Marapulai - Row of Kings
For some time, he sat and watched the U.N. peacekeepers move forward, while
members of Chrysalis Inc worked in round-the-clock triages to stabilize
both citizens and soldiers alike. The day had begun with him being
fired out of a cannon into heavy fire, and ended with him sitting on a
wall, watching weird alien sky-ships arcing across the skies headed
towards the latest of King Croc's surprises.
The battle armor effectiveness gauge read 17%. He had gone through the portable
CDFF, the Imperium shielding, and half a dozen tank traps on his way to
do what he thought was a suicide mission...and yet...he lived. It wasn't
great training or supreme effort...it was his knack...his knack for
survival. What did it mean on the station right before everything went
to hell? He tried to recall right before being sucked into space when
Shankra was breached - He would be the one to watch them all burn.....
It was best not to think about a madman's pronouncements.
________
SMART LABS, New York City
'--And as you can see, SMART Labs will show an increase in operational value over the course of the next quarter...'
Ripley
Cross had heard enough. It wasn't that they could have saved
Shankra...it's that they were
outfoxed...outmaneuvered....outplayed....by bureaucrats. Nearby,
Persephone's eyes followed his lackluster attention, staring at him with
the cool countenance that always was prompted by forced response.
This time, it was different.
Abruptly, Ripley stood, shaking his head, 'This isn't science....this isn't improving the world...it's marginalizing it'
Taking off his badge, Ripley tossed it onto the table, and walked out of the room. A moment later, Persephone followed.
'This
isn't really the time for one of your childish displays Ripley'
Persephone coolly intoned, following behind him. For a moment, Ripley
stopped, the turned on his heel to meet his twin.
'No...it
isn't' Ripley answered, staring unflinchingly into his sister's eyes.
There was something in the gaze that caused Persephone to take a step
back.
'What then?' Persephone said, quickly regaining her composure, 'Are you still upset about Red?'
'Upset?
Why would I be upset? The Destroyers attacked Shankra with our
technology....our access....we might as well put the caustic necrites in
their hands'
'Oleg Natik designed the caustic necrites, not SMART' Persephone quickly responded, 'SMART was not respo-'
'No...'
Ripley started, 'We did nothing....we never do anything. Are we any
better if we do nothing? I'm tired of SMART either being the victim of
its inability or its incompetence'
'That's not fair Ripley' Persephone chimed, 'Science should remain neutral.'
'No...'
Ripley said, 'Not at the cost of the lives of the people around us. We
have the most gifted minds anywhere, but we hoard our intelligence and
projects jealously'
'We provide scientific clarity in a chaotic world' Persephone, 'We make sense of the universe'
'The universe....' Ripley shook his head 'Doesn't have to make sense....it's time we do something else...'
'Such as?' Persephone asked warily,
'Make
a difference...a real difference. Joe Tungsten and I are going to do
something else...things need to change...evolve....and they won't do so
here...in a place that stifles real progress...real attempts to help
society and mankind'
'Those are SMART's goals' Persephone answered, 'You are steering a path from accepted scientific principal to emotional madness'
'No...'
Ripley said firmly, 'We're going to do what we should have done a long
time ago....' pausing to turn towards the elevator, 'we're not going to
hide behind the apathy of this place....not where w can make a real
difference....'
With that, Ripley left his sister standing
in the hallway, and as the doors closed, he couldn't help but feel a bit
better....the weight he had grown accustomed to as part of SMART seemed
to disappear.
*They* would do something better...
______
USS Saratoga - South Indian Ocean, 15 miles SSE of Marapulai
He
moved his fingers over every inch of the outer hexite-plated hull,
ensuring that the damage had been repaired and the necessary
modifications were in place. In his life, he had cared for few things as
much as he did his greatest creation. With a jeweler's precision, he
performed countless micro-adjustments until everything checked out.
