35 YEARS AGO

There was naught but silence and ash that reigned throughout the city; Bodies littered the streets and a sickening haze of dust hung in the air like a cancerous fog that threatened to choke and suffocate anybody caught in its grip. Holes were blown through buildings, tanks belonging to the enemy nation were emulsified beneath blasts of crackling energy that left their shells broken and retched with their own metal, the crews inside little more than clay and puddy underneath the tremendous forces and heat that had decimated each and every vehicle and structure throughout the kingdom.

Tryarchs walked through the city with a vivid imagination for violence, blinded by a chemically induced rage that encouraged them to storm through the city with a hatred that was cultivated from decades of propaganda and liquidated malice towards this enemy threat. They had been sent for one target- the capital building. Their mission was to kill the parliament and effectively decapitate the government. What was meant to be a simple strike mission quickly turned into a genocide, a horrific mass casualty event that left a city hollowed out and destroyed as the eight Tryarchs unleashed their full might onto the city.

Tryarchs - almost universally - dealt in extremes. They took everything a step further, ever competitive, ever spiteful, and ever powerful. Kreat had wildly underestimated them, as they were a newer phenomenon, and as such didn't account for the possibility that they might annihilate the entire capital population of Nowarn. As a result of such, a new breed of Tryarchs were created.

"I get it, we used to be assholes and now we're slightly less powerful assholes. Cut to the point." Mazael cut Marion's monologue off, receiving only a hawkish glance from Marion as she dared to look up from the book she had been reciting aloud to them. Meriam still timidly held onto Mazael's arm, despite the fact that he was now able to walk relatively fine.

"You don't know the real reason why; You only know what propaganda tells you."

Mazael leaned back in the chair, Meriam still attached like a tick to a dog, even while they were sitting down she refused to let go and Mazael didn't have the heart to tell her that he was walking fine; something told him that she was doing it more for her sake than for his.

"The initial spawn of Tryarchs, the first generation, came out of nowhere and were the most powerful, then the second generation were diluted by the breeding process- this isn't true. You're weaker than the first generation because they surgically locked out a part of your brain." she had walked around Mazael's chair and tapped the back of his head with a long nail; he furrowed his brows and looked back at her with angry electric blue eyes.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Say I believe you; what do we do about it? They've got over a dozen Tryarchs on staff, half of them from your generation, the ones without the "surgically locked brains"." Mazael's voice was harsh as always, this time with an underlying tone of skepticism and sophomoric disbelief.

"Two theories I've been developing solve exactly that; I believe we've discovered a valuable resource in the forest we found you in. Those bulb like creatures seem to negate Tryarch healing powers and also seem to be able to give some of the weaker ones a tough challenge."

"I resent that."

"The second theory is something our Head Scientist has been developing- a possible brain surgery to remove the block in the newer generations brain, then, you could rise to the previous generations level of power."

Mazael gave her a side eye; he wasn't quite sure of what to say. He had decided to help them against Kreat but only because Kreat had failed to substantially propagandize him enough. He was socialized like a wild teenager and was held to no loyalty to the greater kingdom or even its patriotism, a front they had failed on, at least in terms of Mazael.

"Mazael, please understand-" her voice softened for a moment as she placed a hand on his shoulder, her face becoming less of a scowl and more of a sympathetic smile.

"-I wish to make right my wrongs of the past. Just as you can."

"My entire life seems to be dedicated to reconciliation for what I am." he shrugged off Meriam's grip and stood up; he was only three quarters the height of Marion who towered over him, an obelisk of silken cloth and hawkish stares, another authority figure that Mazael was growing to resent.

"I'm a weapon that can be picked up and pointed, so point me or let me go." Mazael stared up at her with eyes that could strike down a lightning bolt. Marion pitied him.

"I once thought like you." she spoke somberly. Meriam sat nearby, watching with a gaze that was much more steady and calm than her shaking hands might indict. "That I was a weapon to be handled and aimed at the opponent; not loyal, merely neutral."

She bent down to get down on Mazael's level, inches from his face, causing him to lean back and scowl at her.

"And then I realized one day that my spiteful and resilient neutrality was more malicious and dangerous than any opinionated stance I could ever hold."

"Your breath smells like old books."

She scoffed and stood straight, turning away from Mazael.

"Meriam, take him to his quarters; I will send Doctor Gilead to discuss further actions and strategy."

Mazael unclenched his jaw to say something but Meriam stepped in the way and pointed- an unexpectedly authoritative gesture that made Mazael raise a questioning eye brow at her. She remained resolute, and began to walk Mazael out of the library and towards his chambers. It was a begrudging walk, but in spite of all his brattiness, Mazael didn't care enough to put up a fight, his body and healing factor still fatigued by the previous combat.

It was going to be a long week.