The silence produced by the question crept in.
The Official's unexplainable conviction and the peculiar way he phrased the question, Elgan understood neither.
Still, it was not that which rubbed him the wrong way. There was something else... Something was off with the way he acted, yet for much he tried Elgan couldn't put the finger on exactly what...
'Why did Armstrong put so much emphasis on the What, instead of the Who.'
Elgan looked firmly at the official's blue eyes in an attempt to crack the man's intentions open. His expression remained firm, unbending, if it wasn't for the chilling nature of his stare, Armstrong could be easily confused for a mannequin. Progressively, the mechanical ticking of the clock at the back of the room extinguished the man's patience bit by bit. Official Armstrong was waiting for an answer, perhaps not even that. He waited for the answer.
The question repeated itself inside Elgan's mind.
'What am I..?'
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
Tick
Tack
'I'm...'
Elgan's gaze shifted downwards, aimed at his amorphous right arm, now completely hidden under the long grey sleeve of his shirt. His eye opens to the obvious realization.
'Did I, do this?'
The Official's serious expression morphed into a grin, but the teen's mind was far too lost to notice.
Spoils of war.
For as long as Elgan had woken up from his coma he had been immersed in a situation he couldn't fathom to adapt to. The youth had auto-convinced himself that the medical staff had found a way to bring back his arm and cure his injuries as best as they'd been able to. Being witness to such a high level of technology it even seemed like a plausible theory. Yet the more he thought about it now, the less it made sense.
The less everything made sense.
If his body had been reconstructed, Why was it in such an unfunctional condition? Why weren't there any stitches or marks on his skin? Rather, Why weren't there any bruises at all on his body? What's more, Why could he read various conversations that didn't exist? Why kept those thoughts solidify in his mind out of nowhere?
'Why? Why? Why?'
With each unsolved question, the rabbit hole deepened further down into the abyss. The more he advanced, the more lost the kid became in that labyrinth he himself dug. The promised answer Elgan had been searching for in the first place only grew more and more distant. Each turned corner threatened to reveal a truth. A grotesque and deformed truth staring at his soul from the edges of darkness, smiling, finding pleasure in his demise, in his insanity. In the insanity of it all.
After all, they aren't that different.
'Am I, a monster...'
His heartbeat slowed down, his throat dried at the thought. At the possibility.
You and your nightmares.
But are they? Do you honestly believe so, Elgan?
'No.'
A flare of blind belief lit within the youth's soul, his eyelid opens with rivaling determination, his unclouded left eye reflecting the last rays of sunlight.
"I'm human."
The answer made its way across the room, not reaching past the sound-proof walls.
...
"That's true, I guess."
Fading as if it never existed to begin with, the man's casual composture returned, the Official's gaze shied away from meeting Elgan's. Almost ignoring the clear madness radiating from his eyes moments ago. His shoulders raised as he chuckled, his thumb tapping against his pen's end cap.
| Clik Clik |
"From the depths of the ocean to the heights of the sky. Everything was taken from us. Even after all of humanity's struggles to reclaim its rightful throne, they reign supreme."
He exhaled before continuing, his gaze lowered. His tone became quieter as if he didn't want to be heard.
"It really has been a long battle... An eternal war against the elements, against death. Against the world itself."
His expression exuded sadness, perhaps hatred. Elgan couldn't tell for sure.
"Humanity was driven near extinction two times during the last centuries. Hardly a couple hundred thousand people survived the first months of the apocalypse and even fewer made it all the way to the end... Yet some of them did. At the end of the day, this room, this base, or this same conversation are all undying proof of the fact that humans can overcome, surpass and persist."
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His voice grew fiercer as if he was reliving the vivid memories of crushing defeats and joyous victories that accompanied humanity through past times. Although most of his words seemed fake in some sort of way, Elgan could tell that a fraction of the passion behind those words was real.
"The mightiest, the strongest, the stealthiest, the wisest, the most cunning, the most useful, the most persistent... Only they managed to keep body and soul together in hell, and as time passed, those who lived on were reborn."
Almost forgetting to blink Elgan listened like a little kid receiving the vivid tales of an old man.
"Rising from the ashes of those few victories humanity achieved, the first fragmented were born... Call them Heroes or Devils, it was thanks to them that we built a new world for ourselves, our own little safe haven, to say."
Armstrong faced the kid, his eyes shining with an unperceivable blue glow, his hand extended towards one of the bookshelves.
"You are one of them, fragmented."
