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Specter: Sovereign
Neither B, Nor Twelve, His Name Is...

Neither B, Nor Twelve, His Name Is...

A young boy strolled across the empty and ruined streets of the outer ghetto of Pelkesk’s capital city—Kapono. His dark-skinned fingers squeezed the hand of his younger sister, a girl of his same complexion.

“Are you two lost?” a voice called out to them from an empty alley.

Both kids turned their heads to face the man, most likely in his early forties. His clothes were mostly ragged and dirty, he wore a beanie in his head, and his hair was greasy and long. The boy pulled his sister close, hiding her behind his back.

“No,” the boy responded.

The man laughed while rubbing his belly, proceeding to shake his hands in front of him. “I’m not trying to harm you. Sorry if I scared you.” Walking out of the alley, the man pulled a snack from his jacket—a granola bar enveloped in aluminum wrapping. “I’ll leave it here if you want it,” he carefully kneeled down and placed the candy on the sidewalk, backing down into the alley—leaving for good.

Wary of the unknown man’s intentions, the boy let go of his sister’s hand and signaled her to stay put. He approached the wrapped candy and quickly snatched it from the floor, retreating quickly back to his sister.

“…” the girl simply stared while keeping both arms to her side, casually swaying her body back and forth with a stoic expression.

“I got it, S!” the boy exclaimed—taking his sister’s hand. “Here, you can eat it yourself.”

Receiving the gift, the girl shook her head gently while unwrapping the bar—snapping it in half. “…” she extended her arm towards her brother, offering one piece of the candy.

It was the life both children had to endure at such a young age. Pelkesk—while known for its greenery and beautiful capital, had its own skeletons hiding in the closet. Life wasn’t perfect for everyone in the country, and the forgotten minority was simply tossed out of the perfect view of its modern cities—abandoned to fend off for themselves.

Night suddenly struck, and both children were forced to sleep on the sidewalk—snuggling together to keep each other warm. The breeze would prompt them to press together tightly, but the cold outside was too much to bear—their small bodies quivering under the bluish light of the moon. Suddenly, a bright light struck both of their faces—forcing their eyes open.

“You should not be sleeping out here,” the man said. The same man that offered them food during the afternoon.

Reluctant at first, the boy was hard to convince into accepting the man’s help, but a quick look at his shivering sister prompted him to comply and follow the stranger from a distance. They were guided through the broken streets by the man, eventually reaching a tall abandoned building—Open with no windows or doors, and half of its upper structure collapsed in on itself.

“Sit down, the fire will keep you warm.” The man said, reaching a small open room in the second floor.

All three of them sat around a small fire, ignited with the help of trash found all over the place. Having a roof over their heads and walls protecting them from the environment, both the boy and his sister quickly recovered from the freezing breeze outside—extending their arms towards the fire.

“What do you want?” the boy said, glaring at the stranger.

Understanding of the boy’s doubts and suspicious nature, the man reeled his head back with a laugh—holding his belly. “Nothing, kid.” He claimed. “Well… I guess all I want is to help.”

“Why?”

“Why not? I was just like you two, you know?”

“…” the boy didn’t respond at the stranger’s claims, observing him carefully.

“I understand why you are so suspicious of me… this isn’t a fair world we live in, but I mean no harm.” He suddenly stood back up, moving towards a corner of the room. “I’m going to sleep for now, feel free to rest up too if you want.”

Next day, in a quiet and peaceful morning. The trio had gathered around the fire once again, both the boy and his sister watched the stranger as he cooked a plate of canned beans on it—claiming he found them in one of the stores nearby.

“I’m telling you, kids. It might not be much, but you will see that there’s nothing more delicious than a can of ‘GrinBeans’ to start the day!” he let out a long and loud laugh.

“…” the girl pulled at her brother’s arm, scrunching her brows with saddened eyes while rubbing her belly with the other hand.

“I know, I’m hungry too.”

“Then you can have these!” the stranger placed a couple of small paper plates in front of them, presenting the pair with the perfectly cooked ‘GrinBeans’ from the can.”

While not the greatest breakfast, it was definitely one of the best meals the youngsters have ever had—enjoying every bite of what little they had in their plate. Finishing their food, both kids sat in front of the fire while listening to the strangers wild—and obviously—made up stories. Eventually revealing his name to be Ronald.

