'twas only a few months after my birth in the new world when I received the first call from my agent. Calls herself, Catherine 36. Soothing voice, charming enough. Didn't tell me what the 36 was for and I didn't ask.
We chatted for a bit and ended up having an impromptu meeting. Not sure how it works, I just close my eyes when she tells me to and next thing I know I'm in her office. Which looked exactly the same as the Angel's office back at the Bureau. But unlike the Angel, the occupant of this room was a lot more corporeal.
Didn't mean I had an easier time taking in the view though. While the form staring back at me was definitely female, the features were uncertain, always wavering and shifting, as if someone hit the randomizer on character creation and it just keeps going. Yea, I'm still just gonna look to the side. I looked down at myself, and saw that I was back in the form I was most familiar with, the form I had during my long stay with the Bureau.
"Well met, Max. Or should I say, Dietrich Moss." Her voice spoke directly into my head, telepathy is so cool.
I nodded in response. A fine new name, granted by my new family. I liked it.
"Let's go over the basics of our official relationship, shall we?" she gave me a very practiced smile.
"As you know, my name is Catherine 36, and I will be your acting agent during your time on Prison Planet A-36."
Oh, that's new.
"It is one of the many planets designated for sinners to serve their sentences." She looked me over once more before continuing, "I'll read your mind for any questions, if that's alright with you."
Agreed. Please continue.
"Behold, your new home."
With a wave of her hand, the office room faded away like morning mist, and we stood upon the vast expanse of space. I have to learn how to do this, very 'all powerful dark lord' vibes. Beneath us, was a planet that stood divided. On one side, vibrant and beautiful, much like my old world of Earth. On the other side, a barren land covered in dark tendrils so large they were visible from where we stood, and in the center of that mess was something sticking out and breaching the atmosphere, as if some impossibly large space giant had stabbed the planet with a big stick and just left it there. It looks like this world already has its own Dark Lord.
"All Prison Planets must contain some overarching threat. Some sort of menace that makes life difficult. Some take the form of hostile weather, toxic environments or dangerous wildlife. "
Another snap, and we were closer. Much closer.
The black masses of squirming tendrils were now in clear view. They seemed to spread out from a single origin point, all connected and ever so slowly moving, or should I say, growing forward, like soft bodied worms.
The tendrils were accompanied by trudging figures, large and small. So numerous they were, that I had mistaken them for a murky ocean.
Treants? Or were they called Ents? Aren't they supposed to be rare?
"As you can see, we have the wildlife option for A-36. This world is plagued by a corrupted World Tree, courtesy of RnD," What seemed like holographic screens materialized before us, bringing with them images, videos and details regarding the entities beneath.
"The purpose of this Tree is to occupy land, consume resources, and of course, produce offspring," She motioned towards the images depicting a myriad of abominations that could only be called treants in the lightest terms. Every one of them was covered in pulsating pustules, with some sort of strange, thick fluids dribbling out as they marched along the roots. Repulsive.
"The offspring will then gather, forming groups ranging from 15 to 50 individuals, and set off into the world, to ravage its inhabitants. Records indicate the locals are usually able to repel these excusions, thought at significant cost. By our estimations, a good 10% of global landmass should be the extent of pure Tree root territory. While the roaming offspring should constantly be threatening to occupy another solid 5 to 10%, depending on the seasons."
Aah, so it's like that huh. I understand everything now.
Something that obviously gone wrong down there. The roots are covering half the planet, the treants are acting like Tyranids or Zergs. And you guys want me to fix this, ya?
She nodded, still smiling.
Question. Why not just send an Angel? They could wipe this up no problem.
"An Angel would be overkill for a matter if this scale, especially considering there has yet to be proof of demonic involvement." oh right, must've slipped my mind, I've watched records of Angelic intervention, overkill is an understatement.
She extended an arm towards me, a strange purple mass dancing like flames in the palm of her hand. An impulsive Instinct told me to reach out, grasp this thing and keep it safe. I looked into her eyes and she looked back, nodding at me, patiently waiting. Alright, I guess this is what we're doing now. So, what is it?