Feeling a movement behind him, Elgan turned his head to look at the shelves. The youth's eyes opened wide as a red book levitated towards the desk, settling in Armstrong's hand like a loyal bird.
"Just like me and hundreds, you'll soon encounter. We, fragmented nourish from the ashes of those that died fighting, in them we find the strength to rise from our own bloodied battlegrounds. "
His eyes examined the cover of the thin book as the dust covering its surface condensed into a small fluff. Before resettling his vision on the youth.
"The tests you have conquered up to this point become a weapon for you to wield."
He swung his pen in the air as if it was an imaginary blade, a sword of sorts.
"You should know. A tool capable of killing is not inherently good or bad, the one who uses it though... "
"I wonder what you'll use yours for, Elgan Klein."
...
The kid gulped down his drying throat in an attempt to digest all the information handed to him. His hands wouldn't stop sweating, his skin paling, he reached a final conclusion.
'Am I human?...'
He thought, his body trembling subtly as all of the dots connected on his head. The unexplainable conversations, his inhuman speed when running, his fucked-up regeneration, his capacity to listen to thoughts. It all made sense now.
...
Then the question was asked.
'Could I change that?'
His mind replaying all of the instances he had felt powerless, weak, useless.
He asked himself a question that wouldn't let go of him.
Dumb, stupid, weak, frail, uncertain, shy, cowardly and ultimately numb. All of those adjectives resonated with him for some reason... It was something that had never abandoned him, not even after his demise. Still, proving himself wrong time and time again in that onyx hell that had forced him to think otherwise.
Dragging himself up his limits, ignoring the ceiling placed by no one but himself, pushing past what he thought possible and further beyond. Those were probably the only things he had done in his life he felt truly proud of.
Living without regrets. That was the only reason he had reached this far.
'I can reach higher.'
From the abyss of his lost memories, the notion sank into his unaware mind.
...
Armstrong took his time resuming the talk, seemingly thinking about something as he stared at the distance. After a couple of minutes, his empty palms extended to the sides drawing the young man's attention.
...
"That was a literal question, Elgan."
His body froze at the bluntness of the revelation. Starting to understand the real meaning of the Official's question.
"For your own survival, life, whatever you want to call it, it's necessary that you walk one path of virtue. "
"Being indecisive is both a loss of time and resources... There are two roads ahead of you, choose whichever you deem fit."
A thunder, their eyes locked onto eachother. The man raised his left hand.
"Establish yourself in the Citadel, start a humble, new life under the shadows of The Goliath, honoring the possibility you'll likely die under its shadow. Take care of the hospital fees and housing on your own, whether by working a normal job or joining the mercenaries, how you obtain the money will be none of our business... Neither will your personal safety be assured outside our domain."
His voice had turned cold, grey by the end of the sentence... Armstrong raised his right hand, the other option.
"Join as a [NAT] under one of my squads... I can't promise you It'll be easy to climb the ranks, nor that you'll find a peaceful life here. It takes a lifetime of blood, sweat, and tears to forge yourself into a good soldier. Still, this route will grant you something no other option will."
...
"Power. The strength to take on the cruelty of this life, to advance through tragedy, and bend the world to your wishes. I won't lie, It's a long road no matter if you choose to work as a Scavenger, Soldier, Hunter, or any of the other branches. But..."
Danger.
...
"I assure you'll die a warrior."
Silence filled the room one last time.
Both shaken and impressed by Armstrong's driven monologue, Elgan found himself unable to say anything. Some part of him would have liked to choose the second option directly, but he ended up rejecting that impulse. It was the hard truth that Elgan knew far too little about his own situation to make a wise choice. Deciding without further informing himself, nor contrasting the ups and downs each option posed was a bad idea. Making a choice so suddenly didn't seem appropiate-
"Of course, if you choose to join us, The Coalition will take care of fees, housing, and food."
The official added, his voice radiating confidence.
'It's true that having a fixed path within the military would help me get accustomed to everything easily, plus not having to worry about paying rent and fees doesn't seem bad. Still...'
That forced gentle smile glued on Armstrong's face.
'This man is trying to convey something... Which is.'
It wasn't difficult.
The answer was clear for him to see, it's just he didn't notice up until now. Elgan's choice was of little importance, if not entirely negligible. Armstrong's casual attitude had fooled him into forgetting the cliff of knowledge that separated the two was still present, and he had followed falling flat on his face.
The exact words replayed in his mind.
'Neither will be your personal safety assured outside of our domain.'
