Serendipity was a marvel.
One trillion people, the greatest population density in the galaxy, living together in relative harmony. An omnicity so colossal and so all-encompassing that it was said to have doubled the size of the planet all by itself. No doubt that was exaggerated, but still.
He couldn't help but feel a sense of muted awe as he looked out at the city -- at the white spires climbing high, at the atmospheric vanishers concealing the clouds, at the skyways of flying cars making their way to and fro. Sometimes, when he took in this sight from his apartment, he couldn't help but feel reminded of a great and divine machine. One trillion lives, moving in sync, inexorably marching forward to the next era of humanity.
Did everyone else feel the same? Or was that just the Prince talking?
Jaime Pierrot, formerly Captain, took a sip of his coffee as he looked out over the capital of the Unified Alliance of Planets. His desk, laser-carved from the wood of an Apex tree, was spread out behind him, countless documents cluttering its surface. A glass display case at the side of the cozy room contained his collection of Aether Armaments -- those he'd been able to claim during his dismissal from UniteFleet, anyway.
Indeed, the public did not take kindly to a captain who abandoned his ship -- especially when he was the only survivor. The military tribunal had had no choice but to discharge him from his post, and from UniteFleet as a whole. The Prince had helped him maneuver that dismissal into an honorable discharge, but had provided no more help than that.
The reason was easy enough to guess -- whatever the next stage of the grand plan was, it would be better served by him not being part of UniteFleet.
Peace and joy for all mankind.
"Computer," Pierrot said promptly. "Dim window, full."
The view of Serendipity vanished as the window faded into an absolute black, and the lights within the room brightened to compensate. Pierrot turned around in his chair to regard his guests.
"Your old protégé seems to have caused quite the panic, Widow," he commented. "I'll ask you again: do you believe he has a chance of winning?"
The Widow, standing behind the chair of her charge, considered the question. "In terms of skill and power alone…" she considered. "...no. But I don't know what kind of plan he's concocted. Without knowing that, I truly couldn't say."
Four people were gathered in the room with Pierrot, all of them considerably more powerful than himself -- and yet, curiously enough, they all waited for him to speak. Experience and competence were valuable crops, and he'd cultivated them well.
His eyes slid calmly between them.
Agnes Von Winterburn, the young Tsarina of Adrust, clad in a white fur coat and ushanka. Her white hair was styled with the exactitude of sculpture, and her Cogitant-blue eyes seemed to glitter in the light. Her gloved hands lay demurely on her lap, but there was no mistake in looking at her that this was a person of power. All politicians held blades -- it was just that hers were made of silk.
Behind her, next to the Widow, stood the Tsarina's brother -- Rufus Von Winterburn. If you didn't know their names, there would be little to let you know they were related. Where Agnes' hair was snow-white, his was bright and red as fire. Where Agnes' eyes were cold blue diamonds, his were golden amber. Where Agnes' mouth was a flat and concealed line, his was spread out in a boisterous grin.
Rufus, called the Supernova by some, was the Fifth of the Ten Nebula -- the personal agents and bodyguards of the Unified Council members. Pierrot had never really approved of the Nebula -- the self-mythologising of it all was too close to the Supremacy for his tastes -- but they served an important propaganda purpose. They gave faces and names to the monolith of government, simplified complex bureaucracy to a more easily digestible narrative. These were figures that could be rooted for -- superheroes, in a way.
The third man in the room was the one Jaime Pierrot had known the longest -- an old commander of his during his early years in UniteFleet. Albert Raise, the Prime Minister of the Lesser Chain, ran a finger through his graying mustache as he considered the situation. In Pierrot's memories, he'd seemed so strong and unflinching -- but time had taken its toll, softening him to the ginger affability of an elderly gentleman.
Two members of the Unified Council were here, then, in a meeting that officially could never take place. Representatives of Adrust and the Lesser Chain, actively seeking out his counsel. The Prince truly worked wonders.
"It occurs to me," Albert ventured, straightening up in his seat. "That some clandestine intervention might be called for here, in this circumstance. While this man Esmerelda has an unfortunate history with the UAP -- the records unearthed from Taldan speak for themselves -- is the enemy of our enemy not our friend? Perhaps one or two of the Nebula could bolster Regiment RED in this fight?"
Agnes clicked her tongue. "Foolishness."
Albert cast her an annoyed glance, waiting for the girl to continue, but she didn't straight away. Pierrot had noticed this: the Tsarina of Adrust liked to make people wait, drawing them in with silence before expressing her opinion. She did it more often in Pierrot's presence, too -- or rather, the Prince's presence. The effect it had on Cogitants really was noticeable.
