Paradox: The Last Day - Seymour's Story

by Rachel Charman

  Feeling Sam’s small frame shuddering beneath his fingers, Seymour wraps his branded arms around her tightly, trying to calm her down, and breathes ashamedly –

  “Well.. I’m scared too, Sam. That’s why I need you.”

  Rather than calming her down, Seymour’s words only serve to rile Sam up, and she furiously pushes him away from her, her face stained with livid tears. However, she still does not leave the room, despite her hand having been on the doorknob the whole time. She merely continues to stand in the threshold, crying silently before her brother, who merely watches impassively for a time before proclaiming quietly, but assertively –

  “Fine, Sam. Do what you want for now. Really, I won’t stop you.”

  Sam finally takes her hand off of the doorknob and looks over her shoulder at Seymour slowly, her eyes full of apprehension and disbelief.

  “… Y-you’re really going to just let me go with him?”

  “Sure. I have other things to do in the meantime. At least I know that you’re still alive.”

  Sam’s tearstained emerald eyes narrow in suspicion, and she asks curiously –

  “… But why would you just let me go after all the effort you put into finding me?”

  “Because you have to remember that there’s not a single place you can go where I can’t find you. Your brain is infested with my GPS nanoids, remember? I’ll always be able to find you, no matter where you two might run off to. Your surrendered your mind and body to me, after all. They belong to me.”

  Sam turns from Seymour again, gripping her purple claw necklace tightly, her hand shaking, and breathes to him in disgust –

  “You’re sick, Seymour. … And why are you telling me this? You know I’m just gonna tell Adrian.”

  “I’ll just have to deal with him if he gets in my way. He’s of no use to me anyway.”

  “Yeah well, you may see him as useless, but he IS your brother.”

  “Tch, don’t remind me...”

  Distant footsteps suddenly pierce the profound silence, drawing ever closer on the steel floor beyond the closed door of the wrecked office room. Seymour takes a step towards Sam’s turned back, but decides against it, as the footsteps become accompanied by the faint sound of voices.

  He quickly approaches the breach in the wall, and says to Sam’s back –

  “I’ll say goodbye for now, Sam. … See you soon.”

  On that note, Seymour climbs back out of the breach, and lands roughly in the warehouse’s spacious loading zone. Once he rights himself, he pulls out his tracer and activates it. There are now five dots upon its miniscule red screen, three of which are located within the warehouse. He checks to see if Elena is still within the utility closet at the Tramline station, and upon finding that she hasn’t moved an inch from where he left her, Seymour retrieves his discarded helmet, slips it back over his head, and once again ties his hair up under its hefty metal innards. He begins to pace the loading zone, deep in thought, feeling the burning pain in his leg gradually dissipate as it continues to heal.

  |Now then.. Let’s assess the situation. Sam is going with Adrian and that Lias kid. … I’ll need to keep an eye on them, so it’s good that now I can track all three of them.. But I’ll loosen her chain for a while. Make her think she’s safe from me. … It couldn’t hurt. … I guess now there’s nothing to do but go get Elena and Sakura.. But there’s still the matter of finding a sufficient energy source to initiate the diffusion after I’ve reclaimed the others; something as powerful as lightning, but inside Santuc.. … Oh yeah, and Erik is dead too, so I‘ll need to find a good fourth man to complete the quadrupole magnet… Huhh… Never an easy day..|

  Seymour slips back out into the main street, and finds it is still swarming with vigilant, yet anxious eXo PRIME soldiers and vehicles. Seymour retreats back into the shadows of the loading zone exit, and peeks out from the edge. He spots a young, brown-haired, suited man, with his right arm suspended in a cast, speaking quietly to a tight group of soldiers at the end of the street. The soldiers have small white wings embroidered onto the back of their crimson PRIME jackets, and are sporting special jet-black, full-faced helmets.

  |Solari… And his PRIME Angels? .. Oh right. I was supposed to be waiting for him at DIV. 4… Heheh.. Oh, I bet he’s pissed..|

  Seymour watches intently from the shadows of the loading zone exit, as Solari dismisses his troops, angrily pulls out a binocular-like genetic profile scanner, and holds it up to his eyes, scanning the throngs of soldiers curiously, searching for a certain someone. He passes the scanner’s viewfinder past the loading zone’s exit, and passes over Seymour.

