๐๐ณ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ช๐ฆ๐ต๐บ ๐๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ข๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ, ๐๐ข๐ฏ ๐๐ข๐บ๐ฆ๐ฏ, ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ธ๐ข๐บ
Pedersen swept down the laboratory's corridors, this time aiming for looking less dapper and more stealthy. He was dressed in head-to-toe black leather, a modified Armament Society agent suit. Only this one had been tailored by the Sergeant himself, something that he called the "Cat Burglar." Infrared vision goggles, magnetic glove components, a wrist flexor grappling hook, and boots complete with suction and gravitational mechanisms, all while the suit was resistant to fire, explosive impact, wear and corrosion. The Cat Burglar proved invaluable in some of Pedersen's earlier missions, in which something new was required. He didn't require it for snagging the file or the vial of dark matter, but he would assuredly need it for what was to come. The gambit that he and Chamberlain had hastily thought up at the last minute was certainly desperate, but they couldn't risk trusting the Suit. After all, how could they after he had already violated their faith so many times?
Pedersen paused. He staggered forward, slightly losing his balance. Something had bounced off of his helm. It was either a pebble or a bullet, and judging by the velocity, it had to be the latter. Pedersen whirled around, a hand on his belt. Behind him were four armed Armament Society agents, all zeroing in on him. Pedersen backed away slowly, his hand still at the ready.
"Isak Pedersen. You're under arrest for theft and corporate wrongdoing," one of the agents said, their voice muffled through their mask. Pedersen sighed, his head dropping.
"What's the matter? Afraid you're going to get hurt?"
"No," Pedersen said sternly. "I'm afraid you are."
Pedersen swiftly lunged forward, brandishing a pistol from his belt. The agents began to open fire, to no avail. The Cat Burglar was highly resistant to most standard issue Armament Society bullets, hence why it was kept in storage as a last resort. Pedersen landed a powerful punch to an agent's face, sweeping him off of his feet. He then aimed the pistol at one agent, unhesitatingly pulling the trigger. In a flash, a speeding yellow bullet zoomed through the air and punctured the agent's suit like a brick to glass. The agent lost his footing, staggering backwards before collapsing. The other two dropped their rifles and began to make a run for it, but Pedersen marched after them with a sigh, effortlessly lifting them by their necks and hurling them directly off of a bridge, watching as they tumbled down a chasm. Of course, it had been the Suit who sent them. How else could they have known? Pedersen sprinted towards the Project: Vortex room when he heard a faint buzz in his earpiece. Seconds of static, then;
"Mr. Pedersen," the Suit said in his lavish, unmistakable voice. "This plan is far too brainy for someone of your intellect to pull off. That part was clear-cut. However, it was this second part that intrigued me, that piqued my interest in this conundrum. Who were you working with? I had my theories, but none of them added up. That's when I decided to catch flies with vinegar. Your accomplice, Sergeant Chamberlain, he's dead. A little Polonium-204 in his tea. Never you bother. I just wanted you to know that if you proceed past those doors in front of you, it'll be a grave mistake. One you'll regret. So I'd suggest you turn yourself in, Mr. Pedersen, before you evoke my fury."
Pedersen scoffed. The Suit didn't scare him. Though he was still spry and in shape for a man of his age, the Suit was an easy opponent in Pedersen's eyes. From the height difference alone, Pedersen could see an advantage. Nevertheless, he'd learned never to underestimate his opponent, nor to overestimate them. Perhaps to perfectly estimate their abilities was the best option, but his assessments of the Suit always resulted in differing answers. Nonetheless, he had to stop focusing on these scenarios and begin his plight to save the world in the limited amount of time he had. Pedersen pushed past the doors to the Project: Vortex room, scanning the chamber for hostiles.
"Mr. Pedersen!" Christos called from the other end of the room. Pedersen eagerly strode towards him, eyeing his tablet.
"Dr. Christos. Do you have the new cannon up and running?"
"Yes, but... Proceeding with our original plan comes at great risk. It hasn't been properly tested, we don't know the failure rate, and frankly, I personally think that going through would be nothing more than a kamikaze mission."