"The management is always on the look out for those of strong will, Mr Moss, and your recent services rendered at the Bureau have been noted." The mass began to undulate in a somewhat orderly fashion, forming shapes that could easily pass as runes from a video game or the carvings of some deranged cave dweller.
"Would you like to join the ranks of the executors?"
Huh.
"It's a tremendous honor, very tremendous. One could say this is the highest position of power and authority a mortal being can ever attain."
Uh huh. Details, please.
"You know as well as I that Angels can be a bit..."
Rigid.
"Yes."
Inflexible.
"True."
Judgemental.
"Definitely."
So you need a softer touch? I could do that, but it doesn't really fit my current agenda.
"If by softer touch, you mean not purging entire star systems at the slightest provocations, then yes," she chuckled. "I assure you Mr Moss, barring a few of the more serious restrictions, the management tends to overlook the methods employed by its executors, and would only be concerned by the completion of your assignments, by any means necessary."
I can operate above the law? I'm in. When do I start?
"Not completely above, and I must warn you, if you go so far as to cause a level of damage equal or surpassing that of an Angelic Purge, management may see fit to revoke your status."
Say no more fam, sign me up.
"And should that come to pass, any atrocities commited during active duty can and will be used against you."
Don't go apeshit, got it.
She sighed, and I took that as a signal to go for it. I reached out and touched the shifting mass still sitting atop her open palm. It felt like touching thin fabric in strong winds, solid enough to feel something there, yet oddly empty. The mass then wrapped itself around my hand and disappeared under my skin, because of course it would, everything just has to be so mysterious all the time, I don't know what I was expecting and I didn't even feel anything moving inside me.
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"You now have access to the Bureau Network," Her voice echoed in my mind. "Where you will receive your assignments and provide reports on their completion. You will awarded with credits after evaluation, which you may then spend in the Mall section, it carries everything and anything you can think of, within mortal standards, of course, so don't bother looking for anything on a cosmic scale."
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I raise my hand and rotate it back and forth, trying to find any marks or signs of the thing that went inside me. Nothing. I wonder if this raises any concerns among the other executors.
"You can call up the network with just a thought, anytime anyplace, give it a try."
Alrighty then, just gotta think about the netwo- And there it is. Okay.
Lets see what we got here, Contacts... only Cathy in here. Missions... oh, we got side quests too, not bad. Inventory... empty, understandable. Okay, now the Mall... Entertainment... Oh, oh that's pretty extensive. Very extensive. Nice.
I pick a random game, the latest Call of Duty, 6000th title in the series. Boot it up and test it out, I can play it with my mind, no controller needed. I turn my focus away and the game pauses. I try making a call to Cathy and it connects almost instantly.
"This is C36, how can I assist you?", I can hear her voice in my mind once more, I look around and notice I am now alone. Very disconcerting, considering I'm floating in space and all that.
"Switch to video, I'm on the planet right now."
I do so, and an aditional screen appears to my side, showing me Catherine 36. She's on top of one of those massive tendril roots, watching as the corrupted treants march along. I never noticed just how large those roots were, the treants all look like tiny black ants from where she's standing.
I blink and the scene changes. She's hovering above a city, a city at war. Thick smog and great fires burn, people are running, clogging up the streets and holding on to loved ones as they rush and push towards the gates. From the other side of the city, the walls are of no use, the treants move past it one way or another. Some extend their many limbs and crawl right over, like those pesky creeping plants you just can't get rid of. Some take root and burrow, emerging from under the shocked defenders and dragging them down to their graves. The bulkier ones ram right through, with smaller ones hot on their heels.
What follows is quite simply biological warfare. Though they do tend to rip apart errant defenders that draw too near, the treants seem more content to hunker down after a successful breach, taking root and rapidly disgorging whatever seed pods and pustules growing on their branches. The discharge from so many treants form a massive, cloud that seems to have a mind of its own, spreading itself rapidly around the city.