  *GENETIC SCAN COMPLETE: N/A*

  (eXo PRIME GENETIC TRACER CODE: UNKNOWN)

  *STATUS: UNKNOWN*

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

  With a surprised, yet triumphant smile, Solari yells to his troops, who shift their gaze swiftly, and charge down the street, right towards Seymour. They turn their guns onto him menacingly, and fire upon him, while he hastily takes cover behind an eXo PRIME truck.

  “Don’t let Moreau get away! I mean it! Shoot anything that moves!”

  |… Anything that moves?|

  Seymour quickly pulls off his helmet, and throws it out over the truck, and into the street, straight into the group of approaching troops. As he predicted, the soldiers stop in their tracks, and fire upon the helmet, while Seymour subtly slips across the street unseen, and into an alleyway.

  “Stop it! Stop firing! Do you really think I want the HELMET dead? Check behind the truck, you idiots! Moreau’s hiding behind the truck!”

  Seymour waits patiently in the shadowy alleyway, watching intently while the PRIME Angels approach the truck; their guns raised apprehensively. Solari hangs back from the troops hesitantly, fingering the revolver in his hip holster nervously; he expects Seymour to run out from behind the truck at any second, while one of his soldiers slowly peers around the side of the truck, his gun drawn far out in front of his body.

  “… He’s not there, sir.”

  “What?! Then where is he?!”

  “Right here, Solari.”

  Solari slowly turns to face Seymour, who seizes him by the throat, and forces him to his knees. The PRIME Angels take aim at the two of them, while Seymour keeps a tight grip upon Solari’s throat, and crouches down to his level; shielding himself with Solari’s body from any gunfire. Seymour holds his free hand up in the air, signaling the Angels to lay down their weapons.

  “Take a single shot, and you’ll lose your precious General.”

  “D-don’t shoot! W-what do you want, Moreau?”

  “Two things.”

  “W-what is it?!”

  “A vehicle, and a ten minute head-start.”

  Solari considers Seymour’s demands for a moment, his nails scratching against his hand, but ultimately, he nods and declares submissively –

  “… Fine! I-it’s yours!”

  Seymour spots an empty eXo PRIME weapon transport van parked on the side of the road. Smiling, he grabs Solari by the shoulders, and drags him submissively along the street, while the PRIME Angels approach very cautiously, their guns drawn at full height, each eagerly waiting to take the shot at the first opportunity. Seymour backs into the van, reaches down to General Solari’s key-ring, and rips it away from his belt loop. He holds the ring in front of his face, and riffles through the keys until he comes upon a thin silver key with a skull-like face; Solari’s master key.

  “H-how did you know?”

  “Duh, I was a General once too, Solari…”

  He pushes the key into the keyhole on the door, unlocks it, and proceeds inside the van cautiously, still keeping his firm grip upon Solari’s shoulders. He stands him up upon his feet outside of the van, and turns him to face his troops, still gripping his shoulders tight.

  “Take a look at your brave and honorable General now, Angels. Look how quickly he caves under pressure. Heheh, no wonder I made General firs
t.”

  Satisfied, Seymour kicks the embarrassed, fuming Solari into the group of PRIME Angels, who staggers and distracts them, giving Seymour enough time to shove the master key into the ignition. He hurriedly guns the engine, and takes off down the street, racing back to the Tramline station to retrieve Elena from her janitorial confinement. Solari gets to his feet, avoiding the Angels’ collective incensed stare, and signals them to follow with a quick nod. The PRIME Angels nod in livid compliance, converge on their vehicles, and drive off in Seymour’s wake, leaving the dejected General behind, rubbing his throat with humiliation and rage as he seethes through gritted teeth –

  “Fucking Moreaus…”

