Pedersen sprinted nonstop past gnarled, dead trees, his boots leaving wide footprints in the thick blanket of snow. Snowflakes drifted from the stormy grey clouds in the darkened sky, covering the barren bushes in specks of snow. An ear-splitting roar reverberated across the canopy, theropods scurrying past him with gargling screams. Hastily, Pedersen ducked and side-rolled behind a desolate oak, launching a smoke signal into the air, watching it detonate into a thick cloud of smoke. Beads of perspiration dripped from his brow as his predator lurked in the nearby clearing, its snarls sending an eerie sense into the crisp, snowy air.
"Pedersen!" a distinct voice called out from afar.
Hernandez trudged through the mounds of snow, dripping with blood and armed with only a rifle in his quivering, blood-stained hands.
"Dios mio," he panted breathlessly.
The two of them paused as an electric shock filled the air. The predator, a massive colossus armed with jagged claws on its minuscule hands, droplets of blood staining the snow as they dripped from the titan's serrated rows of teeth. Hernandez screamed, terror-stricken, as the voracious leviathan opened its maw and encompassed him, leaving nothing but his shoes, filled to the brim with his blood. Pedersen sat paralyzed, frozen in shock. The behemoth had devoured his ally right in front of him. And he knew he was next. Debilitated, he sat staring his opponent in the eye, waiting for death to come and collect him.
𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘈.𝘚., 48 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘌𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳
"Everyone, gather around!" the Suit barked. The inmates, the world's last hope of surviving against the black hole, stood in a neat circle, their attention solely on the Suit.
"Now, there's been another singularity event. The black hole's getting more and more aggressive. It's not just buildings this time; it's people. The anti-gravity's pulling them up to the stratosphere and sending them back down, only to die a very suspenseful death. We won't let this happen again. Your mission to the Converse will prove our means of salvation against this common enemy."
"A very inspirational speech, Suit. But tell me, how exactly will our sojourn to the Converse save the world like you proposed?" Adrianus remarked.
"Good question. I've withheld this information from you for long enough. Nonetheless, I will require visual aids."
The Suit clicked a button on a remote control, activating the projector attached to the ceiling. The projector displayed, much to the inmates' awe, a 3D holographical image of the black hole. A detailed diagram.
"Now, this is what we're up against. A supernova. How will we beat it? Well, by causing it to collapse in on itself."
The Suit clicked a different button, this time causing the holographical black hole to implode and burst, leaving minimal fallout, which was then scooped up by the surrounding satellites.
"How will we do that?" Hugo enquired nervously.
"Another good question, boy. The implosion of a black hole can be caused by inserting negative density matter into it."
"No such matter exists in this universe," Adrianus interjected.
"Exactly, Adrianus. In our universe, mass only comes in positive form. But to gain negative mass, perhaps we might have to scour another universe. One that we have direct access to."
"So, when we disembark in the Converse, you want us to do what exactly?"
"Collect samples. Bring them back, and the Armament Society will weaponize them to combat the black hole. Once you've contributed your part, you're free to go. Early parole, as promised."
"Glad to hear you're keeping up your end of the bargain," Cyrus added.
Hugo raised his hand, as if in a classroom. The Suit nodded, prompting Hugo to ask his question.
"If you only want us to get in, collect samples, and get out, why weaponize us?" Hugo asked, raising his laser weapon.
"The Converse is dangerous. Especially with the minimal information we have on it. The last subjects did not survive their mission."
"Sorry, hold up," Adrianus interrupted. "You're saying people died on this exact mission? Why send us in there then, moron?"
"Because now, you stand more of a chance. You're a team of seven, guided by an experienced agent of the Armament Society. We weaponized you for this exact purpose. To protect you from whatever killed our squadron of agents. So you could avoid their fate and save the world. Remember, the fate of the world rests on all of your shoulders. Don't die in there."
The inmates murmured amongst each other, eventually nodding in agreement.
