls a pressurized hammer between his hands. ¡°What?¡± Alastair asks. ¡°Are you sure you need all that? Most rifle types don¡¯t require that many parts.¡± Derek says. ¡°Just wait and see. You¡¯ll understand once I perform a test fire.¡± He says before collecting all the pieces along with the rifle. ¡°I see you have one of the classic suits! Good on ya! Now you just might survive the trip!¡± he continues seeing the suit Alastair is wearing. ¡°Yeah I was told that it has an adjustable weight distributer integrated into the suit, so that should make it easier on the amount I can carry.¡± Alastair replies getting up. TING!
A skill has been upgraded!
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Smith Mastery IntermediateEnsure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. 6 45%
One of the oldest crafting arts still in existence +10% to all traits +2% return on system reverse-engineered parts -5% part(s) stress/ cost Passive
Your combined use of intellect, intense concentration, and the deftness of your hands to make finite details has granted you attribute points! Intelligence +7, Dexterity +5
Achievement Unlocked! Shop Class +25N
¡°Hmmmm, what have we got here?¡± The gunsmith walks up behind him. ¡°Take a look, I haven¡¯t tested it yet.¡± He says handing the rifle to her. Flipping her goggles over her eyes, she inspects it for all of about 10 minutes before hurrying out of the workshop. Noticing that no one was following her, she sticks her head around the corner she had disappeared around before giving the universal signal to follow. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen something like this before! How did you make it?¡±she asks as she ¡°Trying to find my trade secrets are we? I¡¯m sorry but I¡¯m not ready to divulge that information just yet,¡± he says with a smile. ¡°Well here, time to find out.¡± She says as she hands him the items. ¡°Test it there or test it here, doesn¡¯t matter which just test the damn thing already!¡± Derek growls coming over and taking the rifle from him. As soon as he had the rifle, he started walking down the hall even faster. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this but can I have a couple extra power packs and solid slug magazines?¡± Alastair asks quickly to the gunsmith. ¡°Sure thing, just be sure to use them wisely because they can become depleted quite quickly if you don¡¯t know what you are doing.¡± She says handing 4 packs over before watching him jog down the hall after Derek. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen something like that before Rilke. If he polishes that skill, he could become quite the famous inventor.¡± She says to Rilke beside her. ¡°I think this will be an interesting experience to say the least. Even more so when we come to hear about his exploits later on.¡± Rilke replies with a smile growing on her face.
Opening the doors to the gun range, Alastairis immediately assaulted by the smell of ozone and burning tires. He surveys the area with a curious expression, watching the operatives and agents who are practicing with their chosen armament. With the size of the room about the length and width of an American football field, there was enough room to pick an empty booth. He started wondering where within the building they were, but loosely remembered that being inside a military building they were bound to have some leeway into the underground portions. He watches each agent standing in their booths shooting downrange toward a vaguely humanoid figure made out of hard gelatin. Each figure would register the shot before resuming repairing itself to a whole shape. Each one would have a hole left behind by the caliber of the weapon being used. That did nothing to say for the reverberating sounds around the room. The booming of a light machine gun, the chink of a pistol, the whip of a silenced sniper rifle. ¡°Alright boy, time to test this little beauty.¡± Derek calls out over the chaos. Noticing which booth he was standing next to, Alastair walks over to him and takes the rifle. He slots a power pack in, and sets the various attachments onto the booth¡¯s tiny workshop table. Inlaid into the table is a panel with different settings for how far away the occupant would want the target. He selects the one showing 30m and turns to the front, watching the target come closer from the back. Looking at the number gauge on the rifle, and it shows a bright 90 next to a burst round setting, as if it looks like it is ready to be fired. He sights the weapon, aligning its iron sights with the chest area of the target and pulls the trigger. The three round burst veers off a little before the entirety of the rifle clicks into place and centers on the chest. To those within the range, the sound of the shot shrieking as it passes, halts all other actions within. Operatives and agents halt their practice and start looking over to where the sound originated from. TING!
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Marksman Beginner 2 37%
Practice makes perfect as they always say. Concentration and aiming increases your accuracy and damage. +4% Accuracy added to all ranged weapons +2% Damage added to all ranged weapons Passive
Looking down, he reads the page that had just popped up in front of him before grunting appreciatively at the new skill gained before swiping it away. ¡°What the bloody hell was that?!¡± a senior male operative demands as he strides over from the booth next to him. ¡°That, dear lad, was the sound of an invention being tested!¡± Derek says coming over to the pair. ¡°Would you like to try?¡± Alastair asks, holding the rifle to the operative butt first. ¡°I would, but I can¡¯t use regular rifles. MyAgent Specializationonly works on small arms and high powered Sniper rifles.¡± He says with disappointment growing on his face as he looks down at the offered weapon. ¡°Hold on.¡± Alastair says before reaching over to the attachments sitting on the table. Taking the bipod and the enhanced barrel, he clips one and affixes the other into place before thumbing the shot-counter to single fire. ¡°Apologies, I don¡¯t have a Scope for you to use. Would this work?¡± Alastair says coming out with a distinctly longer weapon than earlier. Puzzlement crosses the agents face for but a moment before recognition and a quick smile spreads as his specialization recognizes it as falling into the class¡¯s requirements. Taking the rifle to his booth, he lays the bipod up and carefully sights the rifle at the gelatinous target further away than everyone else. He fires, and is awarded by a beam of energy leaving the ending of the barrel. The air sizzles as a finger-sized hole is burned through the center of the dummy¡¯s head. ¡°Very nice! Light weight enough for extended operations, compact and detachable for ease of transport.¡± the operative states handing the rifle back to him. ¡°What exactly is this anyway?¡±
Please name the model of your weapon¡­
Taking the rifle in hand, Alastair unclips the attachments, and says, ¡°This is called a Jackpoint Rifle. It is designed so that its internal parts can be utilized interchangeably to achieve any effect that the user wishes. This only works as long as you have the attachments or correct energy output.¡± TING!
Model: Jackpoint Type: Rail-Rifle
Parts-used: Non-standard Durability: 150 / 150
Overall Quality: Normal Energy Charge: 966 / 1000
A weapon crafted by Alastair Thawn
  • 5 DPR - Rifle Classification Single-Shot Burst-Shot Full Auto (Easily Overheats) Consumes 1 Round(s) of Energy per round
  • 70 DPR - Sniper Classification *Attachments Required* Single-Shot +10% Critical Chance +50% Critical DMG Consumes 30 Rounds of Energy per round
DPR: Damage Per Round *Upgradeable*
Current Adjusted Ability:
High Impact Bolt Heavily envelops a bullet with energy from the power cell. Adds extra kinetic dmg to core Round. +10 Dmg: Rifle Classification Consumes 10 Round(s) of Energy
He just stares at the rifle in shock. He hadn¡¯t really expected the amount of feedback he would have from the system. Looking around, he notices the woman from the armory waltzing toward him with what looked to be a large pad and a stylus. ¡°I have a question if you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡± She says stopping in front of him. ¡°Shoot.¡± ¡°How many attachments or internal parts can be used with this?¡± she asks. ¡°Ummm as many as you would want.¡± ¡°¡­ Are you interested in creating a patent for it? The higher ups would like a base copy so that they can build off of it if need be.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Well?¡± ¡°I would be interested in that. But I would like to¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the specifics,¡± she says handing the large pad over to him. Looking at it, it seemed to be a scanner with all of the specs that his weapon used as well as the Interchangeable Weapon System that he had brought up earlier. Price tags hanged over the parts he had used for the entire process as well a large question mark over the IWS. ¡°Our Minister of Defense is interested in what this could do for our Special Forces should they be allowed to utilize such a weapon.¡± TING!
Warning: Making a patent for a Unique weapon will strip it of itsUniquestatus until more modifications are completed. Are you sure? Y/N
¡°Yes, I could have a patent made for it.¡± ¡°Great!¡± she says her eyes sparkling, ¡°The cost for the parts that you used will be deducted from the processing fee that we would owe you considering that we are the ones asking for the use of the patent. All that remains is the fine details.¡± ¡°I think I¡¯ll take care of that.¡± Derek says taking the pad from her. ¡°Hang on a sec, isn¡¯t that MY portion.¡± Alastair huffs. ¡°Consider it payment for the training I¡¯m giving you.¡± Derek replies with a shit-eating smirk. ¡°Damnit¡­ Then I just have one teensy question.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Do you have some sort of strap?¡±
30 minutes later¡­ ¡°All right so this is how it¡¯s gonna work boy, everything that I say, you have to pay attention and comply to! No ifs, ands, or buts! I expect you to use your head because that is the most fundamental thing that you will ever need in the open wilderness! I expect you to revere and respect me as if I am your loving and doting father! Any questions?¡± Derek says ending his little speech. ¡°None, I¡¯m ready to start this journey!¡± Alastair states excitedly. Derek chuckles and turns around inside the foyer for Operational Headquarters hearing footsteps coming up from behind. He sees that it¡¯s the gunsmith with an item in hand. ¡°Alright this should do it for the strap pretty boy. Make sure to treat it well.¡± The gunsmith says handing a black leather strap to Alastair. ¡°As for the patent, expect the first deposit to hit your account by then end of the week, Commander.¡± He takes the strap and starts integrating it to the butt of the rifle. Beside him is a small pack filled to the brim with essentials. Power packs, ration tubes, duct tape, and a bedroll. ¡°Ummm, if we are going into the wilderness, shouldn¡¯t we be taking more than this?¡± he asks skeptically. ¡°What are you talking about boy? That¡¯s where the training comes in! Mind you, it will take a week minimum to travel to our first destination. However, it is primarily determined on how long it takes you to get through the forest.¡± ¡°Hold on, are we going through the forest where the massive trees are for our first destination?!¡± He says looking at Derek incredulously. ¡°Caught that did you? Yes, we are going through the forest but our destination lies somewhere inside it. That means that after we finish up at the first destination, we will move on to the second. However, this all depends on how well you do.¡± He says in a hushed tone. ¡°¡­.¡± ¡°Alright it¡¯s time to leave!¡± Derek says with a wide grin on his face. They both hoist their packs and head out the door to a parked convertible hovercar sitting outside with its top down. Getting inside, Alastair takes a look around and notices that it isn¡¯t much different than a car in the real world. The only thing that is changed is a lever on the side indicating how high off the ground you want to go. Derek jumps in the other side where the steering controls are and cranks it in to high gear. 5 minutes down the road heading into traffic, ¡°So what happens at the end of the training?¡± Alastair asks looking over at Derek. ¡°Boy, do you really want to know that?¡± Derek says eyes on the road. ¡°I think that I would like to know what I get out of it, other than what I had originally intended to do.¡± ¡°Well then let me pose a question boy. What if I told you that you could have the potential to become something more, something¡­ new? Something that no one has access to just yet.¡± ¡°¡­That depends on what I would be becoming. Is it something like a new species or gaining a class of my own?¡± He asks inquisitively. ¡°Well, sort of. I wouldn¡¯t say that what you would be becoming a new species or such. More like an augment to your own base race.¡± Derek says quietly. Alastair thinks for a bit before answering, ¡°Hmmm, that doesn¡¯t sound too bad.¡± ¡°But granted, in order to do that, I have to guide your body before it can undergo any such process. So you can pretty much kiss your ass goodbye because the training I give is more like the road to hell. It can break you or it can forge you. It depends entirely upon how well you can tough it out.¡± Derek says lightly. ¡°WHAT!?!?¡± Alastair yells out. ¡°Yup so buckle up Princess, cause we¡¯re heading to ¡®Dictator¡¯s Demise¡¯!¡± TING!
A whisper from Elena Indie has been initiated
He thinks ¡°Go ahead, but who the hell is this?¡± A telepathic voice pops into his head, Chapter 7 BANG!! The echo of a shot rings out as the shooter lowers her pistol. The jell body, riddled with slowly repairing holes, steams with the latest shot to its torso. ¡°Lookin¡¯ good¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªDee!¡± A pair of voices announce behind her as she puts the new pistol she had just appropriated from her new commanding officer, into a synth-leather shoulder holster. As if on cue, she flex¡¯s all of the mechanical joints in her upgraded arm, feeling out all of the various clicks, screws, and bolts as they expand and contract to her neural pathways being synced to the arm before picking up the other pistol sitting on the table before her. Placing it into the other holster, she turns around. The heavy weight of her steel prosthetic leg thuds as she turns, marking the floor with her presence as any well abled person of distinction did. Her body is traced with a network of faint scars, the lasting legacy of the Third World War. A ring, a simple band of etched agate. A multicolored circle of reflective light as the lazy fluorescent lights beamed their gaze across the top of her bosom. It seemed such a diminutive thing when compared to the rest of her ensemble. The mechanical fingers of her right hand twitched, almost in anticipation of what she wished would happen. Smooth, black metal eased out of her bright red crop top as she turned around, showing her face to the twins that had come to join her. Each of them dressed in the trappings of the resident Alliance colors, dull grey and pitch black. Each sporting the symbol of squad leader of a resident Spacer Squadron. The left had her specialization of ¡®air-to-ground support¡¯ while the right specialized in ¡®space defense¡¯. Eyeing both of them quickly, she smiles, a half hideous streak of lips contorted in an unnatural rictus. The right side of her twisted visage had been burned, a swirl of flesh permanently changed as her facial muscles were contorted so that whenever she grinned it elicited differing emotions from any who approached. Stretching up into her eye, it forced her to wear a simple black eye patch to cover the damage. All that remained of her eyesight was a single gem of a dancing, unnatural gold eye. She was a striking ebony beauty to be sure. Even her gait seemed to say, ¡®this is my territory, don¡¯t mess with it¡¯. Despite all of her irregularities, she had no trouble gaining favor from everyone she met. She just had this air about her that enticed others to come around and play. ¡°Baybel, Baybee, time to go I take it?¡± she rasps, the swaying of her dreadlocks held tight in a loose ponytail as she turns from side to side. ¡°Yup! Cap says to join him¡ª¡± ¡ªaboard the Eudora.¡± The blonde on the left states before being finished by her twin on the right. ¡°Well then, let¡¯s not keep him waiting, ladies!¡± Dee states before walking past them with hands in her pockets. The three chat about everything going on aboard Ramaeus Station. All the latest gossip, where to find a good bar, where the latest assignments were being doled out to those who decided to participate in the Alliance military. It doesn¡¯t take them long to navigate the corridors of the Ramaeus. Each twist and winding turn of the halls painstakingly covered with a hasty patchwork of bolted metal plates. ¡°Oi, Dee!¡± a man''s voice echoes out from a nearby hallway. Not stopping their movement, they wait for the man in question to join them as they head for the lifts. Coming out of the darkness, a man joins the trio holding a tabletin one hand and a stylus in the other. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be assisting the Cap on the Eudora, Leon?¡± Dee asks the man. ¡°I was, until I figured out where we were goin and wanted to give you a heads up! It¡¯s something big, like really big for us Spacers!¡± Leon says with a grin. A pause comes between the two as the man named Leon takes his time mulling it over in his mind. ¡°What do you mean something big? You gonna tell us or are you gonna leave us hanging?¡± Dee grumbles. ¡°Alright, alright, alright! So I heard from my little hidey holes that the Eudora is making a trip into the Wilds!¡± ¡°Through which entrance?¡± ¡°Cap was told ¡®enter through the Roilla System¡¯.¡± ¡°Why would we be going there?¡± Baybel asks. ¡°No idea. But that doesn¡¯t stop the fact that we would be the first Spacers to make a trip outside the system!¡± A small silence grows at the end of his sentence, punctuated loudly by the soft thuds of booted feet on steel plate. ¡°Well that would certainly make it interesting now wouldn¡¯t it?¡± Dee says before leading the group round the next corner. With the lifts in sight, all of them pile in and promptly make their way up the shafts toward the Eudora. ¡°What do ya think we¡¯ll find there Leon?¡± Baybee asks. ¡°Artefacts? New Species? I don¡¯t know. What I do know is that it should be exciting given the fact that we should be the only ship leaving the Sol system!¡± Leon says, his hands almost jittering from the excitement. ¡°Alright hotshot, try not to blow a pipe in that brain of yours.¡± Dee smirks. The lift slows to a stop on their level, before promptly opening them to the oil filled air of docking bay A135. The group gazes up at the Eudora as the flurry of engineers and technicians make their final checks on the outside before heading inside to make the other system checks. Twinkles could still be found in Dee¡¯s eye as she silently marvels at the sleek ship. The ASC Eudora was a cruiser. A little on the small side but still relegated to the exploration missions that it had been designed for. It was also an old vessel. A vessel no longer in active service and only used for training purposes. Despite that, the Eudora had a history of outperforming many of its newer brethren. Although that did little in the face of ever increasing technological advancements that were boasted by the younger ships.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it It was shaped like a massive teardrop. A long prow jutted into the void through the shields that held the pressure within the bay. There were rows of military hardware being grafted onto the hull, most notably the drone pods being slotted into the sides of the main cannon. Steel in color, its original designers didn¡¯t wish for it to be burdened by paint jobs and other useless aesthetics. She was a ship built solely for exploration, even in its limited capacity in other areas. ¡°Where¡¯s the rest of the Rippers?¡± Dee asks, her eye peering through the throng of people. With the group foraging through the sea of specialists, they came upon a group of fellow frequent fliers all huddled around a stack of munitions crates. What they were doing, was nothing short of what any bored fighter pilot would do when given the chance. Gamble. What lay between the seemingly random assortment of raucous behavior of the many men and women as they went about placing bets on the mascot of the moment. The mascots in question, two tottering drones that had been stolen and retrofitted to act as proxies for the various fighter wings participating. As for the current bout, the flamboyant spray painted logos of the Red Grease Rippers and the White Skull Sliders danced across the floor as the patch-worked drones¡¯ batter their opponents into submission. ¡°Hey Tai! Get your ass out here!¡± Leon shouts over the clamor. In response, a figure starts moving from within the crowd. ¡°Oi, oi, oi! The match is about to end!¡± a fidgety middle-aged woman responds. The woman in question had the distinct edge of a sobering alcoholic. Graying blond hair stood on end as if in a permanent electrified state while her messy field-technician¡¯s ensemble did little in the way of ingratiating herself to those around her. ¡°Unless you have a good¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s time Taibera.¡± Dee chuckles, half out of amusement, half out of mocking grandeur. ¡°Besides, games like these are small time compared to the games I play.¡± The once clamoring crowd of fighter jockeys slows to a halt as they all listen to the gravelly voice of the woman standing to the back of the fighting pit. ¡°Then would you be so kind as to divine us an outcome using thatInnate Skillof yours?¡± a new voice chuckles, knowing all too well what would happen should she do so. The surrounding jockeys knew that she had a skill of some kind but couldn¡¯t understand what it was. ¡°Very well,¡± Dee chuckles quietly, her eye downturned. A flash of a warm golden glow peals out from her being. The glow suffuses everyone in its embrace for but a moment, lingering in their midst like a warm fog. Just as suddenly as she had ¡®seen¡¯ the outcome of the battle of the warring drones, she sucks back in her aura of energy. ¡°The Red Grease Rippers will win with a clawed pincer through the fuel tank of the White Skull Sliders drone.¡± Her voice, once raspy in its entirety, shifted to an altogether different tone. One most in the room had known from their officers and direct superiors. Despite the collective cheers and groans of the jockey¡¯s, and the various exchanging of purses, the voice that had asked her to find an answer to the problem once again appears to the larger crowd. ¡°All hands prepare for final systems check. Pilots, report to the briefing room immediately. Head Technicians, I want this bird off station within the next twenty minutes.¡± The jocks finish their gambling, the technicians and mechanics haul their gear away, and the bystanders start heading back to the lifts. Dee¡¯s small gathering disperses, leaving her alone to look up at the Eudora. ¡°Not what you expected is it Specialist?¡± the voice asks. Dee didn¡¯t even bother turning. She knew who he was. Captain James Castor. The barrel-chested man coupled his already large frame with antique pieces of cyberware and personal armor. Long and gangly legs poked their way through the ad hoc uniform he pieced together under his armor. A decorated veteran going by what the intranet stated. A bona fide war hero. ¡°I thought she¡¯d be¡­bigger.¡± She responded, feeling him swaddle up to stand beside her on his clinking feet. ¡°Hahahahaha. Oh, she can get bigger alright!¡± And consequently, a massive pervert. ¡°Please tell me you did not just say¡ª¡± ¡°I did and I own it!¡± ¡°You do know that I¡¯m taken, right?¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t stop me from tryin!¡± What the hell did I do to deserve this posting? She thinks as she starts making her way into the belly of the beast. Before she could get far however, a single line interrupts her stride. ¡°You think I¡¯ll ever meet this lover of yours?¡± She stops. Taking the time to think it over despite the number of rushing technicians rolling to and fro with their equipment, she would have been hard pressed not to retort what she first thought. ¡°I think so. If anything, you¡¯ll hear about him before you see him.¡±
