“You know it didn’t have to come to this,” Aceso says in dismay. “You had many opportunities to solve your problems with your family and friends, a chance to reset your life.”
He pauses for a moment as his hand moves slowly for his sword.
“But instead of coming back and making amends, you chose to avoid the problems that have plagued your life, placing blame on others and viewing the truth as insubstantial lies. You have chosen an unorthodox way that refuses to see the light, refuses to change for the better. You’ve left me no choice, my friend.”
Aceso turns his head and looks up at the sky. He can see a storm is approaching, a nasty one it seems. In front of the storm is a stray cloud quickly approaching the sun. To him, this darkness resembles the darkness creeping up inside him, telling him to kill his friend who has betrayed him. Since Argus’ return, he has been battling this sinister entity, arguing and fighting back its growing presence. But now it’s a battle he’s losing.
“You know there’s only one way to end this,” Argus says, taunting him.
The words repeat inside his head. Yet, each time, there’s a different dark voice. The crescendo of voices grows louder as the cloud covers the sun, masking the light outside and within Aceso.
“You’re right,” sighs Aceso. “There is only one way.”
Aceso slowly pulls out his sword and stretches it outward. The blade shows the despair in his eyes, the guilt he believes he must bear for the rest of his life. He walks over and stands above Argus. He lifts his sword into the air and points it downward.
“I’m sorry.”
He closes his eyes and lifts the blade high in the air. Do it. Do it. Do it! Do it! Using his momentum, he jabs the blade forward. He has wished it wouldn’t have come to this. He didn’t think he would be the one severing the bond that they had built. A tear runs from his eye.
Then the cloud moves past the sun, allowing light to shine through. It strikes Aceo’s face, reviving the fading light in him. Stop! He opens his eyes. He halts himself as the blade lies inches from Argus’ breast. Aceso turns his head around, wondering where the voice has come from.
There is still time! He can still be saved. Don’t give up! The darkness inside him is pushed out, expelled from his mind. The light inside only soars as his confidence grows.
“I can’t kill you, my friend. I am committed to saving you from this gloom and despair that have overcome you. And I hope you understand why.”
Aceso pulls back his sword. Despite being captivated by the negative thoughts, they can’t grip his ignorant mind. He believes Argus can be saved, rescued from the hell he has bought into. His strongly held passive side has made him unstable.
A big grin grows across Argus’ face, as he finds it unbelievable that Aceso would squander such an opportunity. Another stray cloud approaches, blocking out the sun.
“You are so gullible, Aceso,” he snickers.
Seeing his opportunity, Argus pulls out his Silvras and stabs his opponent’s right calf.
Aceso screams in anguish.
Aceso stumbles back as Argus pulls the blade out of the man’s leg. He tries to recompose himself, but finds it difficult to stand, to maneuver effectively. He places his hands over his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Argus gets up. He tosses the blade to his right hand and approaches the man.
Seeing Argus fast approaching, Aceso gets into a defensive posture. He goes to swing, but wobbles as his injured leg struggles to sustain him. The blade strikes the ground, missing its intended target.
A look of terror fills Aceso’s eyes. Argus knocks the blade out of his hands, sending it flying. He lifts up his Silvras and slashes diagonally at Aceso’s left eye.
Aceso screams in agony as he covers his eye.
Argus then kicks at Aceso’s injured leg, toppling him as he groans in pain. Flinging his Silvras back into his left hand, he slides it back into its sheath. He walks back to the truck and bends down, picking up his sword, revealing the reflection of a hell-bent madman.
Aceso tries to get up, but his injured leg no longer has the strength to support him. He falls to the ground, almost accepting defeat. You should have done it. You should have done it! The voices reappear as the sunlight fades. They are fiercer and more violent than before. Despite their insistence that he messed up, he holds onto his convictions, refusing to relent.
Then he feels someone push him onto his back. Looking through his one good eye, he sees Argus standing above him.