"Good. I'm glad to see you've come to a consensus. Now, it's time that you do what we intended for you to do when we began this initiative. It's time for you to save the world."
𝘈𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘚𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘓𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘑𝘢𝘯 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘯, 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘺
The sleek, jet-black van trudged through miles of thick, blankets of snow, emblazoned with the Armament Society's crest. An upside down pentagon, donning a helm and bearing a sword and a spear, crossing over one another. The Suit had rejected the proposed design of an eagle spread over a star-spangled shield, since the Armament Society did not protect only America. It dedicated itself to keeping threats to the entirety of the world at bay. Their crest was a symbol of defense and of honor, representing their fight to defend the world from potential disruptions to world peace. This was what the Armament Society stood for and what they hoped would prevail, even in the face of an impending doomsday.
The Suit sat nonchalantly in the front passenger seat, chewing on a lit cigar. He watched the thin wisps of smoke trail out of the open window, tapping his foot to the melody in his head. He trapped the cigar between his fingers and slowly jerked it out, coughing out a cloud of smoke, and turning his head to face Pedersen, who sat focused in the driver's seat.
"Are you afraid, min venn?"
The question caught him off guard. Pedersen began drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
"I-I don't know what you mean."
"I commend you for retaining courage in the face of this mission. You know the risks, and your odds of survival. But sometimes, it's good to feel fear. Fear keeps your blood pumping. It drives you to do what you need to do. Sometimes, to succeed, you have to let yourself feel it, let it empower you. That's one secret to success."
Pedersen chuckled.
"But fear can also destroy you. I've had my doubts about this mission, but I trust you, Suit. I won't let fear take control of me. I have to stay focused and save the world. These guys in the rear seats, they're the baddest of the bad. They may have their own instincts, but you can't drive a donkey with a carrot. You need to prod it with a stick to get it moving."
"I believe this is your way of saying you don't trust them."
"I don't trust him," Pedersen blurted.
The Suit straightened in his seat, sitting bolt upright.
"Adrianus?"
"Yeah. There's something... off about him."
"How so?"
Pedersen sucked his teeth. He contemplated whether now was the right moment to ask the Suit. To release the feelings of mistrust he had since the initiative's conception.
"Who is Adrianus Adelram? Since when was he the Eidolon? When was this 'incident' in Tokyo? How did you not apprise me of it?"
Pedersen bit his lip. He'd laid it all out. Like a fool. He stared at the Suit in an anticipatory manner, expecting to be berated. Instead, the Suit heaved in a deep sigh.
"So it's not Adrianus you mistrust. It's me."
"No, Mr. Suit, not at all," Pedersen assured. "You're like a mentor to me. I mean... I've never heard of Adelram, is all, and if he's that dangerous, why isn't he a more popular subject?"
"The more dangerous something is, the more secretive we have to make it."
"How did he, all of a sudden, gather a collection of expensive accoutrements after being released from prison for a whole of five hours?"
"He had resources before he was arrested. His time as the Eidolon proved sufficiently lucrative."
"You let him keep his blood money? Look, Suit, there are a lot of holes in this story that you have to start explaining."
"Adrianus Adelram was a researcher in Tokyo. He was fired by his superior after an incident involving his "Eidolon Project." To spite him, Adelram completed the project on his own and took his anger out on Tokyo. Grand theft auto, larceny, arson. How would the police stop someone who could walk through walls? The Armament Society had to step in. But his money was transferred to an offshore account in Hong Kong, encrypted with his signature ransomware-proof algorithms. We couldn't bypass it. Hence why he kept his riches."
"You kept all this under wraps for years? Why didn't you apprise me of any of it?"
"Apprehending Adelram was a joint initiative between me and Sergeant Russell Chamberlain. At the time, you weren't essential personnel. It was not a requirement to brief agents on this mission. At the time, you were an agent."