¡°Huff, huff, huff¡­¡± a young girl races through the underbrush of a forest. A tattered piece of loincloth clings to her small frame, making her already frightened and young appearance even more prominent. Racing through the forests of Terra was not something that she was accustomed to. It was hot, humid, and downright overbearing for a being like her. Considering her circumstances, one would wonder why she was even there to begin with. A tiny ash white tip of a tail poked its way out from underneath her ¡®clothes¡¯ despite being wrapped around her as she sprinted on all fours. Long canine ears with similarly white tufts poke out from underneath the mess of gray hair streaming behind her. She was humanoid in appearance, yet for some reason she felt utterly¡­ alien. Her surroundings could at least attest to that. Everywhere she ran, all forest creatures would flee. Whether that was an effect of her bumbling through a forest on an unknown world, or her existence itself, she didn¡¯t know. She was too young to be bumbling around in a foreign forest much less leaving the confines of her pack''s embrace. Even so, here she was. Alone, and desperate. Despite this, all she could think about was her mother¡¯s last words. ¡®Mama, please!¡¯ ¡®I can¡¯t¡­ Siha¡­¡¯ ¡®I-I can¡¯t go out there! What if the Soft Skins follow?! They will know that I am gone and punish everyone else!¡¯ ¡®Everyone¡­ agrees. If there is¡­ to be any hope¡­ for our pack¡­ you need to flee, pup.¡¯ ¡®But¡­ but¡­¡¯ ¡®Now...¡¯ ¡°GO! Find the youngling! We can¡¯t move on till we find her!¡± a Soft Skin shouts. She could already hear the clamor of their beasts. Wild eyed and small compared to the honorable Aamai, yet that didn¡¯t stop the fact that they were all magik users. She had seen the use of the Soft Skins magiks. Each one more terrible than the last. A perversion of the natural world was what she and the tribe called it. That didn¡¯t stop them from burning their homes, slaughtering their mates, and dragging them fromNaataito this place called,Terha. She could still feel the heavy chains of her manacles as they clinked away in her hands and feet. Each limb feeling more and more heavier as she ran. She ran and ran and ran. She couldn¡¯t help it. She was given a purpose by the rest of her pack despite being the youngest pup amongst them. She could smell the hounds before she heard them. Despite being downwind and having a head start on the slavers, she could feel the hounds and their Soft Skin magikers racing towards her. It was all she could do to not panic even more as her pulse raced. She tried testing the winds for a chance, anything she could to hold onto that slim glimmer of hope that she had been entrusted with. And there it was. A faint yet noticeably present rushing of cold air. Every Aamai knew what this meant. Water! Bounding forwards once again, she heads toward the water hoping fervently that it was a wide enough stream or river that she could lose her pursuers. Yet before she could get very far, a single sentence curdled the blood in her veins. ¡°There she is! All units, converge on my location!¡± Chapter 8 ¡°AVI! Plot a course for the Roilla System!¡± Castor orders into his comm. His heavy boot steps echoing quite loudly within the interior of the briefing room. The heads of their respective portions of the ship began their slow seating arrangements as each pair filled each other in on non-mission details. His eyes survey the room before him, noting the odd characters filling the in the space within the eight chairs seated around the lighted table. The crew could be cut neatly in two. Where one side held the quiet rumblings of the veteran staff, the other held the boisterous speech of the younger Spacer staff. The Spacers, even as odd as they might have seemed to the normal crew, had sent their respective ¡®leaders¡¯ to listen in for them, inevitably ensuring they have a voice present in briefing. But even that didn¡¯t seem to concern the assembled officers who were already present when the Spacers arrived. Before long, Castor coughs lightly, to which the ensemble of voices quiet down. ¡°I know there have been rumors about what we have been tasked with.¡± Silence answered his statement, as if wishing for him to continue. ¡°However, not all of the details you heard were true. Three hours ago, a survey team sent a coded message to Alliance Command from the edges of Wild Space. The code in question requested assistance to transport an Artefact back to Terra. Command, in all its lovely wisdom, thought it would be a good idea to send a transport that came heavily armed and armored if a worst-case scenario happened to take effect. Now that you all know what to expect, thoughts and concerns are appreciated.¡± Before he could continue, a hand shot up from one of the few Spacers in attendance. ¡°Just to clarify, what is Wild Space?¡± the greenhorn officer asked to the chuckles and rolled eyes of the senior staff. ¡°Wild Space is the 90% of space within the Neos Galaxy that hasn¡¯t been explored. There have been expansion efforts Right now, all of known inhabited space, notably the boonies and the outer edges of the arms, have been settled by all known Council Species.¡± Pulling up a map from the holo-cam in the middle of the table, he takes out a galaxy map and outlines the edges of Wild Space. Everything from the galactic center outward was spread over in a green film, covering the majority, leaving only a tiny ring around the outside free. A number hovered over both the covered and uncovered portions of the map. 1 million parsecs in diameter for the covered portion, 50,000 parsecs on each end for the uncovered. Seeing how the rest of the galaxy was practically open, as the known races skirted the outside parts of the arms, the Spacers grew to understand just how much of Neos they had to explore. ¡°Any more questions?¡± None of the Spacers made a move, except for Dee. ¡°What is the nature of the Artefact that we are transporting?¡± she rasps. ¡°Classified.¡± Castor states, a quite surprising remark due to his normal behavior towards such matters. Before anything else could happen, everyone within the room felt a slight tremor run through the ship. ¡°-All hands, brace yourselves-¡± a cold voice calls through the intercom, ¡°-activating Valkyrie drive-¡± With the final statement came the subtle shift of physics around the room. A lurching of motion, everyone within the room who hadn¡¯t done as requested had tumbled to the floor. Most of those being the Spacers seeing as they were unfamiliar with the feeling. ¡°-FTL achieved. Next real-space transition in 17 hours 20 minutes-¡± ¡°You heard AVI. You have the next 5 hours to brief your teams on the files I am sending each of you. The rest will be to get the ship ready for the acquisition of the Artefact. Dismissed.¡± Castor watches as everyone files out of the room. He reaches up to his face, brushing fingers against the bulky cyberware that fitted his eye with a dark red glow. So young, he thought watching the Spacers file out of the conference chamber,so young to be taking on the universe. ¡°-Captain, a word-¡± AVI says, his emotionless voice reverberating around the room as the last of the officers¡¯ leaves. Castor stands still for a moment before sliding out one of the chairs at the table. He struggles to place himself within it. When he finally does, a large groan escapes his lips. The kind that happens when one is too tired to do much of anything in their reclining age. The holoprojector from before alights itself to reveal a figure on the table. Not quite sitting, and not quite standing. Its actions were more akin to a lazy child. ¡°-Captain, you have yet to select a candidate for your First Officer-¡± Castor sits in his chair with pensive thoughts rolling through his mind. It was a simple enough statement, yet to the Captain it was anything but simple. ¡°I know AVI. I know.¡± Castor huffs. AVI had brought up the one subject that he absolutely abhorred. ¡°-Sir it would be prudent to have a First Officer should your condition act up again-¡± Castor looks at the table, noting the child-like appearance of his ship¡¯s A.I. He had always known his condition would act up at some time in his future. Having combination of a genetic defect and an old wound did nothing to help him in his situation. ¡°There is no one that I can depend upon to take over the Eudora. None that I know is worthy of the throne.¡± ¡°- . . . -¡± ¡°If there had been someone from¡ª¡± ¡°-Accessing latest crew physiology reports¡­ -¡± AVI states. ¡°What are you¡ª¡± ¡°-Done. Extrapolating aptitude scores¡­ I have found 2 officers who reach your specifications. -¡± ¡°Hold on now AVI,¡± Castor grimaces, ¡°Don¡¯t start finding¡ª¡± ¡°- Tactical Officer Arika Caro and Mercenary Squad Commander¨C¡± ¡°Damnit AVI, frakin¡¯ shut it!¡± Castor yells, his voice straining as he nearly jumps out of the chair at the holographic child. Silence reigns as the last of his words dissipate into the surroundings. ¡°Ju-just hold on now¡­¡± he pleads, ¡°don¡¯t be so hasty to replace me.¡± The child turns to sit on the table. Looking straight into Castor¡¯s eyes, it could see that it had made a mistake in forcing the issue.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°I will hold off on this for now, Captain. But sooner or later you will need to have a First Officer. As such, you have until we reach the contact point with the survey team to choose a suitable First Officer. If not¡­¡± AVI slows as a twitch flickers across the man¡¯s face, ¡°¡­I will be forced to enact Starship Code 12.37.5.¡± Pale resignation emanates from the old man. Defeat hung on his shoulders like a slab of meat hung out to dry at a butcher shop. ¡°You may think this unfair, but at this point it isn¡¯t fair to the crew as well as to my coding. I and the crew require your confirmation of a replacement should you become discharged from the line of duty. As such, I will send you the dossiers on both candidates I believe will be an effective First Officer.¡± AVI states before blinking out from the table. Castor sits still. His overly bulky frame from his overused cybernetics painting a vivid picture of a relic past its prime. His eye searches the table, flitting around as if desperately wishing for a reprieve from this situation. An uncomfortable silence drew out the air. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to an hour. All the while, all he could do was try to figure a way out of this. A way that he could still serve the Eudora in the capacity that he had been given from its predecessor. -She¡¯s a lively one to be sure. Just make sure you keep AVI happy, and everything will be fine. Take care of her for me Lieutenant -that was what his Captain had said before he had passed in the medical ward. The words playing over and over within his mind like an old commcorder stuck at the end of a track. The fact that he now realized that he needed to be prepared to say something similar to someone else, turned his gut. All he could really do, was prepare them for their inevitable take over. The thought that he had to, wasn¡¯t something he was prepared for. Resigning himself he stands up and grips the table in anger. A single moment before he was forced to go back to work. ¡°(sigh) Frak it.¡± He mutters and hobbles out the door.
If there was a word for the feeling that Siha felt, the closest she could call it would be terror. Not fear, nor horror. Plain and brutal terror. It was something that all living beings had to contend with at least one in their lifetimes. It was a reduction of the mental faculties to the point that the senses are overloaded as blinding paranoia force feeds the brain information she didn¡¯t need. Primal instinct had taken over. Hence the reason for her scrambling to the source of water she had smelt earlier before the winds sudden change in direction. Apparently, this was an area that constantly changed when it came to the energies and winds of nature. As such, she knew everything within a leagues distance around her. She dashed forward, heedless of the consequences of the Soft Skins¡¯ pursuit. Doubtless they were searching for her with their many vile magiks. All reason had fled her mind as she ran. Even the subtle thoughts of her mother¡¯s last words were but a backdrop within the animalistic tendencies of her mind. She continued her escape, paying little to no mind to the inconsequential bits of information such as the differing scents of odd flora and fauna past her by. She could feel the Soft Skins¡¯ steadily gaining on her as she flew through the underbrush. ¡°Flesh release¡± she says desperately, knowing full well that if she were to have any hope of escaping, she would need to change into her sacred form in order to give her a much needed edge. Her physical form fades away into traces of light, leaving a faint spectral form in its place. The subtle fluctuations of her spectral form quickly took over the shape of a small pup. The energy, not quite coalescing into the aspect that she inhabited, flew over the brush. Where once she would bound forward at a healthy sprint, despite her age, now she felt like the Aamai warriors of her people. Bouncing off the massive trees around her, she rocketed toward the body of water that she had sensed earlier. Shouts of alarm and the shrieks of magiks echoed behind her as she flew through the forest. Despite the increased speed of her sacred form, it made it fairly easy to track her. It wouldn¡¯t be hard to follow her given the flashy nature of such a racial trait. The only way that she knew to combat this was to undergo the Rite of Rage. Having no pack or tribe to call her own, stunted any chance of this happening. The shrieking of the Soft Skins vile magiks as they made their way closer unnerved what little of her mind was still hopeful for escape. She could hear them gaining on her despite the speed with which she flew. Each of the throaty growls the magiks made edged a sort of feeling of being hunted by the Thunder Warriors of legend. Each one loud in the extreme as they crashed through the underbrush. They made no attempt to silence their efforts; and why should they? The Soft Skins weren¡¯t in the habit of taking care of the nature around them. Only getting what they want and getting it quickly was all they cared about. Despite all this, the wind had changed once again, leaving her with a new scent as it was carried from the water¡¯s edge. Two Soft Skins were running next to the water¡¯s edge. Except that was what she thought at first as the fatigue started slowing her down. There was one Soft Skin who she could smell as being an elderly man despite his obvious reeking of other pungent smells. The other¡­ she wasn¡¯t so sure of. His scent was different than most, like it was mixed with the magiks that Soft Skins usually employed. But it wasn¡¯t a subtle mix either. It was like someone had taken the time to forcibly meld the two together and hope for the best. The fatigue of the constant running for the past few days had started to overwhelm her. The fact that she had to make use of her sacred form in the physical realm did little to alleviate it, if not make it worse. I just need to make it to the water¡¯s edge, then I¡¯ll be fine.She thought as she sped toward it before slowing down to test the wind again. The elder Soft Skin had sped ahead of the weird one, while the weird one had started making his way toward her. No, no, no, no, no! Mer¡¯s icy bollocks, are they part of the raiders? There was little she could do. Her best and only option was to overpower the weird Soft Skin coming her way to make it to the water; provided that she could cover the last hundred meter stretch between the two. Suddenly, she is hit from behind! A shot of pure energy boiled through her sacred form, forcing her to change back to her physical form; knocking her down from her perch amidst the trees into the earth. Hard. ¡°There ya are young¡¯un,¡± she hears a Soft skin growl behind her as soon as she makes the effort to get back to her feet. Scrambling to turn around, she is met with a swift kick to the face, throwing her onto her back. ¡°Ya really shoulda spent more time thinkin bout how yous gonna get away if ya were gonna run.¡± The Soft Skin said before another kick slams into her side. One after the other, the blows rained onto her tiny frame. Blinking through the painful tears, she looked up to see the Soft Skin bearing down on her. ¡°Now Ima have to teach ya a lesson lest I get put out by da boys.¡± The Soft Skin states, his scraggly face twisting into a horrible grin. ¡°To add to that, the Boss has a policy of executing the shipment if even one slave attempts ta escape. Less chance of the Alliance find¡¯n out about us.¡± She could smell the gathering sweat of the Soft Skins as they closed in on her with their shrieking magiks. All that ended once she felt the first kick into her ribs. Each hit carried with it an electrical sting. Over and over and over. She gritted her fangs as she bared with the pain. One by one she could feel her small frame breaking underneath the assault on her already fatigued and tattered body. Flesh was torn. Bone was broken. Yet the only thing that she could feel as she bit back the pain was that of failure and despair. She had failed. The hope that she had feebly carried in order to reach another of her kind had started to fade as she felt that she was going to die. Despair was something that she had grown accustomed to ever since the initial rounding of her tribe. Seconds of beating had turned to minutes. She knew full well that the Soft Skins that had been chasing her would start surrounding her in mere moments cutting off all access routes. That didn¡¯t even preclude whether she could escape from the Soft Skin beating her. Before any other thoughts had crossed her mind, the blows had stopped raining down on her. The sting of the lighter hits was the only thing that she could feel at the moment. The shock sustained on her body threatened to make her pass out despite the lack of blows coming her way. Sniffing the air, she found both nostrils caked in slowly congealing blood. Despite this, she noticed the Soft Skin from before had been killed. A pallid pall of death seeping from the forest behind and before her. She knew not how this came to be, and that frightened her. She knew of nothing that killed that fast, none that she had heard about anyway. She tried opening her eyes, but found that she couldn¡¯t. The energy of running had long since been depleted. The beating had stolen what little vitality she had left. She had no options other than to lay there. Yet there was a single sentence that seemed to give her hope. ¡°If you are still conscious give me a sign.¡± Chapter 9 ¡°Come on girl, don¡¯t go to sleep on me!¡± Alastair says, his rifle training a swift sweep in front of him. The dim undergrowth of the jungle¡¯s shadows lent him some measure of safety while he checked the young girl beside him. Although, to call her a girl or any sort of humanoid at this point might have been generous. Her condition, in his opinion, was what he would call a Stage Four when in need of medical treatment. He had a list of Five Stages when going over whether someone was worth saving depended on how bad the wounds were and if the person in question had the will to go on. Stage One being light bandaging and possible ointment treatments; Stage Five being dead and in need of resuscitation. Her limbs were bent at unnatural angles with bone fragments jutting out. Multiple pieces of her ribcage stuck out from the vile rag covering her body. Her face had swelled up in size to the point he wondered if she could breathe due to the heavy scarring of the electrical burns covering her face. She wasn¡¯t moving, and that worried him. Studying her a bit more intently, he is rewarded with a personalized status window.
Status Window
Name: Siha Alignment: Neutral
Level: 10 Class: Psijic
Race: Aamar - hybrid Gender: Female
Titles:
None
Age: 8
Fame: 100 Infamy: 0
Currency:
0
Health: 13 / 250 Health Regen: .005 / Sec
Stamina: 0 / 250 Stamina Regen: .005 / Sec
Psi: 17 / 600 Psi Regen: 1.65 / Sec
Satiety: 5 / 100
State of Injuries: ¡¤ Starving ¡¤ Exhausted (remains in state until body / mind is healed) ¡¤ Broken: Body (85%), Mind (63%)
After ascertaining her condition, he makes a visual sweep with his rifle. Noting the guttural roaring of the vehicles making their way towards him, he affixes the sniper attachment to his rifle. ¡°-Everything alright there princess? -¡± Derek¡¯s voice peals out from his comm. Alastair taps his comm twice, signaling that he was busy, before seeing a twitch of movement from the girl. Her mouth, despite its swollen appearance, tried to form some semblance of words. Leaning down, he asks, ¡°Do you wish to be free?¡± To which she promptly, and with supposed great effort judging by the jerky movement, opens a single silver eye, and nods her head slightly. ¡°Very well.¡± He says, a steely edge overtaking both mind and body. His eyes clench tight for but a moment before looking deeply into hers. Their eyes lock, and he could feel everything within the forest. A moment passes before he finally looks up, the whites of his eyes filming over into an echo of the voids black embrace.
Unknown Innate Skills identified!
Warning! Original Physiology has shifted! Biological changes occurring within Animatus nanite bath! Changing account difficulty factor from Normal to Hardcore to adjust to physical and mental temperance. ¡­ Difficulty is now set at Hardcore (temporary) until biological change is ended. Alerting Emergency Services. Supervisor has been notified. Please wait for contact.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
His vision swims for a moment as the modes of the game are switched along with his body changing form. Muscle tightened and condensed. Adrenaline rushed. His body, a bound spring ready to snap. The first vehicle charges into view. It was a hulking thing. Easily reminiscent of the large Humvees of the 21st century, but with an open top and no doors to shelter the black clad armored figures inside. Their weapons, if they could even be called that, pointed towards him. Despite the lengthy distance between them, the truck sped towards him like an overconfident sparring partner. Weirdly, many of the slavers had no concept of head gear. Switching over to Single Fire with the Heavy Impact Bolt being turned on, he sighted his rifle, and waited. Just as the second truck comes into view, his perception of time slows as he begins a small chant. With it comes the first of many shrieks. One for sorrow, The first heavy round streaks through the drivers head, emptying his unprotected brains all over the occupants behind him. The slavers begin to scream and panic as the truck swerves. The action seeming slow within his sight. The second truck edges into view from a different direction followed by the third at almost a crawl within Alastair¡¯s eyes. Two for joy, The second shriek peals out from his rifle, ripping the hood off of the second truck and igniting the fuel within the engine. It would be but mere moments before the entirety of the truck explodes from acute pressurized combustion. The third truck, its occupants having a better sense of the situation within their minds start firing at him from fifty meters away. Three for a girl, A few rounds hit him full in the chest as the slavers manage to squeeze off a few shots at him. One leaving a hole the size of a golf ball through the side of his left kidney while another trimmed the edge of his ear. No hint of the pain reaches his face as he hadn¡¯t move from his vigil over the girl. Not an easy task given that he was using a power last seen in the Third World War. His third shot shrieks to impact into the tires of the truck. An unlucky circumstance that they were barreling toward him, making it quite easy to take out two tires in one shot as the round ripped through the frame of the truck. Four for a boy, Knowing with an eerie certainty that everything would soon be over, the blackness within his eyes dissipates back to normal. The slowness of the time dilation seemed to rush back into focus. The first truck swerving, jackknifes up into a large tree, crushing the occupants inside as it wraps around the trunk. The second truck explodes, barbequing the occupants within their suits. The third truck swerves, its driver struggling to take control of the terrain as the only leverage he had is ripped away from him. Unable to regain control, the truck slams into a tree, forcibly discharging the occupants toward Alastair¡¯s position. Five for silver, Removing the attachment, Alastair lines up the rifle once more and trains it on the four squirming slavers as they struggled to regain their feet. He flicks the setting to three-round-burst. Three sets of shrieks burst out into the surroundings. Six for gold, The shots finalizing their deaths with a simple three round burst through the cranium as they tried to get up. With no other slavers coming into view and no other signs of wildlife, the forest remains silent. Seemingly afraid at what the man with the dark eyes would do should they draw his ire. Seeing no enemies before him, he leaves the last part of his chant unfinished. He didn¡¯t bother looking after his wounds as he could feel them closing as his enhanced physiology goes to work restoring itself to pristine condition. ¡°Test your skills they said, it¡¯ll be fun they said.¡± He mutters before taking out the expended magazine and slaps in a fresh one. Noting the myriad of blinking pop ups in the corner of his eyesight, he taps the most recent one.
