He did not want to believe it. He considered the possibility that it was his imagination. He could see through walls and he understood that this was a function of his cybernetic implant processing information from cameras and possibly other sources, but what if this information was fake or doctored?
The possibility existed, but deep down he knew that this was not the case. What he saw and heard was neither imagination nor false.
Still, his hands trembled as he opened his door and delved into the hallway. The oppressive feeling gripping his heart was both fear and excitement. The human part of him feared the truth, and the other part which was influenced by Leviathan reveled in the potential outcomes.
He was sure that it was true and yet he could not help himself but to confront Thomas and verify it. His instincts — yes, those veteran, battle-hardened instincts that he should not possess — warned him that his course of action was foolish; they urged him to take Jennifer and flee into the slums.
Still, they went unheeded.
There was an explanation behind Thomas’ words that Arnel would find satisfying and reasonable. Arnel wanted to believe it, yet he already had resigned himself to the possibility that those don't exist. Perhaps it was because he was so confused about his waning opinion of himself — perhaps he thought giving Thomas a chance to explain could restore the still-crumbling ruins of Arnel’s life.
They were all excuses. Arnel knew this. There would be no satisfying explanation and there would be no resolution where Arnel would emerge as a party undamaged by the exchange.
As Arnel stood before Thomas’ door, he realized something.
Thomas never really explained what the goal of the first extraction was. That day, when Arnel was spirited away from the hospital with a team of operators, and bombarded by Artemis, Arnel assumed that it was for his own safety. After all, at the time, he strongly felt that he would be hunted down by the AGMI that governed the Commonwealth. In that scenario, Arnel felt that Thomas was his ally and that those operators acted in the interest of protecting Arnel. Artemis bombarded the transport, after all; the message could not be clearer: the AGMI wanted him dead.
Who gave the order to extract Arnel?
There were many things that Arnel did not know about the Commonwealth or the nature of its many military organizations. There were the Peacekeepers, of course, but they were more of a police force; they also reported directly to the AGMI. Thomas was a Peacekeeper, but he was also a failsafe. Naturally, there had to be many more organizations — special forces, of sorts — that could carry out extractions or even assassinations.
Was it Voyrin? Arnel met the man not long before his first extraction and Arnel felt extremely uneasy about him. Voyrin was surely a general, or some other kind of high-ranking officer. He was also clearly interested in Arnel. Why would the military be interested in Arnel? Because of his implant?
Ermin Saltzer was interested in the implant, and that man seemed to work together with Voyrin.
The more Arnel thought about it, the more he realized two things. First: Arnel would not come any closer to the answer by simply thinking about it. And second: It was not an extraction. Arnel was most likely kidnapped.
Arnel lowered his head. His vision became blurry. The tears burned in the corners of his eyes and tickled as they followed the curve of his lids to dampen his lashes.
There was not a feeling in the world that was worse than betrayal. The man he trusted the most — with his life, no less — was turning out to not only be an antagonist, but also an informant coordinating the actions of Arnel’s enemy.
Isobell, too? For some reason, he regarded her warmth as similar to that of his mother’s. Now, in the absence of his naivety, Arnel realized that he secretly wished to be embraced by Isobell and to regard her as a parent whom he could trust. In the end, all he managed to do was to tarnish the memory of his mother’s love.
Perhaps it was not just betrayal that cut him so deeply, but the realization that he was fooled. Beyond the door that he stood in front of were two people that maneuvered and manipulated him expertly — they gained his trust and then sold him out, and were Arnel not endowed with supernatural abilities via cybernetic implant, he would never even have found out.
Now, Arnel wished he did not find out. If this was to be his fate, then he’d rather have had it play out absent his knowledge of the scheme.
In the span of but a few minutes, Arnel went through four stages of grief. Denial, then anger, then bargaining, and finally, depression. Perhaps the realization of this feat itself was acceptance, but there was one thing he was certain of, as his heart became as cold and hard as steel: he would never accept this.
Slowly, the door swung open and the light from the hallway poured into the dark room illuminated only by Isobell’s screens. In Arnel’s projection — his ability to see far away places as if he was there — the room looked much brighter, but he realized quickly that this was not an indicator that the information he gained from his projection was fake, but that it was processed so that he could see clearly. Everything else in the room was exactly as he saw it, including the information on Isobell’s many screens.
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They were both startled when they saw Arnel in the doorway, features dark and unreadable by the halation caused by the light from above and behind him.
Thomas in particular gawked at Arnel and then back at the screen that no doubt still indicated that Arnel was in his sim pod, clueless, enjoying his time in Singularity.
Isobell pressed several keys on the holographic keyboard and the illumination against her face changed slightly. Arnel understood what she had done, and he did not even need his extra abilities to know what she was looking at. She was checking the camera feed of Arnel’s room and no doubt bewildered — judging from her expression — that it showed a loop of the sim pod’s tray retracted, and hatch closed as if Arnel was truly inside the pod. This, also, was no doubt by Athena’s design, and Arnel’s first thought in regards to this was that Athena was turning out to be immensely useful. His second thought was dreading his first thought. To think of AGMI as “useful” was like thinking of wildfires as “convenient”.