Visibility is low, but the video call zooms in and somehow pierces the cloud, allowing us a clear view of hell if the fire was replaced by plants. The lucky ones die early, crush and mangled by brute force. The other poor bastards, Bureau bless their souls, are experiencing some rather unpleasant deaths. They struggle on the pus soaked dirt, choking and wheezing as their wounds fester and writhe. Another zoom in and I begin to notice the finer details. Little shoots were sprouting from not just the wounds but also every other orifice available, the growth was rapid and gruesome, rearranging flesh and bone to best suit the emerging horror.
Before long, a newborn treant lay on the ground where the defender last fell. It's limbs flailing clumsily about, twitching as it made contact with the walls around it. Slowly, it stood, human limbs dangling from its upper portions like strange fruit, blood still oozing where flesh and bark fused. In the background, more figures began to stir and rise in the same way.
Beep
The call was ended, and Catherine was by my side once more. This is certainly killed the mood, I don't know what to say.
"That's actually the main problem, believe it or not."
What, you mean the plant zombie thing?
"Yes, they didn't die. Their souls are trapped in those bodies until somebody destroys it."
Oh.
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"As you can see, the situation on the ground isn't ideal." She tells me, as if commenting on the weather or last weeks football game. "The only saving grace these people have are the failsafes set by RnD." A screen enlarged across my vision, presenting us with a close up view of the abomination they so graciously deemed a world tree. Doesn't even look like a plant, considering it pulses like a beating heart and squirms like a ball of very passionate snakes. The sheer size of this thing was the only grand part of it, made the snowy peaks around it look like little anthills.
The bark or skin around the main body looked rough and jagged, not unlike the rugged face of a mountain. The trunk looked so thick that if it was ever to be chopped down, I was certain a sprawling metropolis could be erected upon the stump. There's an idea, gonna store that one away for later. And at the fork of the tree, where the trunk splits off into its many branches, sat a rather monumental orb that shone in brilliant crimson shades. It also looked like the source of the constant pulsing.
"This here is our first failsafe." Cathy pointed towards the giant orb. "Someone at RnD noticed a funny pattern across the inhabited galaxies. A huge majority of civilizations produce media that depicts hostiles with a 'core' of some sort, acting as a major weakness or source of power. And the hostile can be defeated by either destroying, removing or sealing away that core.'
I nodded in agreement. I kept up with certain things, even though I had spent my time grinding for credits at the Bureau, I had friends. Friends who would talk about their hobbies and fantasies, reminiscing the past and planning joyfully for the future. I'll add them to my contacts if I find them again.
"So they decided to go along with it, and now every single monster produced by RnD is guaranteed a core as a weakness, to give locals a fighting chance. The bigger, more troublesome ones get their cores permanently exposed, as you can see."
Can't they cover it up? Hide it themselves?
She shook she head. "It's hardwired. They will feel irritated, claustrophobic and angry. Prolonged concealment of the cores will result in deteriorating mental states and stunted growth in the larger, more powerful beasties. Can't have that weakness covered up."
Alright, destroy the core, save the world, take over the world. Sounds easy enough.
The view moved upwards, allowing us to see it's towering branches. As expected, they were every bit as impressive as the roots that moved to swallow the world. Only... they grew upwards, not outwards, forming a spire of wood. Whatever passed as leaves were growing on the inside of the living spire, leaving the outer layer bare.
"The second failsafe." The point of view in my screen began shifting, as if my body was moving up an elevator alongside the branches. "These branches will only ever grow up, to hinder its young." The view zoomed in on the massive pillars of twisting wood, into the gaps between them.
Have you ever seen how army ants nest? Where they pack themselves up so close and tight you can't even see them apart up close. The name for such a structure eludes me for now, but It's pretty damned close to what I'm seeing.
"You were thinking about a Bivouac, Mr Moss. And yes it does look similar."
Ah thanks, mind reading. Right.
