The elder fell to his knees, his sparse white hair falling loosely from his age speckled scalp. The wrinkles on his face told a tale just as old, but it was those pale white orbs that, murky and milky in their depths, painted the image of a man long past his prime.
Even so, the one emotion that pulled all Invalids together was the fear of death. They felt for nothing and wanted for nothing than constant improvement and survival.
When Apex's master turned his gaze to this old man, all of that carnal sort of need came rushing forth and he acted in the only way he thought might save his life.
Apex had been suppressed, but it was necessary. The actions of the Invalids this time around were risky. They were the public enemy of the world, maybe even more so than the Envoys of Creation and Destruction, or at the worst on equal footing.