“What’s up, Arn?” Thomas asked, tone even and calm. There was even a note of concern in that question. “Couldn’t sleep?”
It was such an ordinary and innocent question. Arnel even felt compelled to immediately dismiss all allegations of treason. He hated that Thomas called him by his nickname.
“Yeah,” Arnel replied.
Thomas smiled. “Want to go grab some fresh air?” Thomas asked. “There’s a vending machine near the veranda. I could go for some coffee.”
Arnel looked at Isobell. Is that how they would deal with this? Thomas would take Arnel outside, while Isobell updated the extraction team. Perhaps she would even deal with Jennifer in the meantime. Or dispose of her, rather.
Thomas’s rifle was on the other side of the room, mounted on the wall rack. Thomas was in the middle of the room, with Isobell being closer to the rifle but seated. Thomas had no sidearm on him. His holster was on the bed, to Arnel’s right, and neither Thomas nor Arnel was closer to it.
“Who are you talking to?” Arnel asked, stepping past the threshold and into the room.
Thomas’ eyebrows furrowed together, and he smiled awkwardly. “What do you mean? I am talking to you.”
Arnel chuckled and shook his head. “Who are you talking to?” Arnel asked again, and this time pointed at Thomas’ earpiece.
Thomas frowned. “No one,” Thomas said, plucking the earpiece out and even offering it to Arnel. “I am not talking to anyone.” The conviction in his tone was overwhelming. “Only Isobell can hear me through this earpiece.”
Isobell nodded slowly. At first, Arnel thought that she looked wary, because, surely, she was aware that Arnel was implying that he knew everything. But the more Arnel considered her the more she looked concerned for Arnel’s health.
“Buddy… are you okay? What’s going on?” Thomas asked. He still held his hand out, offering the earpiece to Arnel, as if to let him verify that there was no one else on the line.
Arnel covered his right eye, lowering his head. He was feeling the onset of a headache heading his way. His mind thundered; he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His earlobes itched; they felt as if heat was rising from them. He felt uncomfortable — no, he felt sick.
“I trusted you,” Arnel said. “I really thou—“
“You can trust me!” Thomas interrupted.
“No,” Arnel said.
“Yes!” Thomas exclaimed, taking a step closer. “What is going on? What happene—“
“Don’t come any closer!” Arnel shouted.
Thomas swallowed, and took a step back. He lowered his offered hand. “I don’t know what to do now, buddy,” he said, shoulders slumping. “Tell me what to do.”
“Tell me the truth!” Arnel shouted.
“All right,” Thomas said, nodding. Isobell shot Thomas a glance. “What do you want to know?” Thomas asked.
Arnel uncovered his right eye and looked at Thomas. “That night you took me from the hospital, on whose orders were you acting?”
Thomas pressed his lips together. “The order came anonymously on a secure channel.”
Arnel narrowed his eyes.
“Later I found out that it came from Theta via Deucalion.”
Thomas’ heart rate, pupil dilation and perspiration all suggested that he was telling the truth. No human being could lie to Arnel’s eye. As if the knowledge itself was not enough, the words [ Truth ] appeared above Thomas’ head.
“Theta ordered you to kidnap me?”
Thomas blinked. “No! She ordered me to protect you!”
[ Truth ]
Isobell nodded in agreement.
Tears filled Arnel’s eyes. What was going on? He sobbed hysterically. He did not even know if he felt frustrated or relieved. Did Thomas not betray him? Did Athena give him a false vision? Was it a premonition?
He did not understand. It was all too much to handle. It was all too difficult for him. He could not assess his own mental health but he knew without a doubt that he was about to break.
Thomas took a step closer; He did so carefully and slowly as if approaching a tiger or a lion. “Did you have a bad dream?” Thomas asked.
Arnel could not hold back his tears any longer. He was afraid that if he tried to speak, he would just end up crying, so he just nodded.
“Is everything okay?” Arnel heard Jennifer’s voice from behind him. “Why were you shouting?”
Having the choice of showing the people he unjustly accused of treason his tears, or showing them to his oldest friend, he decided on the latter and turned around to face Jennifer.
She stood in the hallway, illuminated by the lights like a goddess, or at least she seemed that way with all the chromatic aberrations his tears inflicted on his vision.
Arnel’s smile was frozen on his face, because as he turned to look at Jennifer he could also see the team of four, outside of the entrance door, preparing to breach the apartment.
“Jenny…” Arnel spoke, but before he could get the second syllable out, the door exploded, showering the hallway in shrapnel.
A gunshot rang out.
Jennifer fell to the floor in the hallway, and blood pooled around her still body.
“No… no… no…” Arnel murmured the words, stepping closer to Jennifer’s body with each word. He fell to his knees beside her.
The operatives in the hallway shouted something, but Arnel could not hear them.
Jennifer looked confused. Her eyelids closed and opened again. Her eyes seemed to search for the answer as to what happened as if it was written on the ceiling somewhere. She was still as a statue, otherwise. Her black dress — Arnel saw it before and even commented once that he really liked it — was turning a dark red shade, the color emanating from the region of her lower torso.
Then her eyes closed and they did not open again.
Arnel’s mind went blank. His heart turned to stone.