Section V: One More Thing

Tyler learns the one crucial detail about the objective. Meanwhile, Grimm has an unsavory conversation with his father, Sebastian.

Section V: One More Thing

“Despite his well-worn age

of Two-Hundred and Sixteen years, Carnagee

knew how to explain for all to understand,

even as we read today. His skills as a

Teacher are not to be underestimated.”

- From Requiemis Historica by Biran Vocan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler found it difficult to comprehend the traffic of this new planet. Like the traditional traffic he was oh so familiar with, it was decently packed, and slowdowns, while almost as rare as a summer’s day on the snow-ridden planet Evero, were still a minor inconvenience. But that was where the similarities ended, as the traffic was significantly less organized, people driving every which way, sometimes even over other vehicles, with no traffic officer in sight. Even more odd was the vehicles had to hover much higher up from the ground, as there was even more foot traffic than Tyler could ever imagine. It was quite difficult processing a world with such a density of people being so empty.

Throughout the ride, he got into a quite deep discussion with the chauffeur, who revealed his name to be Walter. Walter was quite an old chap, about 178 years old, and had quite the resumé built up, one that would make anyone else quite prideful. He had been chauffeur for many, many well known people, and a suitable bodyguard for them when need arose. While he bounced between companies and other businesses most of his career, he eventually got the attention of The Division, who were so enamored by his history, they hired him on the spot with a truly baffling pay. 

When it came time for Tyler to introduce himself, he paused, for but a moment. “...Whitness protection. Classified.” In an attempt to change topics, he pointed outside the car. “May I ask why there are no roads or traffic control?”

“There has not been a need for them. Surely, you have realized by now, nothing is permanently attached to the ground. Everyone who lives here lives nomadically, never staying in one place. That is why there are almost no cities, with the exception of the depot and the capitol, both required by GreaterWealth law, but with some leniency, as they can move both around a little bit, as they see fit, but they must stay in the same general area.”

Tyler, unsure of what question to ask next, stayed silent. He still had an uneasiness, at least until Walter spoke up again, in a low whisper. “Carnagee gave me a heads up. I am quite sorry about what happened with… you know… that whole thing. To be quite frank I believed you died that day as well. As instructed, I will not tell another living soul.” Tyler gave a hint of a smile, barely noticeable.

Soon the dense traffic was no more, and only their car remained. The rest of the ride was an awkward silence between the two, but both took a sigh of relief when they saw their destination. While looking very similar to The Division’s building on Apolo, its construction was the same as all the other buildings on Flana: collapsible and movable. “Walter, what is this material that makes up the construction of these buildings?”

”FPCM, or Field Programmable Collapsible Material. No doubt you have seen it in action. Up to half an acre of property, able to fit inside of a meter-long pole. Their adoption elsewhere is extremely slow, as nobody else lives a nomadic lifestyle just as much as here. I think The Collection is planning on making smaller poles to make small tents for homeless people all around The Desena. Funding for the project is lacking, though, and I do not think it will reach its goal by the end of the year.”  

“Could it be used to make other things?”

“Possibly in the future. Right now we can’t get the individual modules smaller than a third-meter triangle.” The car slowed to a stop in front of what looks to be the front door. It was quite hard to tell, the door looked almost the same as the walls, with the exception of the small gap between the two. “Good luck.” Walter got out of the car to hand the keys of the car to a different chauffeur, before opening the door for Tyler, seeing his confusion about where the door was.

The inside looked… almost exactly the same as the other Division’s buildings he was oh so familiar with. It was an odd feeling, knowing your way around a building you have never been to, but in no time flat, he was able to navigate to a room. The room was somewhat spacious, with a table in the middle able to seat about twelve people. In one of the corners, there was a large monitor-screen, embedded into the wall as if it was the wall. It started its boot process as Tyler opened the door. Tyler turned one of the chairs from the table and faced it towards the changing wall. When it finished, the monitor looked like a mirror of the room, with the exception of a familiar face in place of Tyler’s: Carnagee. “Good afternoon, Tyler. It seems you’ve arrived early.”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

”Good, I believe I have not finished debriefing with you.”

”Possibly.”

”The only thing missing would be more context behind all of this.”

”Did we not cover it yesterday?”

”Not all of it.”

”What details are missing?”

”After you find the Queen, I desire that you escort her to Apolo, without force. Frame the situation in a way where she makes the choice to move here, temporarily or permanently.”