A whisper from Elena Indie has been initiated
Elena asks before forcibly booting him back to the white room that he had met her before. Her avatar phases into being with panic etched across her face. Like a deer noticing the hunter as they prepare to strike. ¡°That was¡ª¡± he starts. ¡°That level of aggression was not in your file! Why was I not notified?!¡± she shrieks. It was the kind of tone one used when they are nearing the end of their rope. He watched her pull up several screens worth of information and flick through them quickly. He hadn¡¯t known that they had kept a file of him. ¡°No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no¡­¡± she mutters, not finding what she wants. ¡°Can I¡ª¡± ¡°?Cierra la puta boca por un segundo!¡± Elena yells, turning to give him an indescribable glare. His expression freezes as male preservation instincts take over. Closing his mouth, he waits patiently for the tigress to settle down. She flips through some more screens before sighing and giving him a hard look. It takes her a several minutes¡¯ worth to slow her rate back down to normal. ¡°Looking through your files, I found nothing that shows me evidence of what I need explained. I¡¯m going to ask you a question and I hope you can answer it to allay some of my fears. Is that alright?¡± She asks, her once stern glare turning tinging with trace amounts of fear as her fa?ade seems to break. He continues watching her as suspicion grew within him. Remembering back to when he had made his last Oath, he decides to answer what he can. He nods. Not wasting any time, she asks, ¡°Are you or are you not a member of the Warsworn?¡± flashes of different emotions cross her face as she asks. He nods his head yet again in confirmation. ¡°Agent Designation?¡± she asks, fear and a bit of trepidation growing in her gut. Alastair pauses, unsure of whether he wanted to be chained and collared like before. The feeling stayed there, wrenching his memories back to the time of the Third World War. He played out his options in his head before curtly answering, ¡°The Last.¡± Elena picked up on the hint of sadness edging its way into his voice. Not knowing the meaning of this, she blinks out of the white room. The minutes¡¯ pass in silence as Alastair thinks back to the times of the War. Remembering his crimes, his kills, and his joy, he stands there, trying to wonder where it all went wrong, but couldn¡¯t find a simple enough reason. It didn¡¯t take long before a different avatar blinks into existence. It was an unfamiliar face. An old man with a cane had come into the space. He was tall, but exceedingly lank in his old age, with a hunched back, and narrow shoulders. Long arms and legs, and hands that seemed to sit well within the confines of an immaculate suit, like a man well set into a reclining chair. His head was small, despite the white hair sneaking out from underneath his cap, with cauliflower ears and beady blue eyes hiding behind a pair of overly large spectacles. He also had a crooked nose, one that looked like it had been broken so many times that it was a wonder if it ever set straight. And yet despite this, he looked to be a man who was happy with his life. That was, however, until the crestfallen look creases his face. ¡°Ah¡­ Mister Thawn.¡± The old man said, his deep London accent cutting into the atmosphere like two boulders grating against each other. ¡°I have to confess when I heard we had a member of the Warsworn testing our game I had hoped it was your Master up to her usual shenanigans. I hope you¡¯ll forgive my¡­ sleight disappointment.¡± A short spark of anger ignites within Alastair before being quickly snuffed out. He didn¡¯t wish to let his emotions get the better of him in this particular moment. He had an inkling as to who was in front of him, but couldn¡¯t be positive without confirmation. ¡°No need, I am used to disappointment.¡± He replies, a hint of venom edging in at the last moment. Whether the old man took the hint, he couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°Apologies. My manners aren¡¯t what they used to be.¡± The old man states, taking the cap from his head and giving an exaggerated bow in front of him. ¡°Gideon Barbas, Founder and CEO of Corellec Incorporated.¡± Damnit, a big shot. Alastair thinks as his growing suspicions were confirmed. He had known the name but had thought that the voice would be different. Most Game CEOs generally have an audio cleaner installed to get rid of accents whenever they make public appearances, and as such he had thought that Mr. Barbas would have at least integrated it into the game. ¡°Well, Mr. Barbas, what can I do for you?¡± He asks, trepidation beginning to grow as he knew men like Barbas had a penchant for always getting what they want regardless of who stands in the way. ¡°Nothing for now. Although now that I know what you are, I¡¯m going to have to order a change be placed on your account.¡± Barbas says, his eyes studying Alastair¡¯s face for any flicker of movement. Frustration and anger began growing within Alastair¡¯s chest. ¡°And why would you wish to do that.¡± He asks. ¡°I¡¯m currently retired from active duty as a Warsworn so any¡ª¡± ¡°My reason is that someone of your capabilities requires a better challenge as well as a more¡­ in depth study for our AI to get a firmer grasp for what to expect from other Remnants. In my experience, you Warsworn don¡¯t die easily¡­ or die well for that matter.¡± Barbas interrupts. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you will be paid generously for your secrets and services.¡± ¡°¡­ Sorry but I reuse your ¡®offer¡¯.¡± Barbas pauses, as if not expecting his offer to be refused. ¡°You don¡¯t know much about corporate espionage, do you? If your file gets leaked, you would become the most sought after lab rat from hundreds of other companies.¡± His tone toeing the line between being persuasive and coercive. ¡°Oh, I think I can handle a couple of dressed up goons.¡± Alastair smirks. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m pretty much set on the money front. I don¡¯t need more.¡± ¡°¡­ Fine. There are only a few ways that I can protect you from that and none of them are pleasant. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that you are a walking liability, I would¡ª¡± Barbas states, his eyes blinking slowly before a certain realization dawns on him. Alastair, his eyes closed and his mouth silent, contemplates what the old man was saying. ¡°Now that I think about it, that isn¡¯t such a bad idea.¡± Barbas continues and opens a screen in front of him. His fingers dance upon the screen, as they write up a contract of employment. A few minutes¡¯ pass as he continues to bring up additional screens, each one with a different purpose. ¡°Who is your current employer?¡± Barbas asks, his hands flicking through screens before dumping them into a single location. His eyes never seemed to leave the multitude of screens rolling through his eyesight. ¡°¡­ Stern Contracting Co. ¡­ why do you¡ª¡± ¡°Quiet.¡± Barbas barks. ¡°You are being so bloody stubborn¡­ Ah there we are!¡± He states with a quiet chuckle as he exits one screen and flows to the next. ¡°What did you do?¡± Alastair asks, trepidation growing like a heavy knot in his gut. ¡°I bought all of the shares in your company. So technically,¡± Barbas says, a cheeky grin growing on his face as he swipes a confirmation screen over to Alastair, ¡°you work for me now.¡± Chapter 10 Alastair¡¯s eyes blinked. He was stunned that a man would exhaust such resources just to secure his ¡®cooperation¡¯. The feeling had not lasted long, as an old emotion wells up deep from within. Primal rage. A red tinted haze of heat burst through his brain and threatened to overtake his mental faculties. ¡°You did what now?¡± He manages to say as he reigns in his choler. ¡°I bought the company you work for so now¡ª¡± ¡°I know that part,¡± Alastair growls, ¡°What I want to know is why you did it.¡± Barbas stares in apt fascination as the young man before him struggles from ripping his head off. Unknown to them, another figure had appeared in the white space as they were too engrossed in their staring contest to notice. ¡°I needed to secure your attention. Going by the old UN¡¯s last edict, a Warsworn agent in Penance is charged with protecting a stretch of territory, correct? The purchase was simply to put us at an impasse so we would at least have a dialogue opened between us.¡± Barbas states, the crinkles in his face resting into their usual craggy form as his smile dissipates. ¡°Besides, you can¡¯t technically come after me now seeing as it was a business transaction and not a direct attack upon the people.¡± ¡°That edict is open to interpretation.¡± Alastair scowls. ¡°And I¡¯m retired you prick! If you place any of my coworkers in harm¡¯s way¡­¡± Alastair¡¯s hands drop to his side as he begins channeling his power through. An unknown darkness dims the white room as his entire body ripples as it tightens and condenses while the whites of his eyes blacken once more. ¡°¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be hard for me to pulverize your company headquarters back into the rubble that you started with.¡± He finishes, his voice glowing with the undertone of unnatural energy as he spits out the anger that is boiling inside him. Numerous screens blink in front of Barbas as he receives warning signals from the AI. It was asking him questions as to why it felt its strength being taken from it. The fact that a global AI was sending warnings, spoke of a new development. It had, for the first time, felt an altogether human reaction. Fear. Before anything else could happen however, the unknown figure steps forward. ¡°Papa~,¡± a new voice says, disturbing the tension in front of her with her singsong inflection, ¡°can¡¯t you carry out your agreement to Master Mavrik without pissing off an agent of the Warsworn?¡± Both eyes swivel slowly to the woman standing to the side. Alastair could see the family resemblance between the old man and the new woman. Her arms were long and lanky, yet tinged with the taut and wiry shape of a professional cage fighter. An unassuming orange jumpsuit covered the bottom half below her waist while a dark ¡®Hello Kitty¡¯ training bra struggled to contain her overflowing bust line. As if that wasn¡¯t enough, Alastair slightly hesitated as her bright blue eyes raked across his frame lasciviously while being framed by locks of curly deep red hair. ¡°Jenny...¡± Barbas sighs. ¡°Don¡¯t you start Papa,¡± she interrupts, ¡°you do this every time you see something you want! Do you intentionally want to re-visit the Macau Massacre?!¡± The old man bows his head in shame as he accepts his chastisement from his granddaughter. Alastair, on the other hand, hears one of the few word pairings that can stop him in his tracks. His tense expression drops, his hands unclench as they release the energy back into the surroundings and come to hold his head. His mind flashes as he remembers the Massacre that had become the turning point of the Third World War. A city leveled. Millions dead. A group of Warsworn agents on a rampage as some had their cellular structure degenerate so fast it was forcing their minds to snap into a pain induced berserker rage while others had their mental faculties break down from over use of their powers. Their own bodies turning on them, eating them from the inside out as their powers prove too exhaustive for their bodies to cope with. In the end, Alastair¡¯s first assignment as an agent became paired with a member of a differing organization to cut the threat off at the source. He had been forced to end his friends¡¯ lives. Shaking himself free of the painful memories, he watches mutely as grandparent was lectured by granddaughter. Before long, Barbas turns back to him. ¡°So,¡± Barbas says, ¡°how long do you have?¡± Completely forgetting the recent actions the man took, Alastair remains silent as the one question he hadn¡¯t wished for became laid upon the air. The old man waited, his cane resting wistfully upon the ground. ¡°Ten years.¡± Alastair sighs. The old man remains silent as he watches the man in front of him. In response, he begins pacing around the room, his cane tapping unnaturally loud in the atmosphere. ¡°That is quite a long for someone like you.¡± Barbas whispers, his cane stopping. ¡°Mental or physical.¡± ¡°Both.¡± He replies. ¡°Earliest estimates say they will occur at the same time. Dorne says she doesn¡¯t know what will give first, only that both will begin degrading at the same time.¡± Barbas hisses in response. He knew of the Doctor he was referring to. He had wished for more time to spend with a member of the Warsworn. Retired or not, Alastair¡¯s body housed the secrets of a now extinct science that was not shared with the world at large. ¡°What about the HumanEX Project?¡± He asks. ¡°Would they be willing to help?¡± ¡° . . . ¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know do you?¡± Alastair says, his hands falling away from his head. Sighing, he explains. ¡°The HumanEX Project fell apart last year. With so few members to even form a Council, they disbanded the group to live out the rest of their lives in peace.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°Well¡­ that figures.¡± Barbas huffs. ¡°There were so few of them at the end of the War that it was a wonder if they ever recovered.¡± Alastair watches the old man pensively. Despite all that was said, he was more concerned with the fate of his friend¡¯s company and fellow workers. An uncomfortable silence grows between them. ¡°What about¡ª¡± ¡°Papa? ~¡± Jenny asks. Barbas turns. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you followed Mavrik¡¯s Agreement yet?¡± With the last line resting upon the air and Barbas not making any attempts to explain it as of yet, Alastair still had no idea what this ¡®agreement¡¯ that the old man had made with his mentor. The very fact that it had been kept a secret from the rest of his peers did little to ease his conscience. Then again, he thinks, Mavrik tends to play everything by ear. It¡¯s no wonder I¡¯ve never heard about it. ¡°So,¡± he asks, ¡°what is this agreement that you have with Mavrik and how does it pertain to me?¡± Barbas turns to gaze at him again for a few moments before opening a new screen-prompt and flinging it towards him. The screen stops to a small hover in front of Alastair. This Contract serves as an agreement between Gideon Barbas & Mavrik It becomes effective as of Jan. 1st 2230 and involves services provided to Agents of the Warsworn which will be held on whichever date possible from the start of Jan. 21st 2230 till Corellec Inc.¡¯s end I, Gideon Barbas , hereby agree to provide the following services for the Agents of the Warsworn in exchange for services previously rendered. ------------------------------------------------- The service to be provided is the attempt of stabilization of the Agent¡¯s genetic structure and physiological fortification of the lifeline of said Agent. ------------------------------------------------- In the event that services are not rendered, all shares that were acquired as minimum compensation, 40% of total company shares, shall be forfeited to the nearest competitor within the field that the company specializes in. Vendor: Gideon Barbas Date: 02/30/2229 Client:??Mav?? ????? Date: 02/30/2229 Alastair stares at the contract in mute silence. He had not expected something like this to be to come to light¡­ even then. Why, why, why, why?! He thinks, frustration and anger flowing through him like a damn had finally broken. Flashes of memory flare up as he looks back on all of the agents that he had been forced to kill. Each memory tinged with bitterness as the weight of what he had done pounded within his skull. Ever since the Third World War ended in the winter of 2229, there were ever increasing reports of agents feeling their inability to cope with the powers within them. And, as Alastair, or Elijiah Pierce, would come to know it, the time where he was constantly called upon to slaughter his fellow agents, his family. Super-soldiers with powers about to go rampant and his unfortunate job, seeing as he had grown up around many, if not all, of them, had him cut down those who wished to have their end occur while they were still sane enough to remember who they were. One by one he had killed them, until all except him within the Sol system had been snuffed out. Cold drops ran down his face as he fought with the warring emotions of anger and sadness within him. He should have been overjoyed at the prospect of a possible lengthening of his life, yet the only thing he can think about is the bloody faces of his family as he held them in his arms and watched the life go out of them. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you reach out?!¡± he manages to choke out. The old man, not understanding the reason behind the outburst, comes forward. ¡°We didn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°All you needed to do was put a general message on the deep web that you were under contract to help us! Why didn¡¯t you reach out?!¡± Alastair screams as he whips his head up to glare at the old man. ¡°Because that would have started a witch-hunt using the old hatreds within the governments who remembered the brutality of your organization!¡± Barbas barks, causing Alastair to avert his eyes. ¡°Do not think that I did not try to reach you. Even though the contract has been in effect for four years, I have yet to find a single agent that was willing to come out in public. Why do you think I had put all of my resources into global entertainment?¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°Having the resources, manpower, and popularity that I have does nothing when those who are listed within the contract won¡¯t even come out of hiding. You try running a multi-trillion credit company with at least twenty million employees and try to find the hiding spots of the world¡¯s most elusive super-soldiers!¡± Barbas barks before bringing up yet another screen. Alastair remains silent before whispering coldly. ¡°They aren¡¯t in hiding spots anymore.¡± The old man freezes, the words seemingly taking the wind out of him. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Jenny asks, the first words in a while that had pealed from her mouth, yet she was hesitant. Kneeling into a seiza, Alastair sighs. What little emotions that hadn¡¯t already fled out in the past minutes came flooding out in the few short sentences he could muster. ¡°The reason why you can¡¯t find anyone, is because they are all dead¡­ Their hiding spots, as you call it, have become their graves¡­ I am the only one that I know of that still lives.¡± The pair just stares at him mutely. Alastair sits there, contemplating the reasoning for why he had said that, but found he could not. Once again, he finds the words spoken to him rebound within his head. ¡°Thinking back, I can only recall the last words Mavrik spoke to me before she disappeared; ¡®We are the damned, the lonely, the downtrodden. We are the souls, lost to the madness of our own minds, shackled in the unhindered embrace of chaos. And for this, we have you¡­ the Last. You are the keening blade, the executioner of our madness, our rage, our pain. Treat your brothers and sisters with honour. Treat them with the respect and dignity they once possessed. Save their souls so they might at least die with some semblance of humanity. As it is, however, I highly doubt it. But most of all, I weep for you. Not because of the many memories we shared, but because our fates shall soon become yours. And so it falls to you, our herald of the Warsworn. Become sworn to the War that you last made with your enemy, so that you may entreat your heart to the same dedication that I have come to admire in you after so many years. I say again, we are the damned. And you, shall be our Keeper¡¯.¡± He finishes, and sits in silence once more. The minutes¡¯ pass by in quiet uncomfortable solitude, neither side knowing what to say or do. After an hour had passed, Alastair decides to break the moment. ¡°What will happen to my coworkers?¡± Barbas gives him a solemn gaze before huffing. ¡°They can continue their work in the real world. I might decide to have them continue their work in Neos just to see how well a company will do when they are all part of the same simulation.¡± ¡°¡­ very well. So long as no harm, monetary or life-threatening, comes to pass, you have my word that I will work with you.¡± Alastair says. Standing up, he places both of his hands in front of him, as if in silent acquiescence to an officer of the law¡¯s demands. ¡°Well, here I am . . . save me.¡± he chuckles. Chapter 11 A flash of light appears as Alastair¡¯s form emerges back into the forest. Looking around, he doesn¡¯t see any signs of Derek or his pseudo charge. Although it would be very hard to see anything in the blackness that the forest covered underneath the night¡¯s sky. Sniffing the air, he catches a whiff of campfire smoke as well as dozen other smells that threaten to overwhelm him. Oil, discharged ozone, and tangy blood became the chief of these as the wreckage was nearby. Sighing, he heads to the camp fire while going over the numerous pages still blinking in his eyesight.
Enhanced Physiology Revealed!
Innate TraitEnhancedHuman ConditioningAcquired
Innate TraitPsion AlphaAcquired
Innate TraitPower of Blood*Acquired
Innate SkillQuickeningAcquired
Marksmanhas reached Intermediate!
You have leveled up 5x!
A Bounty has been placed on your head!
Pushing on the tab for the Enhanced Human Conditioning, he is greeted with a lengthy page.
Trait Name: Trait Type: Trait Rarity:
Enhanced Human Conditioning Innate 3
Your body has undergone a series of genetic and bionic changes that has accumulated into an enhanced physiology. With the cybernetic implants all over your body, with some supporting the bone structure, it would be difficult to defeat you without destroying the vital areas first. You require more energy than the average human in all situations. ¡¤ Str, Agi, & Vit have permanent +250 bonus ¡¤ Species peak Attribute potential has risen ¡¤ Stam & Psi abilities cost 35% more ¡¤ Stam & Satiety drain rate increased by 35%
WARNING: Traces of foreign DNA have corrupted system scan. Cannot ascertain true characteristics of core DNA without user guidance. Cannot ascertain user Attribute potential with corrupted DNA files.
¡°Damn,¡± he mutters, ¡°Guess they got the scan correct after all.¡± Closing the tab, he opens the next two pages.
Trait Name: Trait Type: Trait Rarity:
Psion Alpha Innate 4.5
Psion¡¯s have been known to be reproduced within human society at one in every million. Those that can utilize their abilities without killing themselves or others are one in every 10 million. Even then, only one in a billion actually excel in the field. ¡¤ Wis, Int, and Presence have permanent +320 bonus
Trait Name: Trait Type: Trait Rarity:
Power of Blood Innate 3.5
Your skill path hinges upon the use of your DNA. This can be used as a medium to focus your psi energy effectively and ¡®safely¡¯. Although, safety is relative to those who use their blood as a medium to effect the world around them. It is an old and very dangerous trait to harbor as it may kill the user if the required amount of energy isn¡¯t present within both blood and psi.
  • Psi tuning can no longer be acquired
  • Psi energy or Health can be replenished at a 1:2 transference ratio. Can only be used by sacrificing one for the other.
  • Can be used to offset the imbalance of hosts body reducing Satiety and Stamina drain by 10%
Requires a thorough understanding of a species physiology. Requires understanding of the Psionic power being used in order to imitate it.
