Antilia Prime- 01

Kajiura- From the perspective of Malcolm Lohan

The weight of a thousand devils is remarkably heavy, on the body and the soul. That’s what it felt like when I was trying to wake up, nothing in my mind about what happened before I ended up here. My eyes could barely open, and my bones creaked at even the slightest movement. I could see that I was laying on some sort of mattress or couch, similar to the ones you would come across in a psychiatrist’s office. (Not that I would know personally…)

There was also a man sitting next to me, or at least the outline of a man in a black suit and fancy bowler hat. He looked at me, and I could tell he smiled from the blurred outline of pearly whites shining my way. I can’t lie… he really, really creeped me out then, but I had felt the weight of demons on me before; the typical response to anything you see while undergoing this already frightening event is fear. Think about it; if this man wanted to slice my throat, or peel the skin from my bones whist I lay helpless and almost fully conscious, I wouldn’t be able to do anything but watch. Tis a curse.

But this was not the weight of demons, as I previously thought. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized was that if this were a demon riding my back, I wouldn’t be able to breathe. This was a drugging, and I was infinitely more scared now than I had ever been in my life. The demons I could control, or at least dispel; a drugging meant that someone was sufficiently enamored enough with the thought of my death that they would take it upon themselves to sap me of my ability to function, wake me, and then—

No, it was best to keep it out of my mind. There was nothing I could do about it at this point, but pretend to be asleep still as the man watched me. I realized very quickly that he had ties to Home, being that you literally cannot get fancy clothing like that here on Antilia. He had to have been rich, in that case, so what did he want with me? It was then, at that thought, it made it apparent that he knew I was awake, and spoke. “Don’t bother trying to get up just yet. Even if you could get out the door, Haan would kill you on sight.”

He had a regal man’s voice, or something similar to that of a high priestly man. As he spoke, I felt calmed. Yeah, he was essentially warning me that a monstrous bulk of a man with enough brute force in his pinky to topple a small car was looking for me to probably snap me in half, but I found comfort in that at least the one person near me seemed to be trying to protect me. Speech was impossible, save for a few drooling words every now and then, and this drug was pulling me back into the depths of unconsciousness again. “your……name….?”

The man took a while to answer my question, as painfully embarrassing as it was, knowing that I was slobbering on the mattress on which I laid. He stood to his feet and picked up a cloth of some sort to bring to me and wipe up my lip, answering with that smile, “Miles Spirit. Now, sit back and rest. I’ll have a gift for you when you wake.” As I lay back, I could hear knocking at whatever door to this room I was in. I was blacking out quickly, but the last thing I heard was Miles and his exuberant, peaceful voice saying, “No, you know the laws.”

I passed out without worry, Miles had my back. Trust isn’t something I just give away, my job wouldn’t allow that, but at the same time I felt perfectly safe even though I had no idea what was going on. Eventually my dreamless sleep consumed me, and I knew that when I woke up I would need to come out fighting, as Epsilon Guard is expected to. What was the rest of the Guard doing? Did they know I was missing? Did they know that rat bastard Haan was after me? Too much to wrap my head around, and eventually I couldn’t even think of that. I, even in my dream state, completely blacked out.

Couldn’t tell you how long I was out; the sun was up both times I woke so it couldn’t have been more than two hours. But I could move and see now, and Miles was nowhere to be found. I was in an apartment, and a cheap one at that. The sort of place a college music student would rent out on about twenty-six-grand Nuyen, but that wasn’t my primary concern. No, the length of the olive drab curtains were slightly lower on my priority list than getting myself out of here, quickly. Miles seemed to have significant pull enough to keep me safer than Mu Guard could ever hope to. Now he had departed, and out of concern of safety it was best that I followed suit.

Suit. Good idea, I thought to myself. Maybe Miles had left me… yes, there it was! A disguise to get me out of here unnoticed, sitting right there next to the full-length mirror and dresser. He had left me a pin-striped zoot, presumably just like his own, neatly folded up and topped with a wide brimmed hat, all in an… astonishingly vibrant dark purple. (Do they call it ‘lavender?’ I dunno these things…) I jumped out of the cotton sheets to grab them, though I didn’t agree with the color it was better than the… ripped and shredded rags I was currently wearing?! What the hell did I get myself into last night?!

Never mind that, I gotta get out of here. Not even a weapon in sight, except that broom-handle perhaps, but it was too large to take out of here without blowing the cover I had been left. Miles’ skin tone looked pretty similar to my own, at least from what I could see at the time, so with any luck any onlookers would assume I was him. We were on the same wavelength as far as I could tell, luckily. As I finished getting all snazzy n’ junk, I looked at myself in the mirror and couldn’t help but notice how good I look in purple. I must admit: I am pretty badass in this suit. Can’t lie.

Not the time for that, though. As I pulled open the door with its oddly mis-attached knob, expecting no one to know who I was, a familiar face pops up and smashes my face in with its voice. “HI MAL!” It spoke, or rather screamed, with waving hand and bright cheerful smile that smelled of spearmint. She had been working recently, it seems. I pull her into the room and close the door to respond with a hushed ferocity, “What the hell, woman?! Are you trying to get me killed?!”