Moving backwards, he stood for sometime, marveling on the elegance that
even now, made him wonder how he could have created such a thing.
He
stood watching it for some time, not in wrapped adoration but thinking
of the last six months of his life....the last three years
really...since his life had been up-ended at the hands of his 'friend',
how he had lost everything, again....and how things had come into a
clarity he had never known. All of the years spent in angry vindictive
rage had blinded him to the reality he was in: He was a hated man, a man
whose brilliance was overshadowed by his own arrogance...for what was
it to live in such anger if not arrogance to believe he was the only
wronged party? He had devoted the majority of his adult life to seek
revenge....to vindicate himself against those who had wronged him....a
demented 'Count of Monte Cristo' remaking himself time and again with
revenge being his sole comfort and purpose...and where did that get him?
He had a great gift, and he had wasted it on building something which
nearly caused death on a wide scale. He had been blinded by his own need
to see he had become the very thing he despised. It was a harsh
revelation...one that he wouldn't forget, not this time.
He
stared at the MAULER suit as the sun descended, the last rays glinting
off the suit like an armored knight of old, cascading into a brilliant
myriad of beams and reflections. He had been giving a remarkable gift,
and time still to use it. What if he could adapt his technology
differently? Could he somehow make up for his mistakes? At least, could
he find some atonement? He had been so blinded by things...but now...it
was as if he had woken up from a bad dream. Ideas swarmed through his
brain - Adaptable cybernetic replacement limbs at low costs,
neurokinetic adapters to allow nerve repair, nanomachine augmentation
devices....such ideas that would better the world. He would develop and
design them, make the free and available to all - No more hiding his
ideas, fearful that they would be stolen....he would make everything
open-sourced...
But that would not be enough.
No....he
knew he would need to repay mankind for his actions. He would need to
make things right. He knew that it would require something more,
something much much more to make up for his actions.
Philip Cranston would need to transform the world.
_____
Undisclosed location, New York City.
'You
understand' the younger man added, 'We have a zero tolerance policy.
This policy is absolute. I don't have time for those of you who believe
that you are better than the program...that believe this is an easy way
to work down your sentence, or that you think your behavior is
justified'
Pausing to look over the group, the younger man went on to add,
'The
only reason you are here and not in Lazarus Sleep somewhere in the pits
of MAXXAM is that we believe you have the will, desire, ability, and
hope at reformation. This is not an easy process. You will not enjoy it.
I don't rightly care if you feel prison is easier. Every person who
serves and survives earns their wings - If you fall back into your old
ways, I don't care whatever the reason, we come down harder on you.'
Walking
amid the group, the young man was flanked by the giant who stayed a few
feet away. The sheer difference in size in the giant to the rest made
the gathered group pause for a moment. Even the hardened criminal knew
better than to try their chances at Von Hammer.
'Now...you've waived your rights, we've completed our profile. Your rehabilitation begins now.'
The
young man moved from behind the giant and brought up a computer screen.
Images flared to life, showing a variety of individuals in
still-photographs and video footage.
'Our job is to find them, bring them in, or take them down...any questions?'
______
Argent Tunguska, Siberia, Russia
The
soldiers moved into place, flanked by both Hammer and Sickle suits. The
carnage was nearly complete - A century of work and collecting nearly
lost. The one-eyed man moved with little care to the dead, instead
moving around the fallen bodies - already being collected for a mass
fire-pit. The dead would burn, but it was for the living that the
soldiers were more afraid for.
The signs of the battle were
everywhere. From the sides of the ancient walls to the surrounding
areas, fire, blood, and visceral lay strewn throughout the timbers of
the reclaimed forest. The footage, which would never see the light of
day, revealed in stark detail those responsible, and the one-eyed man
unconsciously rubbed the three scars under the patch he sported.
'Check
below' was all he said, his voice barely above the din of the nearby
helicopters. Squads moved with effortless efficiency into the smoking
darkness. Within ten minutes, the 'all-clear' signal was given, the
one-eyed man turned towards the entryway, descending into the depths.