Finally, though, Agnes Von Winterburn did speak. "Say that we sent my brother here to Elysian Fields, or one of the others. Forgiveness Irons, perhaps, if we didn't want to lose any good men. Say that they failed, and were killed, as people often are. When the corpse of a Nebula is unearthed on Elysian Fields, essentially attempting the assassination of their head of state, what do we give the Supremacy? Pale excuses? No. We are best served keeping our distance in this matter."
Rufus leaned over his sister's shoulder. "If it comes down to it, some of the old routes into Supremacy territory are still intact. I could get some guys over there real quick."
Pierrot smirked ruefully to himself. The UAP had been at war with the Supremacy, in some form or another, for the entirety of its existence. There were countless secret lightpoints capable of launching forces right across the border -- and Pierrot expected the same was true for their adversary.
"The situation will become chaos before long," Agnes insisted, her quiet voice overpowering her brother's booming one. "A wildfire. The best we can hope for is not to be part of the kindling. Don't you concur?"
Pierrot leaned back in his seat, massaging the bridge of his nose. The Tsarina had a good sense for these sorts of things, but in the end what she was proposing was stasis. A maintenance of the current situation. Back on the UniteRegent, that had been the course of action that Pierrot -- and the Prince -- had preferred, but now things felt different.
Now it felt like they were allowing an opportunity to pass them by.
"What of Shen Xiurong?" Pierrot said, rubbing his beard. "What does his faction intend? You're friendly with Nebula Two, aren't you, Rufus?"
Rufus shifted on his feet. "Xiurong and his group are gonna vote to fortify the borders, I think. If the Supreme dies, they want to be ready for whoever comes next. Abra-Facade have said they're staying out of it, though. Pretty sure that Paradoxia are doing the same."
Pierrot considered it further, looking to Albert. "And Pandershi?"
Albert scoffed, crossing his arms. "That eccentric? I imagine he'll side with whoever promises him the bigger research grants. He's happy enough playing with his mushrooms."
"Don't underestimate that man," Pierrot warned. "I find myself disliking him."
In actuality, it was the Prince that seemed to dislike Zephyr Pandershi -- the leader and dictator of the Pandershi Foundation. He knew too much, saw too clearly, and dreamed too dark. If it weren't for his position on the Unified Council and the usefulness of his innovations to the UAP as a whole, the Prince would have had him killed long ago. That was the extent of its enmity.
Or did Pierrot dislike him as well? It was hard to say. These days, it was difficult to tell where Pierrot ended and the Prince began.
"The meeting of the Unified Council will take place before long," Agnes said quietly. "How do we proceed?"
Unlike the civilian government of the Supremacy, the UAP formed more of a democratic pyramid. Populations of planets selected a representative for those planets, those people then selected a representative for their system as a whole, and so on and so forth -- until you reached the Unified Council. The ten ultimate decision-makers in the UAP, who voted on all matters.
Pierrot did not have control over all ten, and so could not make decisions directly. But the Prince understood the factors that drove these people, and so could… encourage certain outcomes.
"Vote for no action," he finally advised. "Don't move troops to the border, either. We don't want to give whoever next takes command in the Supremacy any excuse for an attack."
Few words were exchanged after that, as the gathering disbanded -- Albert, Rufus and Agnes leaving to attend the meeting of the Unified Council. Only the Widow remained, standing as she peered through the display cases at his Aether Armaments.
"Something wrong?" Pierrot asked, looking up from his script. Behind him, the window had cleared once again, sunlight streaming in.
The Widow glanced at him. "Do nothing?" she echoed. "Sloth isn't the sort of sin that suits you, Pierrot. What do you truly intend?"
Pierrot leaned back in his chair once again, looking up at the ceiling. Screens installed there displayed a beautiful image of the galaxy, stars and spacedust broiling around one another, with only providence keeping them from apocalyptic collision.
"Six hours ago," he said softly. "A broker in the Supremacy received a call. This broker has lost family members to the Supremacy military. This broker has now received a substantial payment from an anonymous source."
The Widow blinked. "...and what is it this broker has been paid to do?"
Pierrot looked her right in the eyes. "A mercenary fleet is on its way to support the escape of Regiment RED. I'd like for your new Vantablack Squad to accompany them."
She'd no doubt expected something like this, but the Widow sighed all the same, closing her eyes.
"Is there a problem?" Pierrot asked.
"No," she shook her head. "It's just… this is what you intended all along, isn't it? All according to plan?"
"Yes," Pierrot smiled thinly. "All according to plan."
Peace and joy for all mankind.
