Paradox: The Last Day - Seymour's Story

by Rachel Charman

  Feeling as though he swallowed a brick, Seymour turns to Solari with an anxious half-smile as he stammers tensely –

  “M-my name, sir? It’s..”

  “Yes?”

  “S-shouldn’t you know the names of the troops in your squad?”

  “But you’re not in my squad.”

  Solari seizes one side of Seymour’s jacket, examines it carefully, and asserts with a suspicious smirk –

  “According to your uniform, you should be part of Lieutenant Masters’ squad.”

  “Er-“

  “Well, whatever squad you’re from, Private, you’ve still got some serious skills!”

  “Yes.. Perhaps too serious..”

  “Uh, sir?”

  The General smiles deviously at Seymour, looking like a predator stalking his prey, who meets his gaze behind his helmet impassively.

  “Heheh.. It was a good attempt, Moreau. I must say, you had me fooled.”

  “What? Sir, this isn’t Moreau..”

  “Not THE Moreau, but A Moreau.”

  Solari rips Seymour’s helmet off, revealing his pale face, and causing his long sheet of dazzling white hair to fall away like a pristine ivory waterfall. Jenieille back away in shock, pulls out his pistol with shaking hands, and points it straight at Seymour’s head.

  “I-it’s him! It’s Seymour Moreau!”

  “Well, duh..”

  Seymour sarcastically dusts himself off with a slightly impressed smirk, tightens the sable choker on his throat, and stares into Solari’s livid face with amusement.

  “Never did like the PRIME’s uniform… So.. What gave me away, Solari?”

  Solari motions pointedly to the forced-open elevator doors, and spells it out patently –

  “No normal soldier is that strong. Those doors are pure titanium. Very heavy and robust, last time I checked. Too robust for any typical man to manipulate. Hell, I’ve only ever seen one person physically resilient enough to display such power, and that was you.”

  “True. I suppose I’ll have to work on my disguises in the future, since it seems you only have enough capacity to be an idiot for so long.”

  Crossing his arms irately, Solari’s scowl only deepens at the sight of Seymour’s amused visage, though he doesn’t dare take a single step as long as Jenieille has his pistol trained at his head.

  “Well now, that must mean you were the one who caused the riots at DIV. 7, correct?”

  “That’s right. I escaped to locate a certain something after you divulged my death sentence; something important you took from me, which I believed to be in the facility at the time, and I needed a distraction. However, it seems that it wasn’t at DIV. 7, so I assumed that you still had it on you from when you stripped it from me after capturing me and my sister. And what do you know? I was right. Again.”

  “What, you mean this thing?”

  Solari detaches the small, circular-shaped tracer from his belt loop, and inspects it curiously.

  “Yes. That thing.”

  “Care to share what it is, Moreau?”

  “All you need to know is that it’s not yours. Now give it here, and I won’t have to kill you.. much as I want to.”

  Solari lazily tosses the tracer into the air and catches it a couple times with an inquisitive leer, then inquires haughtily –

  “You really trying to bargain with me? I’m not sure your mind is quite right, Seymour. Then again, it never has been.”

  “I see. Are you really disobeying your commanding officer, Vincent?”

  “Don’t call me that! And I’ll never give this to you!”

  Seymour smiles warmly at Solari, though his eyes flare with hatred as he utters softly –

  “I understand. I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Cracking his knuckles, Seymour takes a couple steps towards Solari, and Jenieille nervously tenses his finger on the trigger of his pistol, when a young, black and red-haired man suddenly dashes between them, carrying the black-haired young woman from the ward in his somewhat burnt arms, taking them all by surprise. He smashes out the expansive window at the end of the corridor, smiles at the three of them, and leaps out, leaving a completely nonplussed Seymour and Solari standing in silence, mid-fight, and despite himself, Seymour says in a stunned voice –

  “… Adrian?”