“Committed to saving me? I don’t need to be saved. No, you need to be saved! You need to be liberated, liberated from this fantasy that blinds you! If you can’t see that, then I’ll make you see!”
He jabs the blade into Aceso’s chest. Blood spews from his mouth as he shouts in pain. Aceso feels the blade move farther into his body as Argus forces it into him. The force of the blade is so strong, it pushes him into the ground. He tilts his head to the right and sees his wife and son, an illusion created by his mind. They are crying as the two hug each other for comfort, a vision that paints a déjà vu outlook for his family.
Not only has he failed his family, he’s failed to bring his friend back from the shadows, darkness that has manipulated him for years. These failures will die with him, but his actions will be recorded in history, showing he fought valiantly. The color in his eyes fades away as he lets out one last drawn-out breath. His head hits the ground. Argus looks at his victim and smiles.
“It’s done,” he mutters. “It’s done. The bond- it has been severed!”
He pulls the sword out of Aceso and cheers like a fanatic psychopath.
“It has been severed! Ha-ha! I will lead this glorious revolution against this malignant nation and bring it the Paradise it deserves! I will uncover the truth of what they did to you, father! Nothing can stop me!”
~
Donin and Sadara stare down their scopes. Their fingers are on their triggers. They can’t believe Aceso is dead, having lost to a deranged man. They want to end Argus’ life for taking yet another friend from them. Yet, their shock has stiffened their trigger fingers; they are heartbroken by what has occurred, just like what happened to Albric. They watch hopelessly on, hoping to gain the strength to pull the trigger, wondering when Marcus will arrive.
THE FALLEN
NOVEMBER 18th, 2060
11:36 A.M.
Moskova
Marcus looks away. He can’t bear to witness another friend dying. Despite his new efforts to enter the fray, he has acted too slowly to make a difference. Once again, he has failed to fight alongside his companions, and has watched his friends perish. This helplessness makes him cringe as his anger boils over.
“No more,” he says with fury. “I will no longer keep making the same mistakes I have made. No more will I sit on the sidelines and watch my friends die. No more will I stand and sacrifice those that serve me. Today, I must prove myself and communicate to all that I’m still the leader I used to be.”
Marcus’ eyes set on Argus, studying him as he celebrates in the street. He can see that Argus is blinded by the fantasy he lives in, ignorant of the Gewerksma’s crumbling. The madman’s crusade has taken hundreds of thousands of lives today, including his own partisans who mystically follow him. Likely, the death toll could reach millions if he isn’t stopped now.
“Marcus,” Joseph says sadly over the mike. “If Aceso couldn’t get through to him, no one can. You and I know what must be done.”
An eerie silence sets in as everyone listens in anticipation of Marcus’ words.
“I know,” Marcus says stalwartly as he lifts his head. “I’m going in.”
He stands up from his seat and walks to where his suit is stored. He places his hand on the scanner, checking his identity. The door slides up, unveiling his new suit. He takes a step in.
“Supreme Commander Huns,” says Gadget over the speaker. “The Tower is secure. The CBW is slowly being contained. We should be back online by the end of the day.”
“Thanks for the update, Gadget. It’s time to end this.”
He walks into the chamber. He turns around and faces forward as the door closes. He lifts his arms and spreads his legs, aligning with the suit inside.
Suddenly the chamber comes to life as the suit conforms to his body, a painless process. From his feet to his face, the suit materializes and morphs with him. The electronics within the suit come to life, checking to see if there are any electronic or technical flaws.
The door opens and the air hisses out. Marcus steps out, his feet making a thumping sound that defines his authority. The suit he wears is the color of platinum, defining his sophistication, eloquence, and stability. He raises his arms and looks at his hands, awed by what he sees.
Like the other new KAPS the Krenma received, his can absorb and generate kinetic energy that he can use offensively and defensively. However, Zhas made some tweaks to help distinguish him from everyone else. He’s able to absorb 15% more kinetic energy and store 30% more of it as well. This allows him to deal out stronger attacks while also having a stronger, longer-lasting defense. In addition, he has a wingsuit attached to allow him to glide from high heights.