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This was not the main course. This was barely an appetizer. You didn't stuff your mouth full of breadsticks before they even brought your meal out, did you?
Of course. Nobody did that. The Supreme was the same way -- so he made a promise to himself. As he was fighting this man called Blackbird, he wouldn't use his special abilities at all. He'd use around one-percent of what he had. The equivalent of a pinkie finger.
After all… that was the only way to make a fight like this fun.
Bang.
As Johan fired off another round at the Supreme, he dropped down to the ground, body so flexible that he was nearly doing the splits. The bullet, sparking and flashing with bright purple Aether, sailed over the Supreme's hair and thudded uselessly into the rock behind him -- but this time, at least, he had the chance to observe it.
Yes. The first time Blackbird had fired, it had been a surprise attack, but the Supreme had gotten a strange vibe from it all the same. This confirmed it.
He'd been able to see the launch of the attack this time -- the actual act of firing the bullet. Even without using Analysis, he'd observed well. When Blackbird had fired off that Aether-infused bullet, he'd cleared out his own defensive Aether first, just for a second. This was an attack that must not come into contact with one's own Aether.
As the Supreme kicked off to the side, leaping onto a more flat piece of terrain, he named it: "Der Freischütz. Right?"
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Blackbird stiffened, but it didn't matter. The Supreme already knew he was right.
Not all Aether abilities were unique. Some powers, like Quantum King, had people attempting to replicate them for centuries after the original user had died. That was not the same kind of ability as Der Freischütz, however. Der Freischütz was the kind of ability that was theorized to be possible, but had never actually been perfected.
Three had tried, and all three had ended up destroyed by their own power. The fact that Johan Blackbird had managed to fire off two shots without obliterating himself was actually pretty impressive.
The Supreme landed -- and immediately, all around him, sentry automatics burst out of the soil. As one, they fired off their payloads, neverwire nets latching onto the Supreme's form. He heard the telltale hum as electricity ran through the substance and then, a second later…
…a snap, as the neverwire exploded off of him like fireworks, overwhelmed by sheer power.
The Supreme shrugged off the remnants of the neverwire, letting it fall to his feet, and looked up the hill towards Blackbird. Johan was still pointing his rifle-arm at the Supreme, but he hadn't fired yet. He'd learnt from the first two attempts, then… he wouldn't take a shot unless he was certain it could hit.
"You shouldn't rely on a party trick like neverwire," the Supreme advised. "There's only so much that stuff can take, you know?"
Johan said nothing, but oh those eyes were narrowed. This guy wanted to take the shot so bad. He was a real hater.
"Der Freischütz…" the Supreme continued, cracking his neck, judging distances and efforts. "It's supposed to use the enemy's Aether as the fuel for an explosive attack. Pretty ingenious, if you ask me. No matter who the target is, so long as they're an Aether-user, you can kill 'em in one shot. In fact, the stronger their Aether is, the more effective Der Freischütz gets. It's a real magic bullet, so long as you don't blow yourself up. You put that together yourself, pal?"
How many shots did he have? That was the part that mattered. If the Supreme just charged right in, he'd be making himself an easy target. He had to figure out when Blackbird would need to reload.
"Leaper Demon King!" roared an unfamiliar voice.
The ground behind the Supreme exploded upwards, a tidal wave of soil and stone, before reconstituting itself -- into a massive upper body. The landscape sculpted into a puppet, a huge elephantine trunk swinging from the middle of its indistinct features. As the Supreme turned to look at it, the elephant-man lashed out and seized him between two of its massive hands.
"Johan!" the titan roared. "Do it now!"
The Supreme remained limp as he was held up high and tight in the giant's hands. Johan Blackbird hadn't come here alone, then -- he had allies waiting in the wings. This guy's ability was Leaper Demon King, then, and it seemed to allow him to turn the landscape into a facsimile of his own body.
Bang -- Blackbird fired Der Freischütz once again. The bullet would reach the Supreme in a fraction of a second.
The Supreme began to blink.
He wasn't terribly interested in the impending bullet right now. How did this Leaper Demon King work? That was the important question. Was this guy manipulating the earth from a distance, or was he inhabiting it personally? The Supreme would win either way, but the answer would determine the method.
Judging from the strength of the construct, and the reduced visibility from the forest fires, the Supreme guessed this was the latter -- this guy had recorded himself into Aether and was inside the construct, possessing it. If so, that made things simple.
Der Freischütz would detonate the instant it made contact with Aether. Even assuming this was a perfect execution of the ability, that still left a glaring weakness.
The Supreme finished blinking.