  Taking advantage of Solari’s momentary bewilderment, Seymour regains himself first, then grabs hold of Solari’s right hand, breaking his wrist against his leg, causing him to yell out in pain, and letting the tracer device fall from his palm. Seymour hurriedly scoops it up, and takes off down the hallway, towards the smashed window. Detecting this through his pain and shock, Solari angrily wrenches Jenieille’s pistol from his hand, takes aim at Seymour’s sprinting form, pulls the trigger, and pegs Seymour in the shoulder. As the bullet pierces his skin, Seymour cries out in shock, staggers for a moment from the sudden surge of pain, but nonetheless continues to tear through the hallway, and leaps out the broken window while bullets fly dangerously close to him, landing firmly in the dimly-lit parking lot. Solari and Jenieille hasten to the smashed window, and observe angrily as Seymour flees the parking lot without looking back.

  “You can run, but you can’t hide, Moreau! You’re in Santuc! This is my domain! There’s nowhere you can go where we can’t find you! And when I do, you’re dead! I don’t give a shit about the goddamned legal system anymore!”

  Solari kneels down slowly, a pained grimace splayed across his sweaty face; while he grips his broken wrist in shame, Jenieille stands loyally at his side, and asks shyly –

  “Sir, should we send out a general alert?”

  “No, Private.. I’ll send out one for Adrian.. You get me a medic..”

  “A-are you sure, sir?”

  “I’m always sure, Jenieille. I want to find Seymour with my PRIME Angels in secret… Best not to trouble the citizens with him… Think of their panic if they knew that the world’s most dangerous man was walking through their home again…”

  “Yes, sir..”

  ~Santuc TerraDome: Liberty District~

  Traipsing through the dismal, murky streets of downtown Santuc, Seymour takes shelter within a darkened alleyway near the district’s crowded main square, and, after making sure nobody is following him, carefully inspects the bullet wound on his shoulder. The bullet is stuck within the superficial abrasion, which is still steadily leaking blood. Seymour sighs, grabs a shard of glass from a broken window facing the alley, drives it within the wound, and painfully extricates the bloody bullet. While the wound gradually continues to bleed, Seymour tears off the sleeve off of his PRIME jacket, and wraps it around tightly around the lesion. He then pulls out his long black coat from the shoulder bag and dons it with a contented sigh. Trying to ignore his pain, he tosses the bag aside, pulls out his tracer from his pocket, flips the cover atop the screen, and activates it, shielding its luminous red glow from sight, so as not to arouse suspicion from the people passing by the alleyway’s end. Upon the tiny red, dome-shaped screen, three minuscule orange dots appear, signifying three separate people, and their locations. One is moving swiftly along the alleyways of Liberty District, another, stationary within a building in Serengeti District, and the last, moving back and forth in the DIV. 4 Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

  |DIV. 4? Ah, shit.. Last place on Earth I’d ever like to see again… But I guess I don’t have much choice, if I’m to get back on track..|

  Unable to decipher who is who upon the tracer, Seymour decides to follow the closest signature: the one dashing along the alleyways of Liberty which, to his great surprise, is only a few blocks away. Getting to his feet, Seymour makes sure that his black brands are fully covered, and prepares to merge into the crowds of the main square, when a thunderous voice booms from the massive loudspeakers situated in the buildings enclosing the main square; the fine, yet haughty voice of General Solari, making a grand proclamation.

  Hello, good citizens of Santuc. This is General Vincent Solari.


  We here at the eXo PRIME are hereby declaring a state of emergency within our fine city.

  Be on the lookout for a young, tall, pale-white man with black and red hair, wearing a black toque, black cargo pants and a plain white t-shirt under a short black vest, and quite possibly traveling with a woman of around the same age. This man, named Adrian Moreau, is guilty of attacking the eXo PRIME facilities, killing several of our operatives and faculty members, and is a member of the former Faction of Liberators who terrorized our city three years ago.

  Though we at the PRIME will be searching diligently for this delinquent, we are offering a substantial reward to whomever can apprehend this dangerous criminal, and bring his escapades to a much-needed end.

  And good citizens, don’t be afraid to use force, because he won’t.

  Bring him in. Alive.

  Seymour looks out at the crowds of people standing stationary at the end of the alleyway, lost in thought after Solari’s voice fades away and the sounds life return to the area.

  |Hm.. Seems like Solari is settling for second best, just like always..