The
darkest secrets of the last 100 years of Russian history lay shredded
and burning in the records room. The artifacts room had suffered from
the battle above, and yet, several of the more important items lay
undisturbed - the resting eggs remained in perfect placement, the large
cylinder with the last of the Romanovs remained connected to the power
source, the blue quartz skull, the only item within the vault to make
the One-eyed man shudder remained faintly glowing behind the ancient
wards placed upon it by the Mad Russian Monk. After checking the rest,
the One-Eyed Man moved to the laboratory.
The
Laboratory, much like he assumed it would be, was devastated. Large
sections had simply been destroyed in high-intensity plasma, while
others, looted for their resources no doubt, had been left vacant. The
One-Eyed Man made note of all projects he could determine were 'lost',
while at the same time looking to find which projects had been either
destroyed or left behind. It was not the lost or destroyed projects
which elicited an uncomfortable response, instead the projects that had
been left made the One-Eyed Man breathe heavily.
Moving with
precision down the dark hallway from the Laboratory, the One-Eyed Man
moved into the cathedral-like main elevator. Nodding to a soldier at the
controls, the massive elevator descended into the depths, seemingly
leaving the top of the shaft far in the distance. Relieved to see that
the massive blast doors were closed, the One-Eyed Man entered the code
that only three men alive knew, opening the doors. It remained in
stasis....Neither the battle nor invaders had bypassed the doors....and
it had not awoken. Only the One-Eyed Man moved into the massive room,
skirting the the edges of it, illuminated by the faint purplish-glow
that emanated from the body. The One-Eyed Man avoided looking directly
at the beast, instead, he checked the supports, the wards, and the locks
upon the vulcanium-derived chains, before exiting the room and
restoring the locking protocols. The whine of the doors coupled with the
re-activation of the nuclear device gave some reassurance, as the
elevator ascended from the depths.
The One-Eyed Man
quickly exited Argent Tunguska, nodding to a commander to take over the
external sweep and clean. As the din of other helicopters could be
heard, the One-Eyed Man quietly disappeared into one. A full report
would need to be given....as well as a consideration on who survived
that had seen the interior of the the base.....
____
Undisclosed Location, Somewhere outside of Istanbul, Turkey
The
gathering was a mix of the old and new. The few surviving 'Founders'
were adorned in their finest uniforms, removed from storage and faintly
of the smell of naphthalene and the ardor of a recent cleaning. The
crisp uniforms, faded with nearly 70+ years of storage gave an almost
sinister air to an already sinister event. In comparison, the sole woman
present wore a black dress with red hourglass, her tannish scaled flesh
amply exposed, with the writhing mass of serpents pulled back as if in a
pony-tail. Although the Founders were monsters of a different sort,
none present doubted the young serpentine woman was far more the monster
in intent and purpose. Gathered with a large group of robed figures around a pit, the figures began to chant a long and forgotten language.
One
figure moved forward and tossed a small sack of something wriggling
into the pit. One of the founds moved forward and emptied the contents
of a leather satchel, hands trembling due to fear as much advanced age.
Finally, the serpent-woman leaned in, producing a human skull from a
nearby box. For a moment, the woman held the skull in almost abject
adoration, kissing the polished smooth top with a intimate familiarity
before tossing it into the murky depths. The chanting reached a
crescendo, with the few lights produced by torches in sconces flickering
as a heavy unexpected breeze pushed into the room. The Founders
shuddered, but the snake-woman smiled, her fangs glistening in the dim
light.
A hand reached out of the murk, pulling itself free as if
doing so was in defiance of fundamental force. The robed figures moved
back as the figure fully emerged, towering for a moment in the shadows
as he slowly stood. The Founders balked, the servants fled, but the
snake woman smiled broadly.
The General had returned. CHRONOS would live again.
___