Aether ping.
The wave of golden Aether burst outwards from the Supreme's body, leaving him defenseless for just a split second as it radiated out, tracing the shape of the golem holding him -- and making the barest amount of contact with the incoming bullet. The explosion was immediate, a shining golden fireball that engulfed everything. Der Freischütz ignited the wave the Supreme had released, and then transferred over to the second Aether that wave was touching -- the Aether of the man holding him.
The Supreme had been right. This giant guy had recorded himself into Aether to possess the giant -- but that meant that when Der Freischütz destroyed that Aether…
…he no longer existed in this world.
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Jason Palmer had spent a career and a lifetime smuggling people across the border between the Supremacy and the UAP. Criminals seeking to escape justice, agents on both sides wanting to sneakily enter the territory of their enemy, refugees searching for an escape from tyranny. All sorts of people, with all sorts of stories.
One day, he was hired to ferry a young girl out of the Supremacy and into the UAP. The money was good, and the job easy. He hadn't known at the time, but th
His life came to an end.
----------------------------------------
Bang.
As the Supreme dropped out of the air -- the giant collapsing into rubble behind him -- Blackbird fired another shot at his falling form. No doubt he thought the Supreme's movement would be limited as he fell out of the air, or perhaps he was starting to panic slightly. It didn't really matter.
The Supreme had already overcome Der Freischütz anyway.
With a grunt of effort, the Supreme coalesced his golden Aether into a sphere in his hand and hurled it -- like a farball -- towards the incoming bullet. Pure Aether was ordinarily a useless projectile, but in a situation like this, it would prove surprisingly useful.
The sphere exploded as it made contact, destroying the bullet in the process, and the Supreme landed on the ground unburdened. Immediately, he stomped down, the dirt beneath him smashing open and producing a smokescreen of dust and soil.
It would prevent Blackbird from firing for a second, and the Supreme needed that second to confirm something. He'd felt a presence in that Aether ping, something else nearby, something --
-- there. The air shifted.
"Inevitable Friend," someone whispered.
The Supreme flipped backwards just as a void-black silhouette charged out of the dust, arms outstretched towards him. It was the same size as him, matching his proportions, as if his shadow had peeled itself off the ground and gone after him. As the Supreme landed, he ducked as the shadow grasped blindly at him once again.
It was going for grabs, not punches or kicks, so the act of touching him in itself was it's objective. To be honest, he'd rather not find out what happened if it made contact -- he found himself reminded of matter and antimatter, both being obliterated as they met.
Bang.
As the Supreme jumped to the side to avoid another swipe, Blackbird chanced a shot. The bullet pierced through the smoke and barely missed the Supreme's shoulder, but he did not spare it even a glance. His attention was entirely focused on the enemy before him.
Two abilities: Der Freischütz and this Inevitable Friend. One long-range, the other short-range. Both of them he could absolutely not be hit by. Which did he prioritize?
The smoke cleared slightly, and the Supreme's keen eyes spotted his second opponent. A young Cogitant girl, glaring at him from deep within the treeline. All in all, she was slightly further away from him than Blackbird. That determined the order of things.
Before the Inevitable Friend could grab at him again, the Supreme leapt upwards, kicking up a geyser of dirt in the process. The Inevitable Friend jumped after him, but it was far inferior in both strength and speed, and had no chance of catching up in time. As he reached the crest of his jump, high in the sky, the Supreme twisted his body in the air and blasted pure Aether from his legs -- propelling himself directly back down towards Johan Blackbird.
In that second, the Supreme could see it. Blackbird's face, now twisted in fear and panic. A greedy man realizing how much he'd tried to chew. The Supreme's mouth spread out into a wide, toothy grin.
Bang.
Blackbird's prosthetic, at the last second, fired the bullet once again…
…and the Supreme deactivated his Aether to welcome it.
----------------------------------------
All Johan Blackbird had wanted to do was write his books.
It was just a single paragraph in a single one of his novels. A mention of a past Supreme, Gael the Golden, written with the derision his legacy deserved. Johan had believed in the Supremacy. He'd believed himself free to say such things.
The Supremacy disagreed.
A zealous Special Officer had seen what he had written and, incensed, had come after him. Beaten him. Tortured him. Taken things from him, as further punishment. Hauled him off to prison and thrown away the key.
That had only been the beginning of the pain. That had been where they'd stitched his mouth shut, so he could slander no more. That was where he'd learnt what humans were really like. That was where he'd received his education on the shape of this world.
By the time he'd left, he couldn't recognise himself anymore. All he'd wanted to do was write his b
His life came to an end.