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Quickening Advanced 1 90%
A type of body augmentation skill that gives the user a temporary limit break as time slows around them. Temporarily changes sclera and iris to black as long as skill is in use. ¡¤ Time dilation 20% for 10 seconds ¡¤ 500 Psi ¡¤ 1 hour cooldown Active, Buff
Nodding, he remembers back to the first instance that he had when he emerged from the Tank with this ability. He was almost killed because of the ability that it invested within him. Although at the time, he did try killing his way out of the facility with a spoon and plastic fork. Sighing, he hates at how his abilities had been summed up in such a roundabout way. The very fact that some had been preprogrammed into the game system did little to alleviate the feelings he was now bottling into a ball. Remembering that there was one final page, he opens it.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Wanted! Alastair Thawn Dead or Alive
30,000 Credits
He closes the page as he makes the final push over a hill. As he crests, he sees the campfire burning brightly amidst the oppressing atmosphere around him. The girl was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and bandages while Derek sat beside her on a log. Luckily, the girl was asleep. Looking to the old man, he could tell that the old man was keeping watch, even when he was cleaning a simple oversized revolver. They were about thirty meters away give or take. Alastair took his time so as not to disturb the forest¡¯s mood. He knew more than most on how to keep his peace within an already peaceful environment. It was just another testament to the years of hypno-conditioning that had been drilled into his mind and body along with the personal experience to match. The conditioning itself only worked on those born with trace genetic markers that helped in memory retention in the brain as well as the muscles. He didn¡¯t know how or why this happened, but still it happened. Sadly, there wasn¡¯t a way to replicate the process of said conditioning. The technology involved had been destroyed via his last encounter with the Warsworn facilities across Earth. Thinking about it, it wouldn¡¯t be long until said conditioning broke. He needed to find an alternative form of remembering aside from meditation and a mind palace. Sure, he remembered and kept the major things, like how to hotwire a starship or how to disassemble a human in five seconds flat; but it didn¡¯t stop the loss of information. It was a queer effect the conditioning had on him. Through it, he could be imparted centuries worth of experience and knowledge in the form of differing martial arts and survival techniques. Yet his mind couldn¡¯t retain it. A normal human within their lifetime will begin to forget things on a nearly daily basis after they reach a certain age if they don¡¯t have the right gene markers. For most, seeing as the current health care system could ensure a person lived to the ripe old age of 150 quite comfortably, this would be around 130 years or even 140. That was of course dependent on whether they survived long enough to reach said age. He was now at the stage of beginner¡¯s forgetfulness, even though he was more than a century younger. There was too much white noise in the form of returning memories. Post-traumatic stress will do that to pretty much anyone. Just as he approaches he camp, Derek¡¯s head slowly turns upward from his cleaning. The cloth pauses momentarily before continuing its repetitive cleaning of the barrel. ¡°Well that took you a while.¡± Derek bluntly states, having very little regard for the child next to him. ¡°Had an issue come up in my realm,¡± he replies, ¡°how long was I out?¡± Derek places the piece he was working on next to the others on the log before reaching behind him to throw another log upon the fire. ¡°Eight hours, give or take.¡± The old man grumbles picking up the same piece to inspect it. ¡°Next time, don¡¯t leave without taking care of your charge.¡± Suitably chastised, Alastair looks around sheepishly. ¡°Anyway,¡± Derek continues, ¡°you lied to me.¡± Taken aback by this, Alastair sifts through his interactions with the old man as he tries to understand where this is coming from. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Then Tal lied to me.¡± Derek interrupts, going back to his cleaning by dropping the current one and picking up the cylinder. To call this outburst puzzling and quite childish would be an understatement. Not bothering to question the old man¡¯s line of thinking, he sets his large pack on the ground and cradles the rifle as he sits down. Alastair watches him, wondering at age of the weapon considering its lackluster exterior. It was old, very, very old. The factory date that was stamped upon the underside of the barrel was faded to the point that once crisp digits came out as curved and fused numbers. The weapon itself was a 6-shot. Not a very well-known piece of weaponry considering the fact that this world hadn¡¯t sported or even advertised it since he had arrived. Reaching out his senses using the Power of Blood, he tapped into the feelings of the old man. He looked down through the old man¡¯s eyes, gaining a momentary glimpse of the weapon in hand. The weapon itself wasn¡¯t important, yet the memories made with said weapon were another story altogether. Various emotions were inlaid into it, love, joy, hate, and sadness. Recollections of memories flashed through the man¡¯s head as his youth passes him by. And once more, in the quiet glow of the moonlight, he secluded each of those memories back into his psyche. It was at that moment that Alastair retreated from the old man¡¯s mind, feeling as if he had intruded upon memories not reserved for him. He heard another ding, signaling that he had unlocked another skill, but he refused to open it at this time. The minute¡¯s pass in unadulterated silence as the warmth of the fire crackles in the twilight shifting through the leaves above. It didn¡¯t take long before his breathing had settled into a slow meditative rhythm. Just as he is about to fall into the black abyss of memories, he hears Derek mumble a question he had heard so many times before. ¡°What are you, boy?¡±
Meanwhile in Dictator¡¯s Demise ¡­ A pristine mahogany office suite with a lavish interior, looks out on the city from one of the Treyns¡¯ that overshadow the city. A redwood desk faces a wide sliding glass window looking out onto a small balcony that leans out upon the moonlit city. Yet, despite the hour, an old man with a full black and grey beard, a bald head, and a white robe can be seen sitting at the desk with the holo-image of an entrepreneur. ¡°What do you mean we don¡¯t have enough votes to put the bill through?! I thought this was going to work! You promised me that it would Primarch Luciana!¡± ¡°I did no such thing Mr. Gordyn. I said it may have a chance at working. The key word in there is ¡®chance¡¯, it¡¯s not a guarantee. Let¡¯s be frank here, my job is to make things flow smoother and to ensure the diplomatic process is functioning like it should be Mr. Gordyn. It is not to ensure your company gains exclusive privileges and building rights to certain areas of commerce. Now if that will be all, good evening.¡± He says softly and turns off the screen. Reaching up, he massages his temples as another long day comes to an end. The fact that he had yet to hire a secretary for this kind of work did little to calm his aching head. Slowly, he edges out of the chair and half walks, half shuffles over to the window and opens it ever so slightly. He takes a deep breath of fresh air, basking in the purity of it filtered through the massive Treyns as the wind gusts upward. Another day done.He thinks as he leans against the railing. A day that usually isn¡¯t interrupted by a pesky businessman or an activist is a rarity these days. Just another day at the office he used to tell himself. If only he knew what a day would look like considering the amount of time that he usually spent answering queries and bill proposals from progressive interns and prospective politicians alike. It had been weeks since he had seen his wife. Months since he had seen his grandchildren. Turning, he gives the office doors a quiet longing stare, hoping against hope that that would be all and he could leave. Yet just as he takes a step forward towards the gates of heaven, the herald of hell springs up once more. ¡°You have 30 unread messages Primarch Luciana, would you like me to read them to you or would you like to go through them yourself?¡± An automated female voice states from his pocket.He sighs. ¡°Anything important or from old friends that I should be concerned about Vivi?¡± he asks softly. ¡°You have 1 message from your son, 3 messages from a Major Corschev stating that Commander Ramaeus has left his post, 1 message from¡ª¡±she continues, listing each one by the order of his specified significance levels. ¡°Hold on a second.¡± Luciana says as he slides back into his chair. ¡°Did you just say Ramaeus has left his post? What is the reason for this? Did he explain?¡± It takes her a moment as she opens the entirety of each message and interprets for him. ¡°He states that he doesn¡¯t know, however 1 message from Director Tal at Intelligence Operational Headquarters states that Commander Ramaeus is heading here with someone. He doesn¡¯t give an explicit reason except for a smiley face emoticon.¡± The old man freezes at the last part of the sentence and takes out the PDA from his pocket. ¡°Open a priority holo-call to Director Tal, Vivi.¡±
A shove shakes him from his reverie. Blinking quickly, he feels the area around him only with his senses. ¡°Wake up princess, time to move.¡± Derek¡¯s rumbling voice growls above him. ¡°Time to earn your keep. You saved her, you take care of her.¡± His stomach grumbles audibly as he rolls his shoulders loose of the tension he had been harboring all night. Looking out, he is greeted to the sweet dew of a brush¡¯s kiss as it twists upon the forests setting moon. Twisting and stretching, popping sounds resound in the quietness of the underbrush. Collecting his things, he straps the pack to his back and sets the rifle onto its strap between his back and the pack. Checking the game chronometer, it was roughly two hours before first light. ¡°How much farther until this ¡®Dictator¡¯s Demise¡¯?¡± He asks, unsure of what to expect as he lifts the girl gingerly. ¡°We have about 12 more hours till we reach the outskirts.¡± The old man replies, dousing the remaining embers long since settled down to a warm smolder. Immediately after, he darts off in one direction. Hoisting the little girl to where he could safely carry her without having a chance at falling, he follows the old man. ¡°Derek hold up, I¡¯m carrying twice as much weight here!¡± Alastair says as he struggles to keep up. ¡°I will not hold up princess! Start movin¡¯ your ass before I have to come back there and move it myself! It¡¯s going to get darker before it gets brighter here and ain¡¯t no one want to be out in this part of the forest in the sun!¡± The old man retorts.¡°It isn¡¯t my fault that you wanted to save the girl, you were the one who insisted on it. All I said was to test your strength against the slavers!¡± Despite the speed with which the two were traveling, the hours would pass by in awkward silence as they made their way deeper in the forest. With each passing moment, a question would rebound off of his mind¡¯s walls. He remembered the weird look the girl had. A silver-ish tail and ears. Looking forward, he watched the old man¡¯s back. Hesitant on whether or not to pose it. Thinking it would be better to ask rather than leave the query unanswered, he asks, ¡°So what is she?¡± Derek slows as he hears the question, just enough to pull back beside him. ¡°She is of the people of Aamar. A subspecies of humans that resides within Wild Space.¡± He says, seemingly not feeling the exertion of the labor. ¡°And that would be where?¡± ¡°Wild Space.¡± Derek repeats, as if that was the answer to life¡¯s persistence problems. Turning to his charge, he sees the puzzlement stretched across his face. ¡°Of course,¡± he sighs, ¡°I forget you Spacers don¡¯t actually know anything about Wild Space. Alright then, short explanation!¡± Derek slows to a walk, prompting Alastair to do the same. ¡°5,000 years ago, the sentient races, those known at least, sent colonial ships into Wild Space. At the time, we only knew it as space and not for what we know it as today. At the time, there wasn¡¯t much trouble traversing the stars and each ship had everything it needed to start colonizing the habitable worlds further in. Needless to say, each ship had a commander that was renown in a specific area. For the humans, the most notable were Aamarius, Jiran, Faehnrich, and Strigani. With each passing month, they would report strange structures on habitable and non-habitable worlds. Structures that by themselves were unnatural in the extreme. They decided to explore said ruins and structures, thinking that there may be some clue to races and cultures that had already laid claim to the stars.¡± The old man pauses and makes a gesture in front of him that may have been a prayer of some kind. He remained that way for a good few minutes before Alastair asked, ¡°Well, what happened?¡± It took some time before the old man regained his composure. ¡°That was the moment that everything changed, and every major species within the Neos Galaxy came to know of the date known as ¡®The Severing¡¯.¡± Chapter 12 ¡°The Severing?¡± ¡°¡­Yes. The Severing. Either someone made a mistake, a colossal mistake, or something didn¡¯t enjoy the fact that there were those who were picking amongst their home.¡± ¡°I still don¡¯t understand how this constitutes something called, The Severing.¡± Alastair says. Derek sighs heavily, prompting the young man to wonder what could possibly elicit such a response. ¡°All contact with those colonial expeditions¡¯ were lost. Every single one. All of the races couldn¡¯t believe that their efforts had simply disappeared. They wanted proof. And, as every nation does when they want something, they send out forces to get it. Derek inhales, a slow steady breath as the stress accumulates upon his brow. The exertion of the travel finally staring him in the face. ¡°I take it they found something was amiss? Something that impeded their approach into the region of Space?¡± Alastair asks, hefting the girl up as his grip weakens. Derek nods, slowly. ¡°There was a wall, although I use the term¡­ loosely. Ninety percent of the ships sent were either destroyed outright, or hollowed¡­ from the inside out. Those who survived reported possessions, hallucinations, and material transference of monsters¡­ monsters that could only be repulsed or defeated through sufficiently powerful psionic individuals or specialized armament. Either way, the information wound its way back to the various capitals around the galaxy. Not knowing what this meant, only one race had acquired an answer. The Mont¡¯a, a grey skinned species, asked their priesthood, the Dhank¨¡, what the problem was. Only, they found all their senior dhank¨¡ gone and the lesser of their kind frantically bashing their cores out. It appeared that whatever had caused the falling of their ships had such a profound effect that even the psionic priesthood were terrified.¡± As he paused, he took a flask out and drained it before continuing. ¡°Each time their people had managed to shackle one from harming themselves, which by itself was a strenuous effort considering how much they revere their priests, each would repeat the same prophetic rhyme. A rhyme that would spurn a race of preparation. At the turn of our peoples last age, Comes the death of the Unbowed Sage. A convergence of worlds and a¡¯locked of minds, leaving unsallowed lovers entwined. Uncountable spheres of loch¡¯st heed, broken and torn on Janus¡¯ deed. And where the horns of evil spread into light, A burning of change released, neither steadfast nor bright. And whilst the fires of conflict scatter to the wind, families once united, are battered in sin. A conjoining of spheres, this will amend, An adventure to the Old Gods¡¯ home, Vorago, World of Hollowed End.¡± Derek takes a moment to collect himself. Looking ahead, he notices the turning of the trees from normal lengths and bushiness to majestic, overbearing, colossi of changed thickness and color. ¡°That¡¯s enough for now,¡± Stepping forward, he walks a fair bit before throwing a casual grin over his shoulder, ¡°the Great Game awaits.¡± Despite his gesture, he never noticed how it would affect his charge until it was too late. Alastair had frozen, his mind returning to the time when he had last heard that phrase. His memory blinked before him. Heart beats skyrocket. A flash of white, and he keels forward.
Subject Omega California, U.S. 2224 His fingers tighten upon the pistol in his grip. Eyes flash from side to side, senses extended to the fullest. -Eli¡­ any luck finding the target? ¨C a harsh woman¡¯s voice crackles through his comm. He glances up, taking note of the soft morning light beginning to stream behind the forest of giant sequoias. Reaching up, he taps the comm at his ear. ¡°No. Are we sure of the reliability of this intel?¡± He returns his senses around him to focus upward, knowing full well that rogue elements of the Warsworn always found a way to get a drop on their pursuers. -The intel is solid. It came directly from the Shrike. - The rich piney smell drifted down to him from the winds rolling in from the west coast. Just enough pine to obscure the metallic scent of rotting blood. That way, he thinks hefting what little gear he had over his large frame. He begins at a small trot down the hills between each of the massive sequoias. He was as much at a disadvantage as an advantage within the forest. There was only so much he could sense with his powers. Reigning over blood allowed him an unrivaled sense of finding animals and people no matter where they were provided they were within an adequate distance from him. He was essentially a psionic Bloodhound. It, however, did little to ease the nerves. Ever since the Lichtenstein Accords had barred access to all National and International land and water tracts around the globe, he found it progressively difficult to track people and Warsworn agents when out in the wild. Being without any form of human contact had set him on edge. He took comfort in feeling the ebb and flow of the blood around him. It was a noticeable reminder that life had a pulse, a will, of its own. That reminder, he could read each pulse like a book. Any hint of civilization was a veritable kaleidoscope of life. A disease ridden body here. A stressed mind there. He knew what was wrong and how to fix it¡­ or rend it. Having no connections to such an astonishing amount of life, it reminded him of the years of hell he had spent secluded from all forms of it. He had been taken to all manner of esoteric places for training and integration of his abilities. Be it within the cryptic white linoleum halls of the ghost city Apollonia deep beneath Titan¡¯s icy seas, or the rocky strands of sand woven into the fortress of Fort Valdivia placed within the heart of the Atacama Desert, each and every place away from the normal channels of civilization and social structure. It made him nervous to be in a place just like before, cut off as he was from the world.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Calm. Feel the breath of the world. He chided as he took a breath to settle himself and sent out his senses once again. He immediately catches a subtle hint of life as it flickers a hundred meters from him. It felt¡­ familiar. ¡°Be advised, possible contact in range. Proceeding to confirm.¡± He states gripping the pistol firmly before slowing his gait. A terse -Acknowledged- peals into his ear as he prepares himself for fight or flight. Glancing down at his watch, he notes the subtle hum of energy as it powers to life and shows him the muted green hue of 0540. Step by step he made his way through the hills. His nose twitches as the last embers of a fire sit flickering a few dozen meters away. Yet the burned wood wasn¡¯t what had caused the twitching, it was the half sealed burnt human flesh that had invited it. Stepping around a tree, a barren campsite greets him with an unmoving figure leaning with its back against it. Ramshackle as it may be, the camp was designed for simplicity and ease of movement should the need call for it. A duffel bag lay split open with an assortment of tools and light clothing popping from the seams. Odd. This isn¡¯t the summer season. The figure lays altogether still despite the ragged breathing escaping it. Taking his time, Eli did a threat assessment of the figure swaddled in blankets and old fashioned traveler¡¯s robes. His Senses told him it was someone familiar, yet the feeling was only coming from a bundle of cloth within the figure¡¯s arms. The blood within felt sick, like something had changed within the usual genetic fabric or a disease had spread changing the overall makeup of the story within the figure. Something was wrong. Before he could continue further, he cries out as his body is forcibly thrown through the air to smash into a tree by a fist of fire! His feet dangle some five meters from the ground. He struggles desperately to strike back, to grip his adversary¡¯s veins, anything to relieve the pain as his body slowly crumples under the psionic fire burning his extremities. Despite the flames licking at him, there was no sign that the quiet inferno was even brushing the tree he was plastered against. -Eli, talk to me! Where is the threat?! Are you¡­- his HumanEX partner frantically tries to ascertain the situation, but all he could register was the increasing amount of pain as his body splintered and bubbled from the outside in. He reigns in his powers, forcefully repairing his body as quickly as possible in order to lessen the massive amount of damage happening to him. ¡°Shhhhhhhhhhh . . . hush now¡­ you¡¯ll wake the child.¡± A familiar voice states. The figure in blankets stirred. Heavy robes reminiscent of a medieval traveler shrouded them as well as a bundle of cloth hefted in its arms. The hood comes down and garnet red hair tinted with strands of silver spills out. Where have I¡­ Mavrik?! The pressure eases as his power circulates every particle in his body into overdrive, achieving a state of autonomic regeneration only found in stories. The blazing inferno remains clasping him to the tree. He opens his eyes, flinching at the pain. His mentor, Mavrik, stood cradling a child before him. She was an aging woman. Playfulness etched into her amber gold eyes as she flitted her glances between him and the child in her arms. The child, could barely be seen amidst the pile of cloth surrounding it. ¡°Took you long enough, Little Eli.¡± She states, reaching out with a hand to snuff the fire around him, letting him drop to the ground with an unhealthy crunch. ¡°Your final lesson from me is here.¡± ¡°In the forest?¡± Eli asks, ¡°What is the¡ª¡± ¡°Your lesson is to take your sister away from me.¡± She states a soft smile crinkling her face. Sister? When did my parents ever¡­ ¡°Be warned, Little Eli. Your sister was taken with permission from your parents on the sole basis that she could be trained, her abilities reigned firmly in control. She is the direct opposite of us mutated psions. What we generate in energy and life-essence, she unconsciously devours¡­ taking a piece of us into her.¡± Eli could see the amusement twinkle in Mavrik¡¯s eyes his puzzlement stretches across his face. ¡°In a sense, she will grow up faster than anyone else. As such, it comes to this last lesson to find out whether or not she will be taught by me¡­ or by you.¡± She says, walking toward the edge of the camp. ¡°This lesson requires you to forcibly take her from me. And make no mistake, this won¡¯t be like the previous lessons you¡¯ve had.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be coming for your life. Whether you live or not is entirely up to you. Either I kill you, or you kill me,¡± she says, her back to him. Turning her head to give him a predatorial smile, she states simply, ¡°The Great Game awaits.¡±
The Humans had odd definitions of what could be constituted as a city. But then, Vaul¨¡n wouldn¡¯t have agreed to become the ¡®Dhaka Los¡¯tel,¡¯ the envoy to the Humans, if he had thought that that would matter. He flared his Sight, feeling the soft, pliable minds of the humans around and below him, perched as he was at a lofty suite within the midst of the Treyns. It wasn¡¯t just the humans he felt. All life that had the basest of instincts, he could feel their minds weighed against the fabric of Fate. Their minds pulsating, pushing the boundaries of their auras to achieve that which they desired. For most animals, and sometimes humans, all they felt was the desire to eat, drink, mate, and excrete. The fact that humans were still struggling with these precepts hadn¡¯t made much sense to him. Then again, not every species could absorb energy at its purest form. Vaul¨¡n sighed. He had thought that this would be a worthwhile post, an honor even, to learn from the human government. Yet they all seemed so inanely focused on the ¡°Great Game¡± as they called it. So much wasted potential when they based all of their executive decisions on who won the wager within a single round of the game. Returning his silent musings back to his eyesight, he opens his slits to watch the senator, Seronta Vaina, as she paced in front of him. Despite being the ¡®Dhaka¡¯, shadowed to this human female, he did not know what vexed her as she continued to pace so often. She was babbling again, saying something about some other humans. Vaul¨¡n went back to his musing, hoping there would be a worthwhile distraction within the other senatorial chambers. Stretching out his Sight once more, he tried to feel the aura¡¯s of the other attaches from the other major races. As his attention is stretched, he can¡¯t help but be drawn away as two new minds make a rapid ascent of two new minds. Correction, three minds. One of them is barely hanging onto consciousness. They seem to be rushing to the Research Hospital. Odd. He stretched his senses towards them, briefly brushing against their minds in order to gain a partial understanding of the new beings in the city¡¯s domain. One held a solid defense, as if it was a fortress of interlinking mazes. It felt familiar, like some of the old crypts back home. The second felt like that of a child, or at least he felt that way with the way she was dreaming. Such a vivid imagination!he thought as a frozen forest landscape passes beneath him. The cold not bothering him slightly as it was only his Sight making use of the child''s mind and not the place itself. The last¡­ he did not know what to make of the last. The last one felt dark¡­ like a great blackness had fallen over his eyes. It felt similar to a time when he had embarked on his final Trial for acceptance into the Dhank¨¡. He had ventured into the deepest crypt known to his people, the Los¡¯tel Thuyg. It was there that he had come to understand a sliver of the great Weave known only to the gods. Suddenly, his body lurched out of the chair, his hands writhing as they struggled to be controlled by his own will. A vision flashes through him as he tears his Sight from the black one. He could barely feel the pair of tiny hands placed upon him in order to stabilize his large frame from hurting himself. Finally, after several minutes of being subjected to the vision, he realized how close he was to tearing out his own core centered in the middle of forehead. ¡°Vaul¨¡n!? Vaul¨¡n! What¡¯s wrong?!¡± Vaina asks, her puzzlement and concern showing across her face. ¡°Vision.¡± He grunts. He watches her eyes widen, seeing a piece of himself reflecting in those almond eyes. A large, grey skinned Mont¡¯a with a deep garnet colored core resting slightly above the slits that would be called his eyes. His Dhank¨¡ markings creating puzzles and mazes as the off-white vikaad paint stood in stark contrast to his grey skin. ¡°What did you see?¡± she asks. It takes him a moment to collect his wits. ¡°There has only ever been one other time I¡¯ve heard of a Dhank¨¡ nearly tearing out their core. Is this a similar vision?¡± He shakes his head in the human gesture for no. ¡°I witnessed¡­ Los¡¯tel el Zezir.¡± ¡°¡­¡± Unable to comprehend his natural tongue, she waits for him to continue as he slows his breathing. Before long, his normal slits for eyes open enough for her to see the unnaturally dark red eyes. She seemed so small to his eyes. He takes a breath, and begins his translation of the prophecy. ¡°Watcher, watcher in the Dark. An answer for a question once thought so stark. It¡¯s mind a Veil, standing oh so broken. Carry deeds that sing¡­ sad and unspoken. Child of two mothers, bequeath questions ill-gotten. Shaped in the image of teachings old¡­ once thought forgotten. From within it screams, torment unbound. Rules of Madness, its wisdom unwound. It may not be welcomed everywhere it goes. For every door that¡¯s opened, Two doors are closed. But still it watches, waiting unseen. To steal a soul, to kill a dream.¡± Chapter 13 Blurry. That would be the extent of Alistair¡¯s state at this current moment. His mind was nauseatingly exhausted, like someone had taken a tired drunken mind and submerged it in warm bath water. ¡°Come on Princess! Stay with me here!¡± an unknown voice echoes around him. The rushing of cold air suddenly turns warm as he feels his body slowly lull in and out of consciousness. The curious mind he had felt brushing up against him had disturbed the memory, shaking him from the hellscape of losing his mentor. A blessing, he thought, who was that anyway? He feels a small thud echo through him as he is set down on something. He tries to open his eyes, only to find that the scenery had changed since the last time he had opened them. White phosphorescent lights glared at him from above as numerous faces glanced periodically with concern. ¡°Doc, go ahead and begin phase one of Project SCION. If there is¡ª¡± ¡°Now?! Are you out of your mind?! Memory generated psionic lacerations and burns are not what I¡¯d call a healthy specimen! How can I operate on a subject this brok¡ª¡± the frantic voice fades briefly as numbness overtakes his body with pieces of the conversation hinging upon a single word. Implantation? Wha-? He wonders as a mission page blinks to life before him.
