Brent Stinebaker
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22-16 Kidnapping
🕑 Added 2024-02-07 16:19:00 +0000 UTC+This is Elder Mwaba D’Rongo.
I have something for you. Receive it in my stead. It will make our clan strong; and protect us from our enemies.
Within. And… without.
You will know what they are. You will understand what I have done. I ask that you behold these memories before judging me. The threat we face is… it is beyond us. Beyond our comprehension. Already too late to contain. We are at the point of desperation.
I ask that you understand why I had to accept these gifts from our enemy. For our clan. For the Overclan. For the Guild. You would have done the same in my place.
A plague is sweeping the Nether. A plague is already upon us.
We must save what we can before it is all too late.
Unity is destiny.+
-Thoughtcast between Elder Mwaba D’Rongo and [Redacted]
22-16
Kidnapping
Hadrian Aslowe was a prisoner in more ways than one.
Each day, he woke within a gilded cage, risen from silken sheets to be serviced by cheerful servants who hid their mechanical interiors behind a masquerade of flesh. He wasn’t sure how he noticed their inhumanity–why some of their actions made the hairs on his neck stand–but the wrongness called to him all the same.
He lived on a beachfront somewhere, peering out at lapping waves of pristine turquoise as he went about his daily affairs. The horizon was painted from an embrace of splendorous colors, and the softness of the clouds never failed to make his mind tingle with delight. Without doors or even windows barring him from the world outside, the winds flowed and the passage of nature through his abode made him feel as if living in nature.
So it was that he spent his days in paradise, without shortage of company, without worrying for his peace, without remembering why he was even there.
The last part was the thing that gnawed at him the most. The ignorance. The missing spots in his mind. He could remember parts from his childhood, of the clan he was born under, of the time he spent in the academies, the brutality of the Fourth Guild War.
But everything after was a haze, as disconnected from the world beyond as the island he resided on was.
This was paradise. But it was also exile, and day after day, the malaise within him continued to build.
“Another drink, Aslowe?”
Pulling his eyes away from the curve where sea met sky, he faced the favorite of his servants and offered a wan smile. Just because they weren’t people didn’t mean he couldn’t play house. She was a slight of frame and a few hairs shy of one-hundred-eighty centimeters. Her hair was like a living flame made animate through aesthetic modifications, and the paleness of her skin suited the dark and willowy dress that danced like the waves with the coming of the winds.
The only thing that actively gave away her non-human nature were the phantasmal strings passing through her chest–through were her locus was stored.
She carried a tray that offered some a turquoise delight, ice cold and crackling with carbonation. When he took what was offered, she graced him with an additional grin, causing him to look away before his Metamind did its duty against the rash.
He was glad he hadn’t chosen to configure his servants toward provocation or eroticism. Such a thing would have amounted to little more than a taunt. Even in paradise, some things remained broken, some things couldn’t be.
Lust was for later. For him alone. In his mind. Away from the waking world.
“Would you like for us to sing you to sleep again?” She said, fluttering her eyes.
He took a sip from his glass and listened to the waters, felt the sand beneath his feet, rooted himself in the understanding that this was a prison, luxurious though it might be.
But so what? So what of it now? All the world was a prison. That would be the case until they won. Or someone won. To have his freedom back, to be in New Vultun was–
The memories were missing, but some slivers of feeling were still there – cognitive scars of unceasing anxiety, terror, and despair. He felt like a cord that had been drawn too tight for too long. Even now, there were parts of him that didn’t know how to loosen.
But only parts.
It wasn’t hard for a prisoner to fall in love with their prison when what lay beyond was a nightmarish slaughterhouse.
“Yes,” Hadrian finally replied. “An older song now, though. ‘Should Dawn Never Come.’”
“Oh? Nipped by nostalgia today, are we?” Her giggle came right on cue, and there was something so perfectly human about the timing. So perfectly human that it wasn’t. He wasn’t sure how development created these mechs, but he had more than a sneaking suspicion they might have been peeking at Voidwatch’s homework.
Savoring another sip from his drink, he gestured for her to follow. They walked side by side back to the bungalow as the firmament slowly brightened, the shift between night and day hinting its approach.
As he made it past his verandas, however, something in his periphery caught his attention. A snapped branch. A depression in the soil. Footprints left not of bare feet but booted soles instead. Someone else was here. Intruder.
It was funny how the body could remember long after the mind was made to forget.
Hadrian moved on instinct, shifting behind his servant for a measure of cover. In a single motion, he dumped the contents of his drink and shattered the lip of his glass, turning it from receptacle to shiv.