Pedersen sighed.
"Screw it. We can't hinder the world's last chance of surviving this apocalypse because of risk. We have to damn the consequences and power through. If I die, I go down fighting."
"If you say so, Mr. Pedersen."
Christos tapped his tablet, activating the cannon. The machine began to hum and sparked to life, rising and leveling directly towards the cavity in the wall. Instantaneously, a concentrated beam of white-hot energy flowed rapidly into the dugout, blossoming into a minuscule sphere. Gradually, the sphere extended larger, to the point where it abruptly found release, bursting into a circular, milky void. Sparks danced around its outer rim, waves rippling across its bright surface. The flow of energy began to ebb moderately, eventually receding into nothing. All that was left was the vortex, glistening with radiance. Only this one grew darker with every second that passed, white to purple, until it was a black and magenta ring spreading murk rather than light. Pedersen heaved a deep breath and began to scale the wall, watching his footing. He placed one hand after the other, deep in concentration, when the doors burst open. A pair of Armament Society agents sprinted into the chamber, their rifles cocked. The first began to fire rounds at Pedersen, missing spectacularly, his bullets bouncing off the wall, leaving nothing more than dents. The second went for Christos, chasing the helpless scientist around the room before mercilessly pumping him full of bullets, his white lab coat now stained with red. Pedersen watched in horror as Christos fell to the floor and bled out, and it was at that moment that Pedersen knew his second partner was dead. He'd lost everyone he was working with. Now, it was just him, and he had to succeed. There was too great of a risk if he didn't. Pedersen hauled himself over the edge of the cavity and braced himself, reassuring himself in his mind. Inhaling and exhaling, Pedersen sprinted like a bullet into the portal's surface, gracefully streamlining into it like a swimmer diving into a pool.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ถ๐ช๐ต'๐ด ๐๐ง๐ง๐ช๐ค๐ฆ
The Suit's eyes, behind his sunglasses, were glued to his computer monitor. His face gave new meaning to the phrase "stoic and grave", panic masquerading as silence. He stared at the ashes in the fireplace behind him, watching his old friend's remains burn, skin rendered kindling for a roaring fire. His polar bear skin carpet was still stained with oceans of blood, red on white. If any of his agents were to walk through the door, they'd find out. They'd learn the truth about who their director really was. A scheming, perfidious fraud whose heroism was built on a lie. A falsehood that became the truth after the world put their faith in it. The Suit knew that the line between good and evil was nonexistent. It depended solely on other's view of your actions. You couldn't decide yourself a hero or a villain. Only others could, hence why the Suit remained unrepentant for his deeds. As long as the populace thought him their savior, so be it. Why waste time on tainting your reputation? After all, guilt was merely an anchor that holds you down from your true potential. However, there still was one thing he regretted. One thing that he would change if he went back. Poison was a coward's weapon. What he regretted was not mauling Chamberlain to death with his own bare hands, to feel his blood on his skin. He was in a downward spiral, one that may have caused the deterioration of his mental health. But he couldn't face that now. One enemy had been eliminated. Pedersen wouldn't be a challenge. But he couldn't save the world without the dark matter that was stolen from him.
"Mr. Suit?" Anthony said, scuttling into his office out of the blue. Instinctively, the Suit reached for his pistol and shot Anthony in the forehead, a clean, accurate shot, without a moment's hesitation. He watched his secretary's slain body collapse, falling to the floor with a thud, once again staining his spotless floor with blood. The Suit sighed, rising from his seat, shoving Anthony's body into a compartment in the wall. From there, the corpse would most likely be taken to the trash compactor, which would dispose of the evidence. The only people that could have discovered it would be the garbage men, who would barely be a problem to the Suit. As for the blood, he would have to mop it another day. He had bigger fish to fry.