“Garharharhar!” he laughed. “I’m telling you kids, those gray heads were smarter than any other person I’ve ever met, but I wasn’t about to let them take my brain to practice their alien research!”

Both the boy and the girl found a little home of their own inside the dilapidated building, relying on Ronald while scavenging the streets for food, or useful materials to help out in the house. The trio grew closer together as the months passed by, it was a hard life, but it was the only one they ever knew.

Although it seemed impossible at the time, Ronald eventually ran out of wild and clearly fictional stories to tell—opening up about his own past life instead. To the kids surprised, Ronald was born in the capital, and used to work in the police officer department as a detective. He was a single father, with a young boy he named ‘Clarence.’

One day fateful day, once his son grew into a teenager, a violent incident would suddenly turn his life upside down. Ronald omitted some of the details, but he was accused of manslaughter by his neighbors. The accusation costed him the life of his son, and the job that he worked for over a decade. His situation only worsened from then on, as he failed to prove his innocence in court—losing the case.

Roland spent years in prison, watching the days go by with no real purpose. After half a decade spent behind bars, he went through therapy treatment and was eventually granted his freedom—but nothing ever changed his broken heart and mind. He fell into a life of alcohol and addiction, which led him to the present.

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“I… I couldn’t protect him.” the man said. “Maybe there was more I could’ve done at the time, but I never found out why he was taken from me…”

“I’m sorry…” the boy said.

Ronald smiled at him, shaking his head gently. “It’s fine, that was… a long time ago. By the way, kid. Would you mind telling me your name?”

“I call myself B, and this is my sister, S.” he replied.

Ronald was shocked after hearing the voice words, replying, “you don’t have names?”

“We choose not to use them,” B said. “Those names were given to us by the same people that abandoned us… and I refuse to acknowledge that.”

“I understand, kid.” Ronald said with a smile. “We all have things we wish we could simple forget, eh?”

Life continued as normal for both B and S, moving out at morning to scavenge for new clothes, food or anything that could be of use to them—returning at evening to share more stories.

One day however, as they both walked the silent streets hand in hand—a strange figure following behind them triggered a warning in the boy’s head. The man followed from far enough as to hide in the shadows, but close enough for the boy to notice his red combat armor.

“Stay close to me, S.” whispering to his sister, the boy pressed his fingers on the hand of his sister—taking a deep breath.

Pulling her arm suddenly, the boy broke into a sprint through the dark alleyways of the city—catching the man off guard. Knowing well he would be unable to outrun an adult, the boy hid himself and his sister under a large trash bin—sliding under it to cover himself on its shadow. He covered his mouth as he observed the black combat boots of the man sprint by, waiting to lose sight of him.

Acting quickly, the boy left his hiding spot and pulled his sister from under the bin. “It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s go back to Mr. Roland. He will know what to do.”

The boy avoided the flashing lights of a large group of men wandering the streets, they wore the exact same red armor, and covered their faces with visored helmets. Nearing the building, B sprinted quickly inside—where he was met by Ronald.

“Kids, what’s going on!” he whispered loudly.

“T-they—they were following us.” the boy stumbled on his words.

Noticing the blinding lights of the hunting party growing brighter, Ronald took both kids in his arms and led them inside a mostly deteriorated room—with one the corners in the roof collapsed on the floor—proving enough cover to hide underneath it.

“I know it looks dangerous,” Ronald said. “But they won’t find it worth it to search under all that rubble, just be careful not to move too much.”

“Yes,” B nodded as his breath became heavier.

He took his sister’s hand and helped her hide under the rocks, making his way inside right after. Only a few seconds passed before the lights entered the room, followed by a group of five men—heavily armed with rifles, and wearing the same red armor.

“H-hey, hey what is this!” Ronald panicked at the sight of the group. “This is my home, w-what are you doing!”

“We’ve been informed of a pair of children around the area,” one of the men said calmly. “Where are they?”

“I-I don’t know anything about it, I’m just an ol—"

A smack to the head brought Ronald down on his knees, his nose breaking with a crunching sound as one of the soldier’s rifles smacked him in the face—blood spilling all over the floor. The boy kept his eyes closed while hiding, burying his sister’s face on his chest while covering her ears with both hands—only listening to Ronald’s pained voice as he continued to scream.