"Russell Chamberlain. Wasn't he-,"
"He was the Head of Security before you, yes. He was an old friend, too. We both served in the Army, and remained in contact during the following years. I recruited him at the Armament Society's inception."
"Where is he now?"
"Last I heard, he was in Panama. After that, I think he got tired of the life. Nevertheless, we're not here to talk about Chamberlain. Adrianus Adelram is yesterday's discussion. What matters today is saving the world. Speak of the Devil."
Pedersen slammed his foot onto the brakes, the van skidding to a halt. Gradually, the ground in front of them parted to reveal a cavernous parking lot, practically the secretive entrance to the Armament Society's bunker. As the Jeep slid down the precarious ramp, lights flickered on in the spacious area, as well as turquoise neon lights illuminating the aquarium-style plexiglass walls. Pedersen and the Suit stepped out of their respective doors, unlocking the ingress to the rear compartment. The prisoners filed out in a neat line, beginning with a nonchalant Adrianus, decked out in his finest clothing, as always. Pedersen shot the Suit a glance, to which the Suit simply shrugged. The duo led the inmates in a single-file line through the fortress, passing bridge after bridge and multiple sets of blast doors. The laboratory had to be kept secure from prying eyes, even if it involved a tiresome maze of passageways. In due course, the group had came across a set of floor-to-ceiling tungsten doors, lined with armed guards. The Suit straightened himself and faced the guards, simply nodding to bypass them. He pressed his palm against a screen attached to the wall, which, after a hydraulic click and hiss, caused the pair of doors to swing open. Inside was, once again, the circular floor, and the centered platform. The inmates gaped at the spacious chamber, wandering about like grazing sheep. The Suit strode onto the platform, examining the machine. Once again, Christos scurried towards the Suit, his tablet in hand.
"Mr. Suit, sir. We meet again."
"It appears so," the Suit replied nonchalantly.
"I see you've brought the subjects."
"I have. Is the vortex prepared for entry? What's our failure rate?"
Christos glanced at his tablet.
"5%, sir."
"Unacceptable. The board and I gave you three weeks to finish this product, reduce the failure rate to zero, and you still failed to do so," the Suit scolded.
"Sir, with all due respect, 5% is acceptable. It has been tolerated in previous-,"
"I don't care!" the Suit bellowed. "Any previous experiment or project is fickle compared to Project: Vortex. This project could resolve the Supernova Crisis once and for all. We need there to be no failure rate whatsoever, or those subjects," the Suit pointed a finger at the inmates, who were now a cluster adjacent to the platform,"have a chance of dying, even if it's as minuscule as 5%."
"Mr. Suit, do, erm, d-do you want me to delay activation?"
The Suit sighed. "No. Proceed. However, know that if our subjects do not survive this journey, that burden is yours to carry."
Christos gathered his fellow scientists, inspecting his tablet. The other scientists began to man their respective computers, with Christos manning the machine. With a mechanical whir, the cannon was poised, aiming directly at the cavity in the wall. The Suit shepherded the inmates onto the platform, arranging them in an immaculate line.
"You're not going to want to miss this," Pedersen said enthusiastically. "It's quite the fireworks show."
"Three," Christos said firmly. The other scientists' fingers began to click on their respective computers' keys rapidly.
"Two! One!"
With the click of a button on his tablet, the cannon began to charge and release a beam of pure, white-hot energy. The energy flowed speedily into the crater, eventually receding and blossoming into a circular, milky void, sparks dancing around its rim. The portal hovered inches above the ground, gradually turning a dark orange hue. The inmates gawked in awe, squinting to catch sight of the radiant showstopper. Adrianus began to clap, with Hugo following suit. All six eventually began to burst into raucous applause, with Christos beaming at the approval he was receiving, before the Suit shot him down.
"Okay. I'm glad you've enjoyed the show. Now, it's your turn to play your part."
"All right, form up on me, let's go!" Pedersen yelled.
The Suit nodded. "It's time."