Instantaneously, the ground began to quiver, his chandelier swaying rapidly from one side to the other. Paintings fell, goblets shattered, and books shuffled out of his bookshelf. An earthquake. No, not an earthquake. It couldn't be. If it were, then the magnitude would not even be on the Richter scale. The Suit flailed his way to his desk, where he desperately manned his keyboard, checking the black hole's status. It was a singularity. This one far stronger than any other. An unprecedented, worldwide force. The Suit continued to type on his keyboard, alerting the agents, when he stopped involuntarily. All of a sudden, everything was still. Unmoving. The Suit exhaled a relieved sigh when his body began to levitate, rotating in the air until his shoes touched the ceiling. He knew this. It was what caused the buildings to break apart. The most dangerous part of a singularity. At any moment, he would fall. He dreaded the second that gravity would grasp him once more, allowing him to fall from a ten foot distance.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ
The Converse's purple stream of sunlight stretched far above the desolate, barren snow valleys. Massive birds traversed the skies, their vast navy-blue wings spread wide, their silver talons bared. A pack of tawny-brown theropods scaled the snow-capped mountains, savage dinosaurs the size of ostriches. All was peaceful in the Converse. Even the dinosaurs had come out to play. And on this occasion, the river was flowing. The icy-blue river that spanned the mountain range was rushing with glacial water, beckoning for nearby thirsty creatures to refresh themselves. A tranquil occasion like this was rare in the Converse. Almost nonexistent. But, of course, this was only the proverbial calm before the storm.
Instantaneously, a flash of purple lightning erupted from the skies, sending a shock down to the snow. The clouds began to stir as volts of lightning sparked inside them. But this wasn't just a thunderstorm. Something else was brewing. As more thunder rumbled viciously, a bolt of lightning struck the Armament Society's outpost with a flash, sparks hissing on the outpost's metal infrastructure. The clouds swirled into a spiral of lightning and fire, a sparking inferno in the air. A fiery spectacle dancing beneath the clouds, until it stopped. Imploded into nothingness. For a split second, peace was resumed. Until a tiny spark blossomed into a Gargantuan ring. White-hot, sparks dancing on its rim. A vortex. From the portal's surface, a faint scream echoed until something shot out. A figure, large and dressed in black from head to toe, donning a suit smoking with sparks. The figure was bombarded from the portal like an arrow from a catapult, careening rapidly towards the snow until it made impact. The collision made nothing more than a dent in the snow, and a two-meter long silhouette.
"Oi! What's going on out here?"
Conrad trudged through the snow, a rifle in hand. Wearily, he inspected his surroundings, finding nothing until he tripped. He fell face-first into the snow, then his body. Conrad sat bolt upright, spitting out a clump of snow. He rubbed his eyes and rose, and that was when he paused. When he realized what he'd just seen.
"Erm, Viktor!"
๐๐ณ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ช๐ฆ๐ต๐บ ๐๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ข๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ
The Suit paced restlessly back and forth in the chamber, muttering under his breath. All around him was an array of agents, all nervously looking at their feet.
"Well? What do any of you have to say about this? You caused a bloodbath and still let the enemy slip right through your fingers. How could any of you simpletons make that mistake?"
The agents continued to stand in silence, their hands behind their backs. The Suit closely inspected every one of them, his cane tapping harshly on the chamber's tungsten floor. He glanced up at the fully functional portal, at the sparks dancing on its outer rim.
"The one advantage we have to victory is that. Project: Vortex the second. Your new mission is to get in and extract the traitorous insurgent. The world may be ending, but I won't let it end while we still have unfinished business. You know your assignments. Carry them out with the utmost efficiency."
Four agents nodded, marching towards the spiral staircase leading up to the vortex. One of them halted, approaching the Suit timidly.
"What is it?" the Suit asked nonchalantly.
"Mr. Suit, sir, there's been a security breach."
The Suit raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Adelram and Mr. Alden... it appears they've acquired one of our aircrafts. They've set Djevelens Munn alight."
"What?"
The agent showed the Suit video footage of the penitentiary ablaze. Prisoners coughing and jeering, like a flaming riot. Explosives detonated in the distance, spreading smoke across the fire-stricken prison building. The Suit winced.
"Where are they headed now?"