After examining his hands, he walks to the counter next to the chamber. He presses a button and two swords appear. These Nactbuus, the same ones he tested just days ago, lie within a black gold-threaded scabbard. He grabs the top Nactbu and examines it.
Gently, he pulls the blade halfway out. It shines as he feels the edge of the blade, mesmerized by it. He then snaps the weapon back into its scabbard, sliding it into a fitting on his back. He heads towards the cargo door, leaving the second Nactbu behind. He probably doesn’t need a sword in this fight, but he figures it can’t hurt to take one.
“Aren’t you going to take the other one with you,” asks Tim, who has followed him after turning the aircraft on autopilot.
“I only need one. Open the door.”
Tim nods as he presses a button. The aircraft’s back doors open, sucking the air out like a vacuum. It pulls Marcus forward a bit, although he quickly stabilizes himself. He walks to the edge, ready to jump out.
Before he jumps out though, he looks over his shoulder. He can see Tim standing there, mesmerized by what he sees, amazed by how his superior looks. Yet, something is out of place on him, a feature that’s bugging him, looking for an excuse to use his new Nactbu. He walks towards Tim and pulls out his blade, swinging at the man’s face. Tim stands there in shock as a small hair gently glides down. He is stunned by Marcus’ precision and swiftness.
“You had a long hair that was bothering me,” he says with a smile as he places his sword back into its scabbard, repeating what he did to Zhas when he first received the Nactbu.
Marcus turns away and looks outside. He can see Moskova down below, a beautiful city consumed by billows of smoke and roaring fire. This once-pristine city has become one of the major battlegrounds in the fight against the Gewerksma, a fight destined to prove the victor.
He runs out the aircraft and jumps. He straightens himself out, flying like a silver bullet. The Gs push against him, trying to crush his body.
20,000 feet. Despite the immense force pushing against him, his body doesn’t feel the strain of being crushed.
15,000 feet. As the city’s features become more defined, he spreads his arms and legs out. He activates his wingsuit, which jolts him back. He adjusts himself, stabilizing as he glides into the city.
10,000 feet. Like an eagle in the sky, he surveys the land, distraught by the damage he sees. He knows many have died, many sacrificed without cause in a pointless conflict. If the people wanted change, the majority would have exercised their right, whether peacefully or violently.
5,000 feet. But the minority, while sometimes right, should only resort to violence when they are threatened, pinned in with no choice but to fight. Marcus views the Gewerksma as an irresponsible organization that wishes to cause harm, resorting to violence because no one will listen to them. He understands their frustrations, but condemns their violent nature, their malevolent way.
2,500 feet. He slowly descends and flies past a few tall buildings, looking for Argus. In the distance, he can see some firefights being waged down below, unaware of his presence, unaware of his imminent arrival. He looks down and sees two people on one of the Johnson & Weld Tower’s balconies.
1,000 feet.
“Sergeant Sadara. Sergeant Donin. Do you copy?”
The two sergeants look at each other for a moment.
“Copy Supreme Commander,” says Sadara. “What’s your status?”
“I’m entering the city. I’m coming in from above your position.”
Donin and Sadara look up. They stare in astonishment as Marcus flies past them, glimmering in the half-exposed sun. They wonder when Marcus got a new outfit, mystified by his appearance.
Marcus looks down and sees someone dancing in the street.
500 feet. He is not too far from the ground, but he’s still roughly a half mile away from Argus as he nosedives towards him. He can see that arrogance and ignorance blind him, his emotions controlling his every move.
250 feet. As he nears the ground, he looks for a soft place to land, a spot to confront Argus. He sees some torn pavement and decides that’s where he’ll land.
50 feet. He glides across the street, just feet away from the ground. He lifts himself up and retracts his wingsuit. He goes flying and hits the ground hard, striking it with his fist, generating kinetic energy, shaking its foundation as he looks up.
“Argus!”
