Chapter Text
Orthos knew fear.
This was common knowledge to him and to every single chief administrator on this cursed council. It was the cornerstone of the LAU, the very adhesive keeping everything stuck together and preventing it from ever shattering.
The orphans fear for their future, the citizens fear the insurmountable might of the Volstrekers, the Volstrekers fear the unyielding wrath of the officials, the government officials fear the ever-looming threat that are the chief administrators, and they… fear… me…
The room he was in was the grand council room inside the palace of the rising sun— the centre of building of Aurora, with the only openings in the long rectangular room being the small horizontal windows situated near the top of the unnecessarily tall ceiling. There were no lights, no ventilation, no glass, only stone and marble. The only ‘person’ inside the poorly lit room sat at the end of the only table there, his seat clearly positioned and designed to be something else— a throne.
His head consisted of one giant eyeball, with no discernible mouth, ears or neck. The fleshy sphere had an all-black sclera, with the pupil being a ghostly white. The skin and flesh of his body wasn’t any less disturbing, the skin was impossibly thin, letting anyone who wasn’t blind to gaze beneath its delicate surface at the intricate muscle fibres below. Every movement, every cell, all of it could be seen within moments notice. Like a man who’s been flayed.
The surface itself was even a deep void black, glistening in the small amount of sunlight the room was getting, so much so that one would’ve thought that it was polished metal at first glance. The golden toga that once hung loosely from his frame had faded into a dirty yellow colour, the edges frayed from the centuries of use. When he was standing, he would tower over everyone at a staggering ten feet, his thin spider-like limbs being disproportionately long to the rest of his body.
All of this combined with his knotted oak cane is what made people fear Orthos in the first place. The unsettling atmosphere, his hauntingly striking figure, his unique attire, and his all-seeing eye, it was an image he had cultivated for himself over the many millennia of his existence. He was ancient, even by the standards of deities, he has seen civilisations rise and fall, forever doomed to watch the world repeat the cycle over and over again.
It was the natural order of things, but he’d like to end it now. The only thing stopping him from doing so is the unpredictable nature of weavers, no matter how stable this blasted planet gets, all it would ever take to burn it all down would be one single soul.
Orthos knew fear
It was a feeling he was well acquainted with since his birth, he— like all living things, was afraid of death, the inevitable end to everyone’s journey in life. But then, as more and more time started to pass, the death he ended up fearing the most was not of his own, no. It was of those around him.
The bodies of others would wither over time, their strength slowly withering into oblivion as they inch towards their end, yet he would remain unchanged. The home he was raised in would be razed to the very earth that it was built from, with his people eventually fading away from existence as well, failing to withstand the test of time, yet he would still be there, as spry as the day he was born.
He had seen deities butchered by their worshippers, torn asunder by their very own creation, mountains erode and oceans dry. Continents split before joining back together. Yet there he would stand, everlasting, evermore.
It was only then was he bestowed upon the revelation that led him here in the first place. That it was only with outside influence could this hell end.
He involved himself in more and more world affairs, manipulating the strings behind the curtain, gaining some semblance of control before it would be brutally ripped away from his prying hands by weavers.
Weavers, he was certain that he was one at some point in time, but then again, he was also pretty certain that the term ‘weaver’ didn’t exist until a few centuries ago. Their existence was a double-edged sword to him, sometimes they’d be within his ranks, and in other times they’d try to tear him apart from within. Whatever he did, there was simply no winning against mother nature.
He feared that he would be unable to finish his self designated assignment, that his life’s work would be all for naught, that he would yearn for the company of friends that he has long since lost.
He had learnt ages ago that he shouldn’t become attached to anyone he knew, since no matter what he did, he’d outlast them. But he couldn’t help himself, it was the one single part of his humanity that he couldn’t cut off.
Orthos knew fear
He feared losing his friends in any way shape or form, and that fear had only been made worse ever since he could see the future possibilities of events, cursed with the knowledge of knowing what could happen days, weeks, years before they actually do.