"The Warren, sir. It may have impeccable security, but I doubt our sentries will be able to hold off Adelram and Alden for long."
"Then screw it. You go and find Pedersen. Take this," the Suit said, handing the agent a circular device dotted with a button, "and do not fail. The second you have Pedersen in your sights, press this button and step back. Retreat if you can. I'll stay here and take care of our other enemies."
"Very good, sir."
The agents filed into the portal, while the Suit sighed, glancing at the footage. This was cassus belli. And if it was war they wanted, it was war they would get.
โโโ
Thud. An agent's corpse collapsed to the ground, streaming with blood. Adrianus stood proudly over its dead body, continuously jamming his foot into its face. Hugo cocked his rifle, scanning the hallways. The Warren's corridors were desolate, barely an agent occupying them.
"Well, it looks like the Suit has left the belfry. That means it's time for us to play. What did you get from the Armory?" Adrianus asked enthusiastically. Hugo reached into his satchel and brandished a minuscule steel sphere, emanating light blue radiance.
"Ooh!"
Adrianus snatched the orb out of his hand, examining it closely.
"A compact hydrogen bomb? Good God, the Armorers, they've... they've figured it out. They've managed to seal the radiation inside a sphere but still hold the capability to destroy cities. Imagine its destructive capability when I place it at the heart of the Warren. Come along, Hugo. We've got work to do."
Hugo scurried after Adrianus, without a sense of doubt in his eyes whatsoever. He trudged through the corridors of the once palatial Warren, now a wrecked shambles. Graffiti lined the walls, courtesy of Adrianus himself, cursing the Armament Society and its agents. Lifeless, trampled agents lay on the floor, pleading for help. Adrianus wanted revenge, and he had gotten it. But not yet. He still had to dispose of the Suit, something he'd been aching to do since the moment he woke up from his trance. As it turned out, spending years in solitary confinement gave your mind a clarity. A clarity strong enough to break free of hypnotic suggestion.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ
Pedersen was ensconced on an armchair, a steaming, red-hot mug of coffee in one hand. He was wrapped in a mess of sweaters, coats and woollen blankets, anything to shield him from the harsh, cold atmosphere. He held the mug to his mouth, sighing contentedly as the coffee warmed his throat. He'd forgotten how cold the Converse could get compared to Norway. It certainly wasn't a joke. Hernandez took a seat across from Pedersen, flipping the switch on a heater and relishing the warmth.
"How'd you do it, jefe?"
"Do what?" Pedersen enquired, raising a frosty eyebrow.
"Come back. We thought you were dead. Turns out, you just took a little trip back to the real world."
"That is indeed what happened. I don't know, I was collecting water by the river, and all of a sudden I'm transported back to the Warren. It's uncanny. But I managed to come back here. In fact, I chose to get back here. The doctor that activated the portal... he gave his life to activate it for me. To get me to the other side. I owe all this to him."
Hernandez chuckled.
"Why in the world would you want to come back to this dump? We're dying, hermano. Rations are in short supply. There's no chance at all that we'll survive more than a few weeks."
"That's exactly why I came back. I wouldn't abandon you. I've made an enemy out of the Suit. You wouldn't believe what he's done to you. What you haven't done. But right now, knowing him, he'll send his goons right through that portal to come after me. That'll be our window. We can leave them stranded here."
"How do you know they'll come for you?"
Pedersen grinned, peeking out the window. As if on cue, Ramona stormed down the stairs, armed with a pistol.
"What is it?" Viktor asked.
"Something's going on outside. Another portal storm."
The three of them scampered outside, trudging through the snow. The dim sky was lit by a massive purple sphere, emanating with bolts of lightning. Sparks were showering down onto the snow, sizzling with an incandescent orange light. The sphere began to enlarge, growing to the size of the outpost itself. Conrad and Cyrus scurried out the doorway, both heavily armed.
"Who's coming through this time?" Conrad enquired.
"I don't know," Cyrus muttered gruffly. "But it doesn't matter. We can take them."