----------------------------------------
The Supreme's grin widened even further, despite the ache he felt in his jaw. There, clenched between his teeth, was captured the final bullet of Der Freischütz. He'd managed to catch it without any Aether at all.
A low chuckle resounded through the forest. He really was built different.
Johan Blackbird twitched.
The Supreme had told himself, right at the start of this, that he'd be using the equivalent of his pinkie finger. Like in one of those old martial arts videographs, where the old guy fights with a hand tied behind his back. He supposed this really drove that point home.
At the moment he had caught the bullet, the Supreme had casually reached out and -- with the ease of a knife in butter -- pierced his pinkie finger through Johan Blackbird's skull. It was buried up to the knuckle, curiously warm as the Supreme flexed it around, ravaging Blackbird's brain.
"Well," the Supreme yawned. "I think you're probably dead. Good try, buddy."
Pop.
The Supreme pulled his finger free, winced at the mixture of blood and brains remaining on the digit, and wiped it clean on his jeans. All that time, though, he did not look at what he was doing. His gaze remained fixed on the forest. His gaze remained fixed on the girl hiding there.
She'd been glaring at him before, with the kind of dead eyes only a rare few knew. Now, though, those eyes were wide, pupils shaking, the shadow of fear crawling behind them.
The Supreme knew it well. Still grinning, he mouthed one word.
Run.
----------------------------------------
Emma had just realized -- she wanted to live.
For as long as she could remember, she'd been chasing her own death. A death she could be satisfied with, one that would take out her hatred on the world around her. A death that would blast a hole through the Supremacy that had ruined her and bring the whole thing down. She'd wanted to die, and to kill as many people as possible in the process. It was that kind of resolute malice.
Now, though, as she ran through the forest, she couldn't help but feel like all of that was stupid. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Her breath was burning in her lungs. Her legs were shaking like leaves beneath her.
Every instinct, every reflex, was screaming at her.
Live. Live!
She could make it out of this. She knew the Supreme, she'd studied him, she understood how his mind worked. He wasn't the kind of person who was interested in the weak. So long as she ran, so long as she kept running, so long as she wasn't a threat, she could --
"Stop," said the Supreme calmly.
By all means, there was no reason for her to obey. This was the person she was running from, after all. This was the specter of death. This was the Supreme.
But at the same time… this was the man who was like god. When one heard a voice like that, they couldn't help bu
Her life came to an end.
----------------------------------------
The Supreme lowered his hand, his grin fading to nothing once again.
The bullet fell from his lips and clattered to the floor, next to Blackbird’s corpse. He'd promised himself he wouldn’t use any of his Aether abilities here, and he hadn’t. All he’d done was use a little more of his strength, and flick air towards the fleeing girl. Against weaklings, even air was enough to blow their heads off.
Now that was a real magic bullet.
He glanced up as blue Aether crackled through the air, coalescing once again into the form of the Cogitant boy. The kid was lucky, all things considered. If Der Freischütz had come into contact with the Aether he’d recorded himself into, he’d have been annihilated. If nothing else, he was skilled at keeping out of the danger zone.
The kid looked pale, though, sweat running down his skin as he looked at the scene of carnage before him. Perhaps he hadn’t quite understood who he was escorting. The Supreme stood tall, flicking the last remnant of brain matter off his pinkie and onto the floor.
“How much longer?” he asked again.
----------------------------------------
It wasn’t quite sunset, but you could see it from here.
Skipper took a swig from the bottle of wine as he reclined on the picnic blanket, savoring the sweet aftertaste of the drink. His basket rested empty beside him, the sandwiches and protein it had previously contained long since devoured. All around Skipper, on the hill he’d perched himself atop, were countless reeds -- fluttering in the wind, spreading out as far as the eye could see.
The mountain called Splendor rose high behind him, and the sun hung low before him. It was like something from a dream.
Dreams had ways of shifting, though, and the world followed that convention. A breeze blew past, soft as a caress, and Skipper blinked. When his eyes opened once more, he could sense it. He could sense that presence.
Skipper looked down.
At the bottom of the hill, grinning up at him, stood the man who was like god. A body like a marble statue, and dim eyes that demanded perfection. A golden cape flowing in the wind, and golden Aether to match its brilliance. The apex of existence. The one above all. The absolute.
Once, Skipper had thought all these things to be true. Now, though… now he just looked like a guy. Flesh and blood and nothing more.
Still… that grin on his face was scary as shit. The Supreme’s face was almost stretched out by it as he boisterously called up: “Esmeralda!”
“Yo,” Skipper replied, raising the bottle. “Long time no see.”