Project SCION Difficulty: 6 / 10
Description: Requirements for Mission Opening:
Project SCION. A relatively unknown Alliance black ops project designed by the Heads of each form of the Alliance Command Structure; i.e. Government, Military, and Intelligence. The Project was created in secret so that the Alliance might have a specialty unique to them, unique enough to compete with the other specialized forces within each Major Power of the known Galaxy. For this project to be a success, you must allow the Alliance control of your body so they may finish the process that so many have agonized over. WARNING: Implantation process will require several different pieces being integrated within the body. Without all the pieces, along with non-rejection of implants from host, the success hinges upon your will to live. ¡¤ Race: Human or Enhanced Human ¡¤ Relationship level of Friendship with one or more of the Heads designing the Project
Rewards: ¡¤ Unlocked new species ¡¤ ??? ¡¤ ???
Will you accept? Y / N
Relationship level, the hell is that? The voices fade out briefly as a sharp dagger of pain spears his mind. The minutes pass in relative unadulterated pain as the lull of voices argue for a good few minutes before the pain edged off enough for him to gain a grasp of the last words of the argument. ¡°¡­ I¡¯m sure. Alistair agreed to be the guinea pig for the final trial. The least we can do is patch up what other issues he already has going on in that body of his.¡±
Mission accepted
Hold on, that¡¯s a bloody lie! Since when did I agree to something like this?! Just as he finishes reading the page, he chuckles within the depths of his mind before recalling the last moments of his conversation with Barbas
¡°What do you mean nano-based bionic augmentation?¡± Eli inquires. His answer seemed to be of the self-explanatory kind judging by the blank looks he was given in return. ¡°Nano-based bionic augmentation,¡± Barbas sighs taking the hat from his head, ¡°is essentially bionic genetic therapy using the nanites within Corellec¡¯s Animatus. The nanites are experimental to begin with and seeing as you are already immersed within the bath, the nanites would change your genetic structure down to the cellular level.¡± This explanation must have been too much for Eli because he was giving the old man a look like he had grown a third head. ¡°What?¡± Barbas bristles. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that infringe on a number of augmentation and cyberware therapy accords and patents?¡± Eli asks, drawing upon the limited knowledge of previous experimentation done within the field. Nano therapy had been used to solve a number of genetic disorders in the past century ever since nanites were found to be particularly effective at surgically altering a cells organic structure. ¡°That would indeed be the case except we aren¡¯t really taking the stance of simple subtraction and addition of individual strands. If given the chance, we could grow you a new set of organs straight out of a modified piece of your DNA structure. This way, the nanites can bionically grow the organ within you while changing the consistency of your mutations in order to stabilize your genetic structure on a broader spectrum.¡± ¡°Papa~. You are confusing him!¡± Jenny pipes up as she watches Eli¡¯s face scrunch up the further the explanation dragged on. ¡°Fine.¡± Barbas curtly replies. ¡°Think of it this way. Everything that happens to you inside Neos, medically speaking, can be replicated inside your Animatus to your physical body.¡± Eli stares at them mutely. To be shocked at such a revelation would have been an understatement. At least, that was until he started his next sentence in a whisper. ¡°Are you trying to turn me into a monster?¡± Jenny and Barbas gaze sheepishly at him. Not understanding where he was going with it, Barbas responds. ¡°However could you mean?¡± ¡°Think of it from my point of view. One of the premises of this game, at least from what I¡¯ve gathered, is that each species or race has a set maximum when it comes to acquired attributes. The way to change this would be through enhancements or at least augmentation.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Jenny and Barbas exchange an uneasy glance as his unsaid hint hits the both of them. In short, if he agrees to this, the only viable way that he does something even remotely stabilizing when it came to his genetic structure would be to strengthen it and his body to absurd levels. Eli begins pacing nervously as he awaits their answer. ¡°Well,¡± Jenny states tentatively, ¡°we can fine tune the nanites from here so don¡¯t worry about turning into a monster. Just go ahead and play the game.¡± ¡°Your answer doesn¡¯t exactly inspire confidence.¡± Eli states bluntly, as if to further drive his point home. Watching as neither of the two showed and outward signs of budging or at least revealing a way to settle his fears further, he sighs. ¡°Well, alright then. I guess you should send me¡ª hold on. Does this mean I need to have a different supervisor now that¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± Barbas interrupts, ¡°she and her team leader will be updated on your circumstances so that there will be no issues in the future.¡± Eli nods in agreement. ¡°Anything else?¡± Barbas asks. ¡°Nope, that should be it.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Barbas states and pulls up a page. ¡°I¡¯ll send you back. Don¡¯t get lost now!¡±
I guess this is what they meant, Alistair silently ponders, let¡¯s see if they are as good as their word. Blinking away the perspiration gathering in his eyes, he recognizes a page blaring in his field of vision.
Due to a triggered, memory created, mass lacerations and burns, your body is in reduced state of effectiveness Effects conferred:
  • All Attributes are reduced by 80%
  • Stamina & Health regeneration are halted
  • Burned (3rd Degree)
Your sense of balance is shifted
Despite the pain racking his body, he manages to lift his head enough to get a glimpse of the state he is in. The memory of his death match with Mavrik had apparently reoccurred upon his body as his psionic powers had forced his body to think it was back inside that memory. Lying as he was on the operation table, his body was covered with swathes of burned flesh and blood oozing out of each cut. Each patch of blackened skin and muscle committing the horrible memory of that day once more into his mind. Damn, he thinks, could really use a drink right about now. He notices another few pages blinking behind the one in front of him and decides to view them seeing as there wasn¡¯t much he could do now.
You have unlocked Vitali Vitalis, a Forgotten Art Tree You have learned the skill Praetorian¡¯s Touch You have learned the skill Gaze of the Lost Legionnaire
Art Name: Art Rank: Art Level: Art Experience:
Vitali Vitalis Intermediate 2 30%
A forgotten Roman Legionnaire Art meaning ¡®The life within the living¡¯. Through your years of cultivating your psionic aptitude to understand the breath of life using your mutation¡¯s power over blood, you know how to influence your Life-Essence, albeit to a limited fashion. Alternatively called Heavenly Aura, Spirit Arts, or Qigong, the style depends heavily on the area that it was introduced and the individual¡¯s moral code. Vitali Vitalis is dependent upon your understanding of your Psionic Tuning and how it can be applied within the world around you.
Skills learned within this art do not require a verbal or mental command unless skill explicitly requires it.
Skills Learned: 2 / ?
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Praetorian¡¯s Touch Adept 4 30%
The Praetorian Guard were a multifaceted organization during their guardianship of Ancient Rome. With duties being equal parts secret service, special forces and urban administrators, they had to have an adept hand at judging the mood and influence of their subjects through any means necessary. Over the centuries, their techniques became solidified enough that when a Praetorian was tasked to know the soul and memories of a target, they could respond to such a request without the target knowing. Whether to influence the mindset of a senator¡¯s stance on an issue, or to placate a seething mass of rioters, their achievements have stood the test of time. This skill condenses the Life-Essence within the user¡¯s senses to a point that a tendril could be slipped into another¡¯s Aura, allowing the user unfettered access to memories should the connection become strong enough. The reverse can also be applied should the user will it. The skill is dependent on user¡¯s concentration and relationship of the target¡¯s frame of mind. The skill can be broken should the target have sufficient Mental Resistance or have no wish to receive memories. Minimum Mental Resistance to break/ block Praetorian¡¯s Touch: 25% Minimum relationship level required for (1): Friendship / 40% Minimum relationship level required for (2+): Acquaintance / 20% 100 Psi/s Active, Channeled
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Gaze of the Lost Legionnaire Unknown Unknown Unknown
You are the Last and as such you are ERROR¡­ Confers: The Tenfold Return- Any curious mind brave enough to set themselves against your psyche are blocked and furiously repelled as if by a legion of warriors. ??? Psi Unknown
Just as he finishes reading, he chuckles silently before he hears a voice state they are administering the anesthetic. Inwardly, he smiles as the sweet embrace of sleep and darkness overwhelms him. Before the inner light goes out he wonders once more. I wonder how Daria is doing.
¡°-All hands, preparing for re-entry.-¡± AVI¡¯s voice echoes through the steel grated halls of the Eudora. With the crew already impatient for the mission to come underway, the majority took the time to sleep while they still could. Those that did knew full well that any contact near Wild Space. With AVI¡¯s declaration becoming the klaxon call that woke them up, the crew begins their normal procedures before going to their posts. Upon the bridge, those who always seem to be awake burning the metaphorical midnight oil shuffle carefully the various command prompts that were needed in order to prepare for a smooth re-entry to real-space. Castor sits upon the command throne overseeing all of their actions. Outwardly, he seemed akin to a statue, resolute and unmoving upon the iron throne that he was perched. One could wonder whether or not he was still breathing, if only one didn¡¯t take into account the miniscule movement from his plated chest as he breathes shallow breaths. Unbeknownst to the others on the bridge, he was actually connected to the ship through the various ports in the command throne. In essence, he was the ship and the ship was he. The front viewport sat open as the stars flew past like strobing cars making their way through a busy street night in a downtown area. ¡°-Preparations complete. Re-entry in 5¡­ 4¡­ 3¡­ 2¡­-¡± The ship lurches once more as the inertia dampeners fail to keep everything down. Everyone on the bridge stares out of the viewport in abject fascination. To say the Roilla system was odd would have been an understatement by far. There were three planets, two suns, and four concentric rings of asteroids. The planets, all varying in size and shape, consisted of: an agricultural water world, a small gas world, and multicolored world that was shaped in the image of a giant donut. There was no time for the crew¡¯s science division to find out any of the specifics other than that the gravitational frequencies shaping the planet in the image it currently rested. ¡°Comms, any contact from the survey team?¡± Castor inquires. The crew going back into their usual rhythm. ¡°Negative sir, and there is no hint that they are even in the system.¡± ¡°Hopefully we didn¡¯t pick up a false trail here.¡± Castor remarks, casting a glance at them before retreating his senses into the sensors of the ship. With AVI¡¯s aid, he combed the system to see if they were anywhere they hadn¡¯t looked or were incapable of looking at the current moment. -Any ideas AVI?- he inquires to the A.I. -Only that the survey team should already be waiting for us. Their message seemed urgent back when they had first sent it. I¡¯ll¡ª Suddenly, a flash of light glints off of one of the sensors. -Found you.- He remarks. -AVI bring us to the outer¡ª The location of the previous glint explodes as torpedoes dance out of the asteroid field to race toward them. -Frak, evasive maneuvers!- Chapter 14 ¡°-All hands, battle stations-¡± AVI orders through the ship-wide speakers. Scant seconds passed before the entirety of the ship rocks to one side, throwing all crew members to the floor as the ship¡¯s shields flickered. Within the docking bay, thirty Spacers reeled as the ship was thrown to the side. Stray objects not tied down were scattered, forcing the already disarrayed Spacers to duck and cover as flying tools came hurtling at them from all sides. ¡°(cough) Leon, what¡¯s happening!¡± Dee spits out through clenched teeth as she opens the ships intranet with her neural implants. Shortly after, she is smacked to the side as a power tool slams into her, leaving a debuff effect conferring Winded1 and Lingering Pain2. Her implant at the nape of her neck flairs in sudden pain as another object hits it, leaving her dazed. It didn¡¯t take long before the captain¡¯s assistant had reached her through a patchy comm as the energy was sucked out of various ¡°-(crackle) We¡¯re¡­ (crackle)¡­ ambushed! -¡± was his response, the strain of stress echoing through her implants directly into her brain. ¡°Understood.¡± Dee curtly responds before closing the channel. Steeling herself, an aura of authority engulfs her as she makes her way to her ship all, simultaneously opening another channel to the ships A.I. ¡°AVI, orders!¡± she asks. Its response is a large data file and an immediate order. ¡°-Protect the shuttle Commander Belys-¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± She replies before barking, ¡°Alright space junkies, I want you space-born yesterday!¡± Her orders send the Spacers into a frenzy as each of the mercenary companies¡¯ head to their respective groups. Jumping into her own black painted interceptor3, she jumpstarts the engine into gear with a flick from her cyberware implants. Snapping the EVA helmet into place, she hears the fighter purr as her cyberware connects with the ships internal circuitry. A moment later, she gets the all clear to disembark. ¡°-Skull Slider Leader standing by-¡± ¡°-Grease Ripper Leader standing by-¡± ¡°-Starhawk Leader standing by-¡± The respective company captains link with hers as she begins the unclamping procedures to allow her ship into space. Running through the data image files sent directly to her optical implant, her confidence wanes as she begins rifling through the various probabilities of something happening. Suddenly, as if on cue, a shower of asteroids buffets the ship, sending everyone not already in a fighter or strapped in a seat airborne as the artificial gravity fails for a moment. ¡°Skull Sliders I want you on defense maneuvers surrounding the ship. I want your squads split in pairs, allow no enemy fire to make it through.¡± ¡°-Aye!-¡± is Tai¡¯s terse yet enthusiastic response. ¡°Rippers I want you on asteroid dispersion. Make sure that the enemy doesn¡¯t get the chance to throw anything larger than an interceptor at the Eudora, otherwise the Sliders will have a hell of a hard time handling whatever is thrown at them.¡± ¡°-Acknowledged Commander-¡± Baybel states with hints of bitterness showing through her voice. ¡°Hawks, I want you on my ass to cover the shuttle. Provide covering fire and whenever possible protection of the shuttle should anything get close enough to get a clear shot. Understood?¡± ¡°-Oya, leave it to us!¡± Baybee replies. Dee promptly switches to the squadron channel, making sure that every Spacer could hear her before she set off. ¡°Alright guys and gals, it¡¯s Showtime! I want this wrapped neatly and in time for dinner.¡± She hears a couple terse grunts from the other fighters. ¡°Under no circumstances are there to be theatrics. And yes, I am explicitly talking to you two troublemakers, Baybel and Baybee.¡± She gets a couple of chuckles across the comm before continuing. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be drinking to a dead Space junkie at the end of our first mission. So, protect yourselves accordingly and don¡¯t take too many risks. Squad leaders, you have your orders.¡± Muted agreements split across the channel as the hums of over two dozen fighters begin their final flight checks. ¡°-Um¡­ Commander?-¡± a tentative voice asks. A quirky voice. Timid, yet outspoken, Dee notes as she feels the purring of the squadron¡¯s respective engines. She could feel the anticipation as they wait for weightless. ¡°Yes, Private?¡± ¡°-What are we up against? -¡± ¡°¡­Dromerian Imperial Knights.¡± A myriad of voices exclaim and curse as they hear the answer to the point that the Captain¡¯s had their hands full keeping the noise from breaking the comm channel. There even seemed to be factions growing within the groups. Those who were battle-hungry wondered how many they could kill while those panicking were wondering how they would survive. Through the brief overview of the data file she had been sent, she had a feeling there would be slim chance of success given the state of the enemy. The Dromer Empire was renowned for two things on the galactic stage: exportation of raw adamantine, the very material used to protect ships in their forays into Wild Space, and Imperial Knights. The Dromerian Imperial Knights were simply Knight Houses using battle suits. Although, to call them simple would be a vast understatement. To comprehend said understatement, one must first understand the difference between the three main armor classes: power suits, hard suits, and battle suits. Power suits are designed for the augmentation of attributes, increased carrying capacity, and multifunctionality. In a way, they can be thought of as the tactical option when it comes to military hardware. Despite this augmentation of attributes, it has very little, if any, usable armor in combat. The suits themselves, usually being designed for maneuverability and versatility, are heavily seen among the scouting or exploration elements of the galactic races.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Hard suits on the other hand, are designed purely for stopping power and pure armor. At the cost of not boosting the user¡¯s attributes, it incorporates heavy armor components, large energy capacities, and weapon linking, allowing increased accuracy and damage output. At least one of the races in Neos exclusively use these suits while shunning the others simply because of the pure ¡®tank-like¡¯ effect it has on the battlefield. Battle suits, although massive in size, are thought to be the more superior option. In essence, battle suits are the best of both power suits and hard suits yet altogether staying in a class of their own. Battle suits are usually designed for a single user and are always the most expensive regarding the other two classes. Most often, they are packed with advanced weaponry, sensors, and technology that allow it to go head-to-head with anything from the largest of military vehicles to the smallest of military space ships. To say that battle suits can out compete anything the power suits and hard suits have would be a vast understatement. Despite being overpriced pieces of hardware, battle suits have one common flaw. Their energy reserves don¡¯t last long through prolonged exposure of combat. To combat this problem, the Imperial Knights were always known to operate in squads, thereby eliminating the need for lengthy combat. Each squad was led by a dragoon, a psionic veteran who had ventured into Wild Space and survived an encounter with a dragon. Sighing, Dee contemplates whether her mercenary force could last against such opposition. The only thing she could hope for in the face of overwhelming head on power, was the terrain advantage and a superior speed and agility. With the extensive sensor array of the Eudora feeding them a constantly updating map of the asteroid field, there was surely a way that she could hold off the Knights. She just had to find it. Amongst the cacophony of voices growing ever louder, she could hear her officers struggling to contain their charges panic and anger. ¡°Enough! Captains you have your orders.¡± Dee barks, closing the channel, ¡°AVI, lift the barrier.¡± ¡°-Acknowledged, Commander Belys-¡±
In the void, silence reigns supreme. A stillness perfected as the energies of the universe wrapped around the stars. At least, that was what Aun idly thought as she held the human shuttle in place with her powers. ¡°-Divines¡­ the least they could do was give us a good chase. -¡± Mal disappointedly sighs. Looking to the side, Aun could see the bright red battle suit of her second as the impatient Knight floated among the asteroids. The scales painted into her suit a tally of kills taken until she undergoes the Rite of the Dragoon. ¡°-If you have the time to complain, you have time to gut the ship. We spent enough time tracking them back through Wild Space and I don¡¯t want to deal with the human escort while we are in the middle of recovering our Artefact. -¡± Tashas grumbles. The brown coated knight was one of Aun¡¯s more recent additions to the team. The rest of the team is silent as Tashas watches for movement and Dasir attaches miniature propulsion devices on various asteroids. It was a standard space tactic when it came to laying traps. It was easy and affordable when one needed immediate weapons of mass destruction. ¡°-Mara Aun, I¡¯m registering movement from the human warship. -¡± Tashas states as she thumbs the lock on functions for her torpedoes. Aun slackens her Gravity Grip as she turns to where Tashas is scanning. She could see the system¡¯s twin suns glinting off the human¡¯s steel fighters. She could pick out eight of them racing toward the outer edges of the asteroid field. ¡°-Really? More playmates for me! -¡± Mal happily jets over. ¡°No.¡± Aun orders. ¡°Get back to the recover¡ª¡± Just as she is about to state something, the shuttle breaks off and hurtles towards the human warship. ¡°Tsk.¡± Aun re-exerts her Gravity Grip on the human shuttle, letting the tendrils of her power slither along the universal energies to briefly attach themselves to the errant little thieves. ¡°-Incoming! -¡± Tashas yells, immediately opening an energy shield in front of her. Aun didn¡¯t have the time to check her sensors as she was immediately buffeted by a hail of plasma fire. ¡°Disperse! Deal with the targets!¡± Aun shouts as she struggles to hold the shuttle in place. Her tendrils were failing over the distance that was slowly growing between them. Looking down at her sensor readings, she finally finds what she is looking for. ¡°-Deploying first countermeasure. -¡± Dasir grunts as she fires off a round of asteroids at the encroaching fighters. The asteroids rocket towards the fighters as she prepares the following salvo. She becomes disappointed as the nine fighters dance around them, letting them pass towards the human warship. ¡°-That¡¯s odd. -¡± Dasir, grumbles as she rotates her pulse cannon. ¡°-Isn¡¯t the normal protocol to destroy the asteroids from getting to the larger warships? -¡± Her answer doesn¡¯t come immediately and Aun doesn¡¯t pay her any mind as she knows the Knight will rectify her own actions against the humans. Torpedoes and hard flechette rounds bounce off her carapace as she works on pulling the shuttle with her Gravity Grip. Need to finish this quickly before the Admiral and the Princess gets here. ¡°-Damn humans are quick. -¡± Mal states over the comm as she dances between two human fighters, her sword out of its sheathe. As the long blade glints in the star light slices down, she cuts a fighter in two and watches with sadistic glee as it implodes on itself. ¡°-But not quick enough. -¡± ¡°-These humans are¡ª¡± Tashas starts before being hit with a round of torpedoes. The game of cat and mouse continues for a few seconds before Dasir lets loose another salvo towards the fighters. The human fighters continue dancing the fine line between the three Knight attacks and the flying asteroids around them, a veritable maze of lethality at every corner. A fighter, seemingly being heroic, ploughs headfirst into an asteroid the size of a city bus, halting the movement of the asteroid and blocking it from colliding with two other fighters. Focusing on her own part of the mission, the shuttle seems to give up as all power cuts out. The engines die and she thinks that the time for victory has finally come. Finally, Aun thinks as she prepares to hoist the shuttle towards her in one giant heave. ¡°-Aun! -¡± the warning coming too late as a black painted fighter speeds past the Knights and lets loose a torpedo salvo of its own at her. With no time to throw up her shields, she releases the shuttle and throws up Gravity Dispersal. The torpedoes scatter and hit the surrounding asteroids. But she was wrong. They weren¡¯t torpedoes, they were EMPs. The electric shockwave knocks out her systems along with the rest of her Knights. As soon as this happens, she stares through the front shield pane in anger as the shuttle powers back up and races with the fighters back to the warship. ¡°Shak tanaris!!¡± she snarls as she watches helpless as her mission flies away. It doesn¡¯t take long for her battle suit to power itself back up. Despite only seconds passing from the time the EMPs hit and the escape of the shuttle, there was too much distance between them and the humans to even think of recovering the Artefact safely. She was outplayed. She had ordered her team to set up plenty of traps so something like this wouldn¡¯t even happen. And yet she had been tricked. Played with. And that angered her. As her fellow Knights were about to follow, she orders, ¡°Do not follow.¡± ¡°-But¡ª¡± Dasir begins. ¡°Do not question me youngling. We have no chance against that many forces.¡± Aun states bitterly as she does a broad star system sweep to see the amount of forces that would have been arrayed against the four of them. She knew they would be vastly outnumbered in open space. Out of the few that they had killed in the asteroid belt, there was still at least twenty more fighters in addition to whatever the warship could throw at them. ¡°-Then what are your orders, Aunthondar? -¡± Mal inquires, her excitement still showing even though she had been ordered to call off the hunt. Aun takes a moment to calm herself. Like any great hunter, sometimes the prey is too big to be gutted by a small hunter. She remembers the time when she was part of her first hunt through Wild Space. A cluster of ships with hundreds taking part in the Rite of the Dragoon. The Hunt of the Dragon they had called it. That is when she smiled, her maw filled with razor sharp teeth glinting in the star light. To bag a prize worthy enough for something of this magnitude, she had no choice but to issue one order. ¡°We wait for the cluster.¡±
1) Winded= Slowed movement for 10 seconds 2) Lingering Pain= Slowed movement for 5 seconds 3)Interceptor class fighter= approximately 40meters x 10meters Chapter 15 Oakfield Academy of Gifted Youths London, UK 2218 A gaggle of five pre-teens sprint through a faintly lit, gray marbled hallway. Bouncing and bumbling off the steel grilled lockers, they had been making their way towards the only place that had some form of protection. The Headmaster¡¯s Office, the last sanctuary in the entire school, stood proudly as its wide oak door was the only place in the entire academy that hadn¡¯t been touched by the renegade psions. They round another corner, the skidding rubber of their shoes eliciting a harsh screech as they momentarily forget the laws of physics still holding command. Jumping out of the open hallway to stop at a nearby wall, they take a moment to catch their breath. ¡°Are they still coming?!¡± a girl panics. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ bloody Boomers just had to come to this school! Fuck!¡± a delinquent says struggling to keep his cool. Two other youths take the chance to vomit as they still remember their fellows being ripped in half only a short moment ago. While most them are panicking about their current predicament, a young boy stood silent with his ear to the wall. This wasn¡¯t the way he wanted to spend his birthday. Five¡­ ten¡­ eleven¡­ He counts in silence as he figures out the next step to staying alive. He knew that if any of them held any chance of surviving, he would need to know in advance everything that was coming towards him. Even when that advance came in the form of Boomers (international slang for renegade psions drugged out of their minds to the point where animalistic instincts override human morality) making a massed assault on the academy. This was definitely not the way he wanted to spend his birthday. ¡°Hey Eli?¡± a youth asks wiping his mouth. The boy with his ear to the wall twitches before turning to him. He motioned for him to continue as he could see the boy was nervous. The youth looked around, nodding at the others as they all seemed to be wondering the same thing. ¡°What are our chances of¡ª¡± Just at that moment, the wall explodes, scattering them across the hallway. Seemingly in slow motion, Elijiah feels a certain curious sense of calm overtake him. The colors of the booming flame twisted and twirled, the shockwave dispersing the flames quite quickly throughout the corridor. The laws of relational physics contorted as brick and stone quickly ran through a host of forms, from solid to gas and then back to liquid. The sound of everything around him was stilled into silent obedience. From his position on the ground, he could see one of his fellow students was struggling to contain his viscous innards from seeping out while another had already ceased all movement. He could feel some sticky liquid matting the sides of his head. So¡­ this is what it¡¯s like to die. He thought silently, his thoughts and words oddly out of sync with the current situation. Elijiah tried to turn his head to get a look at the others but found that it was taking forever to turn his head at the right angle he wanted. His body didn¡¯t seem to want to comprehend its master¡¯s commands. And then came the snap. Time¡¯s focus resumed, light from everywhere became brighter and brighter, and the roar of the explosion came at him all at once. His position on the ground allowed him an uninhibited view of the Boomers as they came from a couple dozen yards away. They seemed like dark blots, each one carrying a different sadness as each one was carried through the light of the sun. As if that wasn¡¯t enough, he could hear them before he could see them. Each of them carrying a tune, and yet, oddly, everyone was in tune with the other. A tune that wasn¡¯t a song in any kind of fashion yet makes anyone who has ever survived a Boomer attack end up drooling in a high maintenance psychiatric ward. First came a toddler¡¯s laughter. It was the kind that danced upon the wind that rushed into the rising room. And yet, it was a freeing and simple miscommunication between what the ears heard and what the brain interpreted. Second came the whispers. Names and words and dates that all seemed to come out of focus¡­ each one just slightly out of reach of comprehension. Each one known only to the person themselves as the beginnings of fear start to become localized in the central cortex of the brain. Third came the limpness and random acts of body movement, as the Boomers got to work tearing the mind apart starting with muscle control. From where Elijiah lay, he could see the others spasming out of control almost to the point that their bodies were flailing about like a group of fish just dropped out of the net upon the deck of a fishing boat. As this happens, a slow lump begins rising out of everyone¡¯s gut as fear begins controlling everything they do. It starts at the back of the throat, rising second by second as figures out of sight control everything happening within their bodies. It rose and rose until fear gave way to panic. The pupils began to dilate. Muscles tightened and constricted. Hysteria began to break upon their minds removing all influences of rationality. And finally, fourth¡­ the mind shatters. It was at this moment that everything turned dark, his memory having come to an end.
Silence. Nothing but the cold void filled the room as Alistair woke. His eyes lazily opened at the seams, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He could feel drugs pumping into him at a trickle, and something¡­ something heavy settled in his gut. Like a knot that had settled into a pulled muscle. He closed his eyes, sifting through the memories of what had happened. He tried to understand how he had been rushed into an operation such as this. His response was scant whispers. Whispers that echoed within the dark recesses of Alistair¡¯s mind. He could still see the faint faces of his classmates staring at him from beyond the grave. He opens his eyes once again, tugging on his psionic powers to ascertain the state of his body.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. His prognosis? He felt like someone had used his body as an alchemical dispenser. His body had been purged of¡­ something, he couldn¡¯t tell what. But then, he figured it had to do with the chemicals surging through his veins. And yet, there was something¡­ euphoric about them. Could it be that he was high? Alistair lamented quietly. Yet another cage to bind him. It was one thing to be put under the needles of an over-enthused doctor with a penchant for drug cocktails. It is another to be trapped within the prison of his own mind, which was only spurred forward by the hallucinogens circling throughout his system. He returns his attention to the room he was in. It seemed devoid of beauty. It¡¯s walls a muted bleach white offset by the lack of furniture within the room while the floor was simply grey. It had a faded feeling to it, like the passage of time had done no favors for its hollowed interior. The room was an acute overture of blandness in its supreme moment. What little furniture was present, was clear of any well-wishing cards, flowers or even a boring magazine. If there were a word that would sum up the entirety of the room in its current condition, it would be sterile. Other than the IV drip hanging over his head, there was a surprising lack of medical equipment within the room. The large glass door was shut with only the bustle of the nurses making any note of life within the hospital. The only other reprieve of the current situation was the moonlight casting a soft undertone within the room as its light reflected off the linoleum floor. Alistair takes a moment to look at his hands before finding the big red button to call a nurse. Pressing it, he then reached over with a pale hand to open the first drawer of the bedside table, hoping against hope that there was something within that could sate his ever-increasing sense of boredom. To his horror, there was nothing within. Sighing, Alistair rips the IV out before attempting to swing his legs over the bed. Hm? He thinks as a he finally notices that there was a heavy weight pressing down on his lower half. Oddly, the blankets were also loose at the seams of his bed. He lifts the covers slightly to see underneath. Shockingly the little Aamar girl from earlier was clinging to his legs. She was bound tightly by bandages yet was still firmly holding onto his lower half with the intent of not letting go. He watched with a faint smile creasing his face as he could see the small rising and falling of her chest while her eyes were closed. Sleeping, guess that means that I shouldn¡¯t move for a while. Putting the sheet back down, he noticed that there was a blinking icon in the corner of his vision. He signals for it to open and is greeted with a host of new messages.
Enhanced Human Conditioning Trait has been updated due to new implant. Hyperactive Lazarus Node: Improves base ability cost Improves Depletion rate Improves genetic stability Implant host rejection possibility: 32%
Trait Name: Trait Type: Trait Rarity:
Enhanced Human Conditioning Innate 5
Your body has undergone a series of genetic and bionic changes that has accumulated into an enhanced physiology. With the cybernetic implants all over your body, with some supporting the bone structure, it would be difficult to defeat you without destroying the vital areas first. You require more energy than the average human in all situations. (updated effects)
  • Strength, Agility, & Vitality have permanent +250 bonus
  • Species peak Attribute potential has risen
  • Stamina & Psion based abilities cost 10% more
  • Stamina & Satiety depletion rate increased by 10%
Genetic stability: 43%
Hyperactive Lazarus Node A gene sack that replaces the human appendix. Streamlines the body¡¯s entire energy procession with factory-like precision. Extracts more nutrients and energy from any consumed materials and reduces the amount of raw energy in cells needed to function. A subsequent reaction of this is an increased base metabolic rate while storing excess energy, thereby refining a cell¡¯s core functions to a superior state. ¡¤ Imparts Second Wind Skill
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Second Wind Beginner 1 0%
Overconsumption of nutrients or an overdose of energy can build a pocket of energy within the Hyperactive Lazarus Node that can instantly restore nearly all the user''s stamina. These reserves can only hold a limited amount of energy. Repeated use of the Node using this Skill builds the maximum available energy. Energy available: 0 / 100 ¡¤ Stamina Regen stacks (1% per stack) increased per Energy point used Max of 25 stacks = 25% Lasts 10 sec and decreases as stack increases ¡¤ Once energy has begun to be used, energy must be purged completely before energy node can be refilled. 5-hour cooldown per full purge Active, Buff
Interesting. Alistair thought as he flicked through them, thinking of all the tactical possibilities that could be utilized with the new skill he had gained. Just as he was about to stare out the window for something to do, he catches an interesting pair of people rushing towards his room from the peripheral of his vision. He recognized Derek, the old man seemed to be a bit thinner than the last time he had seen him. Eyes held stress rings while the noticeable flair of fatigue veritably settled into his gait. As for the other person, she seemed¡­doctorly. Like a researcher who only spends most, if not all, of her time within the labs experimenting on something. She still had the slight feminine grace to her, even though she seemed unhealthily pale under the bright lights of the hospital hallway. She had her ginger curls tied in a ponytail, allowing a clean look to grace her high cheekbones. Despite this, she seemed to look forward to meeting Alistair, seeing as her bright green eyes stared back at him halting his analysis of the doctor in question. The pair reaches his glass door and promptly open it. Stepping inside, Derek begins to speak, but is halted as Alistair raises a hand. Both sides of the room remain quiet as Alistair sits up in the bed and watches the both of them. The seconds¡¯ pass by in relative awkwardness as all Alistair does is stare at them. No emotions leak out, not even a word of congratulatory praise seeing as he had somehow passed his surgery. The doctor glances between the two of them, wondering if there was some unspoken communication going on between them through psionic means. A minute tics by as nothing happens within the room. Coming to the end of his rope as the tension had hit its peak for her, the doctor takes a step forward only to be met with an astonishingly cold question coming from Alistair. ¡°What in the nine hells did you do to me?¡± Chapter 16 As soon as Alastair had posed the question, the doctor realized that the consent that she had been given was not in fact true. In response to this, she hastily tries to apologize, only to find Alastair raising his hand yet again to silence her. ¡°I appreciate you healing me doctor, but there is only one person I hold responsible for this mess. Until I have an appropriate answer from the party responsible, can you hold off on the explanation?¡± His eyes never moving from Derek¡¯s face. It was as if he held very little regard for the doctor in the room. Unknown to the two of them, Alastair had begun utilizing his powers to reduce the chances of the organ¡¯s rejection probability. The doctor stiffens and then relaxes as she hears out his request. Hearing such, she could only be thankful that he hadn¡¯t held her accountable for what had happened. ¡°Well, Derek¡ª Project SCION, was it?¡± Derek¡¯s eyes widen in alarm as he had made sure that Alastair had been unconscious when he had stated the project¡¯s purpose eight hours earlier to the Special Cases Response Unit (SCRU). ¡°This was¡­ supposed to be part of your training.¡± He states hesitantly. ¡°Training, how? I believe I gave you permission to ¡®train¡¯ me, not change my body.¡± ¡°The training was meant to see how you would adapt to the new changes taking place in your body. Our last promising subject died shortly after the second set of implantations had been administered. Seeing as you had already had a preexisting enhanced condition, we felt that it would be better to see the effects on a person who had a changed physiology that hadn¡¯t been done within our realm.¡± ¡°So, I am a lab rat. Essentially speaking.¡± Alastair¡¯s face hardens as he doesn¡¯t like where the project was going despite hearing so little about it. ¡°Yes and¡­ no. Seeing as we didn¡¯t know what kind of enhancements we¡ª¡± ¡°Your body is a treasure trove!¡± the doctor blurts out. Both men swivel in her direction. ¡°Sorry, it¡ª just¡ª your body has obviously had enhancement procedures done in a very¡­ unorthodox way. It¡¯s as if someone had¡ª¡± ¡°¡ª rearranged the very fabric of what it is to be human.¡± Alastair finishes with a predatory smile. His eyes flash through a range of emotions before settling into a cold, detached look of muted agony. ¡°Well I would hope so. I was changed during the war for reasons that are more desperate than you¡¯d believe.¡± Her expression stiffens before quickly draining of color. Derek takes this moment to step forward, confusion twisting his features as he struggled to contain the questions howling within. ¡°What do you mean, the war?¡± he asks, his eyes searching Alastair¡¯s for the answer before he could he give it. Alastair sighs. His gaze drops as he takes a moment to remember the names of the fallen. Names that had fallen so low that it was a wonder whether they were truly human. Finally, as if casting aside all that he was, he poses the one question the two would never have considered. ¡°Have you ever heard of a World War?¡± Derek takes a minute to reign in his own queries to the question he had been posed. The doctor, however, held no reserve when it came to hers. ¡°You mean like a war that is fought on every continent of a single world?¡± ¡°Yes and¡­ no.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Derek, as if having gained some insight into what Alastair was asking, widens his eyes in horror. ¡°How many worlds?¡± he asks, his voice trembling as he struggles to contain his emotions at the enormous implications of the man sitting in front of him. ¡°Seven.¡± Alastair replies, his voice retaining the cold detachment from earlier. Casting his eyes downward, his voice strains as he mutters, ¡°Each one coming with its own little brand of hell.¡± As short as his answer was, he seemed to decide that that was as far as he was willing to go to explain it because soon after he was struggling to hold his tears from dropping onto bedding. A minute passed as Derek stared Alastair with pity. The doctor, sensing that this was one subject she rather wanted to avoid, swiftly makes her way to the door only to shut it softly behind her. The minutes quickly turn uncomfortable as Derek stands in the doorway, not knowing what to do in this situation. He didn¡¯t expect that he would be forced to cater to the breakdown of a man he had only known for a scant few days at best. Pulling up a chair, he sits beside the bed and asks, ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡±