"Oh, I doubt that," Pedersen said. "They're highly trained Armament Society operatives. Just follow my lead, and we should be fine."
Instantaneously, the sphere burst, exploding in a dynamic shockwave. The five of them were sent flying like rag dolls, the outpost reduced to chunks of metal. When the crackling electricity simmered down, all that was left were four figures dressed in Armament Society-issued gear, their stares fixed on the five of them.
"The Suit wants you. He sent us to make sure you pay dearly for your treachery."
Cyrus rose with questionable gusto, confidently confronting them, his flamethrower raised.
"You'll have to get through-,"
Before Cyrus could finish his sentence, his chest was bombarded with a barrage of bullets, sending him collapsing onto the snow. The flamethrower fell from his hand, his limp body gushing with blood. The agents chuckled, unfazed.
"Anyone else want to step forward?"
Conrad began to shiver, gradually backing away, which eventually broke into a sprint. His footsteps left footprints in the thick blanket of snow as he continuously scuttled away. The agent in charge sighed, sending a bullet straight into the back of Conrad's head.
"What a coward. Looks like we sure scared him. Now, as for you, the Suit gave me special instructions on how to exterminate you lot. Allow me to do the honors."
The agent brandished the Suit's circular device from his belt, clicking the button in the center firmly. For a split second, nothing happened, until an ear-piercing frequency struck their ears, sending them onto their knees. The trio that remained groaned in excruciating agony, covering their ears to no avail.
"Neat trick, right? It's a sonic weapon. Sends out a frequency that makes even this Norwegian gorilla kneel. Works like a charm. Oh, and it attracts your next problem."
The agent dropped the device and began to dash with impeccable speed, the other agents following suit. Pedersen was confused, his mind clouded by the pain, until a cacophonous roar blared across the snowy valley. A vicious battle cry demanding fear, asserting dominance. One that Pedersen recognised from extensive preparation for this exodus. A hulking behemoth cast its shadow on the snow, leaving vast footsteps behind its spiked tail.
"W-What's that?" Viktor asked, backing away in fear. Pedersen sighed. After all, he didn't need to answer. The Tyrannosaurus rex opened its maw to release another bloodcurdling roar, setting its yellow eyes on its prey.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ถ๐ช๐ต'๐ด ๐๐ง๐ง๐ช๐ค๐ฆ
In the aftermath of the singularity, the Suit's office was in great disarray. Bookshelves defiled, paintings torn, glassware shattered. What was once a lavish workspace was now tattered. It looked like a frog's terrarium. The office was now in shambles, just like every other part of the Warren. What was left after the singularity, at least. Adrianus confidently strode in, a firearm in one hand and a bottle of the Suit's Pinot Noir. His mind giddy with the liquor, he began to giggle as he wandered around what remained of the office, firing bullets at random spots. A sober Hugo followed him into the workspace, his hands behind his back.
"Why the long face? We're here. Oh, what I used to hear about this place. His old base of operations. You know, I heard he watched as a man was eaten by a tiger in this place. But that might as well be another story conceived in prison to spite the Suit. But I don't disagree with it. It's certainly something he's likely to do."
Hugo took a seat at the Suit's desk behind his computer monitors, ignoring Adrianus' drunk blabbering. He keenly stuck a hard drive into the monitor's motherboard, bypassing his security measures with ease. Once a hacker, always a hacker. He circled the Suit's recently opened files, eagerly reading every last one, until he encountered one labeled Project: Vassal. Vassal. A word meaning a person in an inferior position to another. Its contents were even more intriguing. Hypnotic suggestion. It even listed Hugo's own name.
"Adrianus, what's this?" Hugo enquired. Adrianus stood on his knees next to Hugo, quickly reading the file.
"Oh, that. Yeah. You didn't know? He brainwashed us. All of us. That guilt you felt, it wasn't real."
"And you didn't consider telling me that?" Hugo said, his face beginning to turn a red hue.