It was just that he was never given a straight answer, his all-seeing eye saw all, and so it showed him all, everything else was up to him if he wanted something to go his way. But he feared that it wouldn’t for the time being.
Although if something was already certain, he would know, like a thousand water streams converging into one river. Only then would he receive a clear vision of what’s to happen.
His desired future was no different from a silken tapestry, one wrong move could send it all awry…
He can’t tell anyone, they’d interfere too much.
He could never tell anyone.
Speaking of the inevitable, he was expecting an uninvited guest to appear in 3… 2… 1…
The large stone doors at the other end of the room slammed open as a familiar figure barged in, “Orthos!” He yelled in an enraged tone, “you’ve got some explaining to do!” Sentry stomped into the room, cracking the previously impeccable stone floor under him as he made his way towards the table before stepping onto it.
Vosk, Orthos remembered when he was but a young soul rising through the ranks of the national security force all those decades ago, dreaming of making it big and moving to Everlon. He and and his… merry band of misfits, it wasn’t long before he met his match. Now he served as the senior member of the weaver task he had set up, his oldest acquaintance, his emissary.
“Would you be so kind as to explain why I found these files lying around?” He was right in front of him now, standing on top of the table menacing, with the hologram built into his hand cycling though a treasure trove of confidential files. His voice calm but still very clearly betraying his true feelings. But to Orthos, he looked about as threatening as a toddler, since they were still on eye level with each other.
“Mr Alanda, my friend. I was wondering when you would find those,” there was no need for intimidation in this scenario, Vosk simply knew him too well to fall for any of his bluffs, “those are important you know, be sure to put them away once you’re done playing,” he said in a mildly playful tone, Orthos had seen this coming, but Vosk didn’t need to know that.
To everyone other than himself, his tapestry was having the ability to see through any material, letting him survey his surroundings and find enemies honing inside the walls. No one knew about his ability to see into future possibilities, this was a burden that he alone carried. Because once they’ve learnt of what may become of them and open the box, it can never be shut until their death. He would much rather give the people he was fond of the blessing of ignorance than to watch them waste away chasing a reality that was never meant to be.
“All of these other— pipe dreams I can tolerate,” Vosk began in cold fury, “but emissary task force contingency plans!? Are you out of your mind! Was this your plan from the start, to stab us in the back, to dispose of us once our usefulness has dried up!” He knew damn well that these plans weren’t made for that purpose, but their mere existence was like a betrayal to him and everything he stood for.
He was loyal because of necessity, because it was the only way the world could heal, only through mutual trust could they rebuild. But to break that bond in such an uncivilised manner was preposterous, loyalty is a bond that’s only as strong as its weakest link, and Orthos had proved himself to be guilty.
He had condoned the mass killings of outsiders, the dehumanisation of their very own citizens, the endless secrecy of every single government decision. Was it all for naught? Was that all he was? A pawn on a chessboard, to be orders around by the player? He had known Orthos for more than a century, was he never significant in the first place?
“You’re being unreasonable here Vosk, I take into account every possible threat to our stability,” he calmly said as he leaned back into his throne, the cold stone surface making contact with his charcoal black skin. This claim wasn’t baseless either, he was quite certain he took into every single threat.
“Remember what my first order to you was when I first took on the title of Chief executive administrator,” Orthos knew he remembered, his unusual body that also gave him photographic memory would never allow to forget something like this.
“To kill you without hesitation if you were to ever lose sight of our goal, Orthos,” Vosk reluctantly said, already knowing where he was going to take the conversation before, he even replied.
“Exactly,” Orthos said, stretching the word out to accentuate its meaning, “And do you know why I go to such lengths to prevent anything from happening?”
“If I were younger, I would’ve said you simply did it because you were bored. But now I’m certain you only rule with an iron first for your own pride,” just because Orthos proved that he held himself to the same standards as he did others didn’t mean that he was fine with being treated like this.
“Pride? For duty, Vosk,” Orthos said in faux offence, poorly pretending as if the unmotivated attempt at an insult actually touched his nerve.
“You see those people out there?” He said, gesturing all around him, “They count on our administration to keep them safe, and if it means that some of us have to go, I’ll do it within a heartbeat,” he poked his finger into the table at the end of the sentence, since it was one of the only ways he showed honesty.
And it looked like it was going to work…
“I’ll listen to your bewitching words for now Orthos, but you’re on thin ice,” Vosk was mad, it didn’t take much for Orthos to come to that conclusion, “I can only put faith in you once you’ve stop hiding everything,” but he knew that anything he said wouldn’t change the situation, so perhaps it was time for a subject change.
“I also heard that you’re having a little trouble with your game of cat and mouse with Renegade,” he’s been chasing him for quite a while now, and there was a decent chance that they’ll meet again very soon, but the possible outcomes aren’t exactly the best.
“Don’t bother, Orthos,” Vosk said curtly, “I don’t want one of your lackeys to follow me around scrutinising every single step I take,” anyone else coming along with him would only serve as dead weight.
“I was thinking of having you pair up with Luciana instead, she currently isn’t deployed anywhere else in the country, and you certainly look like you need the help,” Orthos suggested,
“I work best alone,” he was done talking. He figured that the conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere, so he’ll just have to find the answers he needed himself. He turned around and started to make his way out the room, his mood faring no better than when he had just come in.
“Black tags shouldn’t be taken lightly Vosk. After all, it’d be a shame if you were unable to make it back alive,” Orthos knew that he would die if Luciana didn’t come with him, and he couldn’t lose such a valuable asset when Coven was still out there.
“Fine, but I’m the one in charge, and don’t give her any ideas,” her critters always got scales and feathers into his joints.
“You have my word Vosk,” Orthos said in a louder voice, Vosk was almost out the door now, getting to close it behind him.
“Not like it’s worth much… the Nerve of some people…” he muttered under his breath before grabbing both doors and slamming them shut, forming a web of cracks originating from the handles.
Vosk was going to dig deeper into the files, which was certainly not the most desired situation, but was still an acceptable setback at the moment. It seems like the paths are evenly split between him defecting and him staying here, but Orthos knew that he’d stay, he’ll understand his actions no matter what— he always did.
Orthos was always familiar with the concept of fear.
When he was younger, he used to think that being able to see all meant that he knew all, how naïve of him. It was only when he became the most powerful did he become obsessed with control, and there was only ever one person who he couldn’t manipulate.
The only person who ever gazed back at him whenever he saw into the future… ‘I know you’re alive Amaranth, and I’m waiting for you to make your first move,’ it should’ve been impossible for anyone to hide form his sight.
But who’s to judge what’s possible or not in a world filled to the brim with physics defying humans, most of which are bumbling idiots. He needed to check his foresight again, perhaps it could give some insight into his problems.
There weren’t many things that Orthos was afraid of, but uncertainty had and always would remain at the top of his list. People always claimed that the world was never in black and white. But the grey image they so desperately want to see is simply made up of a culmination of innumerable dots of the two colours. Every question has a definitive answer to it, he just had to look hard enough.
[where will we go first sir?]
Vosk traveled down the flight of stairs leading down from the council room inside the palace of the rising sun as he formulated what he was going to, ‘I can’t do much about the contingency plans, but I sure can put a stop to some of these other atrocities,’
‘And one thing I know for sure is that Nova will bring nothing but trouble,’ he had dealt with Nova junkies before, they were an unpleasant experiment when they were alone, fighting like rabid animals, but they were downright terrible in groups.
‘So that’s where we’ll be headed towards, the hidden apostate labs that the document mentioned,’ problem was, he had no clue where to start looking.
‘Do you know where it is Eldra?’
[I’ve combed through our satellite images sir. But unfortunately, I still do not have information to provide an accurate location. But I do have a lead]
‘It’s all we have to go on for now,’ it’ll be just like when he was working as an investigator instead of just a guard dog.
[the lead researcher: codename— Conrad, was mentioned inside the document to frequent a small local brothel in Sanctum Astra called Wanderer’s Cave]
‘Of course it had to be in my home, everything problematic just had to happen near my home,’ the sooner he found the origin of this problem the better, he was getting sick of people messing with his city.
[Conrad is also frequently mentioned in more than 40% of all projects. Conclusion: he is a high value target pivotal to their development]
He quickly navigated down the stairs and towards the janitor’s closet he came from, preparing to leave already. But since he was already in the area, he wanted to make a visit to a certain friend of his inside the city. So, before he went through the portal, he exited the closet once more and closed it behind him.
The entire place was practically a relic of a bygone era, having been erected from before the cataclysm for the rich by the rich— where all the government officials come from. Which also meant that there were many things that set it aside from all the other settlements of the LAU.
An example of this would be how the city itself was constructed. Instead of being a regular fortress city— which utilised walls to protect themselves from any exterior threats. They built their built all of their infrastructure with foundations that stretched up to three hundred feet tall. Effectively removing any possibility of any outside threat being able to reach them, since aerial vehicles were a rare commodity in the wastelands.
And since there wasn’t a hierarchal system there, there weren’t any districts either, leading to the city planning basically boiling down to a grid pattern. A simple but effective layout in its case. Every single building also liked like they were carved in marble and showered in gold— flashy— just how the citizens here liked it.
There was one weird thing about the locals that Vosk found quite irritating though, they see transportation vehicles as unsightly and low class. With every single building connected with one another using walkways and skybridges, all of them walked where they needed to, the only exception being the sole launch station inside the city for travel between cities.
“See you in a bit Natam,” Vosk said offhandedly to the security guard diligently standing at the gates of the council building, “How do you keep getting in here??” Natam still didn’t realise that Vosk had the portal set up inside, it’s still an open secret though, so he’ll learn about it sooner or later.
He walked across the sky bridge that led to his destination as he took in the sight below him. Since the bottom was made of a clear glass, one hell of luxury, he could actually see how high up he was from the desolate ground underneath him while walking.
As he traveled, he received quite the number of stares from everyone there, their expressions ranging from curiosity to absolute terror. He knew they were sheltered from the outside, but his appearance shouldn’t be that rare of a sight, it’s only been a decade since he had last stepped foot onto the streets of Aurora.
He was making some good progress on his journey to his destination now, finally being able see the restaurant he was headed towards with his optics. He wasn’t there for the food though; he lost that privilege quite some time ago, he was there for something else.
He remembered the opening of the place like it was yesterday, him and his friends just finished up busting a small drug ring and just wanted to get something filling. And that’s when one of them suggested to go to a new place that specialised in stews, they laughed at him in the beginning, but that bear stew was bloody delicious.
The incredibly rich and warm flavours would coat his tongue after a long day's work. With every single bite being a delightful mix of tender meat and aromatic herbs, the recipe has to change after a while due to some shortages caused by the whole Everlon fiasco, but he imagined that it tasted just as good as it used to.
That’s also where his graduating class of military cadets used to hold an annual gathering to celebrate their survival of the cataclysm. Where they’d bring in their own alcohol and rink til the sun came up. Year after year they did it, even after Vosk became Sentry, even after he couldn’t really enjoy the activities that they had.
It didn’t last forever though, because one day, when he had to sit and wait for hours on end for someone other than him to show up, he realised that he was the only one left…
He opened the door to the diner as the bell connected to it rang, signalling his arrival, it was nearly empty inside, which was normal given that it was still too early for anyone to enjoy stew, but the warm lighting and atmosphere that it provided was still there.
A frail old woman wearing a pair of thick glasses sat on the other side of the counter to the bar style table, who squinted her eyes to somewhat clearly see her potential customer before relaxing, “how long has it been, uncle Alanda? Since I’ve last visited?” She said in a raspy voice.
He wasn’t her actual uncle though, she only called him that because the owners of the place lived just above the place and allowed their daughter to run around whenever she wanted. Leading to her practically becoming an honorary member of their friend group, and now? She looked— old, which should’ve been pretty obvious since it had already been—
“Ten years, nine months, seven weeks and two days, Yetalla,” Eldra kept track of everything going on around him, so this information was also available to him at his fingertips.
“Has it?” She slowly said, puzzled, “it certainly didn’t feel like it was that long…” she picked up a newspaper article from the counter before holding a magnifying glass up so she could read it, “could I interest you in cup of milk? It’s on the house.”
He didn’t have a mouth to drink it with, but having a cup put in front of him made him feel more human, “sure… why not,” the rusty old automaton that’s been in service since the start took one of the clean tall glasses from a cupboard before rolling over to a milk dispenser and filled it up to the brim, sliding it in front of the seat right next to Yetalla.
“Thanks,” they weren’t sentient by any means, but it was common courtesy for him to acknowledge any efforts made to accommodate his presence. He silently sat onto the stool before he started to tap his fingers from him left hand on the table.
He was there because he wanted to clear his head, and while he could’ve done it back at Sanctum Astra, or the middle of the nowhere, or wherever the fuck he placed a portal anchor in his lifespan. This place always held a special place in his heart.
He swirled the cup of milk in his hand as he gazed into the pale white whirlpool it formed, spacing out in the process. What else could Orthos be hiding? Why didn’t he even tell him about the contingency plans in the first place! After all this time… all this effort… did he still not trust Vosk at all.
The ‘man’ was enigmatic for sure, but that didn’t excuse him from the things that he did behind his back. And talking to him also felt like talking to a brick wall, there was simply no chance that anyone other than him was going allow anyone other than himself to control the direction of the conversation.
“When you feel like your life has no purpose… Yetalla, what are you supposed to do?”
Yetella gave out a hearty chuckle before it got interrupted by several coughs that wracked her body, “with how old you are, I keep forgetting that never had the chance to fully mature!” Her toothy smile was missing most of her teeth, but it seemed like she was still as energetic as ever, with Vosk figuratively raised an eyebrow at that comment, “you pulling my leg there?”
“Oh, great heavens no! you just don’t act your age that’s all,” she exclaimed, it was quite obvious to her. While the length of time that Vosk has been alive was impressive, it seemed like there was still much he didn’t know.
“Is that a good thing?” He questioned Yetalla, seemingly enraptured by the cup of milk he had in his hands, since that was all he was looking at.
“That’s for you to judge,” she said before putting her newspaper down and leaning across the table, “You are the one in charge of your own life after all…”
She didn’t need him to tell her to know that he was confused, so she spared him the trouble and gave him a piece of advice that she always held dear, “all you have to do is to figure out what you do best, and what you like to do the most! Then all the pieces you need will just fall into place!” But it really wasn’t that helpful, his best skill was killing, and he liked to hang out with his friends.
All he served as was a weapon, one that didn’t even need an identity. Did Vosk Alanda still exist inside his body or had it always been Sentry. Maybe there was some merit to her words… but Vosk just didn’t see it yet, he’ll sleep on it to see if it made sense in the future though, perhaps it would help him then.
Vosk knew that he was good at his job… and he liked doing his job because it keeps the country safe. It wasn’t the best conclusion he had, but it all he had to go off of… he placed his full cup back down onto the wooden counter before letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. It was a peaceful environment, but he couldn’t rest easy until his job was finished.
He should get back to work first, because the Nova-5 research certainly wouldn’t stop itself, “I’ll see you in a bit, Yetalla,” he lied before he sprung up from his stool and did some arbitrary stretches, preparing to set off again, there was a pub aching for a visit from the good old fashioned Sentry. Yetalla didn’t say anything in response, and simply ordered her automaton to clean his cup.