  So, it WAS Adrian. He looked unarmed when he passed by me and Solari, so how did he manage to kill any PRIME troops? Intriguing.. Perhaps he too has something to hide..|

  Continuing through the network of dark alleyways, and out into the dull, polluted streets of Liberty, Seymour makes his way towards the orange dot signature upon his tracer, which has become stationary within a nearby abandoned warehouse on the side of a dead road. After a few minute’s walk down the crowded street, his head held low so as to not arouse suspicion, he eventually arrives at the warehouse, to find every possible entrance completely locked and barricaded from the inside.

  |Shit.. This can’t be a coincidence.. Somebody must be protecting whoever’s inside..|

  Thinking that there might be a way to enter from the roof, Seymour makes sure nobody is watching, then starts to ascends the sidewall of the tall, dilapidated warehouse, using his right arm as little as possible, as it still throbs in pain from the bullet wound. After almost ten minutes of awkward climbing, and upon reaching the roof, he is nearly blown away by a sudden gust of wind as a large PRIME helicopter flies towards the warehouse, and a soldier yells loudly from above him through a megaphone. Peering over the edge of the roof, he finds a large squad of eXo PRIME soldiers at the foot of the warehouse, all pointing their guns up at him, while the helicopter hovers above him, shining its bright white florescent light down upon him. A helmeted soldier leans out of the open helicopter door, and scans Seymour with his binocular-shaped genetic profile scanner.

  *GENETIC SCAN COMPLETE: N/A*

  (eXo PRIME GENETIC TRACER CODE: UNKNOWN)

  *STATUS: UNKNOWN*

  *APPREHENSION ORDER: (OVERRIDE SCAN - CODE: 5593-2 SOLARI)*

  “You on the roof! You are under arrest!”

  Gazing up at the hovering helicopter in total disillusionment, Seymour takes a few staggering steps backwards, blinded by the light, then turns and makes a break for the edge of the building.

  “He’s running! Men, open fire! Use tranquilizers only! General Solari wants this fucker alive!”

  As the soldiers hanging out of the open helicopter doors above fire at him, Seymour dashes across the rooftop, desperately dodging the tranquilizer bullets as they fly dangerously close to him. Unbeknownst to him, a PRIME sniper climbs up the sidewall of the taller, uninhabited office building beside the warehouse, and once on the roof, takes aim with his extra-long range tranquilizer rifle. He fires the small ballistic syringe, which flies through the open air, and with a direct hit, pegs Seymour in the side of his neck. Shocked from the impact of the sedative-filled syringe, Seymour stumbles, causing him to trip violently onto the crushed brick of flat rooftop. Dazed, he sluggishly pulls out the tiny syringe from his neck, and almost instantly, his vision begins to fade into blurry blackness.

  |Shit.. Shit…! Don’t pass out.. c’mon… don’t…|

  While Seymour desperately fights to stay conscious, the helicopter lands upon the roof behind him, and a group of soldiers crowds around him, all smiling and laughing derisively. Seymour bares his teeth angrily, and tries to get back onto his feet, but his body feels insurmountably heavy. In his last moments of consciousness, he watches as a tall soldier kneels down to his level, pulls out his radio, and talks rapidly into it, though his voice sounds as though it is coming from the end of long tunnel.

  “Radio General Solari, Private. Inform him we’re bringing his prize to DIV. 4..”

  ~Santuc TerraDome: DIV. 4 Asylum for the Criminally Insane (Mesa)~

  Awakening abruptly, Seymour finds himself lying inside the dark, windowless rear of an eXo PRIME transport helicopter, his head pounding painfully. His hands are securely bound together by thick plasticuffs below the broken handcuff hinges still upon his wrists, and his mouth has been tightly suppressed with a long strip of black cloth. He tries to move, but his body is still unnaturally onerous from the tranquilizer. Suddenly, the door of the helicopter slides open, bathing the shadowy rear of the chopper in the bright, sterile white lights of DIV. 4 building’s rooftop helipad. Two soldiers climb into the back, grab Seymour roughly by his shoulders, and drag him into the facility. He is submissive, as he is still too weak to fight back.