“Relax, bro. No one’s around, I made sure of that. Com’mon, I don’t know how long I distracted them for, but your expression was priceless!”

“Kels, you’re the most ruthless, maniacal, sadistic, down-right-EVIL sister anyone could ever have.”

“Love you too, babe! Love the suit, too. ”

She did this thing with her hands to make a heart, something she did after doing something to consciously hurt me. I told you. Sadistic. But we had to carry on, and she pulled me from the room and down the hall, passing several broken lights on the way, and the carpet was especially… clingy. She really had been at work.. We went through a door leading to an access shaft, and Kelsey lead. It was dark, as always, since the access shafts are rarely ever used. Lunarium never fails, so as long as monthly maintenance is performed on the power deliverance systems there aren’t any problems. Thus workers will bring their own flashlights, thus saving energy on lights that are never used.

Kelsey knew these tunnels well; she was one of those maintenance workers. They say the area around a Mote is extremely chilly; not because of the air conditioning to cool it, like older electricity based systems needed back Home, no. The energy it radiated sapped energy from around it, they said. Kels would always be wearing that parka hood, even during the Summer, as a proud mark that she helped make Antilia what it is. As we descended, she would pass by some instruments and tighten them, or move them in some way. She always pretended to be a floozy, although I think that her clumsiness isn’t as feigned as she’d like you to believe. She was extremely smart, at least booksmart.

Her fingers coiled loosely around the steering wheel, having been freshly painted with green nail-polish, Kelsey spoke up. “So, what did you do to get the leader of the leader of the Wolfpak on your butt so quickly?”

“If I had an idea, I don’t think I’d be able to tell you, for your own sake. Haan is slimy, but he wouldn’t risk open confrontation with any one person unless they were a hazard to his trade business.”

“You mean smuggling ring.”

“Tomato, potato.”

At the bottom of the shaft was another door, leading to the outer skirt of the sector this apartment complex was a part of. I always hated travelling by skirt; something about walking across catwalks dangling some fifty-eight kilometers above what is believed to be a sea of fire of 68000 Degrees Kelvin, floating on the equivalent of giant helium balloons just… didn’t suit my fancy. At the very least, it was a clear, Spring day within the Sphere. We must have been at least close to Apex, because the sun was managing to fight his way through the haze of clouds always beating on the surface of the Sphere.

Skirts were only used by military and maintenance workers, though, so it wasn’t used much by the civilian or scientific populous. A good thing too, as beneath the Sphere it was always windy; no less than 70 MPH at any point in time. The wind almost escaped with my hat once, but I ripped it from those invisible hands just in time and tucked it into my suit for safe keeping. Eventually we got through the windy valley of steel and as close to the Underground Access Tunnels as we could get. A little farther from here would be Kelsey’s car, a simple little contraption it was, enough to get her from point A to B without problem. Passing bridge or two, we reached the car, Little Galaxy, and quickly rolled along, away from here as soon as possible.

But one thing didn’t make sense. Miles said he’d give me a ‘gift’ when I woke up again. Was my gift this suit, and if so why THIS and not something more practical like, I dunno, a gun? A knife, a pair of brass knuckles… something to protect myself with if Haan found me after all? And how did Kelsey find me?

“Miles told you I’d be here or something? Awfully strange you’d be on this side of the sector during your work light.”

“Dunno if his name was Miles, but someone called me, yes. And my last work light was eight days ago, bruh.”

And that’s when I realized just how bad this was. I wasn’t just drugged or knocked out for a few hours; whoever did this to me put me out for a good amount of time. Enough for an implant operation, or a removal of my pancreas, for all I knew! It was tearing me up inside, not knowing whether or not I was soon going to start bleeding out, or maybe even exploding in a mass of flames thirty feet high! (And of course, my little sister was in the car with me…)

I waited a little while to swallow my fear so as not to have a quivering voice as I requested of her, “Get us back to the surface… I have a lot to catch up on. Eight days… huh?”

“Yeah, eighty-six hours since I got your last message. You said you were going to investigate something in the Connery.”

“Alright, drop me off there if you wou—“

“Nah, this ‘Miles’ asked me to bring you to the Seat. Highlord Jergen is supposed to be there soon, too.”

“…You think there’s a connection between the Highlord and Miles’ wanting me to be at the capital?”

“No, but you’d better not pull anything stupid.”

Always looking out for me, she was. But I have to look out for myself. If one cannot protect themselves, they cannot protect their nation. I had riddles to solve before I could defend Antilia, not to mention they wouldn't let me back on duty while I'm being chased like this. (It's a security hazard, at the least. A cause of street war, at worst.) This wasn't the first time I had been placed directly in the line of fire, and surely not the last, but at the very least I could use the extra vacation time.

The east side of the city was dismal, at best. This is where the population spread after a few years since Antilia Prime was still Antilia, and everyone here were scientists and security personnel. As we grew in numbers, some of us were more useful than the others, and downsizing forced them out of their positions. They don't have the money to return Home, so they made their own little community here. It's so.... depressing to see these people, knowing they came here to make things better for humanity, only to have humanity strike them down. Survival of the fittest, I suppose, but still... at least it's not as bad as the Underbelly.