”Understood, but why would we have her move to Apolo?”

”Another topic not made public yet. She was in opposition of leaving The Collection, against the rest of the planet’s population, and her own children, especially the interim Queen that sits in her seat right now. They were to continue this debate and make it public next week, but then this happened.”

“If she leaves with us, we could lose the planet to the Anarchists.”

“And we may, if Subteam Seven is unable to accomplish their task. That is not your concern, do not worry about that.” At that moment, the door opened, and in walked a somewhat taller figure. He wore square frame glasses, a mild red two-piece jumpsuit, and held a grey helmet with two red stripes, one larger than the other, intersecting each other at the top right of the helmet. The helmet also had a mild blue visor, and what looked to be a grey muzzle shield of sorts, the inside of it working as a respirator. Next to either end of the visor and muzzle shield were small buttons. If pressed, the buttons could retract the respective element into the helmet with little effort. Tyler initially guessed FPCM, but recalled what Walter had said. It was an entirely different material, definitely not public yet.

“Pardon the interruption.”

“It is no bother, Blake. I was just finishing with Tyler here about this whole situation.” Carnagee turned to face Blake, who walked to stand next to Tyler. “Tracie will meet with you here later this evening. Good luck.” And as quick as he appeared on the screen, Carnagee was gone. After a short bit of silence, Blake put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler then responded. “How did you get here so quickly?”

“Uh, I flew. And you?” Of course he did. Blake would not miss the opportunity to fly around, almost as if the sky and space were his real home.

“I flew.” A pause. Blake made a slight chuckle noise.

“Come on, Sarah’s just in the next room.”

“May I ask about that helmet?”

“She can explain it, I could not explain the details as well as her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marta’s grounds could be mistaken as a miniature warzone with all the chaos that goes on. An organized chaos. Organized Disorganization was the key of the Anarchists, and it shone through everything they did. Above all the mess was the figure again, staring out through the window. He looked even more angry than yesterday. A new variable cropped up in his plans, one he did not plan for. And due to the very poor description from Ilis, this new variable was a wildcard. He hated wildcards, and their unpredictability. On one end, it could just be Ilis lying. On another end, it could be routine shift changes, nothing to be concerned about. But on the other hand, it could dismantle his entire operation. 

Hidden behind his vest belt, he clutched a knife, and proceeded to throw it into the doorframe behind him. It narrowly missed an older man, who stared at the younger figure, and was probably doing so for the past ten minutes. The old man was almost an exact mirror of the other, just significantly older and was able to keep his eyes intact. He didn’t flinch when the knife embedded itself into the wall. “Well well, The Reaper is befuddled at a minor inconvenience.” The old man spoke. “Next time, Tex, aim a bit closer to the middle, where I am standing.”

“It is Grimm, leave before I kill you, Sebastian.” Grimm, or Tex, spoke rather aggressively to Sebastian, loathing the fact he was still alive, even at two-hundred eighty nine. “All the time, no respect for your own father.” 

Sebastian yelled back. “What do you want?”

“For you to grow a spine.”

“Shut up. Be lucky you still have some use.”

“Same to you.”

“There’s been an unexpected variable that has made itself present in my plan.”

“And when has that bothered you? You’ve had plenty of unexpected issues arise in your plans, and they were still mostly successful.”

“You will not speak to me that way again, if you know what’s good for you.”

“That’s the same thing your mother told you, and where did that leave her? Six feet in the ground, thanks to your sociopathic mouth-”

“SHUT UP! IF YOU WANT TO KILL ME SO BAD, GO AHEAD!!! TAKE YOUR SHOT!!! BUT OH NO, I WOULD NEVER KILL MY SON, OH WOE IS ME, I’M A FRAIL OLD MAN WHO CAN’T EVEN WALK A METER BEFORE TAKING A FIVE MINUTE REST-”

“IT WOULD DO YOUR LOT GOOD TO THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK-”

“I DO THINK!!! ALL THE TIME!!! GET OUT!!!” The echoes of shouting rang in both of their ears, their faces fuming with hatred. “...Milo was always the better son. Maybe you could learn from him.” Sebastian said as he left, pulling the knife out from the wall and taking it with him. Grimm turned back to face the window. “Senile old creton.” he whispered under his breath. Halfway through the hallway, Sebastian stopped at a closet, and opened it to reveal a pile of many, many more knives, before tossing it haphazardly into the middle, and shutting the door.