  End of Part 1

  ~Following the Trail~

  After about twenty minutes of driving inconspicuously through the crowded streets of Liberty District, Seymour arrives back at the Tramline station entrance, which has been cleared of the evacuees, but is cordoned off with low cement barricades. Making sure that nobody is watching him, he furtively pulls out his tracer, and checks to make sure Elena is still in the closet, however, he is surprised to find her signature not within the utility closet, but travelling slowly along the Tramline’s tunnel; the tiny orange dot moves about jerkily, suggesting that she is staggering about. While he studies the bright crimson screen curiously, the sound of screeching tires suddenly permeates the still-evacuated street. Seymour nervously sticks his head out of the van’s window, and looks back with dread to find the PRIME Angels vehicles racing down the street in a tight procession, straight towards his pilfered vehicle. Acting before thinking, Seymour slams his foot down on the accelerator, speeds forward, and smashes right through the cement barricades, causing the flying debris to crack the windshield. He races down the Tramline station’s sloping ramp, and emerges onto the main station floor with a loud, echoing screech of his tires. The wreckage of the crashed tramcar still remains, but the tunnel’s lights have all been shut off, and a low cloud of dust still hangs in the air. Hearing the PRIME Angels closely perusing him into the station, Seymour anxiously speeds out onto the tram tracks, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The PRIME Angels follow suit, following Seymour along the tracks closely, and after a minute of harried pursuit, the soldiers occupying the jeeps stand up against the wind and abruptly open fire on the van. Speeding through the darkened, empty tunnel as fast as he can, swerving hastily to avoid the Angels’ constant stream of gunfire, Seymour suddenly spots a solitary figure trudging along the railway track in the distance, gripping their head tightly in their hands. Recognizing the sheet of bright blonde hair sparkling in the van’s headlights, Seymour pulls to the right, leans out his window and yells –

  “Elena! Watch out!”

  Elena swivels around in shock to find Seymour’s van speeding right behind her; its bright headlights blaring, and under vicious attack. Seymour screeches to a halt and uses the van’s frame to protect Elena from the gunfire as she hurriedly scrambles into the passenger’s seat, and slams the door shut with shaking hands while a bullet narrowly misses her head. With the cavalry of APCs and jeeps bearing down on the stationary van, Seymour hastily takes off back down the tunnel just as a speeding jeep violently rear-ends the van. His face dripping with sweat, Seymour compulsively glances in his side-view mirror as he asks Elena hurriedly, still desperately veering from the volleys of gunfire –

  “Hey, you alright?”

  “… Yeah. My.. head hurts, but I’ll be okay.”

  As she speaks, Elena touches her upper lip lightly, feeling warm, dark blood leaking gently from her nose, and resolutely wipes it away, trying to hide it from Seymour.

  “Why are you awake? I gave you a very specific set of orders.. What happened?”

  “What orders..? I.. just.. woke up when I could.”

  “Hm.. That doesn’t sound right..”

  Pulling abruptly to the right to avoid the sudden explosion of a thrown frag grenade, the van scrapes violently against the wall of the tunnel, sending a torrent of sparks flying into the shadows, lighting up the tracks with a vehement orange light. Seymour furiously wrenches the wheel to the left, and shakily manages to regain the van’s path, though the air is now filled with the smell of burnt rubber. Wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead with one trembling hand, Seymour asks angrily, keeping his eyes fixed on the darkened tunnel before him –

  “Why were you walking along the tracks, Elena?”

  “I.. didn’t know where you were. I just… decided to start walking, and hoped that you would show up.”

  “What the hell? Decide? You aren’t supposed to be able to decide anything!”

  Seymour glances over at Elena apprehensively, while still swerving to avoid the assailing gunfire, and notices that her bright blue eyes are no longer cloudy and lifeless, and her face bears noticeable agitation, different from its previous lifeless look.

  “.. Damn. You’re you again, aren’t you?”

  “… Well, I can hear my own thoughts again, and I can move my own body again, so.. I suppose so.”

  “Oh, great. Perfect.. That’s just what I need…”

  Seymour pulls the car hard to the left, narrowly avoiding smashing straight into the wall while trying to avoid another volley of bullets, his teeth gritted in anger, while Elena rubs her head slowly, her eyes closed in apparent pain. She furtively wipes the dripping blood from her nose again, and glances at Seymour nervously before asking quietly –

  “.. So, what’s going on? Where are we going now?”

  “That’s a good question! Let me just check my tracer… Here, take the wheel for a sec.”

  Failing to notice her agitated glare, Seymour hands the wheel to Elena while he hurriedly ducks down under the dashboard, and once again checks his tracer screen. Aside from Elena’s signature, three of the bright orange dots move along an alleyway in Liberty District, and another sits stationary within a building in Serengeti District.

  “That must be Sakura. She’s in Serengeti. So, let’s just follow the tunnel ‘til we reach the District, then exit out to the streets.”

  “Mm.. A-alright. But what about the ones following us?”

  Seymour emerges from under the dashboard, gripping his tracer tightly, trying to think of a way to fend off their attackers, when he remembers the nature of the vehicle, and smiles widely as he declares –

  “That’s right; this is a weapons transport truck! So there should be a bunch of good shit in the back!”

  “Do you want me to-”

  “No, you drive. I’ll get the Angels off our backs. Just make sure not to hit any walls, okay? And take the left passage where the tunnel diverges. That leads to the Serengeti station.”

  “‘Kay.”

  Climbing into the back, it is just as he predicted: the rear of the van is loaded down with weapons of all shapes and sizes, from launchers to grenades, C4 to assault weapons, and pistols to high-tech magnetic pulse weapons. Seymour swiftly seizes a single-shot M72A4 launcher, kicks the bullethole-riddled doors open, kneels down against the rushing winds circulating inside the van, and fires the missile straight at the marauding APC’s treads, which blows it onto its side, wedging itself tight against the ceiling and blockading the tunnel, keeping the other vehicles from chasing the van. Unsatisfied, Seymour grabs a few Anti-Tank mines from a shelf near the back seat, and tosses them out behind the van’s path, ensuring that if any vehicle breaks through the blockade, it won’t be unable to pursue them. Throwing the empty launcher out of the open rearward of the van, Seymour shuts the doors tight, and reclaims the wheel from Elena with a grateful pat on her shoulder. Before the van drives through the left path at a tunnel division, and unbeknownst to Seymour, a PRIME Angel operative angrily steps out of his truck stuck behind the jammed APC, grabs a long-range tracker bug launcher from within its case, takes aim at the departing van, and fires a miniature tracker bug onto its steel frame. Satisfied, the Angel signals to his troops in the trucks, and they turn back, swiftly driving out of the tunnel
to ambush Seymour.

  “Radio General Solari. Tell him to gather everyone and convene at the Serengeti Tramline station tunnel; ETA fifteen minutes. Move it.”

  Driving safely now through the pitch-black transit tunnel, Seymour slows the van down, and turns to face Elena with a timid, embarrassed sort of smile, which she does not return.

  “Alright.. I think we lost ‘em..”

  “Hopefully..”

  “Mm.. So… uh, yeah.. Elena.. I’m guessing you’re probably pretty pissed..”

  Elena clenches her hands together in her lap tightly, her eyes glimmering fiercely in the dim light of the headlights; she sniffs up the last trickle of blood seeping from her nose pointedly, and declares through gritted teeth, her mind working quickly in the silence –

  “… You stole my free will from me, and forced me to kill nine billion people, Seymour. … How do you think I should feel?”

  “Uh.. hm… W-well.. I- y-y’know…”

  While Seymour tries to find the right words, keeping his guilty gaze fixed on the dark tunnel ahead of him, Elena sighs deeply, rubs her eyes wearily, and says in a low voice –

  “… Though, I suppose.. I did owe you a lot for everything you’ve done for me in the past. I’m not sure if what you did equals up to helping you destroy the world, but I guess I can let it slide…”

  Seymour looks over at Elena, his eyebrows raised in surprise, though her eyes are still averted from him as she says while leaning her head against the window, her breath fogging up the cold, scratched glass –

  “But from now on, I’d like to be able to make my own decisions, Seymour.”