Following Pedersen, the inmates shuffled onto a Bosun's chair, packed into a small space. Adrianus lingered by the machine, whistling to a tune in his head.
"Hey, Adrianus," the Suit barked. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, nothing," Adrianus muttered nonchalantly. He strolled onto the Bosun's chair, aiming a wink at Hugo.
"Do it," Pedersen said firmly. Christos nodded, pulling a lever. Gradually, the platform began to raise upwards, eventually leveling with the cavity in the wall. Pedersen exited the Bosun's chair first, heaving in a deep breath, his eyes shut. This was the moment. His moment of glory. Everyone else was staring right at him. The Suit was staring right at him. He had to make his mentor proud. That was all that mattered. But was it though? Why did he still feel a sense of loyalty and admiration for the mentor that lied to him, for years? He shot a sharp glance at Adrianus, who shrugged. Pedersen sighed. It was time to forget all that. All that mattered now was saving the world. It didn't matter what the Suit thought of him. It never did. What he had to focus on was what he was going to do next, and how it mattered to him.
Pedersen took suspenseful steps toward the vortex, gingerly approaching it. He felt the warm sparks tingling on his skin, entranced by the vortex's radiance. He reached out to touch it, but his fingers came up empty, caressing nothing but warmth. Heaving a deep sigh, Pedersen barreled headfirst into the vortex, praying under his breath. His feet sank into the portal last, before he had fully submerged himself. The inmates gasped, all taking a step back.
"All right, who's next?" the Suit called.
Hugo instantly turned and began to bolt, his footsteps clanging against the cavity's metal. Cyrus growled, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and effortlessly dragging him towards the vortex.
"He is," Cyrus said, hurling Hugo through the portal with one hand. Hugo's screams began to fade as the portal swallowed him, glowing with luminescence. Cyrus roared and sprung into the portal, diving sideways through its rim. The other inmates tentatively followed, yet Adrianus remained idle, hands in his pockets. A guard marched over to him and prodded him with the muzzle of his rifle, gesturing towards the vortex. Adrianus sucked his teeth.
"Look at the portal, Suit," he said loudly. "Every time one of these jokers steps in, it starts to ripple. It's getting unstable. It can't handle the intake. I'm afraid if I go inside, it won't be able to take it."
The Suit nudged Christos with his shoulder.
"Show me the tablet."
Christos nervously handed him his tablet, his eyes downcast. The Suit inspected the readings and yelled in frustration.
"Argh! This is why we can't have a failure rate! Even a microscopic chance of underperforming could affect overall success!"
"It's your decision, Mr. Suit," Christos replied meekly.
The Suit glanced at the tablet, and then at Adrianus, who looked at him expectantly. The Suit paused a moment to think, infusing the air with an unbearable suspense. He'd already been criticized for his lack of humanity. Why attempt at preserving his reputation further? There were always going to be people who despised him, especially those he incarcerated. He knew that he should never let their thoughts affect his judgment.
"Send him in," the Suit barked.
"WHAT?!" Adrianus protested. "No, no!"
But the guards remained faithful to their employer. Two of them grabbed Adrianus by the arms as he began kicking and ranting.
"No! Argh! No! Don't!"
The guards still refused to listen. As they neared the vortex, they let go of Adrianus' arms, sending him tumbling into the portal, still raving, which was a grave mistake.
The moment Adrianus rolled into the portal, it began to find release. The portal's radiance grew stronger, gradually imploding before it burst into a shockwave of pure, white-hot energy. The guards at the mouth of the portal were instantaneously vaporized, with the shockwave still enlarging, before it paused and catapulted back into a minuscule sphere. The Suit, Christos, and the other scientists were flung backwards by the impact, slamming into the tungsten walls. As the Suit lay on the floor, his suit drenched in blood, tears streamed from his eyes as he faced the harsh truth. All of his effort had amounted to nothing. There was no saving the world if its only chance of surviving was forever lost.