Along the way, Kels stopped. At first I had no idea, and was a little peeved at the idea of any sort of detour while on a personal mission to keep myself from, possibly, exploding into a million chunks of gore. But on the corner of the road sat a man carrying a child in his arms, and he was very thin. His very bones jutted out from his skin, more a skeleton of a man than he was an actual person, and his eyes... his eyes held such deep, crystal blue sorrow that only one thing could have been the cause. Well, two. His child was either sick and dying, or already dead.

Luna knows of all things that could be expected of me, even as a soldier, I am still designed by nature to protect. At least, that's what I tell myself. When Kels pulled over, we both knew what had to be done, without speaking a word to one another. This man was stooped, and in so much grief that he couldn't cry, but only to sit and wallow in the cold sea of misery. I've no children of my own, nor do I want any, but this... no. I cannot simply sit back and watch, and of course neither could Kelsey, being nearly a Priestess of Luna herself. The conservation of life was, literally, the first commandment of our mutual church. (She was, however, a much more devout follower.)

She parked on the sidewalk, as ragged as it was, to create a blockade between us and any onlookers. What we were about to do could have the both of us skinned alive down here. I tossed my hat into the backseat and grabbed one of the lab coats in the back to hide my obviously expensive 'choice' of clothing, and as I exited the car what I found was... bittersweet, in a most macabre way. Those crystal blues were empty, the soul had already escaped through the windows. Rigor mortis was the only thing keeping this shell upright, and the child lay there, handling the crying for all four of us. The child was remarkably healthy, thankfully.

"Take the kid, I'll handle the corpse." Kels, while holding back tears of her own, complied and removed the child from it's father's arms. Perhaps the weight of demons is not as heavy as I once thought, as this man had so much upon his shoulders that was never lifted. Nevertheless, that weight would be carried by another in due time, but for now it was time to send him away. Kels carried a bottle of Moon Tears in her car, something expected of a woman of her position within the church, but I would be handling the ceremony. Ceremonies were easy to remember; child care was an ablative art.

The Ritual of Return is simplistic, and easy to perform quickly. Normally it is done after the funeral, but the chances of finding relatives was slim, and right now time was not on my side. (I'm still kinda being hunted, remember?) A drop of Tears in four special points on the ground, with the corpse at the top. Between the dropped Tears and the body, it makes a pentagram design. Four drops of Tears to symbolize the first four elements, leaving the deceased in the "Spirit" element's position. The body is then sprinkled with tears, to symbolize five together as one, and then the imbiber recites something, almost anything, in the name of Luna.

"Blessed be those who strive to perfect mankind, who strive to protect their own, even in death. Blessed be this one, blessed be his spirit, blessed be his body, thus to return to that from which he came. May Luna guide you to the Oversoul, and may the Oversoul embed your passion within the tapestry of all." Skin then peeled from muscle, muscle from bone, and bone turned to ash. Such is the Ritual of Return, to guide the body to Luna when the soul is to rest with the Oversoul. I actually enjoy this ritual, perhaps more than I do most other things, especially my job. It is relieving to know that I can help someone, even in death, when the rest of my life is spent hurting people in the name of faux peace.

But then of course in time we were seen, and these people don't like people with money, regardless of our intentions. (Unless that intention is to give THEM money, of course. Something as 'worthless' as a religious ritual isn't quite good enough. And it's not like I even have that much... just... more than them, which isn't saying much.) As I looked through the remains of cloth from the ritual, I found nothing to say of name or birthplace, nothing to help this child in the future. (How fitting, a pair of orphans taking time to aid another, right?)

As I was charged by three bums, I back pedaled into the hood of Little Galaxy and laid down on it, the contour of the windshield propping my head upright. Kels would drive off, as if our lives depended on it, speeding down the road probably twice the speed limit. (Not that such things are enforced down here.) As I laid there, my hands behind my head and the wind sweeping over my face and through my hair, I had to reinforce my thought process on myself within the military. We hurt people. Sometimes we kill people. In the name of 'peace.' This is something I have to live with, and not something I do for enjoyment. I take no pleasure out of what I do, while my colleges fully enjoy milling a man into paste, with no care of the consequences for a man's death. I fight to protect, not to injure, and I only wish I could fully believe that.

The child behind me, no matter it's gender, I am sworn to protect, and protect it I will. (Not personally, no. It will be put up for foster care, of course.) But through my own battles, between myself and criminals within Antilia, between myself and invaders without Antilia, between myself and... myself, he or she will be safe so long as I breathe. My journey is not about vendetta. My journey is not about war. My journey is not about hate. My journey is about... you. And I hope that you can see that, in time. It may not make sense now, but as I stand and face the winds of danger, know that when I die, I hope I die leaving behind a world that doesn't need someone to protect it anymore. Aye, I will make myself obsolete.

...But only if Kelsey doesn't kill me first for denting her hood. Oh sh-----