The unnatural expressions, the cold blabbering, the subtly emotional dialogue. All to push him into choosing what he wanted, and to make him realize.
'The difference between both of us.'
Was far greater than Elgan suspected.
Yes, the theory may have seemed unfounded, it had been pieced together in seconds, mixing anxiety and conspiration in the process. Yet something inside Elgan knew this was not the true Armstrong. What would happen if he made the wrong choice?
He didn't know, but judging by the merciless hostility his people had shown towards him, Elgan could imagine.
Then a burst of unrestraint laughter broke the layer of corporate professionalism Armstrong had been wearing up till that moment.
"I was wondering if you'd catch on... Not that I could have spared you much time anyways."
The official said, his hands continued spinning the golden pen.
"I will take the freedom to diverge from corporate speeches and go straight to the point. I am saying this for your own good, kid."
A slithering, oppressive aura ejected from the man, something similar to the members of Achilles. Just far sharper and everpresent.
"If you don't want to end up as a Lab Rat, auctioned bag of organs, or failed war puppet. For all intents and purposes, you don't have a choice."
The golden pen pointed straight at him... The meaning behind those words was paralyzing.
"It has already been a struggle to maintain a comatose gold mine from those leeches up to this point, awakening a measly week later would have sent all of my efforts to waste."
He murmured high enough for Elgan to barely hear.
"Your situation is complicated, but I'll try my best to explain..."
He gasped, clearing his throat.
"As sturdy as these walls are, there is a very fragile balance maintaining this place... Let's just say, a hidden hierarchy maintains everything in place. In the fever of a long-lasting crisis, the southern frontier found itself bending under the influence of renegades, and crimelords."
"The goliath stays afloat, barely so. In exchange, they have nothing short of unbalanced control over all the place."
Perhaps that explained Armstrong's insistence on keeping the two soldiers out of the room.
The golden pen pointed perpendicularly against the desk.
"There is a big market for several products in the southern frontier, but the one that has an unrivaled preference..."
A smirk glued on his lips.
"Organ trafficking. Fragmented, organ trafiquing. Your fate, I guess you can already imagine what will happen if you escape our protection, can't you?"
Pain then not. A bloodied scene stuck in his mind, bloody corridors, the darkness of fuming pipelines, and narrow streets. The dark of the night, the hollowness of neon lights of the citadel, a man in a clad black suit, a hat covering his visage, hiding the angel of death under his ropes. Settling in the silence of empty corridors, a mangled corpse.
The Official continued.
"It's rushed, but it should keep you safe for the moment being... Crimelords or not, those men aren't bold enough to reach anyone exerting directly under an Official. With a little bit of luck, those vultures will quench their thirst with something else."
...
What had begun as a spaced-out, casual conversation had devolved into a little, narrow window, one that unveiled the real circumstances behind the kid's survival.
"Live or die."
...
The answer was obvious, wasn't it?
But his mouth was so dry he struggled to get out an answer.
"I'll join you."
For the first time since their lengthy meeting began, Elgan was able to spot genuine satisfaction in the Oficial's expression.
"Very good, see I... We have made a promising investment then."
That wasn't fake.
That relief was not fake. Then how? What was being moved behind the scenes? What made those words so meaningful?
There was no time to ask, or think. The man's head moved, his gaze talked for itself, signaling him to put his mask back on.
"Do not forget to thank them... Aquilles, if it wasn't for them, I doubt anyone would have pursued protecting you."
Elgan's mouth opened slightly, waiting to utter something.
An answer wasn't needed though, the official's knuckles tapped the side of the cedar-brown table, the door of the room opened, the same two spotless soldiers entered the room, repositioning themselves at each side of the door.
"You can lead him to his quarters."
By the time he had realized, the youth stood up from the chair and followed the two armored women who were already on their way out of the office. A magnetic pull carried him away from that room.
Then came a void touch on his back.
...
'Hmm.'
Elgan sensed something moving in his direction from behind, a flat, rectangular object bumped into his chest as he turned around. His eyes drew big circles, he glanced back one last time at the unflinching Official.
"You can take those as a gift."
The blue-eyed man said calmly, his gaze lifting from Elgan as he turned to face the night sky. His fingers back to playing with the shining golden pen, seemingly forgetting about the kid's presence. Shrugging, the youth left the room without saying anything else.
He grabbed the object, hugging it tightly with both arms, making sure it wouldn't fall.
...
"What an unforeseen outcome, Isn't it..."
Armstrong said for himself in a quiet voice as he chuckled. The door closed shut. Nothing else was heard.