"Listen. Once he brainwashed you, he implemented new memories in your brain. Over the years, your mind compensated for that addition, making the memories more and more real. You'd already adjusted. Think of it like putting up a wall. If I were to go up to you and say 'Those memories, they're fake', it would be like taking a sledgehammer to that wall. The effects were far too dangerous. You could've gone insane. The best I could do was help you break free of that guilt. Erase those memories. And, hey, it worked. Your mind's still intact, too."
"Thank you," Hugo mouthed, a singular tear rolling down his cheek. This wasn't a tear of sadness, though. It was one of regret. He silently swore to tear the Suit apart the next time they were to cross paths. Simultaneously, a clamorous applause bounced off of the office's walls, a sound originating from the doorway. As if on cue, the Suit lumbered in, still clapping uproariously.
"Well done. You found out my grand plan. Whatever am I to do? Oh, and Adrianus, how did you find out?"
"That's what solitary confinement does to you," he said through gritted teeth.
"Okay," the Suit said with a chuckle. "You're not a fan of Project: Vassal. Then let me introduce you to Project: Contrivance."
Instantaneously, something burst through the floor-to-ceiling window. An eight-foot-tall figure. No, not a human. An automaton. A hulking structure of stainless steel, built to resemble a human precisely. More specifically, the Suit.
"What the-,"
The robot lunged forward and instantly slammed its metal fist into Adrianus' chest, sending him straight into the wall. It dutifully took its place behind the Suit, who glared at Hugo with a cunning smirk.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ
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. Until something caught his eye. Another portal. Could it be? A flashing sphere of purple, wedged between a pair of gnarled trees. However, this one didn't have a dramatic, stormy entrance. It somehow just occurred in the middle of the forest. Nevertheless, this was his only ticket away. He had to take it. Ramona and Hernandez had already lost their lives. Pedersen couldn't risk losing his. Instinctively, he rose to his feet and scampered towards the portal, the mammoth thundering after him. At the last second, Pedersen hurled himself through the portal's surface, diving headfirst.
๐๐ณ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ช๐ฆ๐ต๐บ ๐๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ข๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ
Pedersen's head was the first to fall out of the portal, followed by his body, which hit the ground with a reverberating thud. He spat out a mouthful of blood, dazed from the impact. Before he came to his senses. He was surrounded by agents, all pointing the nozzles of their rifles at his head. In front of him was the Suit, blurred through his hazy vision.
"Wh-what?"
"Ah. Good to see you're awake. Welcome back to our world, Mr. Pedersen. You know, I trusted you. I prided you my closest confidant. But now, you betray me? Nevertheless, I had no true emotional attachment. You were just another employee to me. Which is why I won't feel guilty leaving you here when the world ends. Which, by the way, should happen in about ten minutes."
The Suit jammed his boot into Pedersen's jaw, cackling maniacally as droplets of blood dripped from his open mouth. Hugo winced, still in the grasp of the automaton's right hand, Adrianus grasped by its left.
"You-you're sick, you know that? You're a sick psychopath. Why else would you have killed every single person around you? Chamberlain, Hernandez, Ramona, Cyrus, Christos. Now, you're going to kill me."
"Oh, it's not me who's going to kill you, Isak. It's the black hole. But I guess I could still torture you before the world ends."
While the Suit continued to brutally beat Pedersen, Adrianus glanced at Hugo, gesturing towards his pocket. The hydrogen bomb. Hugo contemplated for a moment, taking its effects into account. If he released it, they would all die. But the black hole would still kill them nonetheless. It was simply a matter of which would do it first. Instinctively, Hugo fished the bomb out of his pocket and activated it, flicking it onto the ground with an ear-splitting clink. The Suit whirled around, his eyes widening.
"Oh...,"
But the bomb didn't detonate. Before it did, the automaton snatched it from the floor in a flash, instantly taking flight. The seven of them in the chamber watched as the robot burst through the domed ceiling, exploding into a distant inferno in the night sky. Like a destructive firework. The Suit laughed hysterically.
"You thought that would work? Come on. I expected better out of you."
"Oh, not at all," Adrianus said. "That was just a distraction."