“Is something wrong,” the mech asked, her dissonant calmness finally betraying the nature of her inhumanity. Didn’t steal enough of Voidwatch’s homework it seemed.
“Keep quiet. Stay close but ahead.” He was moving off instinct now, his nerves firing–alive–his guts dropping as adrenaline screamed for his sheath to come alive. He knew the odds were against him if this was a properly trained team, but considering he was still alive and they hadn’t just shot him from beyond his sensory range, they must want something from him.
That, in some ways, was a more worrying question, and one he didn’t want to think about.
As they passed an exquisitely sculpted column, he found a holocoated man waiting for him at the front of his house. Behind him, six other servants stood gathered on the porch, smiles clinging to their faces, staring off into the distance–at nothing in particular.
The surreality of the scene gave Hadrian pause and the man’s uncovered face made his mind go blank. Though fractals of obfuscating light danced along the stranger’s body in waterfalls of static color, his face was defined by hard edges and a piercing hazel gaze.
The tension inside Hadrian swelled as he swallowed, angling himself behind his “human” shield. “Who are you?”
“Mirror-Concave. Redaction Protocol. I’ve been activated for your reassignment. Your current location is compromised. We need to go.”
And like a snapping band, the ice-cold dread came rushing. “Compromised,” Hadrian said, dimly. “I–I can’t even remember what I did. How–” He bit back his argument and let out a breath. There were lots of things he didn’t know. How the other man got in the first place was one. If he was trustworthy was another.
Sensing his hesitation, the stranger shuffled awkwardly. “You are disoriented. I understand. I am authorized to help you unlock part of your recollections. But you need tru… eh… trust…”
And a shudder whipped through the man’s accretion. He blinked and stumbled, suddenly seeming lost himself. After a beat, he went still and faced Hadrian once more, eye focusing as flames erupted upward from his Meta.
“What the fuck,” Hadrian muttered.
The Mirror-Concave’s expression changed. Before the ignition of his mind, a stoic seriousness ruled him. Now, there was a sense of delight in the widening of his eyes. A faint smirk inching closer to a sneer. “Hm. Of course they would give you a nice cage. Favored hounds had to be rewarded.”
The way he spoke was different too. There was more of a hiss trailing after his words, the pace of his speech languid as he took in his surroundings once more.
As the flames sizzled out the Concave’s Meta, his features remained unchanged.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“With me?” The man replied, sounding amused. “Nothing. I’m perfectly fine. The one that occupied this sheath before? He’s screaming. He’s very loud. And brave. But some of us are unwilling to conceptualize ‘unearned damnation.’”
The Concave wasn’t making sense. The strangeness of the moment was only growing. It was as if a fever dream had breached Hadian’s paradise, that the isolation triumphed, casting him into madness. But the backdrop remained the same. Only the Concave remained an oddity. Only the conversation was failing to make sense.
A presence brushed past Hadrian. A chill washed over his mind.
Without prompting, the red-headed servant turned to face him, the expression on her face altered as well. “What wonderful toys D’Rongo gave you. Fascinating sequences. But not just ghosts here. Sprites. And components from Omnitech. Hm. Might be a story worth learning there.”
Though her voice remained the same, the way she spoke suddenly resembled the Concave.
Hadrian shuffled back. “Did you just jack my–”
“No,” they both said at the same time. “No.” And this time, the word came as a chorus from all of his mechs. “You don’t remember. But I will help you. The Concave was only going to let you know enough. So you would stop asking questions. Make it easier to relocate you. I am far more generous. I will not keep you in the dark. I will let you know everything before I decide what to do with you. So you won’t suffer ignorance.”
And before Hadrian could ask anything else–before he could even think of turning and running, a spike of pressure burrowed through his skull, and like blood spilling from an open wound, he remembered all of his life – and what he did to be exiled.
Falses of that night came back to him. D’Rongo’s operation. The Stillborn. Leading the Glaives to secure the project and the Imitators. Getting ambushed by the Regular. The death that followed. The Paladin they murdered secondhand.
All that memory climbed back into Hadrian’s mind like a rising fire and it took all that he had not to empty his guts all over the grass.
“Regret. Quite the potent sting with you. Will make a good pattern.” Hadrian forced himself to face his mechs, to face the Concave. They were all watching him now. Watching him with a shared gaze. Studying him as a someone would an animal trapped in a cage. “Come. Prepare yourself. There’s someone I want you to see.”
“What?” Hadrian asked.
But as usual, not direct answers came.
There was only a sudden hint of discomfort before it happened–before the unseen force clenched his ego and drew him across the Nether.
He didn’t even have a chance to fight it.
***
As the final leading Glaive formed from a mess of phantoms over the information center, Avo gestured at the twenty-six survivors of the night and looked to Kae.
“Behold,” Avo said, pleased with his bounties, “the wheel of retribution turns.”
Across from him, the Agnos was far less enthused than he, but there was still a pep in her step as she stared up, watching the writhing forms of the agents that destroyed her life–that used her to murder Morrow.
Compromised of mind and funneled through an assortment of Auto-Seances, each surviving Glaive and Incubi had been taken from their curated stations of safety and cast into a prison of waking nightmares.
Some struggled, trying to call upon their Phantasmics, to direct traumas at the cadre. Others attempt to talk and bargain, not understanding they themselves were the prize. The most astute among them–the remaining Incubi and Hadrian–instead found their gazes resting on Kae, and horror followed their realizations.
They understood what they were doing here. In some way or fashion, they understood.
“These–this is all that’s left?” Kae asked, swallowing back a lump in her throat. Thoughtstuff spewed out a whirlwind of emotion. “All the ones who were there?”
“Draus reduced the Glaives substantially,” Avo said, giving a Regular a gleeful look.
“Clearly not enough,” came her terse reply.
“Incubi are even fewer—three among twenty-six. Think Walton did some hunting afterward. Suspect a few tried to turn. To contact other Clans as well. Were silenced by their own Concaves.”
+We were ordered!+ Came a cry, one of the collection finally tuning into the conversation. The thoughts came from one Jakka M’bantu, a desperate plea to shove blame over to D’Rongo.
Of course, the cadre already knew that. Knew who was behind this. And with the help of these “voluntary turncoats,” there would be more than enough evidence to surprise the trial at Scale, to feed the Heaven of Truth for offering and utterly destabilize Ori-Thaum.
Right now, it was fun watching them squirm.
{Avo,} Calvino said. {You’re enjoying this a bit too much.}
[You should enjoy it more,] Abrel said, offering a counter-perspective. She leered at the entrapped Silvers and would have been salivating if she wasn’t going on the chopping block as well for the same trial. But in her position, one took pleasure from where they could find it.
+I will assume responsibility.+ Hadrian’s thoughts drew Avo’s attention, and he found the final Glaive in his collection addressing him directly. Fitting. The man was the only surviving leader of the ground team, after all. More than once, Avo caught his perception spilling over Draus, though the Regular paid him no heed. +The others… we were performing a deniable operation for the benefit of our clan and Guild. The duty lies–+
“Fuck. You.” The words left Kae with a snarl as she buried her fingers into the information center. The colors of her eyes shifted, shifting from their natural hue to the fathomless depths of the ocean as she unconsciously tore moisture from the air, the condensation churning around them like a maelstrom.
“Kae,” Denton began before Chambers placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he said. “Just let her have this. She’s just expressing herself. We all got a bit of Rend we gotta vent sometimes, right?”
The spy frowned at the scene, and then at the droplets of water building around them. “It’s not the prisoners I’m worried about.”
“Responsibility. Responsibility. Responsibility.” Kae slammed her fist down on the blood-made information deck with each word spoken, then struggled to hide a wince at the end, shaking her hand. “You keep–you speak like it matters. Like–like what you did was somehow noble.”
To Hadrian’s credit, the Glaive flinched away from the Agnos’ gaze. +It wasn’t right. I know that. I know that you should have been afforded some dignity–+
“Should have been afforded some dignity?” Kae hissed, voice almost breaking. A disbelieving laugh escaped her. “You–you really are not more than a nu-dog, are you? All of you? Did anyone have any hesitation when the orders came? To frame an Agnos for the murder of a Paladin. To compromise her mind–make her lie to him–have her create faults in his Heaven’s canons to ensure that he ruptured? Did you? Did my life matter? Did Dawton’s?”
At some point, the screaming was closer to sobbing, but the Agnos was still going.
“What did she tell you?” Kae asked, rage giving way to exhaustion. ‘What was your mission? What did you think you were doing?”
This, Hadrian had no trouble answering. +We were dispatched to prevent Highflame from winning the war. From commission a thaumaturgical construct that–+
The rage came back. “That I was planning to use to fix the Heaven of Love. I was thinking about curing the Rash. Did you see that when you jacked into my mind? Did you see?”
This question was meant for the Incubi, and after a few awkward beats, a short-haired woman with transparent lenses in place of her eyes spoke. +Yes.+
“And you destroyed me anyway,” Kae said. “You murdered my team–my friends. My love. You–you made the Agnosi deny my existence. You knew I wasn’t a threat.”
+Highflame would have been,+ Hadrian interjected, some heat to his own words now. +You mean well, Agnos Kusanade, but you cannot be naive enough to think that what you were making wouldn’t have been weaponized. That someone among your peers with Saintist loyalties would have adapted something from your research in the aftermath.+
Kae clenched her fists. And then closed her eyes. And sighed. “I am. I was. I was that–I did think that we meant well. That we were all of us trying to make things better. That–that–that no one could have seen the wrong in me creating a cure for the worst plague in existence–which was also your fault. You. All of you. Guilder… bastard… half-strands.”
She took a breath and swept the floating Silvers with a glare again. “Did you know… how your Elder found out? Why she was personally attached to the mission? I know little of the military, but you perform in cells, yes? Cells directed by Mirrors. So each collapse or compromise can be stopped before it is too late. Then why was the Elder directly involved? And did you think it was just chance that you were ambushed?”
Hadrian gave Draus another look, but the Regular continued watching impassively, taking in the captured minds with a bored expression.
“Noloth,” Kae said, spitting the word at them with glee. “A priest of Noloth had to tell you. Or you wouldn’t have known.” She barked a laugh. “He did more than tell you–you planned all of this. We are all pawns to him. He was even a pawn to himself. All to create something that…” She gave Avo a look. “...will either be our salvation or damnation.”
{Avo. I can feel your ego growing. Stop it.}
He simply grinned.
As Hadrian wanted to reply, claiming impossibility, Avo injected one of his own memories into his newest subverts, and what followed was a chorus of despairing gasps and maddened screams.
“Oh, how the Deep Nether fuckers turn to the Deep Nether fuckees,” Chambers snickered. “Well, the dicks in the other foot… dicks in the other ass… you’re getting fucked in the ass! How do you like it when you get ass-fucked?”
“Knew you’d get there, juv,” Tavers deadpanned. Beside her, Dice gave Chambers a thumbs up and he grinned with pride.
+I… I didn’t,+ Hadrian felt sick again. A trauma nearly passed through him as he considered all his fallen comrades, and all the lives that were spent. All in service of Avo. Finally, his eyes fell on the ghoul and something inside his mind wilted. +Oh, gods.+
“Long dead now,” Avo replied. “Most of them. Some can still hear you through me. They find you… amusing.” He turned to Kae and nodded. “So. What do you want now? Have them. Have them at your mercy. We can inflict anything. We can make them suffer anything. All is possible. What do you want before we bring them over.”
The Agnos’ eyes remained locked on the ones that ruined her past for a moment longer, and then, something inside her surrendered as well. Succumbed. Collapsed.
Disappointment passed through Avo as he tasted her thoughts. He expected the opposite effect. Something to feed her rage. Nourish her heart.
{She’s just tired, Avo,} Calvino said. {It’s too much emotion. Too much weight to bear all at once. Nothing she does here will make her life what it used to be.}
No. That was–
Avo paused.
Well. There was something they could do. They might not be able to restore her life. But they could return her to the Tiers if they shaped things just right and inserted her into the trial. There were risks in such a plot. Dangers posed to her person, but he didn’t doubt that Naeko would let her out of his sight again.
Of course, this was to be Kae’s choice, with there being still much to consider for the trial.
“Send them back,” Kae said, her mood black. “Send them black. And then bring them through. We can think of how to best use them. Like they used me. Like we all get used.”
“Passage’s set up and open already,” Draus said, casting the mem-data over to Avo. “They’re all gonna be taking separate routes down to Light’s End, I reckon. Sure you can get them through security without gettin’ noticed.”
He frowned at her. “What do you think?”
“I think almost every time we try to do somethin’, some unexpected bullshit comes out of nowhere and tries to snuff us, and we end up fightin’ for our lives.”
[She’s got a point,] Corner said. [There was Abrel, Shotin, hells, Zein–]
“Will make sure they get across fine,” Avo growled. “Won’t have a problem.”
Draus gave him a smug grin. “Sure. In the meantime, I’m connectin’ the passage to a place out in the Wilds. Last thing we need is to bring a Godclad with a Heaven of Stealth or some shit like that straight into the enclave.”
Comments
Ggamer
That jarring twist from freedom units to metric units.
Astra Tomas
few inches shy of 180 centimeters is the wildest thing i’ve read in the book