"This structure of growth ensures the pods, and subsequent treants that emerge from those pods, to be trapped within the branches. They'll have to slowly make their way down the tree to reach the ground."
I notice the horizon in the distance, and the void of space and stars enveloping the background. The view hasn't stopped moving up. Moments later, sight of lifeless treants floating around like an asteroid belt greeted me. Okay, that's a lot of treants.
"They cannot survive in space. They were not designed to," She said as she turned to face me. "Here they die by the tens of thousands even as we speak, but still their numbers swell on the ground." Her voice took on a tone of pity, "Something has gone wrong with the creature, we've lost contact with it and are unable to reestablish a connection. If things go on as they have, this world will be engulfed in around twenty years, give or take."
Twenty years? Looks like it could end in just the next two.
"No, it's slower than it looks, the roots move by seasons. You will have time."
Another wave of her hand and all screens disappear. I blink and I'm back at her office, sitting down with a pipin' cup of coffee right in front of me. As if everything I had just witnessed was some drug induced fever dream, but I knew better.
She took a sip from her own cup. "Don't be shaken by this, Mr Moss. The Bureau classifies missions by ten levels, and I can tell you right now this is a level one. Lowest tier."
Lowest?
"Lowest," she said firmly. "Such are the duties of a bureaucracy spanning the eons. At some point, a single habitable planet gets turned into a number on a report. And that number goes up and down with every passing second."
She pushed a few buttons in the air, on a device I couldn't see, and I got a pop-up telling me I've got a new message.
It's a mission file, top priority. Says I gotta deal with this tree problem. The pay is performance based. Define performance.
"Take this as a trial run, Mr Moss. The management will be analysing you thoroughly. More specifically, your methods. They want to see how you handle stressful scenarios and the kind of decisions you'll make when souls are on the line. I know I've said your methods won't matter, but I assure you the majority of this information will be used for entertainment purposes only. They enjoy a good wager now and then, especially when it comes to people they deem, interesting."
That last part was somewhat disturbing, but those souls aren't in any real danger, right? Do the plants actually eat or destroy the souls?
"You are correct, the souls are not at risk of termination at the moment, but they are in a perpetual state of torment. It is in our best interests that you liberate those souls swiftly." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "The use of souls as a source of power is quite often self discovered, and the results end up ugly one way or another. Leave them with those plants for too long, and we might end up having to call in a purge."
"Naturally, as enforcers of the Bureau, executors are especially prohibited from such distasteful practices. The cycle of reincarnation is the main jurisdiction of the Bureau, Mr Moss. Violators shall be dealt with to the fullest extend. If you're curious, prove yourself worthy of our faith, and you might just be called up as executioner one day, if you're up for it."
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Whatever happened next was a blur. Far as I know, I just blinked and here I was, back home on the planet. What a doozy of a day.
I let out a yawn as my new parents cooed and fawned over me. Cute couple, and probably loaded, if the room was any indication. Even with my bad baby eyes I could spot some maids and butlers moving about, some fetching things and some standing at attention. For some reason, both dad and gramps were working overtime, sorting through stacks of papers and shouting orders at people outside the room. Mom held me, rocking me gently with one arm while signing papers with another, while a maid helped her sort things out. Must be a doozy for them too.
I still couldn't make out what they were saying, with my bad baby ears and all, but I'd bet this rush is related to the tree problem. I'd tell them to take it easy if I could, but I can't so I settle for nuzzling cutely into my mothers face. She laughs and hugs me close, landing many kisses on my head. She raised me up in front of her and I saw tears leaking down her eyes as she gave me the saddest smile I've ever seen. Dad notices this, and comes over from his desk to collect us both in his arms. He's a pretty massive dude.
He whispers sweetly in her ear as he holds us both, and when I nuzzle into his face he gave off the brightest smile. His booming laugh seemed to shake the room and mother laid her head on his chest, taking comfort in his heartbeat.
I'm getting tired, my eyes closing up no matter how hard I try to keep them open. Perhaps this baby gig won't be so bad after all.