Derek watched the young man, gaunt and grim. He knew, in all his years of commanding young men and women, that sometimes, a person just breaks under the strain of stress. He had seen it happen more times than he could count. Time and time again, he had watched as his marine¡¯s teeter upon the edge of a knife with only the slightest push can send them over the edge. If he was honest with himself, he had never expected to experience it yet again. Only this time, it wasn¡¯t one of his own that were suffering. ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± he asks. His query was either ignored or fell upon deaf ears as his words held a question that not everyone wanted to hear. Derek knew what the question meant. To those who had been broken, it was either a life-line, or a whip. The intention was entirely determined by the person who responded to it. He had pulled his share of all-nighters. He was ready and willing to play the role of personal therapist in order to pull his marines from the fight of their mind and back into the real world.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. But even then, he had a handful of experience when it came to the mental breakdown of a psion. In his few encounters, there could only be one word to describe them. Dangerous. If he were to make a comparison, a marine could be equivalent to single stream. Easily navigable and easily manipulated. A single person with no powers were better at having their minds repaired using the techniques and medication available to them. Even then, there were bound to be accidents if the person ever turned violent. Usually, they could be contained within a hospital ward or a psychiatric unit. Psions, on the other hand, were a wild card. They varied anywhere from a river to a small ocean, depending on the psionic tuning and the overall strength of their powers. The reason as to why they were a wild card is because most medication in this case either acted as a dampener or as an enhancer. The drugs themselves having such an adverse effect on the psions mind that it could catastrophically damage the surroundings of anything around them. Derek had had the pleasure of ¡®helping¡¯ two psions in his day. Both had drastically different results. One ended up with the dampening reaction to the medication. The other disintegrated three city blocks with one minor outburst of a psionic tuning of telekinetic energy. He determined that the best way to deal with a psion like this would be to talk it out. Especially given that he had no idea what his powers were and how powerful he really is in an unconscious state. And so, he asked again, hoping that Alastair would open up to him. ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± The minutes¡¯ pass again in silence. He waited, and waited, and waited. He waited for the young man in the bed to speak. After an hour of waiting, a whisper seeps out from Alastair¡¯s lips. ¡°I¡¯m so tired.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± ¡°Nothing. Will you bear witness?¡± Derek blinks, not certain if he heard the Spacer right. ¡°Say again?¡± Alastair looks up to finally gaze at him. Eyes glazed over with a teary film as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. ¡°Not to everything, mind you! But, will you bear witness?¡± he blurts, more forceful in his request. It seemed as if he was not asking for absolution or exoneration, but of shared pain. Like he knew he would never be forgiven for the acts he had done and knew that he would always carry this regret and pain with him. Derek looked Alastair in the eyes, studying the dark depths hidden in the center for the meaning of such a request. ¡°I am uncertain as to what you mean, but sure. If it helps you to move on.¡± He states with a bitter smile. Alastair smiles in return, before wiping his eyes free of the excess tears gathering at the edges. His gaze hardens as all previous signs of distress are removed before locking eyes with Derek. ¡°The Bond of Brotherhood is forged. The Word freely given.¡± As if on cue, every person within the five-thousand bed hospital felt the emergence of his power. A feeling of weightlessness filled Derek¡¯s chest as the power coursed through the dark gaze straight into him. The power that he had thought to expect from the young Spacer far outstripped any he had come across within the various races of the galaxy. It was a potent, like a bonfire set amidst mere candles. It was not prone to the subtle whispers of enchantment held within the student body of Molok? Academy or the booming battalions of mobile artillery of the Psionis Brigade. In that moment, Alastair spoke, his voice unnaturally calm despite the raging emotions that had been present earlier. A voice that was not his own. ¡°The first seal is loosened. The Bloody Hand opens. Let the Hand be grasped.¡± His cornea changed to a deep blood red with flecks of iridescent gold scattered within. Power pulsed through them as if synchronized to his heartbeat, illuminating them to bear his power. The other people within the hospital felt the warmth of his power grow within each of them. Each strand of life given either healed and killed hundreds of patients. As for the staff, all they could do was watch, helpless under the weight of the ocean pouring around them. Derek was spellbound. The longer he stared into Alastair¡¯s eyes, the more he felt a pulling sensation growing within him; a pulling that he felt would cast him adrift among the veritable sea of psionic energy and life-essence pouring through. As he drifted, the golden specks in Alastair¡¯s eyes began to move. The gold specks shift and swirl, slowly picking up speed. The gaze started to bear down on Derek as he was further enraptured by the crimson gaze. It was mesmerizing to behold. All at once, the specks explode into light and color, casting the memory of Alastair Thawn, or rather, Elijiah Pierce, upon the barren walls of the hospital room. Streams of battlefields submerge Derek into an ever-turbulent roller coaster of memory as the eyes filled his field of vision. One memory in particular held more importance than the others. The patterns of millions of men and women lay strewn across stretches of Mars¡¯ craggy surface. The red planet holding true to its name, Derek watched through Elijiah¡¯s eyes as he moved from one battlefield to the next. He could feel the pain and torment as with each battlefield, he would be forced to slay more and more until the war is ended. This battlefield, the last one for this planet, surrounded him. He lay kneeling amongst the bodies of fellow Warsworn agents, his Agents, and millions of rogue psions within the confines of a city of Mars. In his eyes, this was not a war. It was a purge. He looks down at his hand to see a blood slick spear held tightly in his grip. Grooves of gold etchings peak out from beneath as the blood sloughs off. Enough drips off to lay the hints of lettering, resting neat and formal, along the length of the spear. Derek watches further as his other hand wipes off the rest, allowing him a brief moment to read the letters embossed upon the pale haft. L O N G I N I U S ¡°Soon,¡± words whisper from his mouth, words that are not his to own. ¡°Soon we shall rest.¡± ¡°You have yet to earn that privilege, Horseman of House Cornelius.¡± A young fluttery voice speaks behind him. ¡°We Warsworn cannot end this war if we cannot even end our own.¡± Derek turns slightly, feelings of regret welling up within him. He knew the woman, or at least, Elijiah did, and that in itself was something to worry about. He could feel longing, and love etched within the corners of his heart. She was lovely to look at, but it¡¯s a strange kind of beauty. She was the same as him. A Horseman of the Warsworn. One of the commanders and presiding leaders of the Warsworn Order. ¡°Yes, my love.¡± he states, looking deep into the woman¡¯s eyes. Large and luminous were they, each carrying a shade impossibly green with flecks of iridescent gold, the markings of a Horseman from a different House. Each eye partially hidden beneath wavy curls of blonde hair. ¡°We cannot.¡± And with those words he twists the spear so quickly in his hands that he impales the other Horseman through the chest. She smiles, the puncture in her space suit working quickly to allow the atmosphere of Mars to purge the insides. ¡°I will wait for you,¡± she sputters, half gasping for a breath, half trying to blurt out her last wish for the man before her. ¡°on the¡­ morrows¡­ ed..ge.¡± With this short exchange, she dies, leaving Derek to weep, silently, amidst the bones of a dead city. Pain, loss, and self-torment struggle to beat at the cusp of his minds being. Alastair¡¯s memory stirs, the power receding from the surroundings of the hospital. Derek feels the warmth dissipate within him. The crimson, gold filled eyes slow as the colors of the room revert to their worn white hue. Emptiness and the pain of loss fills Derek¡¯s body as he struggles to comprehend what he had just experienced. Silence echoes within the room, before Alastair states a final few words. ¡°Omni fine initium novum. By the words passed down by the elders of my order, let this new beginning serve as a testament to the new time I shall share with the universe¡¯s embrace.¡± Chapter 17 Alastair¡¯s crimson eyes train themselves upon the room, a queer cold glint shining within them. It wasn¡¯t long before his gaze fell upon Derek, crouching on the ground as he struggled to come to terms with what he had just seen. ¡°If you have questions,¡± he intoned, ¡°ask.¡± The statement rattled the older man, forcing him to stand up quickly. His eyes carried the red rings of sadness as he sucked in what emotions he had let loose. ¡°Warsw-, House Cornel-something- EXPLAIN!¡± Derek roars, too many questions budding at the cusp of his mind and not enough time for his mouth to speak them all. This is what I get for sealing myself through Partitioning. Alastair sighs. He knew a day like this would come. A day when his seal would start to be loosened and his true self released. Before he does anything to answer the man before him, he feels he must rectify a different problem. One by one he shuts off the mortal senses of his body. Taste, touch, smell, sight, hearing¡ª all are shuffled away as he opens an altogether different set of senses.
You have entered Terra¡¯s Astral Realm.
Changes in environment: ¡¤ Physical Attacks are nullified ¡¤ Physical Senses are nullified ¡¤ Psionic Abilities and Life-Essence Abilities are halved if not fortified by a worthy mind
Be warned. Everything is not as it seems.
So that¡¯s what the game calls it. Alastair remarks before he slips his mortal consciousness into the abyss. His own form explodes into a swirling chaos of scintillating colors, greatly at odds with the room around him as it fades to a lifeless expanse of gray. The hospital walls might have been meticulously cleaned within the mortal realm, but within the astral realm, an altogether different impression is felt. If he peered through the veil hard enough, colors and smells lurked beneath each crease, crack, and crevice of the architecture of the building. The pain of the hospital¡¯s occupants lay etched upon each room. Each wall tinged with the pungent hues of hollow blues, deep scarlets, and blazing whites, each ounce of pain more vivid than the last. Mortal constructs, be they fleshy substance or finite masonry, are flung away as the boundaries of the world cease to exist. The hospital at large humming and stretching as the fervent lack of boundaries struggled to make themselves known. In this moment, he turns his gaze to regard the old man¡¯s aura before him. It was heartening for him to watch Derek. The nadis of Derek¡¯s life-essence rested remarkably well considering his most recent experience into the realm of Alastair¡¯s memory. But he could not waste the time he had available to him. This was the only moment that he could fix the wrongs he had put the occupants of the hospital under, be they patient or staff. Whispers flickered at the edges of his mind. At times he would listen, for he knew what they were. Spirits. Denizens, remarking upon every sense of the word, struggled helplessly to tug upon the barriers set within his mind. They would be useful had he the time to listen, but to listen for too long was to set one¡¯s mind upon the rails of a cliff. Teetering upon the edge of madness and insanity should he glean anything from the mindless chatter that flitted in and around the astral realm. Reaching out with his senses, he searched every room for that which was not there. Or at least, that which was quickly returning to dust. It took some effort, but he found them. All three hundred and ninety-four souls that were still left within the plane of the living. Their auras hung onto them limply as they were closely reminiscent of the room they were in: a cold, dead thing, mockingly sculpted into a facsimile of life. But somewhere underneath them all, he could trace the rapidly draining trace of humanity. The aural spark of life was still there, albeit in a rapidly draining fashion. All they needed was some help. His consciousness recedes, rebuilding the walls around his mind once again as his body slips back into the mortal realm. Color returns to the world around him, and he knew what must be offered from him. Lifting his arms, he wills his power to seep through the pores of the skin on his hands. With the each working in tandem, they dance upon the air to make a small ball. Bindings and runes come into shape as the blood congeals and hardens into an orb. As the runes and bindings fall into place, he quietly murmurs, ¡°Servitas Vitae.¡± Tendrils of silky garnet gold essence snakes out from the orb, bounding down hallways and up stairwells. Each strand of essence splitting and spinning as they found their way to each quickly declining patient. Each strand setting their aural life-essence ablaze, quickly returning them to a healthy hue of lively brilliance. Leaving the strands to their work, Alastair regards Derek once more. He knew that the A.I. dictating its actions was watching him. Watching him from deep within Corellec¡¯s headquarters. The old man in front of him was simply a persona that it was forced to wear. It was the only possible way of interacting with the human species at large. He considered this, as well as the information he carried, weighing the two against the other as he knew the importance of each. In the end, he decided the most practical solution. Better to find out from me than through another source that might twist the truth. He sighs as he begins his story with a question. ¡°Explanation¡­ where would I start?¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Fine. I guess seeing as there are only a handful of us remaining I can start with the most obvious of the explanations. Within my dimension, I am the last member of the Warsworn Order. A militant branch of a much older, much more secret, order.¡± ¡°How do you mean militant? Older how?¡± ¡°It means exactly what it implies. Although, it was undoubtedly the more public branch compared to the rest. As for the older one, it only started to obtain significant power once they achieved sponsorship by the gens of the dead Roman Empire.¡± ¡°Gens? What is a gens? What¡¯s the name of the older order?¡± Derek inquires at a rapid-fire pace. ¡°And how old are we talking?¡± ¡°That would be the House Cornelius that you heard earlier. As for the older order, it has accrued so many names and titles over the ages that we ended up losing count. At this point in time, let¡¯s call it¡­ the Lodge. As for how old the Lodge is, I think at least a couple thousand years¡¯ worth of time would be accurate for how long it has been operating. According to history, we never really stood out that much except for maybe a few moments. Most notable of them would probably be the disappearance of the Roman Ninth Legion or the so called Burning of the Library of Alexandria. Anything that had anything to do with either making something disappear or making something mysteriously ¡®die¡¯, it would most likely be us.¡± Derek stares at Alastair in shock. To call this a minefield of epic proportions with how much information was being freely given, would be an accurate assessment.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Are there any reasons for why the woman in your memory called you a Horseman?¡± Derek asks. ¡°From what your memory made clear, it was a sort of commanding title.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Alastair¡¯s face drops in disappointment. ¡°That is a rather shameful part of our history.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Back when the Roman Empire had been at its height, there was a budding religion, Christianity as it was called, growing among the lower rungs of society. To put it simply, seeing as the Lodge had substantial interests in the empire at the time, we were called upon to ¡®purge¡¯ the religion directly at the behest of the Lodge¡¯s sponsors. Had my Warsworn predecessors¡¯ known what they were getting into at the time, the four of them would have taken a drastically different approach to their requests. When they would ¡®purge¡¯ one area of the empire, they would always leave a few alive to spread word to the surrounding areas. Until the coming of Emperor Constantine the First, the man who formally legalized the religion within the empire, they had already terrorized the Christians to the point that the agents had been vilified in Christian scripture as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.¡± ¡°Why then would you continue to carry that title even in this era?¡± Derek inquires. Alastair takes a moment to ponder how to word his response. ¡°Historically, the world never knew what really happened because our sponsors had changed the records to forget all mention of the Lodge and their impact upon the society at large. Hence, the moniker of the Horsemen being carried by the commanding members of the Houses. It was taken as a reminder of what happens should we take things too far.¡± Derek goes silent for a few scant minutes as he contemplates the information revealed so far. Deciding that there was only one question he could inquire, despite having a feeling that to ask about the green-eyed beauty in his memory would be akin to asking for an explosive with a lit fuse, he asks, ¡°What was the reason for the World War?¡± ¡°That¡­ that is a bit difficult to explain.¡± Alastair says before pausing to collate all the information into a cohesive whole. ¡°Imagine if you will, that a scientist had found a way in which they could chemically change normal, unenhanced humans, to be able to artificially use psychic powers. Psions if you will. The data had suggested several points on how to make them safely, even when the powers came at a price. The stronger the compound of drugs were used, the more unstable and powerful the psion.¡± He takes a moment for Derek to comprehend the statement before continuing. ¡°Next, imagine that the scientist in question, had sold their data to every organization and government known to mankind. But each government and organization didn¡¯t know that the others had the same data seeing as the scientist had taken immeasurable pains to ensure that each transaction was kept secret from everyone else.¡± Derek¡¯s face turns pale as realization of where this was going finally hits him. ¡°Lastly, imagine that the governments and organizations in question had thrown a significant amount of resources into producing such psions, even going so far to strain the safety measures to make more powerful psions. Now let¡¯s combine these inherently bad decisions into one final product. First, the scientist sells his data to the highest bidder. Second, the organizations and governments are unaware of the fact that their peers have the exact same data and everyone is in the process of weaponizing such data. What do you think every government and organization would do when they have obtained enough of these artificial psions?¡± ¡°They would go to war.¡± Derek whispers. He knew how much damage a psion could do, not to mention if there were even a few of them grouped together. Imagining that there were armies of such individuals and they were being ordered to war, he shuddered. Images of flattened cities and changed landscapes reemerged in his mind. Devastation and chaos on a planet wide scale. ¡°Then what was the Lodge and the Warsworn doing in the war?¡± Derek inquires, the last question with which he would as for the immediate moment. ¡°We did what we did best.¡± Alastair replies. ¡°We contained it. Above all, the Lodge was created to safeguard mankind from the worst aspects of itself. Sometimes it would mean killing cities worth of psions. At others, it was the protection of information or people from the rest of mankind.¡± ¡°If that is the case, why didn¡¯t you protect mankind in your dimension from the emergence of the information released by the scientist?¡± ¡°Because the Lodge isn¡¯t meant to be preventative. We were created to contain. In hindsight, we probably should have ¡®disappeared¡¯ the scientist along with their work. But then, humanities unification to stop the outbreak of psions, once they had completely lost control of them, wouldn¡¯t have happened if we had stepped in.¡± Derek remains in silent contemplation as numerous other question run rampant through his mind. Despite being so open with the information being shared, he knew that there would only be so much that he could pry out of Alastair. Unbeknownst to the two, numerous pings sounded during their conversation for Alastair. Having the brief, moment of silence to look over, he reads them one by one.
You have satisfied the conditions for the Title: The Crimson King* ¡¤ Have a backstory worthy of a leader ¡¤ Governance of the Blood Affinity Generates the Life-Essence (LE) option on the Status page Wisdom and Intelligence have increased by 500 Presence and Vitality have increased by 700 *Title is generated entirely on backstory and psionic tuning
Achievement Unlocked! Legend in the Making! +300N
You have inherited the Authority of the Crimson King You have learned the Skill Reign of Blood You have learned the Skill Alchemy
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Authority of the Crimson King Basic 1 0%
A domain in which every living being is subject to your rule within a predetermined distance of your person. It provides a physical imposing manner and pressure formed from a mixture of killing intent, life-essence manipulation, and blood manipulation. Whether this is beneficial or not depends entirely upon your nature. ¡¤ All allies within 25 meters, regardless of realm, are afforded a 10% increase in average damage, receive 10% less damage, and are immune to Fear debuff. ¡¤ All enemies within 40 meters, regardless of realm, suffer a Fear debuff Passive
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Reign of Blood Adept 1 23%
A realm of blood that allows free control over anyone and anything that bleeds. Current realm of influence: 20,234 m2 ¡¤ 400 (PE) & 400 (LE) to activate ¡¤ 200 (PE) & 200 (LE) to sustain Active, Sustained
Skill Name: Skill Rank: Skill Level: Skill Experience:
Alchemy Intermediate 7 35%
A crafting skill that hinges upon the use of reagents, essences, and shards. Requires knowledge, but not the skills, in the fields of: ¡¤ Abjuration ¡¤ Conjuration ¡¤ Evocation ¡¤ Transmutation Stages of Alchemy needed for success: 1. Comprehension 2. Deconstruction 3. Reconstruction 4. Application
Chapter 18 Siha woke to an empty room. The hospital blanket coiled and bundled around her as she struggled to leave its grip. During this, she realized that she was no longer snuggled cozily next to her savior. His scent had disappeared. Where could he be? she wondered. Where has he gone? With the lights off, her only choice at this moment was to smell for the Soft Skin who had saved her. When she took her first sniff, however, she halted. There was no one in the rooms surrounding her. Curious as to why, she wraps the blanket around her and sneaks through the hallways of the empty hospital. One by one, she followed her senses as she sought the Soft Skin enigma. He acted quite differently than what the stories told. The stories told only of Soft Skins who would come to her world only to fight and enslave her people. With that in mind, her first thought was that he would do the same. But seeing as he had saved her in her most vulnerable moment, Siha had an overwhelming degree of trust in him. Siha knew that while she slept, he would always keep an eye on her. He almost felt like the sacred guardians of her people. Nauglamr, or Silent Fangs, as her people called them. Protectors of the spirit realm. He just had that mystical edge to him that reminded her of those mythical protectors. As Siha bounded down one hallway and down a staircase, she grinds to a halt as she catches a whiff of the Soft Skin¡¯s scent. Skulking through the faintly lit hallway, she stops at the door leading to the physical therapy area. Slowly peeking her nose around the door, she smells Alastair in the middle of an open room. Opening her eyes, Siha is greeted with a darkened room. The moonlight shines brightly through the windows, affording her an uninhibited view of the Alastair sitting in the center of the moonlight. With half-lidded eyes, she shivers as the glowing garnet eyes stare off into space. He seems¡­ at peace. Siha thinks as she shuffles past the doorway to join him. Before she takes a step inside however, a clanging noise echoes out behind her followed by fervent cursing. As curious as any child can be, Siha sneaks toward the source of the sound. After crossing a bend in the hallway, she spies a barely opened door with light sneaking out through the crack. Shuffling forward, she makes out some bits of a one-sided conversation. It didn¡¯t take Siha long to recognize the voice. ¡°¡­f I wanted some half-baked theory, I would have asked for it sergeant.¡± Derek says bluntly. ¡°All I need from you is the Artefact.¡± Unintelligible bits of sound whisper through the pda held to his ear. ¡°Then maybe you shouldn¡¯t have alerted them! I have enough on my plate as it is, so just deliver the Artefact to¡ªno. No, no. I don¡¯t care what Captain Castor says. My clearance supersedes his in this regard. If push comes to shove, tell him to take it up with me.¡± Derek continues before ending the conversation, ¡°Do not, I repeat, do not under any circumstance deliver the Artefact straight to the scientists aboard Ramaeus Station. Bring it to Argus Tower.¡± Just as soon as he finished he snaps the pda down and punches in another number. ¡°Connect me to the Primarch. Authorization code: 87¡ª¡± Seeing that the conversation had changed, Siha vanishes back into the shadows. Siha knew that the safest place for her amongst a planet full of hostiles, was being near one who acted honorably. It would be a while before she could get back to her home planet.