A few minutes passed before everything went silent, the boy opened his eyes slowly, stroking his sister’s head with a smile as the lights had vanished from the room—a cruel trick from fates hand. The infants were suddenly blinded by a strong white light, the boy felt a hand gripping his ankle and was pulled out of the room before he had the chance to fight back.

The soldier restrained him easily with his superior strength, wrapping his arm around B’s neck from behind. The girl was taken by another armed soldier as well, held by the arms as she desperately squirmed in an attempt to run away.

“…!” In his frantic rage, the boy’s eyes suddenly widened in shock as they fixed themselves on the man standing nearby—Roland.

His body was heavily bruised, and his mouth covered in blood. However, o top of Roland’s quivering hands, rested a pile of cash given to him by the red armored officers. He avoided eye contact with the boy, furrowing his eyebrows into a saddened frown.

“We’ve found them,” one of the men reported into a radio.

Trashing around while screaming at the top of his lungs, B tried to reach out for his sister as she was taken away by the soldiers. His efforts remained useless as his strength was insufficient to break him free, and in the span of a single second, everything suddenly went dark.

That was the last time the boy saw his sister, and the last time he saw the day of light in a long time. His eyes were always kept covered with a strange visor, and he could only hear the voices of strangers around him. He was fed well, treated properly, never harmed in any way, and yet he was nothing more than a prisoner.

Time meant nothing to him anymore, living through the same dictated routines everyday as the days went by. One day however, he was suddenly taken out of his room—where he was met by the voice of two women.

“Is this him?” one of them asked calmly—her voice being quite soft and soothing.

“Yes, this is twelve.” The other woman replied, having a stricter tone compared to her companion.

“Hello, twelve…” the soft-spoken woman said. “My name is Mairead, Mairead Foley.”

“Are you sure about what you are doing?” the stricter woman said. “What if this boy does survive the process?”

“I already submitted the data, Miss Endel.” Mairead stated. “I’m taking him with me… what we are doing here is already terrible enough.”

“Right… I’ll prepare everything for you. She will not know of this, but… this also means that the girl will have to stay.”

“I know…” Mairead said with a sorrowful tone in her voice. “Her chances for surviving the experiment are considerably greater than twelve’s however, all we can do is hope she’s strong enough to live through it.”

“You gave her a name, did you not?”

“Yes, Bianca…”

“I see… then I will leave you to it.”

The boy could hear the steps of the older woman as she walked away—leaving him alone with Mairead.

“I’m really sorry for all of this, but the world is desperate for a solution to the war out there… I’m sorry for calling you twelve, but if you don’t mind… maybe you’d like me to give you a name as well?”

Cerberus HQ, Male Barracks: A few years later.

Scott sat at the edge of his bed, enjoying a peaceful morning as the rays of the sun leaked inside through his window. He held a single white page in hand, reading it thoroughly with a smile on his face. Suddenly, his door burst open with a bang—noticing Eric as he slammed the door against the wall.

“Foley!” the noble yelled—his eyebrows raised and mouth wide open.

“Wha—what the hell? What happened?”

“I slept in,” Eric said, shifting immediately to a calm expression while strolling inside—gently closing the door behind him. “What are you doing?”

“Ah…” Scott quickly huffed in relief while dropping his shoulders. “It’s a letter from my mother, she sends these now and then.”

“I see, I assume she is not a fan of your job.”

Scott chuckled, “I don’t think she cares that much to be honest. I barely knew her when I was a kid. She spent all day working and never had time to be home.”

“I remember father was the same with me, that’s why he hired Gaspard.” The noble said. “Still, she sends letters to you, no? I’m sure she cares more than you think.”

“Right…” Eric’s words drew a smile in Scott’s face. “Anyway, you said you slept in?” he folded the page and placed it back into the envelop—safeguarding it inside the drawer next to his bed.

“Yes,” Eric nodded. “I was supposed to show up for training half an hour ago.”

“I see…” Scott hummed while rubbing his chin. “That means I should’ve shown up for training half an hour ago myself.”

“Correct.”

“Hm… how’s Tori?” Scott asked.

“Worried, I assume.”

“The lieutenant?”

“Furious, no doubt about it.”

“Yeah…”

The pair broke into a frantic sprint towards the door, bumping into the furniture and through the hallway as they left the barracks.

END OF CHAPTER