The journey back towards the council building ended up being a short one, with the amount of people outside now increasing due to the rush hour finally coming in. And so he gave the security guard another quick greeting before he retreated back to the janitor’s closet and walked through his portal back to the anchor he placed inside Sanctum Astra.
‘Eldra, would you kindly set a course for Wanderer’s cave?’ he asked, before an illuminated path that only he could see appeared right before him, he may have lost his humanity, but his current body was far superior in almost every single aspect that mattered.
He made sure not to run too quickly as he traversed across the various rooftops, since they were still pretty wet from all the raining earlier. Stopping every once in a while, to look down into the streets to see if he could catch a petty crime happening in progress. The people walking down below were most likely on there way to work, which meant that they were easy pickings for any muggers on standby, so he always made sure to see if he could find one of them whenever he could.
They were easy to squash, like roaches, but they also popped up just as frequently as them.
It didn’t take long before he stumbled upon a five-story building with neons signs installed all over it. With the largest one being the title posted up front— Wanderer’s Cave— guess that’s where he’ll find his answers. He leapt down from his perch and landed on the sidewalk, scaring a few of the passersby when he made contact.
He only wanted some answers this time, so intimidation would be at the forefront of his goal while effectiveness could take a backseat. But it was all just an excuse to pull out Skullbreacher again, using a different weapon for once made his job much less dull, so perhaps he should do this more often… the arsenal he had at the moment clearly wasn’t cutting it anymore.
Except for Homewrecker, the molten slag that beauty fired still hit hard.
When he kicked open the door through the doorway, he was greeted with the sight of a dimly lit reception area with wisps of smoke floating all around the space. He was grateful for his lack of smell when he entered the establishment, since the scans also indicated that nothing was cleaned regularly. Which was a terrible business practice considering that it wasn’t even in one of the edge districts.
Even if you weren’t smart enough to go to college or born in wealthy area, there was still one job that only required you to sell your dignity. Prostitution— which also became the default option for people who didn’t have any other choice other than to go homeless, these folks already had life as hard as it is.
They were easy to intimidate, just be authoritative, “where’s your boss,” make sure you demand, not ask, otherwise some may try to stall for some extra time. He even pulled on his bolt for good measure, the scarier he acted, the more likely whoever he was talking to would cooperate. The frightened clerk simply used her shaky hands to point upwards, with her eyes already trembling in fear.
Judging by the lack of a vocal response, he assumed that the one in charge of the whole operation was all the way up at the top floor, so that’s where he was headed. He nodded thanks to the clerk before he located the lift and pressed on the highest number there was.
There was no music while he was inside, nor was the rise smooth, but having a lift at all inside a building was still a pretty rare sight to behold with the world being in the state that it was at that point.
The doors dinged as it opened up to the top floor, which was pretty lavish considering the particular part of town they were in. The floor was carpeted with synthetic fur and the windows were even installed with drapes. Inside the middle of the room was a lounging area where several men were playing cards and gambling.
With a high-profile customer such as Conrad, they were probably in cahoots with him since he didn’t want his identity to get leaked, so he really only needed one scum bag to stay alive right? [affirmative, sir]
Bloody brilliant…
‘Eldra, would you kindly tell me which one has committed the most crimes please’ since the Volstrekers were mainly intended for international threats, that left a lot of small criminals running amok his city, a stain he’ll gladly wipe out once they were finished with eliminating all major threat. A second passed before the outline of the second person to the left lit up as Sentry raised his weapon and took aim with his hand, pulling his trigger shortly thereafter.
Bang~
The man’s brains splattered all across the couch he was sitting on as he slumped into the seat, his limbs thrashing for quite a bit before the muscle spasms died down as he stilled.
“Greetings gentlemen, would you be so kind as to tell me about a certain regular you have called Conrad?”