Marcus is furious. He’s indignant that a senseless war was started in the name of misconceptions, lies to push an agenda that the people overwhelming reject. Yet, Argus and the Gewerksma don’t see it that way, believing that the false pretense painted by the government has blinded everyone with ignorance, covering reality from their eyes. They must shred this reality into pieces even if it meant blood was spilled because Democracy bred ignorance, and that’s how the elite stay in power in their minds. Now because of their naive ambitions, potentially millions of innocents will die.
“That’s enough.”
Marcus stands up, glimmering in the sunlight. His mask folds back, revealing his staid face as he surveys the land. He sees Aceso in a pool of blood, murdered by the man who was once his friend. With Aceso’s death, he leaves behind his wife and son, a similar tragedy that happened to his former mentor, something that Argus had to live with. This makes him more apoplectic, his face and body tightening as he recalls his past. Argus turns around, his eyes widen a bit, surprised to see Marcus in a flashy outfit.
“Well if it ain’t the man of the hour,” Argus says jokingly. “Have you come to-”
“Congratulate me.”
“I always hated-”
“When you do that. And I hate it that you thought it was a clever idea to throw the Empire into disarray under a false artifice.”
“No, no, no. This is Paradise in the making! This is the beginning of a glorious liberation, a liberation that truly frees you. Indra-”
“Is dead.”
“De-dead?”
Argus looks at him with disbelief.
“Dead? No, you’re lying. He is one of the-”
“Best. No, he never was.”
Argus takes a step back. He refuses to believe the news that has been told to him. His cynical rationale dubs it as fake news, possibly alternative facts. To him, there’s no way Indra could have died.
“Don’t interrupt me, Marcus! I hate when you do-”
“That. Like you, he had abandoned those around him, disregarding them as mere anchors that supposedly held him back. This led him to reject the teachings of Einzgu, becoming a man out of touch with reality.”
“That bullshit? Oh God, I don’t need stability. I’m perfectly fine!”
Argus doesn’t care about Einzgu. He’s already had to listen to Aceso’s philosophical points. He doesn’t have time to deal with such petty words from a p
erson he believes controls the leaders, manipulating the public.
“You have rejected the reality around you,” he says with animosity. “I bet you are wondering what has become of Indra, aren’t you?”
Argus’ eyes widen slightly. Despite his doubt of Indra’s death, deep inside him, he fears it’s true. This revelation has shaken him, rattling him even with his mind reassuring him that it isn’t true. He gulps, believing another lie will come from his adversary’s mouth.
“For supposedly being one of the greatest, he was unstable. He leaned too far to the active side, making him become uncaring of others as he tried to obtain his goals, just like you. His selfishness isolated him and when obstacles he couldn’t overcome presented themselves, he was alone and as a result, died because his arrogance refused help. Your friend Aceso-”
“He was never my friend.”
“Deny it as much as you like, he was your friend. Aceso was just like Indra except he leaned too far to the passive side, unable to consciously pursue bettering himself, his ignorance weakening him. While he may have had friends to aid him, when alone, he was helpless, underestimating the full might of the sinister force that threatens society in general, an evil that resides in you.”
Marcus points at Argus as he takes a step forward.
“If you walk into darkness, you can’t see. However, walk in the scintillating light and you’ll be blinded. These two extremes, passive and active, only lead to instability. This is not desirable and Einzgu teaches us to find a medium between the two. This fundamental principle is the reason Indra and Aceso died despite being well-trained. But I must ask,” he says delicately. “What would your father think of you? How would Laffat Constantime construe what you have become?”
The air around intensifies. Argus’ pupils dilate, his teeth clap down over Marcus’ hypothetical question. He has never liked when people bring up his father. He despises how they bring him up, mislabeling him as a government hero when he was a significant influence to the Gewerksma’s crusade. His father is the very reason he is a Neo-Demokrist, why he became the Vorhrer of the Gewerksma.
Zurkerx- The Empire Shall Grow Page 28