  After a few minutes of walking through the long, dimly-lit corridors of the asylum, with the soldiers’ footsteps echoing brashly through the narrow hallway, coupled with the grating noises of the unseen inmates confined within their cells, the two soldiers eventually reach a vacant, windowless cell of frightening familiarity, its door open wide, as if beckoning him inside. The soldier gripping Seymour’s right shoulder leans in close to his face, and venomously spits out the words –

  “Hehe.. Welcome home, bitch. We kept your room warm for ya.”

  They forcefully toss Seymour inside, slam the heavy titanium door shut, and securely lock it from the outside. Getting laboriously to his feet, Seymour surveys his dark, dingy cell with panic. After all the time he spent within the confines of this cursed room, he never found a way to escape. Despite his uncertainty, he breaks apart the plasticuffs on his wrists, and scans for any weak spot in the tiny concrete cell, but still, there appears to be none. Sitting back against the cold concrete wall, meticulously analyzing his virtually hopeless situation, he tears the fabric away from his mouth, splits it in two, and wraps the pieces around his exposed brands, as though blaming them for his lack of an escape route.

  |Okay.. I can do this.. I can escape. I just have to think. How will I get out? Come on.. Escaping authority is what I’m good at.. So, why can’t I think?|

  Mired in his bemused thoughts, Seymour overhears the murmur of soldiers conversing beyond the thick cell door. He stands, approaches the door, and puts an ear up to it, listening in intently on their whispered conversation.

  -we’ll do it when we get back. … So, did you hear from General Solari yet?

  Yeah, I just got off the radio with him.

  Well? What did he say?

  He said he can’t make it to the facility for a day or so because of his wrist injury. He said he also has “mental anguish from Moreau’s savage attack”.

  Heh, what a pussy. Just put some fucking Seraph Tears on it, and get over it.

  I know! My brother took a bullet for his commanding officer a few years back in Greti. It pegged him in the stomach; nearly killed him too, but this was before the Tears were invented, so it was way worse than today’s standards. So, he asked Solari for leave, but this was still in the Aozora War, so he said no. Put him out to fight in Raea two days later, and he died.

  Oh man.. That’s terrible..

  Yeah.. I’ve hated the fucker ever since.. But, since he’s the highest authority in the PRIME now, I’ve got no choice but to obey him.

  Ah well.. Say, why don’t we just kill Moreau now? That would really piss Solari off. I mean, this guy’s his prize.

  Nah… Solari would probably execute us on some bullshit treason ch
arge or whatever. We’ll just have to keep him here until the princess is ready to return to duty.

  But, you know how dangerous this guy is, right?

  Yeah, so we’ll just have to keep tighter security on him.

  I suppose..

  Seymour sits back down against the back wall, and stares up at the banal concrete ceiling, deep in thought.

  |So… Solari won’t be here for another day.. That’ll give me some time to figure out how to escape.. if I can...|

  After over a day of sitting in dark, stagnant silence within his diminutive, dismal cell, scanning it extremely thoroughly, but having found no feasible way to escape his confines, Seymour sits in the shadows of the cell, his eyes closed in hurried contemplation, when the cell door suddenly swings open, throwing a harsh burst of cruel florescent light throughout the grim chamber. An old, short, thick-spectacled man enters the cell apprehensively, holding a small notepad and a thin yellow folder tightly in his wrinkled, gnarled hands. Seymour angrily shields his eyes from the callous light that heralds the man’s rude entrance. The man quickly shuts the door, again submerging the cell in darkness, and sits down on the floor across from Seymour, inspecting him curiously.

  “Hello, Seymour.”

  “… You.. I remember you..”

  “Yes, my name is Doctor Connor O’Tiggs, if you’ll recall. I’m the psychologist for this asylum. We need to have a talk, since you weren’t very open last time I interviewed you.”

  “… Who says I am now? Are you just going to dismiss me as insane, like last time?”

  “Well, that’ll depend on the things you tell me. Initially, I believe all inmates are insane. I don’t perform evaluations to find if the person is insane. I evaluate to see if they’re not.”