This is more than I expected. Derek thinks as he surveys the area. The conference room was bathed with light as several chairs lay either empty or half filled by the holographic figures of several senators. At first, Derek had meant for his call to update the Primarch on the next phase of the Project SCION. What Derek didn¡¯t know was that he had been pulled into an impromptu hearing by several senators. He recognized each of them. Each one of considerable influence while also keeping the company of an envoy. Keeping his eyes low, he evaluated each of them in turn. On the left side of the table sat Senator Vaina and Senator Promin. Vaina is a petite woman who has a penchant for sticking her fingers in quite a lot of pies. He knew this because she worked in tandem with Director Tal. Sometimes working to cover his political side while she was told interesting tidbits of information to give her a leg up in the ¡®Great Game.¡¯ Promin, on the other hand, is an elderly man with a mane of grey hair and bright orange eyes. Being the head of the Psionis Brigade had its perks seeing as they often held a sizeable vote whenever it came to the betting rounds. On the other side of the table sat Senator McCoy and Senator Banett. McCoy is a wiry fellow who holds the popular majority vote regarding several sizeable regions of Mars Shipyard Conglomerate. The Mars Shipyard Conglomerate usually never weighed in on political matters. Every now and then, however, they would stretch their considerable reach. Oftentimes, only in matters that involved the entirety of the Human Alliance. Banett, however, held an altogether different pressure. Banett was the head human ambassador of the alien embassies. Should anything happen to the envoys, or the envoys do something that requires human oversight, he is the one who deals with it all.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The four senators from different parts of the Sol system had joined the Primarch in the hearing. Usually when any hearing numbered more than three senators, it meant that something big was happening behind closed doors. Given Derek¡¯s lack of oversight on his own self-proclaimed vacation, and being the overall commander-in-chief of the human military forces, it isn¡¯t hard to see why. After the last hour or so involved him getting chewed out by this swarm of politicians, it looked to be that they were going to go their separate ways. ¡°Great,¡± Derek mutters too low for the transceivers to pick up, ¡°nothing like being shish kebabbed in your own meeting.¡± He had hoped that he could broach the subject of the Spacers with them. ¡°What was that?¡± Luciana asks, his temper cooling. ¡°Luci, if you¡¯d¡ª¡± ¡°I would caution your choice of words, Ramaeus.¡± Vaina says calmly. ¡°The Great Game requires us to not be away for an inordinate length of time. If you have something to say, speak quickly.¡± Derek breathes in deeply before steeling his resolve. If he was to have any luck with this coming topic, he would have to state it succinctly. ¡°I wish to put someone forward as the Spacer Representative within the Great Game.¡± ¡°¡­¡± Unease, mottled with trace specks of uncertainty spreads thickly throughout the room. It wasn¡¯t visible on the politicians faces, but it was still there. Cutting through it would be one of the harder things he had done today. ¡°Isn¡¯t it a bit early before we start allowing applications for the role of Spacer Representative?¡± Banett inquires, his voice low and heavy. He knew more than most why it was such a sensitive request. ¡°Indeed. It is too early for the Spacers to have their own representative in the Game.¡± Promin added. As the group breaks into a full-blown conference trying to find the various reasons for the Spacer representation, Derek shuffles from one foot to the next, trying to find the right words to say. He knew something like this would happen as soon as he broached the subject, but he didn¡¯t know how it would be resolved. It was one of the many things that he didn¡¯t know how to do. Despite Derek¡¯s trepidation on the matter, he didn¡¯t recognize that the conversation had ended. The senators had already started staring at him in the quiet room. ¡°Sorry. You were saying?¡± Derek asks as he folds his hands behind his back. ¡°What are your motives in this, Ramaeus?¡± Luciana responds, knowing full well that Derek doesn¡¯t bring up something without due importance. ¡°I¡ª¡± ¡°You found a Ruler.¡± Vaina interrupts, comprehension dawning on her face. The other senators break out of existence as they rush to find out what it is they know. Hushed whispers sound from each empty chair as their aides struggle to find the meaning of such a statement. ¡°Clarification please?¡± Luciana asks. The senators return to their seats, pensive thoughts leak across their faces. Faces carefully crafted into masks of stone. ¡°A Ruler is someone with the capability to rule. Not in the same way as we know it, but as either a single, or multiple, themes. Each them a rulership given by the Gods. More often than not, they are only known by their theme¡¯s influence in their dimension.¡± ¡°How is that possible? It hasn¡¯t even been a week since they got here!¡± McCoy remarks. ¡°You have to remember that our rules of leadership do not necessarily apply in the same way on the other side of the Veil. To them, it is more like a set of guidelines to which someone may be elevated. Only the Gods know of such things.¡± Vaina replied. Turning to Derek she asks, ¡°So who is it, Commander?¡± Derek shuffles once more in place before responding. ¡°Originally, he was meant to be a participant in Project SCION. As it stands, his name is Alastair Thawn. I was present when he seemed to unshackle a piece of his power. Apparently it was enough for the Gods to name him The Crimson King. From what I can tell, he holds governance over certain aspects of life energy.¡± Promin sits up quickly, excitement growing in his eyes. It wasn¡¯t long after that he started firing questions off at a mile a minute. ¡°What kind of life energy? Is it restricted to his psionic tuning? Is it usable in the Astral Realm? What is its purpose? What are its limitations?¡­¡± Before Derek could answer, Luciana rumbles out, ¡°I believe the more pressing question is how long before he turns on us.¡± Derek pauses, unsure of which question to answer first. ¡°If I can get him to finish the Project, I should be able to keep him on amicable terms with us. If not¡­ well we can¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t even think of pushing it off till later. If he becomes unstable, who do you think will bear the brunt of the feedback from the public?¡± ¡°Erm¡ª¡± ¡°If there is to be any way to be sure, we need to find his limitations and use them as leverage.¡± said McCoy. ¡°I believe a suitable way to find out such limitations is through the Commanders previous statement. Put him forward as the Spacer Representative.¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± Promin and Banett state. All eyes turn to Derek once more. ¡°Do you believe he will accept the position?¡± Luciana asks, his tone hardening. This was not an avenue of choice that he was comfortable with. ¡°If I stress the situation correctly, yes. He seems to be of an honorable sort so asking him with a specific purpose in mind would help drive him towards accepting.¡± Derek replies. From what little he knew of Alastair, he could bend the facts enough to where he could be coerced into the position. ¡°It would have to be a temporary position then.¡± said Vaina. ¡°From what I can tell, the Spacers are an adaptable lot and are almost always on the move.¡± ¡°In that case, do we have any Games that require an extra player?¡± Promin inquires. ¡°I believe the alien envoys are in need of a healer forthe team match, ¡®Battle Circle¡¯, in a couple days and need a player.¡± Luciana states. ¡°¡®Ask¡¯ him if he is interested. Call it an ¡®instructional demonstration of the capabilities of the Spacers.¡¯¡± Derek sighs before nodding his head in acquiescence. ¡°Very well.¡± Chapter 19 Alastair slowly lowers his arms, the staff in his grip loosening. Releasing his breath in a steady stream, he places the staff in its corresponding slot on the equipment rack. His movements are slow, as if retaining some manner of ritualistic poise of purpose. Each movement, thought and psionic pressure imbued with a pattern of life-essence. The movements having imprinted themselves upon the air. Stepping back, he slips into the astral realm while activating the Quickening skill to finish the routine. Normally, activating the skill made all his senses rise to their peak. Seeing as he had slipped into the realm of spirits, it made no sense to have all of them rise only to cut them off. For Alastair, there were few things that he could enjoy. The pain he had endured, the friends and family he had lost. The only way he knew how to drown them out, was by cutting off all traces of them from the real world. It was a technique that involved bringing every sense of his human body to its limit, to cut it off at its height. Partitioning as he called it. Partitioning left Alastair with nothing. Not the feeling of memory, nor the trappings of sensorial input through external means. There was only one other time that he had utilized such a technique. It was when he had finished the eradication of those going insane within the Warsworn order. In essence, meaning all of them. The technique would partition the senses, cutting then off so completely that Alastair¡¯s memory would be forced to segment a portion of his personality along with it. He knew now that some of the memories that should have been filed away, were leaking through. Hence the reasons for the nightmares. There was only so much a person¡¯s mind could be filtered and restrained under lock and key. Such locks needed to be checked on occasionally. At this moment, Alastair sits checking those locks. I don¡¯t have much time, he sighs inwardly, the astral realm affording him little respite against the whispers that echoed within his own skull. The release of the first seal has accelerated the erosion of my mental blockers. God forbid what will happen should they come off completely. Slipping back into the mortal plane, he spots a shadow hiding in the corner. Alastair narrows his eyes as he spots the little girl he picked up a few days previous. She was somehow mimicking his movements from before, as if trying to learn how it is he could move so. Should I teach her? he wonders. It might help should she be caught again by less than desirable company. Before he calls out to her however, he pulls up his status to see where he was at.
Status Window
Name: Alastair Thawn Alignment: Neutral
Level: 6 Class: None
Race: Enhanced Human Gender: Male
Title(s):
The Crimson King
Achievement Score: 375 N
Fame: 200 Infamy: 0
Currency:
0
Health: 5,330/ 5,330 Health Regen: 25.2 / Sec
Stamina: 4,500 / 5,330 Stamina Regen: 25.2 / Sec
Psi: 7,703 / 9,500 Psi Regen: 45.3 / Sec
Life-Essence: 4,432 / 5,000 L.E. Regen: 20.6 / Sec
Satiety: 73 / 100
-
Strength: 369 Agility: 377
Vitality: 1,066 Dexterity: 135
Intelligence: 953 Wisdom: 950
Presence: 1,150
-
Attack Score: 365If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Defense Score: 0
Physical Resistances
Slashing: 0 Piercing: 0
Crushing: 0
Elemental Resistances
Fire: 0 Water: 0
Wind: 0 Earth: 0
Mental Resistance
0
Coming along nicely. ¡°Oya, Siha!¡± he calls, the words coming out less like a call and more like a gruff bark. ¡°Would you come here please?¡± Alastair watches as Siha stiffens slightly, her diminutive form still stuck in a stance with an imaginary staff. Her mind whirls in circles as she tries to puzzle out how he had learned her name. She knew she had never introduced herself to him. And yet he knew her name. More than that, his gaze was resting upon her form, studying it, discerning it for imperfections. It came accompanied by some kind of pressure. A pressure that seemed to expect something from her. Moving into the light, Siha comes to stand before him. Her silver tail tucked into her clothes and her ears flattened atop her head. Despite keeping her gaze firmly down, she glanced nervously up at him from time to time. In response, Alastair remains sitting at her eye level. ¡°I believe we haven¡¯t been properly introduced. I am Alastair Thawn.¡± He states patting the ground before him. ¡°Sit and speak with me.¡± Siha sits as bidden, wondering what made the man speak to her in such a way. Her only experience with Soft Skins had been of derision. She would only be spoken down to. Not as an equal, but as a slave. The minutes pass in silence as she sheepishly looks at him. ¡°Where do you come from, Siha? Where is your home?¡± Alastair asks, his tone curious. The edge of his voice softened by consideration of her situation. The voice that answers is like that of a child just out of breath. Breathy and full of warmth. Trace quivering in her voice made it apparent that she was quite nervous. ¡°¡­Zylvrmon Tribe, hail from planet of thou¡¯sand lights.¡± She says through a broken accent. He couldn¡¯t place exactly where. Her understanding of the common tongue coming from fragments of the slavers who had brought her to Terra. ¡°Planet of thou¡¯sand lights and buried ice. Forests glee''m in star-bright dance.¡± Crossing his arms, Alastair tries to imagine such a place. ¡°Sounds like a magical place.¡± He breathes. ¡°Much like my own.¡± She looks at him with a puzzled expression, her head tilting to one side. ¡°Maj-eh-kal? What is maj-eh-kal? What yours?¡± she asks. In response, he offers his hand. ¡°Allow me to show you.¡± Gingerly, she reaches forward, puzzled at what he meant. As she grips his hand with her tiny fingers, the room fades away to a campsite situated on a cliff of some unknown mountain. The campsite sat somewhere near the top of a majestic rolling mountain range. Their forms become wrapped in insulated heavy cloth. Enough to keep the snow and wind out. Being so high up, it afforded them a wide panorama of not only the world below, but also of the beyond. The space that shined its ever-reaching light down on the rolling hills and craggy cliffs that were readily apparent within the heart of the range. Panning around, her eyes grow big and round in delight. Here the two sat atop a windy mountaintop, lit only by the warmth of a fire a mere foot from her, and soft moonlight. The wind whipped at the fire, sending licks of flame dancing upon the air. A clear sky, devoid of both clouds and the embrace of silent darkness. A large, luminous, full moon greeted her as she looked skyward. Millions of stars kept it company, allowing her an uninhibited view of the moonlight as it shone down on the forest below. Looking over the edge, her eyes grow ever larger as the moonlight reflects off the glittering snow hanging upon the forest like a morning dew. Each branch a vein of miniature gems gleaming softly in the pale night light. Snow nips at her feet and fur as the wind threatens to softly encapsulate her in its embrace. Turning to Alastair, she gives him a wide-eyed grin as her delight makes itself readily apparent to him. ¡°Tis home?¡± she asks. ¡°Aye.¡± He replies. ¡°This is the only place I knew before I was taken away.¡± She stays silent in contemplation of such a sentence. The minutes pass as she scoots herself closer to the fire. ¡°What is called?¡± Siha squeeks, hope and wonder shining through her voice. ¡°The Yukon Territories. Earth¡¯s last surviving frontier. Unmarked and untouched by the rest of mankind.¡± Alastair breathes before pointing up. ¡°Watch.¡± At that moment, a stream of eerie greens, purples, and pinks whisp across the night sky. A veritable dance of ethereal energies playing in the atmosphere for them to enjoy. ¡°What is glow?!¡± Siha whispers in awed admiration. ¡°Is spirits play?!¡± ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡± Alastair chuckles. ¡°There are still some corners of the world that retain their beauty.¡± The memory lasts a moment longer, allowing Siha the moment to enjoy a piece of Alastair¡¯s story. The surroundings darken, and the pair are back in the training room. With the memory ended, Alastair let¡¯s her hand retreat into the fold of her clothes. ¡°You seem interested in me.¡± Said Alastair. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°You save?¡± she replies before throwing her tiny hands up in curled fists. ¡°Wish fight!¡± Alastair gives her a more discerning look. Now that he saw her as the child she was, he noticed certain aspects about her that could either be cause for concern, or an advantage which she could use. Despite her age, it was known to him that she seemed to be undergoing puberty. She was pretty, in a waifish sort of way. Her features sat faintly tarnished by the underfed and slightly dirty sheen of her complexion. The skin hung limply off her bones, like it had been stretched and marred with age to the point that it was hard to discern her true self. He knew much of this could be changed through appropriate nutrition and a lengthy bath. As he considers her eyes, he notices something unsettling hiding deep within. There was something cold about her. Something that would make anyone make a double take at her innocent form. Deep within her eyes, she held the cold neutral gaze of a predator. A predator with her back to a wall. Alastair gives her a steely gaze before asking, ¡°Why do you wish to fight?¡± ¡°Ummm.¡± Siha looks around frantically as she tries to find the right words. ¡°Pro-protekt? Is that word?¡± Alastair nods in affirmation. ¡°Yes! Protekt self!¡± Siha confirms. She transfers from sitting to kneeling, knowing full well the extent of her actions. ¡°Please teach!¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Alastair drawls as he mulls it over. ¡°Are you sure? There is more to protecting yourself than mere fighting. Why are you insistent on me teaching you?¡± ¡°You know Soft Skin Tribe. Ways of, what is word¡­ Kus- kust¡ª¡± ¡°Customs.¡± Alastair provides. ¡°¡ªkustoms! You know behayv''eeor. Wish to repay debt!¡± Alastair stares at her for a long moment. Siha¡¯s ears flatten once more as she watches him nervously. She seems sincere enough. He thinks as he searches through her gaze once more. Predator she may be, but disciplined she is not. ¡°I cannot teach you how to fight.¡± He states. ¡°Call it a difference of opinion but I don¡¯t do that sort of thing.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°I can only teach you how to discipline yourself. How to interact with the world around you.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Siha asks, her eyes threatening to become entrenched into the murky depths of a raging waterfall. ¡°Because,¡± Alastair says, ¡°There is more to resolving conflicts than just swinging your fists. Sharpness of mind, clear-headedness, focus. Your focus is just as an important tool of your trade as any blade, rifle, or claw. Even more so in my opinion.¡± Understanding dawns on Siha¡¯s face as she nods furiously. ¡°For now, your focus should be directed towards recuperation.¡± Said Alastair, his tone softening. ¡°There will be time enough for you to learn once you have healed completely.¡± Siha nods once before leaning over, resting her head on his lap. It didn¡¯t take long for Alastair to realize that as soon as she had done so, she was fast asleep. It seems the exertion of the memory combined with her previous playing around made her tire quite quickly. He sighs. The sound of two pairs of footfalls beyond the chambers of the training hall alerts him to the visitors before they had even crossed the threshold. Opening the door, Derek¡¯s wizened face darkened with age and relief as he looked at the pair within the room. Shuffling to the side to reveal the stature of the woman behind him, he presents her in immediate fashion. A white kind of dress that loosely resembled a toga hung simply upon her petite yet curvaceous frame. Her skin was olive and perfect, contrasting starkly with her dark hair with brown highlights and streaks of grey. Her almond eyes regarded him softly as she walked into the room. She held the kind of beauty that Alastair likened to a chipmunk. Cute. Cuddly. And deadly. Eyes and ears that are everywhere and should they strike at you it is a toss up of whether you will live or die. ¡°Alastair! My I introduce you to Senator¡ª¡± ¡°Vaina. Seronta Vaina.¡± The woman said. For a brief instant, her face flickers pale in recognition before returning to her previous playful mask. ¡°Commander, you didn¡¯t tell me he was this young.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t believe it merited a notification.¡± Derek replies placidly. ¡°Besides, since when has age been a factor when considering an applicant for race representation?¡± ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Vaina sighs before handing a datapad to him. ¡°Here is the information on the current envoys. Make sure he is brought up to speed.¡± Taking the datapad, Derek peruses it before nodding. ¡°Remind me why you wanted to see him?¡± He inquires. ¡°Uh hello, I¡¯m right here y¡¯know.¡± ¡°I wanted to check with my own eyes if the information we had on him was accurate. You don¡¯t stay in the information business as long as I have without verifying all of the data yourself.¡± Vaina replies. The two of them completely disregarding the other pair in their midst. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ve stayed here too long. I¡¯ll see the both of you at the Assembly.¡± And with that she walks back out. Derek¡¯s eyes follow her close behind, savoring the moment, before muttering something about loose pants. ¡°Alright princess, time for another trial!¡± Derek says. ¡°The research staff on the project need to get an accurate assessment of the integration of your new implant. So, I managed to finagle my way into getting you a temporary license for being the Spacer Representative.¡± Alastair pauses for a moment before nodding slightly. ¡°When will this trial take place?¡± ¡°Tomorrow!¡± Derek replies. ¡°You will be a guest performer for the Alliance Games Assembly. There is a team battle happening tomorrow and the alien envoys need an extra player.¡± Leaning forward, he presents the datapad to Alastair. ¡°This is a rough dossier of the various envoys¡¯ you will be meeting tomorrow. Each envoy is usually attached to a corresponding senator so be prepared for an interesting day.¡± Alastair drops his gaze to read through the list. Dhaka e Vaul¨¡n,Mont¡¯a:A race of grey skinned humanoid giants who profane that knowledge is its own reward and the collection of it is of the utmost paramount. Most known for their monastic orders and acute battlefield awareness. Have been known to have eclectic personalities. ¨C Vaina ''Alice'', Sjieri:A race of super-intelligent, telepathic morphs. They evolved on a world with highly fluctuating gravity, immense traces of solar radiation, and spatial leaks of dark energy. They are currently engaged in a devastating nuclear war with members of their own species across several different planets. Asking for a completely unified government would be a bit much to ask for. ¨C Promin Zynur Stormstalker,Zyleones:A race of monotremes. Highly untrusting. Highly skilled. Have innate affinities with technology affording them an unequalled specialty in creating advanced technologies. Most commonly, through their use of extensive cybernetic implants behind their eyes, they can record and share their experiences and memories. Witnessed an independent contractor take apart a defunct piece of shielding technology in the midst of battle only to mutate and manipulate the parts to where it became strong enough to rival a cruiser''s broadshields. ¨C McCoy Ymyr du Dromr, Dromerian:A race of reptile people. A matriarchal empire founded upon noble housesand known for both their high-impact shock troops and specialized Knights. They currently hold majority mining rights on raw adamantine. Highly aggressive if their territory is usurped and well known for revenge practices. ¨C Banett P.S. Presenting gifts can have differing effects on each envoy so be careful with what you decide. ¡ªVaina HIATUS Hey guys! Sorry that this isn''t a premature chapter but I thought that it would be a good step for you guys to know that I have come to a decision that works out in the long run as well as gives me some time to rethink some of the aspects of my story. There is, however an issue that I have to air out in the process.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! I apologize but I have an increasing amount of work dog-piling me. Real life seems to have a habit of kicking my ass and seeing as there is no forseable timeframe as to when it will let up, I am putting the story on an indefinite hiatus until I can free up some time for me to continue with the story. As most of you know, this story is mostly a hobby of mine so as soon as I come up with the time, i.e. whenever my boss lays off of scheduling me with projects, I will be sure to start writing again.