Adrianus lunged forward, tackling the Suit while Hugo placed something on his chest. A hexagonal, jet-black pad. Simultaneously, long strings of metal encapsulated him, covering him in a head-to-toe steel exosuit. The Suit stared in disbelief at the piece of machinery that Hugo donned.
"Wh-what? It-it's real? No. It can't be."
The agents fired a round of bullets at the ironclad figure, to no avail. The exosuit simply phased through the gunfire, easily disarming the agents and knocking them to the ground.
"That," Adrianus said, panting,"is the Eidolon 2.0. What do you think of the update?"
"I think it's fallible."
The Suit fished something out of his own pocket and hurled it at the exosuit.
"You might want to step back."
"No. No, you son of a-,"
Instantly, the exosuit burst, exploding into a thousand chunks of scrap metal. The machinery had been reduced to nothing, Hugo burnt to ashes.
"Hugo!"
Adrianus yelled, tears streaming down his eyes. After all, what more could he do? He'd lost his partner. His protege. After their experiences, Adrianus would have been proud to call Hugo his son.
"I'm going to kill you," Adrianus said with an anger-fueled, laser-like focus.
"Oh, I doubt that," the Suit said, glancing up at the sky. It had begun. The apocalypse. This was more than a singularity. An incandescent, ochre wave of light overcame the sky, blanketing the Earth in radiance. A poetic depiction of the end of the world. Debris rained down from the skies, puncturing the chamber's ceiling. The world was falling apart all around them.
"It's glorious. Who knew the world would end like this?"
However, Pedersen wasn't distracted in the slightest. Instinctively, he turned and sprinted towards the dimming portal in less than a second, his eyes fixed on his prize. For a split second he was about to save himself from the black hole's fallout before he collapsed. A reverberating thud, echoing as he hit the floor. The Suit tucked his smoking gun back into his jacket, sucking his teeth. Adrianus stared in disbelief.
"You-you killed him? Your right hand?"
"You'd better believe it, Mr. Adelram. Oh, and you're next."
The Suit brandished the pistol once more in a millisecond, aiming the nozzle right between Adrianus' eyes. The moment before he was about to pull the trigger, however, something burst at the other end of the chamber. A Gargantuan explosion, sweeping across the tungsten floor, devouring everything in its path. Adrianus didn't take a moment to hesitate. Dodging the Suit's bullet, he rolled sideways into the portal without a second thought. Conflicted, the Suit stepped over Pedersen's corpse and nonchalantly stepped into the vortex, walking away as the world was dying behind him.
๐๐ช๐ต๐ต๐ฆ, ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ, 1944
Adrianus' eyes fluttered open, his vision swimming. He felt as though he'd been hit by a bus. He sluggishly sat upright, scanning his surroundings. Looking around him, he noticed he was in the midst of a dimly lit, filthy alley, rodents scurrying up his legs. There was a fire hydrant to his left, and nothing but red graffiti to his right. But it wasn't just graffiti. It was a symbol that people had shunned for decades. The red symbol of the Nazis. Adrianus rose, inspecting a newspaper at his feet. "The US invades Normandy." According to the history books, the US Army invaded Normandy in 1944. If the headline was true, then that would mean that he was stranded. Not only in a different city, but a different century. As Adrianus took a step forward, he was instantly jerked backwards. A muscular arm wrapped around his neck, tightening into a blood choke. Adrianus tapped the forearm, managing to squeak out a string of suffocated words.
"I know it's you."
The arm released him, letting him fall face-first into the filth. The Suit tutted, picking Adrianus up by the scruff of his neck.
"You should have anticipated that. I thought you spent your confinement honing your skills."
"There's a larger issue here, Sherlock. We're in Berlin. Not just Berlin, but 1944. That's-,"
"Extraordinary," the Suit said.
"No! No, it's not! How the heck are we supposed to get back? Is there even a Warren to get back to?"
"Well, if it's 1944, I may know someone who might be of service."
"What? Who, Hitler?" Adrianus enquired. The Suit strode away with a hopeful smirk, Adrianus scampering after him.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ: ๐๐ฆ๐ณ ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐จ